Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
With a shudder, I glance around the rest of the space. It’s late, and it’s dimly lit, but I can see a corridor ahead leading into the living room. Beyond that, I catch a glimpse of some gardens through the windows. More than anything, I want to go bathe in that moonlight, but I know that’s not part of Azrael’s plans for tonight.
This house is gorgeous, but there’s a dark, somber energy lurking within the walls. It constricts my lungs and makes my heart race, as if it’s wrapping its claws around me and pulling me into a vortex.
Instinctively, I take a step back, but Azrael captures my elbow and shakes his head.
“Come, Little Witch. No more games tonight.”
I want to tell him it isn’t a game, that there isn’t enough sage in the world to cleanse whatever presence it is I’m feeling in this house. He doesn’t give me the opportunity, though, and I doubt he would even care. He seems to carry it with him, I realize, and it’s a part of him too. Perhaps he’s been held hostage by it for so long that he doesn’t even feel it anymore. The way it weighs him down. The way it imprisons him.
I try to get a better sense of exactly what it is I’m feeling, but I can’t. Something is blocking me, and as he leads me upstairs to the far end of the corridor, I know it’s going to be a full-time job keeping whatever energy that is at bay.
A shiver moves over my skin when he opens the door to what I know must be his room. It smells like him– leather and sandalwood. As rattled as I might be by this strange house, I find that scent oddly calming. I barely know him, but there’s something about him that feels familiar already—something that feels much safer than the gloomy atmosphere of this place.
I swallow as he shuts the door and seals us inside. The room is massive, with a high ceiling and arched windows reminiscent of a church. It’s masculine, accented with dark wood and deep green wallpaper and bedding. Above the bed is a strange wooden carving of the Delacroix family crest. There’s a crack down the middle, and I find it odd that he would keep it in such a state.
On the opposite side of the room, there’s a sitting area with leather chairs and the door to what I presume is an attached bathroom.
I want to explore further, but Azrael’s eyes fall on me, the black of his pupils obliterating the gold as he takes a step closer, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Instinctively, my thumb traces over the ring on my right index finger—the cat-shaped ears sharpened into points.
“Thinking of maiming me already?” Azrael arches a brow at me as his thumb skates over my jaw. “I haven’t even gotten started yet, Little Witch. In fact, I believe I owe you a punishment.”
I tilt my chin up, hoping he can’t see my nerves. “For what?”
He offers me a lazy smile as he drags his thumb across my lips, smearing my lipstick. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you. You know what you did.”
“I did nothing to warrant a punishment—” The words are cut short when he turns me in his arms abruptly, grabbing hold of the corseted mesh on the back of my dress and splitting it in two.
Heat and fear lick along my skin as his hands dip lower, shredding the fabric of my skirt so easily it terrifies me.
I knew he was strong, but this…. this is inhuman. It takes him very little effort and all of three seconds to rip my dress in half and toss it to the floor, revealing my near-naked body. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest as I stand there in nothing more than a thong and heels, listening to his breathing increase as his palm grazes the length of my spine.
I can’t see his face, but I can feel his eyes burning a path down my body. His index finger dips below the string of my thong, plucking it until it snaps back against my skin and making me gasp.
I don’t know what to expect, not being able to see him, and it’s setting me on edge. I try to turn, but he halts me by wrapping his arm around me and splaying his palm across my belly.
The edges of his fingers trace the snake tattoo curving around my hip as he hauls me back against his body, his breath tickling my ear. “Where do you think you’re going, Little Witch?”
“Nowhere.” My response comes out strangled, and his dark chuckle grates at my already raw nerves. But I seem to forget them entirely as his palm sweeps up over my breast, grazing my nipple and sending sparks shooting through me.