by Gaelen Foley
Gazing at him, she reflected on the fact that Mama was wrong; the last thing a woman needed was to marry a man she could rule, like she’d always taught her. Indeed, Serena knew deep down that being indulged and cosseted all her life had in some ways made her selfish.
But this time, she refused to be so, no matter what.
Azrael was too important to her to try to force getting her own way. She wanted to be better than that for him. If all he would be was her friend, she’d take that and be happy.
In any case, he looked so lost in his solitude that she did not want to bother him.
He seemed troubled again, brooding. He was probably wondering what he was even doing here. Indeed, she rather wondered that herself.
He looked so lonely and faraway sitting there that she debated for a moment if she ought to say something to him. Reach out. Offer a willing ear to listen if he wished to talk. It was the least she could do, after all he’d done for her.
But in the end, she decided not to intrude. Leave him alone. She feared she pestered him too much as it was.
Reluctantly, she left him to his brooding and lay back down again in silence. She closed her eyes, still seeing his face and the smooth, pale angle of his muscled shoulder in the cold, bluish-white illumination of the snow. Yearning filled her body.
But her libido must’ve simply given up, for the tension began easing from her. The bed was comfortable, the hot-water bottle had made a warm, toasty spot for her feet, and she was utterly worn out.
Her muscles felt sore all over from bumping along in a carriage all day, and so it was inevitable.
She drifted off to sleep.
# # #
Sitting in the bay window, Azrael was cold but didn’t care. Frost spun lace across the diamond-shaped windowpanes; he watched it grow while the snow coated the world like a fresh start.
It was beautiful, whispering against the glass, whirling by the light of the lantern somewhere in the yard below. The snowfall spun all around him there in the jut of the bay window, like dancing, which he so rarely did. A sweet, lovely dizziness and a lightness like Serena made him feel.
Whether the armchair was comfortable or not, he knew he would not be able to fall asleep in this state of mind. All he wanted to do was spend the night making love to her.
Frankly, he was ashamed of his unmanly hesitation on this front—and others.
Refusing her hopeful attempt to strengthen this connection between them had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but it had felt increasingly wrong to him all day.
Damn it, he had worked at deceiving his enemies for so long that, somewhere along the way, he had begun deceiving himself.
This life he had limned out so carefully suddenly didn’t fit him anymore. The isolation of it shocked and overwhelmed him.
He might as well have walked out half-naked and shoeless in the snow right now, he was so alone, so frozen inside.
The worst part was knowing he had done this to himself. And now he had frozen out Serena, as well.
All he could do was call himself a fool. For she made him truly happy. He loved taking care of her, and the small ways in which he’d done so today—and, indeed, ever since the masked ball—had filled him with a sense of meaning that his life otherwise completely lacked.
He loved being with her. Yet he feared he had surely lost her respect today. He’d lost a great deal of his own for his cowardice.
Unfortunately, the only way he could have what they both wanted was dire to contemplate.
Contemplate it he did, however.
Dark shadows were stirring in his mind like the shifting snow outside as it blew and gathered in piles, changing shape.
He was not a helpless boy anymore. He was a man. With power, wealth, resources. Wits.
Such a man had no excuse for possessing full knowledge of such evil at work and doing nothing about it.
It had all suddenly become crystal clear. Azrael felt as though he had been asleep all these years, nodding off behind his impenetrable shield of detachment. But the boy’s helpless paralysis was leaving him. Strength and feeling had returned with Serena.
The battle, he was beginning to see, was no longer avoidable.
The fact was, he was involved in the Promethean underworld, whether he liked it or not. He had been born into this, and by God, if he did not take action and do something about this hidden cancer in his country, who could?
Earlier today, he had refused Serena’s artless offer of her love because he had dreaded the specter of taking her as his wife and then the two of them and any future children of theirs being claimed by and having to live under the dark shadow of this evil.
How his enemies could use a wife and family against him, he had always shuddered to think. But in actuality…
It didn’t have to be that way.
Not if he lived up to his name.
Not if he drew upon his father’s own expert treachery flowing in his veins and turned it all against them. Began taking steps to rid the world of their foulness.
After all, he was one of them, though he had kept his distance. They trusted him.
That could be their fatal mistake.
God knew if he succeeded, the most luscious prize he’d ever beheld waited for him. Serena could be his. They could live in peace. She would be free of this dark heritage—they both would.
He’d have swept the earth clean of their satanic filth and broken the curse, if there was one.
True, if he did this thing, the chances were good that someday one of their foreign assassins might show up on his doorstep to punish him for the betrayal he was contemplating, for the Prometheans lurked in courts across the world.
But God, he thought, even spineless bloody Hamlet had eventually picked up his sword.
Azrael supposed he had merely needed the proper motivation.
And she was that. Sweet Christ, she was that.
He looked over his shoulder hungrily toward the canopy bed where his should’ve-been bride slept on behind the curtains.
His heart was pounding, but his mind was made up; he would not be deterred. You are mine and we both know it. Yes, their match had been his enemies’ plan, but he no longer cared. What was it she had said this afternoon?
