Page 5 of Raziel

“This was a mistake.” His grip tightened. “Not a fucking word about this will get out, understand?” he nearly growled.

And I could tell he meant it—like he was ashamed of what happened.

That hurt my poor little feelings a bit.

But I laughed under my breath. He didn’t mean it.

I rose to my toes and kissed him—slow at first, enough to catch him off guard.

He froze, just a beat… then grabbed my face and kissed me back, all tongue and teeth clashing. Wet, messy, breath-stealing.

Heat zipped through me. My nipples tightened.

When I pulled away, I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip, wiping my ruby red lipstick from his mouth.

“Not a word,” I whispered.

Then I shoved him back with a little smirk, turned, and walked out—legs sore, heart wild, and the taste of him still on my tongue.

Chapter Three- Raziel

I got home from the reception just past midnight. The house was dark, except for a pool of light spilling through the living room blinds.

I knew Alessia was here before I even stepped inside—her perfume clung to the air, sugary and heavy.

I sighed. She had her own fucking house. I wished she’d spend more time in it.

“Welcome home,” Alessia said, rising from the couch like she’d been waiting all night. She wore a silk robe in that shade of pink she loved so much. Tall and lithe, with a ballerina’s frame, her pitch-black hair hung down her back in waves. She was beautiful. Had been trained to be a wife.

It was midnight, and she was still wearing makeup that would be on her pillow in the morning—but her face would be flawless by sunrise because she always got up early to fix it.

A worthless gesture.

I didn’t care. I’d known her my entire life, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything she did. I just couldn’t.

But I’d made my mother a promise, and that was the only chain keeping me from throwing the whole damn arrangement out the window.

“How was the wedding?”

I dropped my keys on the entry table. “Fine.”

She crossed the room with a smile too sweet to be real. She always smiled like that—like she was trying to win a beauty contest no one else entered.

Her hands slid over my chest, tugging gently at the lapels of my shirt as she helped me out of my jacket. Her fingers paused at the collar, her nose wrinkling.

“You smell like women’s perfume.”

“I hugged the bride,” I said flatly.

“Hm.” She didn’t push it. Just draped my jacket over a chair. But there was a wrinkle in her nose like she could smell the lie as well as the perfume.

My hands smelled like Maya’s pussy. I wondered if she could smell that too.

She followed me down the hall as I unbuttoned my shirt. I didn’t say a word. Didn’t have the energy. I just wanted a hot shower and silence.

But Alessia hated silence. She liked the sound of her own voice too much.

She followed me into the bathroom and perched on the toilet like a pet, legs crossed, still talking as I stepped into the shower. The glass fogged instantly as the water came on.