Page 23 of His to Break

KARA

T he air shifts when our lips part. No games, no sharp edges—just Azrael’s breath warm against my cheek as his forehead rests against mine. His hands skate up my sides, calloused palms catching on my tunic, but there’s a hesitation in his grip I’ve never felt before.

“You’re shaking,” I whisper, brushing my nose against his.

His chuckle rumbles low, but it lacks its usual bite. “You’d think centuries of existing would’ve prepared me for this.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his mouth finds the hollow beneath my ear, teeth grazing just enough to make my knees buckle.

I arch into him, fingers knotting in his hair as he pushes my back against the cold stone wall.

Our movements are slow, deliberate—nothing like the frantic clashes we’ve known.

When his hand slips under my thigh, lifting me, I hook my legs around his hips without breaking the kiss.

The first thrust punches a gasp from my throat. Azrael’s hand slaps over my mouth, his eyes blazing crimson in the dark. “Quiet, little queen,” he murmurs, but there’s humor in it now, not command. I nip his palm, grinning as he hisses.

“Or what? You’ll punish me?”

He stills, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Mercy isn’t my forte.”

“Good.” I drag his hand lower, guiding it between us. “Neither is mine.”

He groans when my fingers wrap around him, thumb circling the tip.

For once, there’s no fight for dominance—just synchronized rhythm as he presses into me again, deeper, each roll of his hips met with my own.

The chains around his wrists clink as he braces against the wall, muscles straining not from restraint, but from the effort to stay slow, to savor.

“Turn around,” I breathe when the angle shifts, pleasure coiling too tight.

He obeys, hands steadying me as I pivot, my back flush against his chest. One arm anchors my waist while the other dips lower, fingers working in time with his thrusts. “This what you wanted?” he growls into my hair.

“Closer.”

A rumble of approval. His free hand splays over my throat, not gripping—just there , a grounding weight as the pace quickens

The walls bite into my shoulder blades as Azrael drives into me again, his rhythm fracturing into something desperate.

Sweat drips from his jaw onto my collarbone, each drop sizzling against my skin like liquid fire.

His chains clank with every thrust, the sound amplifying until I’m certain the entire fortress hears us.

“Like that?” His thumb rubs tight circles over my clit, the bass growl of his voice rolling through my bones. I bite down on a scream, nails carving crescent rivers into his biceps. He smirks .

“Fuck your pride,” I gasp, dragging his mouth to mine. “Harder.”

His chuckle scrapes against my lips. “Don’t beg if you can’t handle the answer.” But he obliges, slamming me against stone until my teeth clack together. The stretch burns deliciously—I hook a leg higher around his waist, angling deeper. His breath hitches.

“Still all that demonic control?” I pant, dragging my tongue along the vein throbbing in his neck.

His fingers twist in my hair, yanking my head back. “Careful, little?—”

I roll my hips in a filthy grind, cutting off his threat with a choked groan. His cock twitches inside me, betraying the unraveling grip on his restraint. Triumph flares hot beneath my ribs.

A low snarl rumbles through his chest, but the air shimmers with crackling energy. Leathery black wings erupt from his back, sending debris scattering. One pinion slams into a barrel, splintering wood—our little rebellion recorded in destruction.

I don’t flinch.

His wings curve around us like a living cage, plunging the world into velvety darkness save for the crimson glow of his eyes. The new angle as he lifts me higher against the wall wrings a broken sound from my throat.

“Now,” he murmurs, breath scorching my cheek, “try to keep up.”

But I’m already arching into the next thrust, riding the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. His feathers brush my thighs, sin-soft and searing, as we race toward ruin.

His rhythm fractures into something feral. Talons crack from his fingertips, shredding grooves into the stone flanking my head. I laugh—a hoarse, broken sound—as ichor-black veins snake up his neck.

"Losing your pretty princely composure?" I rasp.

His snarl vibrates against my carotid. "You crave the monster."

"Prove it."

The slap of skin grows obscenely loud. His wings beat once, sending a gust reeking of sulfur and sex whipping through the room. Every thrust jolts through me like a lightning strike, my calves locked like iron around his waist as we chase the cliff’s edge.

"Harder."

" Begging now, little queen?" His teeth rip through my tunic’s collar, exposing the glowing sigil spreading across my collarbones.

"Demanding." I rake claws I didn’t know I’d grown down his back, scraping over the slave brand. His roar shakes dust from the ceiling.

Seed. Sweat. Blood. The air thickens with the musk of demon pheromones mingling with my awakening incubus scent—honeysuckle and rotting roses.

Azrael’s hand slams over my mouth again. "Quiet when you come."

I bite down hard enough to taste brass, muffled screams vibrating his palm as the coil snaps. He follows with a guttural curse, pouring himself into me in hot, pulsing waves that ignite every nerve.

We collapse in a tangled heap of limbs and feathers, his chains clinking against the floor as I trace the slave brand’s edges. The mark flickers faintly where my fingers pass.

"Did we just?—"

"Burn out another sigil? Clever girl." His thumb swipes through the mess on my thigh, holding up slick fingers glinting with gold-tinged fluid. "Seems my essence mingles interestingly with your awakened blood."

I sit up slowly, skin still humming. "You planned this."

"Planned?" He catches my wrist, pressing my palm against the weakening brand. "I merely… leveraged available resources."

The door rattles. Distant shouts echo.

Azrael’s grin turns feral as his wings furl. "Shall we test how much that weakened them?"