Page 23 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

EMILIA

I stare at him speechlessly for a few seconds. A kiss. My heart stutters, then takes off at a sprint that makes my chest tight.

“No fucking way,” I retort, spinning on my heel to get the hell out of his office. I’ve had enough of his bullshit, enough of him.

But his next words freeze me in place.

“That means you don’t want to successfully complete any mission in my city,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear him. “What happened with Jason Moore is just the tip of the iceberg. I can make things incredibly difficult for you here if I want to.”

Bastard.

I whirl on him with a glare that’s brought grown men to their knees.

But not Rafael.

He doesn’t even flinch. Just stands there, cool and detached, like he didn’t just ask me for a fucking kiss .

“What are you talking about?” I demand, though the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I already know exactly what picture he’s painting.

The Nightshades and Rafael are so deeply entrenched in the city, you can’t have one without the other. Like a fucking cancer that refuses to go away no matter how aggressive the treatment.

“For you to get any useful piece of information regarding any case you might have in this city, you’ll need to talk with my people.” His eyes harden as he speaks, and I raise my chin defiantly, doing my best not to stare at his lips.

“And?”

“I can make sure they all remain quiet.” He steps closer, not enough to touch, but enough to tower.

“All I have to do is share your picture. And that of your little friend’s.

Katherine, was it? I’ll make sure they all know what a traitorous little spy you are.

Anyone who values their tongue will keep it firmly behind their teeth. ”

I expected that—or something just as cruel—but the sheer savagery still hits like a punch. “You fucking asshole, you?—”

“Start talking, Emilia. Contrary to what you may believe, I don’t have all night. I have a meeting in–” He glances at his watch. “–about thirty minutes.”

He really wants to know? Suffering from selective amnesia, is he? Fine. I’ll give him the reminder he deserves.

“You want to fucking know why I hate your guts and everything you stand for, Rafael?” I take an angry step towards him.

“Because even though I betrayed you in a misguided attempt to prove your innocence, you went out of your way to destroy me. And no matter how many times you try to redeem yourself by ‘saving’ me, I’ll never forget—and I’ll never forgive you. ” I won’t.

His brows pinch together as his chrome eyes flit across my face. “Stop speaking in riddles. What do you think I did to destroy you?”

“You fucking killed my father!” I scream into his face.

“Was his death so meaningless to you that you just forgot ? You fucking killed my dad!” My voice breaks on the last word, and to my horror, hot tears spill down my cheeks as I recall the pain and shock and betrayal that thrummed through my bloodstream when I was told what he did.

I sniff, wiping the tears away furiously.

I will not show weakness. Not in front of him.

“What? What are you talking about?” He looks… genuinely stunned, like this is news to him. The bastard should win an Oscar.

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” I surge forward, close enough to hit him now, so I do. My fists pound his chest, his stupidly hard stomach—anywhere I can reach.

But I don’t touch his injured arm. Not even once.

Because even in my rage, I apparently still give a shit. And I fucking hate that.

Hate that I still care. Hate that I still feel anything at all when it comes to him.

Always this maddening mix of?—

Rage and Lust.

Hate and love.

Always tangled.

Always war.

Fuck him for doing this to me!

“What?” He grabs my wrists, stopping my futile attempts to hurt him, his own eyes sparking with an anger that mirrors my own. “So now it’s no longer my father who killed yours—it’s me? Do you hear yourself, Emilia?” His grip tightens on my wrists, not enough to hurt but enough to keep me still.

I glare at him. “Pretending doesn’t suit you, Rafael. I know that the night I betrayed you, you discovered my father was still alive—and you killed him.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then his face goes completely blank. All emotion just… disappears. “I did not kill your father, Emilia.” His voice is grave in a way I’ve never heard before. “No matter how mad at you I am, I would never hurt you that way. I did not kill him .”

He drops my wrists and grabs my shoulders, giving me a small shake.

“Think about it. Have I ever made any real attempts to hurt you? You know if I really wanted to hurt you, it would be too easy for me. How many times did I find your location over the years while you were on missions? I didn’t show up every single time, but trust me, I always knew exactly where you were. ”

A thick arrow of doubt pierces through my fog of anger and pain. He means it . The realization seeps into my consciousness like water into parched soil. Somewhere deep down, I’ve always known he couldn’t have done it—not really.

But Stacey was so confident about what she saw. And I trust her with my life.

I stand there, a little dumbfounded, at a crossroads between the hatred I’ve nurtured for a decade and the truth that now demands recognition. But ten years of animosity can’t just evaporate with one carefully curated speech from my enemy… nemesis… ex-lover.

“How can I trust you? How can—” My words cut off with a gasp as Rafael moves in a flash. One moment he’s a breath away, and the next, his lips crash against mine in a rough, punishing kiss.

