Page 18

Azrael

The operational briefing had left a weight on my shoulders that only one thing could lift. I found Zara in the main room of the clubhouse, sitting close to her mother on one of the worn leather couches. She looked up as I entered, her gaze finding mine across the crowded space. Something electric passed between us -- understanding, need, relief -- all packed into a single look. I jerked my head slightly toward the hallway, and she nodded, leaning in to say something to Mazida before standing. The brothers parted for her as she moved toward me, some with knowing smirks, others with respect. She wasn’t just my woman. She was someone who had earned her place among us through her own strength.

I watched her approach, taking in the details I’d missed during the reunion. The dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn’t slept well during my absence. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, revealing the delicate curve of her neck. She wore a simple black T-shirt and jeans, no makeup, no pretense. She’d never needed the extras other women used to catch a man’s eye.

When she reached me, I didn’t speak. Just took her hand and led her away from the noise of the main room. Down the hallway, past the meeting room where we’d just planned for war, to a small storage area with a window overlooking the compound. Not private enough for what I really wanted, but good enough for now.

I closed the door behind us, and for a moment, we just looked at each other. The dim light filtering through the dusty window cast shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips.

“You found her,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You brought her back.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know. I never doubted.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of her body. “But knowing isn’t the same as seeing. Having.”

I reached up, cupping her face in my hand. Her skin was soft under my calloused palm, a reminder of the differences between us -- differences that somehow made us fit together all the better.

“You should know what we’re facing,” I began, duty warring with desire.

She placed her finger against my lips. “Later. Right now, I need…”

I didn’t make her finish. In one fluid motion, I pulled her against me, my mouth finding hers with the certainty of a man who knows exactly what he wants. Her lips parted instantly, welcoming me home in a way no words could match. I backed her against the wall, one hand cradling the back of her head to protect her from the impact, the other sliding down to grip her hip.

The kiss deepened, her hands finding their way under my cut, fingers pressing into my back through my T-shirt. There was desperation in her touch -- the release of fears she’d been holding since I’d left to find her mother. I could taste salt on her lips, wasn’t sure if the tears were hers or mine.

For long minutes, we stayed like that, relearning each other through touch and taste. My hand moved from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer, feeling her soft curves against the hard planes of my body. She made a sound in the back of her throat -- half moan, half sigh -- that shot straight through me.

“Missed this,” I murmured against her lips. “Missed you.”

She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “Show me how much.”

Before I could respond, a knock on the door interrupted us. I growled in frustration, keeping Zara pinned against me as I glared at the door.

“What?” I snapped.

The door cracked open to reveal Gator, his face apologetic but determined. At sixty-six, he’d seen enough of life to know when something was important enough to risk interrupting a moment like this.

“Sorry,” he said, his Cajun accent thicker than usual. “Thought you’d want to know -- Mazida’s looking tired. Figured she needs somewhere quiet to rest up.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to get to the point.

“Mazida can stay at my place tonight,” he offered, his gaze flicking between Zara and me. “Got the spare room all made up. Quiet there, away from the noise. Figure you two might want some” -- he cleared his throat – “privacy.”

I felt Zara relax against me. She’d been worried about her mother, about where she would sleep tonight. The compound had limited accommodations for women who weren’t club property or long-term old ladies. And after Charming had said Zara could only stay if she was mine, she probably assumed the same would be true for her mother.

“That would be great,” Zara said before I could respond. “If you’re sure it’s not an imposition, and if she’s comfortable doing that.”

Gator waved off her concern. “No trouble. My place is one of the most secure in the compound. Your mama will be safe there. And we’ve been talking. She doesn’t seem scared of me.”

I studied him for a moment, noting the careful way he avoided looking directly at Zara now that she was in my arms. Respect, or something more? It didn’t matter. Gator was loyal to the club, and his offer made sense.

“She stays with you tonight,” I agreed. “We’ll regroup at the clubhouse in the morning. Make sure she understands the rules. I haven’t had time to discuss the club with her yet.”

Gator nodded. “Already explained the basics. No leaving the compound without an escort. No contact with outsiders.”

“When did you do all that?” Zara asked.

“When you ran to the bathroom.” Gator shrugged. “I didn’t want her sitting there alone.”

“And she agreed?” Zara asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“Your mama’s a smart woman,” Gator said with a slight smile. “She knows what’s at stake.”

I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders. One less battle to fight. “Tell Charming the arrangements are set,” I instructed. “And make sure everyone knows we’re not to be disturbed until morning.”

Gator’s mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile. “Already done. Club’s clearing out for the night -- just the usual security detail staying. The old ladies are taking Mazida over to my place now to get her settled.”

Zara pulled away from me slightly. “I should go say goodnight to her.”

