Page 3 of His to Break
KARA
T he dark elves’ laughter rings in my ears, their arrogant chuckles slicing through the heavy air. I flinch at the sound, a reflex born from years of torment and punishment.
"You are to serve him, human wench. That is your new purpose," one of them sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. Their cruel eyes linger on me as they start to leave, their contempt palpable.
As they walk away, I feel the weight of their disdain settle on my shoulders like a lead cloak. But then the demon speaks again, his voice deep and haunting. "I need unchained to eat."
A shiver races down my spine as I glance up at him. There’s something in his gaze—an intensity that unnerves me but also draws me in, like a moth to flame. I can’t help but wonder if this creature, this demon, has the power to obliterate everything that holds us captive.
Suddenly, a magic chain materializes around his neck while the chains binding him to the wall vanish like smoke in the wind. The dark elves’ taunts echo in my mind as they warn him of his limitations: “Your magic is of no use here. If you kill the human slave, you won't be getting another.”
Their laughter fades into silence, and I find myself alone with this being of darkness and fury. A demon! The very idea sends chills through me—not just from fear but from an inexplicable thrill that flutters in my chest.
I swallow hard and focus on my task: preparing his food. I’ve seen slaves bring meals before—nothing more than scraps thrown together hastily—but somehow it feels different now with him watching me.
"What is your name?" he rumbles as he settles onto a nearby stone bench, muscles taut under obsidian skin.
“Kara,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Kara.” He rolls the name over his tongue like it’s foreign yet tantalizing. "I am Azrael."
I try not to stare as I gather what’s left of their meager offerings—a stale piece of bread and a thin slice of meat that smells faintly rancid. My hands tremble slightly as I set them before him; each motion feels weighted by uncertainty.
His violet eyes study me closely. “You’re afraid,” he states simply.
“I—” My breath catches in my throat. How can he see right through me? “It’s not just you.”
He tilts his head slightly, assessing me like a predator sizing up its prey. “Fear can be useful,” he says softly.
I can’t help but wonder if this demon is more than just an instrument of chaos—if there’s something lurking beneath all that anger waiting for release…
I'm still reeling from the weight of his gaze when I muster the courage to ask, “Do you need anything… else?” My voice barely rises above a whisper, shaking despite my efforts to keep it steady.
Azrael’s lips curl into a dark smile, a wicked twist that sends shivers up and down my back. He steps closer, towering over me like a shadow threatening to swallow the light. “I want you,” he says simply, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through me.
My heart skips a beat, caught in the web of terror and something I can’t quite name.
I’m frozen, caught in his gravitational pull as he reaches out and brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear.
His fingers trail down my neck, igniting sparks along my skin.
I shiver involuntarily at the contact—each stroke feels electric.
He touches me lightly at first—his fingers grazing my collarbone, skimming over my back, tracing the delicate curve of my shoulders. Each caress sends ripples of heat coursing through me, setting my senses ablaze.
“Azrael,” I breathe, feeling vulnerable and exposed under his gaze.
“Do not speak.” His tone is commanding yet laced with an undercurrent of desire that sets my nerves on edge. Then he grows bolder; his hand slips beneath my tunic, fingers exploring the bare skin underneath.
I gasp as his touch ignites something deep inside me—something primal and untamed. My body reacts against my will; it trembles under his fingertips as they roam lower, brushing against the swell of my breasts. I feel their heat rising to meet him, every nerve ending alight with awareness.
What’s happening? This shouldn’t be right! My mind screams in protest even as every fiber of my being betrays me. His fingers find their way to where they shouldn’t be, and all I can manage is another gasp as pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave.
“No…” It comes out weak and breathless, but the heat pooling between my legs doesn’t care about words or protests. I hate myself for how easily I succumb to this—this demon who embodies everything I should fear yet somehow awakens an unquenchable desire within me.
His hand finds its way beneath the fabric of my tunic; warmth spreads like wildfire across my skin where he touches me. The world narrows down to just him and me—his powerful presence envelops me completely.
“I shouldn’t want this,” I murmur even though every instinct begs otherwise.
His fingers tease and explore with a boldness that leaves me breathless, each brush against my sensitive skin amplifying an ache that’s both unfamiliar and intoxicating.
As if sensing my turmoil, he captures my gaze with his own—a blazing violet that holds promises of pleasure intertwined with danger.
“I am not here to harm you,” he whispers, though the truth lies buried deeper than mere words can express. His touch feels like fire against ice—an irresistible contrast that drives me mad with need.
My knees weaken as he continues his exploration; they buckle slightly beneath him while uncertainty warps around us like smoke in the air. He’s more than just a being bound by chains; he’s an embodiment of raw power—and somehow that makes it worse.
“Azrael…” My voice falters again as panic mingles with arousal—a toxic brew that leaves me dizzy.
The dark smirk playing on his lips deepens as if he's relishing every moment spent unraveling me before him. “What do you truly desire?”
Desire? The word ricochets through my mind like thunder in a storm—the reality of it crashing into place just as violently as everything else about this moment does. What do I want? How could it be him?
But standing here under Azrael's command leaves no room for denial—I crave him in ways that unsettle me beyond comprehension—and those thoughts echo endlessly in the shadows dancing between us.
It doesn't make any sense. I've only just seen him, barely met him. I know nothing about this sensation, these touches.
What is this creature doing to me?