“What they meant for evil, love can turn to good.”
I hope you’re right, my darling. Azrael swung his feet down from the window nook and rose silently.
His body tingled with awareness of her, this beauty whose voluptuous appeal he had been striving all day not to notice.
Now all he wanted was to taste her mouth, feel her soft body beneath him, and make it so that there could be no backing out.
For either of them.
He felt the warmth of the fire as he passed it, reaching out to take hold of the edge of one of the bed hangings. With no more hesitation, he slid the curtain aside. It rasped quietly on its rings.
Her beauty overwhelmed him as he gazed down at her sleeping on her side, facing him.
She was like a rose in winter, so perfect and pure. Her black lashes fanned against her skin as white as the snow, her lips crimson. The luxurious black silk of her wavy hair flowed across the white pillow where she had laid her lovely head.
Dry-mouthed with need, Azrael wetted his lips with a hungry pass of his tongue as his gaze traveled down her creamy chest to the scoop neck of her chemise. Her full, round breasts strained against the paper-thin linen, and his stomach tightened with growing, desperate want.
So beautiful…
He gazed at her arms, bared by the sleeveless garment.
Unable to resist, he touched her, resting burning fingertips on the curve of her hip, barely able to hold himself back.
“Serena?” he called in a deep, husky whisper. “Wake up.”
# # #
Serena thought at first that she might be dreaming when she opened her eyes to find Azrael standing by the bed.
The firelight flickering behind him shone around his pale hai
r like a halo and outlined his dark, imposing silhouette with an orange glow—tall and taut, his wide shoulders tapering down to a lean waist.
Bleary and confused, she pushed up onto her elbow. “Is something wrong?
“I need to ask you something.” He leaned down toward her, solid and real.
“What is it?” she mumbled, raking her fingers through her hair as she sat up uncertainly.
He stared at her with a gaze that pierced into her very soul. “When you said you would pay any price to be with me,” he whispered, “did you really mean it?”
His question took her aback. Suddenly, her heart lurched, a new realization entering her fuzzy mind. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Why do you ask?”
“Because…” He licked his lips, his stare locked on hers. “I feel the same.”
“You do?”
“Remember that letter I sent to Canterbury?”
She nodded.
“It was a request to the Archbishop for a special license.”
Her eyes widened, and she came fully awake.
He sat very still on the edge of the bed. “I initially sent it in case anything went awry with our travel plans. I would not leave you ruined. But once I’d sent it off, I realized…it is what I want.”
She blinked. “Are you sure about this?”
“I am,” he whispered. “Will you have me?”
She lifted her hand to her head. The room was suddenly spinning. “But—you said it was impossible.”
“I was wrong. No—I was not being entirely truthful,” he admitted. “There is one way.”
“How?”
He took her hand but evaded the question. “You must trust me.”
“I do.”
“Do you?” He trailed his gaze over her face, her lips, her body. “How much?”
She stared at him, and thought of all the months of watching him.
Learning him.
Wanting him, if she were truly honest.
God help her, she wanted him still. More than anything.
“Completely,” she finally answered, and to prove it, she pulled back the coverlet, offering him the warmth of her bed.
Offering much more than that, to be sure.
His eyes narrowed, lightning in their depths. She bit her lip with anticipation as he accepted, joining her in the bed.
“You’re cold,” she murmured as she touched his smooth, muscled shoulder.
“You’re warm.”
“Yes, come, I’ll warm you up,” she promised, and he immediately kissed her. She welcomed him under the covers, lay back on the pillows strewn against the headboard, and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back for all she was worth.
Her heart was pounding. She’d been dreaming of this, and now his weight atop of her felt lovely.
“You really want to marry me?” she whispered after a moment, joy welling up within her.
“So badly,” he said in a husky murmur.
“What made you change your mind?”
“You did, my darling.” He leaned on his elbow and cupped her face in his palm. “You gave me hope that perhaps things really can change. You gave me a reason to fight. I don’t want to lose this chance with you. I need you, Serena. I want you with me, and I want to take care of you always.”
“Oh Azrael,” she said tenderly, melting at his words. Then she kissed him with redoubled enthusiasm.
His lips slanting over hers, his port-flavored tongue sweet and deep within her mouth, he pressed up smoothly onto all fours over her body, freeing his hand to caress her.
She sighed anew, restlessly, as his caresses moved up and down the middle of her body, gliding between her breasts, down her belly, and back up again, through the thin cloth of her chemise.
Her limbs grew heavy with desire, but she found the will to lift her hands and explore him in return. She felt his chest, his pulse pounding underneath her fingertips, and lower, the splendid carved muscles of his abdomen. She caressed his arms and neck.
Molding her palms over his shoulders, she marveled at the gathered power of sleek, rugged sinew and bone beneath the velveteen warmth of his skin. As promised, she had heated him up quickly, she thought with a giddy smile as he went on kissing her.
“I love the way your skin feels,” she whispered when he let her up for air moments later.