I nodded, releasing her but following close behind as we made our way back to the main room. It had emptied considerably in the few minutes we’d been gone. Mazida sat with Charming’s old lady, the two women speaking quietly. When she saw us approach, Mazida stood, her expression softening as she took in her daughter’s flushed face and slightly swollen lips.

“You are going?” she asked Zara.

Zara nodded. “Gator’s offered you his spare room for tonight. It’s safer for you there, and more comfortable than here.”

I watched the exchange between mother and daughter with interest. In the short time since their reunion, they’d already reestablished the rhythm of their relationship -- the subtle dance of concern and independence that defined them.

“You will be all right?” Mazida asked, her gaze flicking to me with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll be with Azrael,” Zara said simply, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.

Mazida studied me for a long moment, her dark eyes assessing. I met her gaze steadily, letting her see whatever she needed to see. Finally, she nodded once.

“Allah has strange ways of protecting his children,” she said. “Even through the Angel of Death.”

Coming from anyone else, the words might have been an insult. From her, they were acceptance -- perhaps even gratitude. I inclined my head slightly in acknowledgment.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Zara said, leaning in to hug her mother. “Get some rest.”

The goodbyes were quick after that. Gator approached to escort Mazida to his place, offering his arm with a gentlemanly flourish that seemed at odds with his rough appearance. Charming caught my eye across the room and gave a single nod -- permission to go, assurance that everything was under control for the night.

I placed my hand at the small of Zara’s back and guided her toward the door. Outside, the compound had settled into its nighttime routine. Security lights cast pools of yellow across the gravel, and men with guns patrolled the perimeter. The increased security was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for -- extra bodies on watch, the strategic positioning at key points around the fence line.

My bike stood where I’d left it. I swung my leg over the seat and waited for Zara to climb on behind me. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her chest pressed against my back, her thighs hugging mine. The engine roared to life beneath us, a deep, throaty growl that matched the want building inside me.

The ride to my -- our -- home took less than three minutes, but it was long enough for the vibration of the engine and the press of her body to reignite what Gator’s interruption had dampened. I parked in the small carport and killed the engine, but neither of us moved immediately.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” she said softly, her cheek still pressed between my shoulder blades. “I kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong.”

I twisted to look at her over my shoulder. “I always come back.”

She slid off the bike, her movements fluid despite the fatigue I could see in her eyes. “Until you don’t.”

I followed her to the door, watching as she unlocked it with the key she’d worn on a chain around her neck while I was gone. Inside, the house was exactly as I’d left it -- sparse, functional, but with touches of Zara’s presence that had transformed it from a place to sleep into something that might be called a home. A throw blanket over the couch. Flowers in a mason jar on the kitchen counter. Books stacked on the coffee table.

She turned to face me as I closed and locked the door behind us. In the dim light of the single lamp she’d left on, her eyes looked almost black, pupils dilated with desire and relief and the remnants of fear.

“You brought my mother back,” she said again, as if still trying to convince herself it was real.

“I told you I would.”

“I know.” She took a step toward me.

I crossed the distance between us in two strides. This time when I kissed her, there was no restraint. My hands found the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Her skin was warm beneath my palms as I ran them up her sides, feeling the slight curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts in the simple black bra she wore.

She was just as impatient, tugging at my cut, pushing it off my shoulders to the floor. Her fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt with practiced ease, revealing the tattoos and scars that mapped the violence of my life. She traced one of the longer scars with her fingertip, her touch featherlight.

“New?” she asked.

“Old,” I replied, capturing her hand and bringing it to my lips. “Just reopened during the extraction. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Her eyes darkened with concern, but I didn’t give her time to dwell on it. I swept her into my arms and carried her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed with more gentleness than most would believe me capable of. She looked up at me, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her lips parted in invitation.

“Come here,” she whispered.

I obeyed, lowering myself over her, careful to support my weight on my forearms. Her hands slid up my chest to my shoulders, pulling me down for another kiss that quickly turned from tender to hungry. I trailed my lips down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my mouth.

“Samir,” she breathed, the name a prayer on her lips.

I paused, looking up. “I’m here.”

Her smile was soft but knowing. “Then show me.”

My hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and ass as she arched into me. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I groaned against her neck, my teeth grazing her skin. She shuddered beneath me, a soft moan escaping her lips as I nipped at her collarbone.

I pulled back to look at her, taking in the desire etched on her features. “Tell me what you want,” I commanded, my voice rough with need.

“I want you to fuck me hard,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. “I want you to take me roughly and claim me as yours. No holding back.”

My cock twitched at her words, already hardening inside my pants. “Anything for you, baby girl,” I growled, reaching down to yank her jeans and panties off in one swift motion.

She gasped as I exposed her wetness to the cool air of the room. “Samir,” she breathed again, this time more urgently.

