Page 29 of His to Break
AZRAEL
I soar through the frigid winds of the Glacies, the icy expanse sprawling beneath me like a shimmering blanket of crystal.
Each powerful beat of my wings propels me forward, but I can feel the weight of time pressing down on me.
Late again. I curse under my breath, knowing full well that my queen won't let me forget it.
The thrill of flight doesn't quell the knot tightening in my stomach—today's venture needs to impress.
With a final thrust, I descend toward the stone brick landing. My feet touch down lightly, wings folding against my back with practiced ease. The chill in the air prickles against my skin, and I relish the sharp bite that reminds me I’m alive in this frozen realm.
As I stride through the massive arched doors leading into the palace, demons bustle about like frantic shadows—servants rushing to and fro with arms full of silks and food trays.
They scatter before me, eyes wide as they take in my imposing form—a high demon draped in shadows and arrogance.
A few nod respectfully; their faces hold traces of both fear and admiration, but I don't bother acknowledging them. They know who commands this space.
My thoughts fixate on what I've brought with me: a gift for Kara, a token of peace to quell her irritation at my tardiness. I hope it’s enough to smooth over her fury; she deserves no less than every ounce of adoration I can muster.
As I approach the doors of the throne room, two guards stand sentinel—muscular figures adorned in black armor that gleams dully against the palace's muted stones. Their postures are rigid as they catch sight of me, their expressions betraying just a hint of trepidation.
"Open," I command.
They exchange a glance laden with hesitation before one replies, “Sir… she’s quite upset. She expected you nearly an hour ago.”
A growl rumbles in my throat, irritation flaring hot. "Yes, I'm well aware," I retort sharply, forcing myself to temper my frustration for Kara’s sake. “Now open the doors so I can see my wife.”
The guards exchange another glance before stepping aside reluctantly, swinging open the heavy doors with a creak that echoes like thunder across polished marble floors inside.
Light spills out from within—a stark contrast to the somber exterior—casting shadows that dance around me as I step into the throne room. Golden rays spill from tall windows high above where icicles hang like ornate chandeliers amidst swirling frost patterns.
And there she is—Kara—seated on her throne with an elegance that radiates even amid her ire. Her presence commands attention; every corner of this vast chamber feels charged by her energy as she reclines regally upon dark velvet cushions, emerald eyes flashing with barely contained displeasure.
My heart races despite myself; it always does when she looks at me like this—half annoyance, half intrigue—and today is no different.
“Azrael,” she says sharply as if daring me to explain myself for being late.
I step forward confidently until I'm just shy of her dais. “I come bearing gifts,” I declare with a flourish that makes her brow arch slightly.
A flicker of curiosity breaks through her annoyance; it's enough for me to push past my earlier trepidation and present what I've brought—a small box crafted from obsidian with silver filigree coiling around its edges like ethereal smoke.
“Open it,” I say softly.
Kara lifts the lid of the obsidian box, her eyes widening as the light catches on the ring nestled inside. It’s a simple wedding band, yet striking—a deep, glossy black stone surrounded by intricate silver filigree that reflects the light like stars scattered across a night sky.
“This…” she whispers, brushing her fingers over the smooth surface, almost reverently.
I take a breath, my heart pounding. “I know it isn’t custom among demons to care about weddings or rings or any of that nonsense,” I say, my voice steady despite the weight of vulnerability creeping in. “But I care about you. I want to give you a piece of your own culture.”
I reach for the ring and slip it onto her finger, careful and deliberate. Her gaze drops to admire it, and for a brief moment, I catch a glimmer of joy flickering in her eyes. But just as quickly as it appears, that expression vanishes as she turns her gaze back to me—no smile remains.
“Thank you,” she says, her tone clipped and devoid of warmth.
I feel my chest tighten. The gift should’ve melted away some of her anger; after all we’ve endured together. “Oh come now, my queen. I know you adore it.”
As if sensing my desperation for reconciliation, she rolls her eyes and turns her head away defiantly. The gesture stings more than I'd like to admit.
Kneeling at Kara's feet, I bask in the warmth radiating from her swollen belly. The throne room, once a place of tension and ambition, has transformed into our sanctuary. I’m no longer the demon prince I once was; that identity feels like a distant echo.
Now, I am simply Azrael—her devoted servant, her lover, and soon, a father.
As I glance up at her, my heart swells with an overwhelming sense of belonging. Kara’s gaze pierces through me, fierce and commanding yet filled with an affection that softens my edges. “I’m yours,” I whisper, each word dripping with devotion.
Her fingers weave through my hair—a gesture so gentle it makes my breath hitch.
In this moment, I feel forgiven for the weight of past mistakes.
The power imbalance between us doesn’t diminish our connection; if anything, it amplifies it—our love growing darker and more complex like the shadows around us.
A smile spreads across my face as I rest my head against her leg, savoring the moment—the solidity of her presence grounding me. Here at her side is where I've always wanted to be.
"What can I do to make it up to you, my queen?" My hand glides over the curve of her baby bump. The life we’ve created together feels like magic—a promise of new beginnings intertwined with our tumultuous past.
Kara peers down at me, a glimmer of mischief lighting up her eyes. A vicious smile curves her lips that sends heat pooling in my core. "Do the thing with the tongue and your tail."
I can't help but grin wider at her playful command. My pulse quickens in anticipation as I start lifting her skirts, revealing the fabric that clings to her legs like a second skin.
“Your wish is my command,” I reply playfully, letting my voice drop to a sultry whisper.