“I’m all yours.”
“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” she asked, feeling vulnerable to realize how easily he could wound her—or worse.
“Not a chance,” he said. “I want to make you happy, sweet Serena.” Then he lowered his head into the crook of her neck and intoxicated her with warm, nibbling kisses there, all the way up to her earlobe, and then stronger ones, lightly nipping her flesh.
Soon he had her gasping with delight. His fingers curled around the sleeve of her chemise, and he inched it down, kissing as he went.
As his lips skimmed the upper curve of her breast, she was suddenly desperate to be rid of the garment. She wanted nothing, nothing at all between them.
He obliged her in this as if he’d read her mind, moving back to wait while she lifted it off eagerly over her head, her body trembling.
His ravenous stare sank from her flushed face to her now-naked body with an almost pained look of admiration, and a low moan escaped him.
He pressed her back onto the pillows, and she watched him take her nipple in his mouth, stroking his blond head at her breast. It gave her the most exquisite thrill, feeling him stoke her arousal to fever pitch. He moved to her other breast, and she savored the sensation, arching her back.
Never could she have allowed any other man to do these things to her. But he would be her husband, as she’d known somehow he had to be. And so it was easy to cast aside any maiden shyness and put herself in his hands completely.
She lifted her arms above her head and clutched the edge of the pillow as he explored her body with his lips, skimming kisses down her stomach, nibbling at her hip. Limp with desire, she wondered if she ought to worry that he now lay between her legs.
Her chest heaving, she barely noticed as he tickled and tormented her with sweet, maddening kisses everywhere, that he was unfastening his breeches.
She dragged her eyes open when the lovely torture of his attentions stopped. At once, she saw the reason. He had moved back to shed the remainder of his clothes.
This is real, she thought. It seemed like a dream, but he really meant to deflower her. She registered hesitation, uncertainty, and even though she wanted him, she was a little afraid.
When he tossed his drawers and breeches onto the floor, Serena cast an awestruck glance down at his oh-so-masculine splendor, his sleek hips, his rigid member standing forth, tall and proud.
“Like what you see, madam?” he teased in a silken whisper. Then he returned and took control.
She moaned as he kissed her with patient, lavish seduction. He slid his arms firmly around her, cradling her in his embrace as he eased her back down onto her back and atop her, pressing against her in all the right places.
As she ran her hands over his sculpted body, she felt a gathering frenzy in her blood the likes of which she’d never experienced before.
He seemed to know exactly what she craved. He trailed his hand down the front of her bare thigh, and Serena squirmed with tantalized desire as he walked his fingers delicately across her mound, then lower.
She shuddered and let out a soft groan as he slipped a finger into the petaled folds of her wet, swollen passage. “Oh, Azrael…” She licked her lips with anticipation.
“Patience, my love.”
He was driving her mad with his soft, satin touch. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders, then ran her hand through his long hair.
“So passionate.” His whisper had turned to a fevered rasp. He moved atop her. Her heart flamed with sudden joy to realize he would join himself to her now.
There was suddenly nothing in the world she wanted more.
“Will it hurt?” she asked with a fleeting pulse of not quite fear, but uncertainty.
“I’ve heard it may, but don’t be afraid. Just tell me if it does, and I’ll stop. You do want this, don’t you, Serena?”
“Oh, Azrael, I’ll die if I can’t have you.” She pulled him down to kiss him with stormy tenderness. “I half wished you had done to this to me on the night of the masked ball.”
“God, I wished that, too.” He kissed her heartily. “Instead, I had to barter with you. Kisses in exchange for information, you lovely little minx?”
“Yes, and you told me the price would be too high for me, Your Grace.” She nestled her nose against his. “You have no idea how eager I was to pay it.”
“How you delight me,” he uttered with a haze of doting softness in his eyes.
“Likewise, my darling.” She molded her hand to his cheek. “Now, Azrael, give yourself to me.”
He obeyed with a low, hungry moan, and neither of them knew anymore who was seducing whom. He covered her with his body and lay between her legs, spreading them wider with a calm, masterful press of his hand.
Serena’s chest pitched with excitement as he guided himself to her threshold, her womanhood opened to him like a flower. She closed her eyes, mesmerized by the feel of his hardness there—and suddenly, he was inside her, and she was no longer a virgin.
The soft cry dwindled on her tongue as she panted with the knowledge that she was now his woman, as destiny had set forth so many years ago. He cradled her in his arms, waiting until she was ready to continue. She held him to her heart, dizzied with the sweet fulfillment of their oddly sacred joining.
Her restless sigh a moment later urged him back into motion.
He moved so gently with her, stroking her body with elegant hands to soothe her, but there was no pain. Serena opened her eyes. Azrael’s were closed. He looked lost in dreamy, intimate ecstasy, gliding back and forth between her thighs with sensuous and total giving.
I cannot believe how lucky I am. She skimmed her fingertips along his high cheekbone, then captured a length of his hair where it hung down like a flaxen veil beside her face.