I couldn’t resist any longer. I had to taste her. Kneeling between her legs, I parted them wider and pressed a kiss to her swollen clit before taking it into my mouth. She cried out sharply, bucking up off the bed as I sucked on her sensitive nub while two fingers plunged inside her tight pussy.

“Fuck!” she screamed, arching off the bed again as an orgasm ripped through her body.

The room quickly filled with our moans and gasps as I devoured her pussy, as if I had been starved for years. My tongue danced around her clit, teasing and driving her wild with pleasure while my fingers thrust in and out of her wetness. She squirmed beneath me, her nails raking down my back. Her hips bucked against my face, begging for more as she lost herself completely in the sensations overtaking her body.

It was fucking delicious how much power I had over her at that moment. She was mine to control, mine to please and punish as I saw fit. A shiver ran through me as I imagined binding her wrists above her head and taking her hard from behind, claiming what was mine.

My cock throbbed in time with the rhythm of my fingers inside her tight pussy, desperate for release, but I was determined not to let myself go until she was completely undone. The scent of her arousal filled my nostrils, driving me further into the brink of madness.

“That’s it, baby,” I groaned against her swollen clit. “Come for me.” Her body shuddered violently underneath me as she cried out my name and exploded in my mouth. I licked every last bit of her cum with my tongue before swallowing greedily.

She collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily. I stood, kicking off my boots and pants, then covered her body with mine once more. My hands gripped tightly around her wrists and pulled them above her head. “Thank you,” she whispered breathlessly.

I smirked down at her, feeling possessive. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn.”

I couldn’t help but admire the way her body trembled under my touch. She was mine now, completely at my mercy. I leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, my tongue diving deep into her mouth.

“You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered against her lips. She moaned into the kiss, her body arching underneath me as she sought more contact. I trailed kisses along her jawline until I reached her soft neck, nipped at her sensitive skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her.

“Please,” she begged hoarsely. “I need you inside me.” Her words sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine as I slid my hands down her sides.

I leaned over her chest, taking a hardened nipple into my mouth and sucking it greedily. She cried out in pleasure as I flicked my tongue over it, her hips bucking off the bed in search of release. I moved lower, kissing and nipping my way down her stomach.

“I want you to watch me,” I commanded, my voice rough with lust.

I positioned myself between her legs, my hardened length rubbing against the damp folds of her pussy. I could feel her wetness seeping onto my skin as I teasingly pushed forward, only to pull back at the last second. Her gaze locked onto mine, pleading and desperate for release.

“You’re going to beg for this cock, aren’t you?” I whispered huskily. She nodded eagerly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she watched me position myself at her entrance. With one swift thrust, I buried myself inside her warmth up to the hilt.

She cried out in blissful agony as I began to move, picking up speed until we were both lost in a whirlwind of passion and lust. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders, drawing tiny beads of blood as she met my every thrust with equal force.

“You like that, baby?” I said with a soft growl against her ear. “Do you want more?”

She nodded frantically, her body trembling underneath me. I reached down and played with her clit, circling it slowly at first before increasing the pressure and speed.

“Ahh… please,” she moaned as she neared release again. “Don’t stop.” Her words fueled my passion even more as I slammed into her over and over again, feeling the walls of her pussy squeeze tightly around my cock.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, I let go, groaning as I felt my hot cum shoot deep inside her. She collapsed beneath me, our chests heaving as we caught our breath. I looked down at her, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me. She was mine, completely and utterly.

I twisted and fell onto my back on the mattress. Zara laid her head on my chest, and I put my arm around her shoulders, allowing myself a moment of peace. Tomorrow would bring its own problems. But tonight -- tonight was ours. A stolen moment of connection in a life where such moments were rare and precious.

“What happens now?” Zara asked softly, her finger tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

I could have lied, could have told her everything would be fine. But she deserved better than platitudes. Besides, there were things she needed to know, things I’d been told to share with her.

“Now we prepare,” I said, my voice a low rumble in the darkened room. “They may come looking for payback.”

She tensed slightly against me. “Because of my mother? Because of me?”

“Because of me,” I corrected. “I made the call. I led the mission. The club backed my play, but the responsibility is mine.”

She pushed herself up on one elbow to look at me, her expression serious in the dim light filtering through the curtains. “No regrets?”

I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger against her cheek. “No regrets.”

She studied me for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, she nodded once and settled back against my chest.

“Then we’ll face it together,” she said simply. “Whatever comes next.”

I tightened my arm around her, knowing she couldn’t possibly understand what she was committing to -- the violence, the danger, the life on constant alert. But also knowing if anyone could handle it, it would be this woman who had come looking for an avenging angel to help find her mother.

“Together,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Outside, the night was quiet except for the occasional sound of boots on gravel as the security patrols made their rounds. Inside, in this small haven we’d created, I held the woman who had somehow become my reason for fighting -- and for returning.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I slept without dreams of blood and death. At least for tonight.