My brain short-circuits instantly. My belly twists with heat, heart racing a million miles per minute as I melt into the kiss. Into his embrace. It’s like coming home after years wandering in the wilderness.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is go up on my tiptoes, sink my fingers into his silky hair, and hold on for dear life as I kiss him back with all the emotions surging through me at that moment—the anger, the hatred, the confusion, the lust that never really went away.

He releases a deep groan that vibrates straight to my core, settling as a warm, pulsing weight between my thighs. His hands slide to my ass, yanking me against his hard body. I sway, breathless, eyelids heavy .

One hand goes up to cradle the back of my head, anchoring me as he sucks on my tongue, drawing it into his mouth.

I moan helplessly, my fingers clenching his hair so tightly I must be hurting him, though he doesn’t seem to care.

He drags his teeth over my top lip—a delicious scrape that sends shivers cascading down my spine—then plunges back in for another wet, devastating kiss.

Blood rushes in my ears, drowning out everything but the erratic pounding of my heart. The drugging thump-thump-thump pulses through my veins, igniting my lust, kindling it like gasoline to flame.

More. I need more.

His mouth on mine is divine, all-consuming. I never want him to stop. And from the way he’s devouring me, he doesn’t plan to. We kiss and kiss and kiss until I can’t breathe anything but his intoxicating scent, until every heartbeat screams his name. Ra-fa-el. Ra-fa-el.

His rough hand palms my breast over my shirt, and I shudder as lightning rolls through me, zinging through my spine down to my curling toes.

He growls and tightens his hand on my ass. Then my feet are tangling as we move backwards, his lips still fused to mine, his tongue continuing its sensual invasion.

My spine kisses cool glass, and I barely have time to process the sensation before his rough words send heat skittering across my skin: “Spread your legs.”

I obey before the words have fully left his mouth. His palm runs up my thigh over my jeans, and frustration sparks in his eyes. He wishes I were wearing something a little more accessible. I wish I were too.

Next time , I think wildly, then nearly choke on the implication.

He drags his drugging kisses to my neck, working the sensitive flesh there with the same intensity he showed my mouth— hot and wet, with clever flicks of his tongue and the exquisite scrape of teeth.

I’m so lost in the sensation that I don’t realize he’s unbuttoned my jeans until his rough hand slips inside to palm my cunt. I jerk convulsively.

“Fuck, Rafael!” I scream, my head slamming back against the glass as I buck shamelessly into his touch. His eyes turn molten as he watches my expression, like he can’t get enough of seeing what he’s doing to me, like he’s starved for the way I’m unraveling under his hand.

His thumb circles my clit, making my stomach tighten and my inner walls clench around nothing. And suddenly I’m hyper-aware of just how embarrassingly wet I am. Fuck, can he feel it? I’m only wearing a flimsy lace thong.

He presses closer, until my tits are crushed against his hard chest, my nipples puckering into sensitive peaks that ache for his attention—his fingers, tongue, anything .

Please , I think, but the word won’t come out.

My tongue darts out to wet my dry lip, my eyes drinking him in like he’s the last man on earth. The want I feel for him is so intense it scares me.

His fingers stay maddeningly still in my jeans as he leans in and blows a hot breath against my neck.

I jolt like I’ve been electrocuted, and he does it again, the bastard.

He does it once more before finally moving his head down to my tits, as if he can sense how desperately I need his attention there.

His free hand cups one, kneading it through my shirt, and pleasure explodes through my lower belly like wildfire. The sound that escapes me is pure porn, mixing with some harsh, grating noise that?—

Rafael stops. Everything stops. His hands, his mouth, all of it.

“No,” I growl, tugging at his hair. “Don’t stop.”

But that harsh sound comes again, more insistent this time. Longer .

What the hell?

I frown, the haze of lust slowly clearing as I try to understand why it sounds vaguely familiar. The third time it happens, recognition dawns. Someone’s knocking on Rafael’s office door.

When he pulls away from me, his hands leaving my body, a scream of protest rises in my chest. Irrational anger surges through me, and before I can stop myself, I lunge forward and grab his hand.

He stares at me with that detached expression he’s perfected, but his eyes are dark as night, his lips swollen from our kisses, and his usually immaculate hair a wild mess thanks to my fingers.

He’s not as unaffected as he’s trying to look.

Before I can say anything, he speaks. “Get the hell out of here, Emilia.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. Reality crashes back, and I realize what just happened. What I almost let happen

I would have let him fuck me against that window.

I numbly pull up my zipper, fingers trembling so badly I can barely manage the button as I all but run from his office, desperate to escape before I do something even more stupid.

The man standing outside gives me a knowing look, his gaze hard as flint. But I don’t give a shit about him. My hands won’t stop shaking, so I wrap my arms around myself as I brush past him.

“What is it, Enzo?” Rafael’s voice floats down the corridor, cool and controlled, as I take the next turn towards the stairwell.

Even now, after his harsh dismissal, his voice still has the power to tug on my swollen clit, my sensitive nipples sending little shudders down my spine as I practically stumble down the stairs.

Fucking hell.