But if I didn’t… that creeping loneliness would climb back inside my head, joining the void Belial had left behind.
Whatever it was about them, I wanted to be near them.
“I did.” The words barely made it out of my mouth, just a whisper.
“Honesty.” Azazel stepped closer, his shadows reaching to envelop me. I shivered pleasantly at their touch, the palpable tingle they left when they stroked my skin. “It suits you, Melisande.”
“Azazel… you knew I would win that night, didn’t you?” He was close enough now that I’d barely have to lift my arm to touch him, his clean smell filling my nose.
“Of course I did.” There was a purr to his tone, satisfaction filling his voice. “I can’t tell you how glorious it was to watch you stick it to my old enemy.”
I looked down. Staring into Azazel’s ancient violet eyes was almost too much sometimes, like the Watcher could see right through me and read every thought I’d ever had. “Is Lucifer still upset with me?”
Large hands rose and caressed my shoulders, his fingertips barely making contact with my skin, but every cell in me focused on those tiny points of contact like a fire had been lit inside me.
“No, angel. In fact, he needs to see you right now. That’s why I came.”
“Ah, so not just to see me.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. They sounded almost petulant. And needy.
Two things I didn’t need to be.
Azazel chuckled, increasing the pressure of his grip. He held me like he could somehow bind us together with a touch.
I looked up, forcing myself to meet his eyes again, and almost trembled at what I saw there.
That ravenous hunger that always seemed to be hiding under his otherwise-urbane exterior, threatening to break free like a beast, was present in full force.
“There is no time I don’t want to see you,” he breathed, leaning in close. Goosebumps rose on my shoulders at the touch of his lips on my cheek. “If you let me mark you, you could call me whenever you wish. You would always feel me with you.”
I swallowed hard. It sounded a lot like the brand between Belial and myself.
And now I felt nothing at all. It was terrible.
“Would you own me?”
“No. It would be a mark freely given.” His fingertips brushed my wings, and slid over my shoulder to my collar bone, slipping down to hook into the unlaced front of my dress. “Perhaps we could negotiate a trade. A mark for a token.”
My wings quivered under his touch. “Like… a mating gift.”
His smile grew, the hunger ever more apparent. “Like a mating gift.”
I gazed into his eyes, allured by the pull of him in my chest like he held a string tied to my ribs, as an errant thought bubbled up from the depths of my mind.
It was more of a realization than a thought. An epiphany.
What sort of mark could Belial have given me that would supersede Satan’s claim?
And my stomach filled with ice as I pondered it. If Azazel considered his mark a mating gift…
“Perhaps we could,” I said, planting my hands on his chest before he drew any closer. The warmth of him was impossible to resist. “But why does Lucifer want to see me?”
But Azazel’s mind was clearly elsewhere, the void inside him taking over his rational thoughts. He nipped my earlobe, pushing me back towards the bed. “Don’t change the subject, angel.”
His grip was nearly painful, fully possessive. My nipples tightened when his chest brushed against mine, his tongue licking a line along the side of my neck.
Like Tascius’s Nephilim darkness, the hunger was consuming Azazel completely. His teeth grazed my throat, leaving a line of fire everywhere he kissed.
He made a low sound that had all the muscles in my stomach clenching in anticipation.
“Azazel…” I gripped his wrist with one hand and held up my dress with the other, even though I was no match for his strength. I couldn’t let go and just feel good, not when my insides were writhing in horror over my suspicion at what I might’ve done. “Lucifer needs me. Why?”
He looked down at my hands as I pushed at him, blinking hard and straightening up.
“I forgot myself,” he said, his voice thicker. “He needs your magic. This is part of your training, Melisande.”
Azazel pulled his hands away, releasing me like he’d been burned. The ice in my stomach immediately washed over the rest of me, erasing his warmth like he’d never been there.
Shivering, I pulled a black velvet cloak from my wardrobe and pulled it over myself. “I need a little more than that to go on.”
When I turned to look at him, waiting by the window, Azazel’s cool, unfazed mask was back in place. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I never would’ve had any idea that there was a creature of endless craving living just beneath his skin.
“He’s been hurt. This is your next trial of magic.” Even his clipped tones were back in place. I realized this cold man was the one he wanted everyone to see. His warmer side- the luxuriously sensual side- was the part he kept hidden. “I want to know if you can heal a prince with your power.”
I froze in place. “How- how could I possibly heal now? It’s holy magic, and mine is still- will always be corrupted.”
Azazel smiled, but it was tight and strained. “If you could heal while you were holy, you can heal now. You don’t have a choice in this. If you want to survive our more… treacherous plans,” he whispered, “We need to know you can do this. The Prince of Hell needs you.”
“You could heal him with a touch,” I said suspiciously.
What in the Hell, literally, could hurt Lucifer badly enough that he needed another’s magic to heal?
The answer was nothing good.
“This isn’t about me.” Azazel swept forward, raising his chin as he grabbed me, cloak
