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)
A solitary lamp lights the room, an indicator that Azrael has been here, and when I press my ear to the stacks, I can hear the music again.
I linger there momentarily, my eyes drifting to the old tomes I wanted to examine. But the emotions of the day have been too much already, and right now, all I want is to speak to Azrael. To make peace.
I work my way along the shelves, pressing against each frame to see if anything budges. They all seem solid and unmoveable, and I’m not sure it will work. At least not until I feel one give slightly. It’s heavy and takes some effort, but with a solid push, it starts to turn, revealing a dark, musty corridor.
I stare into the abyss, goosebumps breaking out along my skin as I consider venturing down that path. I can’t see much apart from the light spilling in from the library that illuminates the stone. Beyond that, it’s dark, but there’s no doubt this is where Azrael is. The music is coming from the other end, loud and melancholy.
With a deep breath, I steel myself and set out along the corridor, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. The journey feels long, and the energy shifts as I venture further into this part of the house. It’s different here. The memories of a family that once existed within these walls still linger. I can understand now why Azrael comes here late at night when he’s restless.
When I reach the end of the corridor, the entrance to the piano room beckons me, but I find myself stopping in the doorframe, eyes moving over the sight before me.
Candles flicker throughout the space, casting a soft glow over the imposing man in the center of all of it. His large frame moves in tandem with his fingers as they float over the keys with a haunting proficiency.
The melody is one I don’t know, but it’s beautiful and gut-wrenching all the same. It’s strange how powerful music can be. I’ve always known it, but seeing him this way makes me feel something I can’t explain, like we’re bound together in a way that makes me feel his pain. It’s something I’ve only ever experienced with my own family.
But this connection is stronger. It’s a pulsing, electric beat in my chest. The string of fate wrapped around my wrist, tugging me in whichever direction he moves. It’s a voice whispering in my ear.
Go to him.
I do.
It takes me several steps into the room before he looks up, his eyes catching mine. His shoulders stiffen at first glance, and a flicker of vulnerability moves through his gaze. He didn’t expect me to see him here.
“Hi.” I offer him a nervous smile.
“Hi,” he echoes. “What are you doing down here?”
I move closer, my hip brushing the curve of the piano as I enter his orbit close enough to smell his cologne but far enough to guard my heart if he rejects me.
“You left me alone,” I murmur, my words betraying the emotion behind them.
His eyes darken, fingers reaching out to wrap around mine. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It isn’t.” I stare at him, my voice little more than a whisper. “It isn’t at all.”
His eyes move over my face, and with a jerk of his hand, I’m standing before him, pinned between the piano and his muscular thighs.
“Do you have any idea what this does to me?” he asks roughly as his fingertips graze my face, down the length of my neck, before dipping to my hard nipple poking through the silk of my nightgown.
“What?” I croak.
He responds by dragging his finger along the hem to my shoulder strap, pushing it to the side before he repeats the action on the other side. The material slides down over my skin to gather around my waist, baring my breasts for him.
With a growl of satisfaction, Azrael grabs a handful of my ass, holding me in place as he dips his head forward to suck my nipple into his mouth. A whimper escapes me as he pulls me forward, mauling me with his teeth and tongue.
“Azrael,” I pant, my fingers reaching up to tug his hair.
“I know,” he rumbles against me. “Fucking Christ, I need to be inside you.”
The piano's keys play a chaotic tune beneath my ass as he tips me back, using the instrument as leverage when he stands abruptly. He grips my waist with one hand, balancing me while the other reaches for his zipper.
His cock is a solid weight in his palm when he retrieves it, and he wastes no time before he nudges it against me. I’m already wet for him, and my body accepts him greedily when he thrusts up inside me and I wrap my legs around him so I feel his full length.