Page 45 of Court of Twisted Angels

And I do. I fuck her slow and deep, each thrust a claim, a promise. Magic crackles around us, the air thick with it. Every touch, every kiss, every gasp feeds it, builds it, until it's a living thing, binding us together.

Her fingers trace the curve of my wing again, and I lean into the touch, the pleasure almost too much to bear. I grip her thigh, lifting her leg over my shoulder, opening her up to me completely. She cries out, her head thrown back, her body trembling.

"Azrael," she gasps, her voice ragged. "Please."

I lean down, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss. "Please what, little bird?" I murmur against her lips.

"More," she begs, her eyes glazed with desire. "I need more."

I scoop Kyrie up, her body flush against mine, and flip us so she's straddling my lap. My back hits the cold stone wall, but the chill is nothing compared to the heat between us. This position settles me deeper into her, her pussy clenching hard around me.

I grip her hips, guiding her, thrusting up into her from beneath. She tilts her head back, a moan escaping her lips.

"Fuck, Azrael," she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. The sensation is different now, more intense. The soul bond pulses with every thrust, amplifying each sensation.

"Ride me, little bird," I growl, my voice rough with desire. She starts to move, tentative at first, then faster, harder. Her hips roll against mine, taking me deeper.

Magic swirls around us, the air crackling with energy. The bond between us flares, a golden tether connecting our chests. I can feel her pleasure, her need, echoing through me. It's intoxicating, overwhelming.

"You feel that?" I ask, my breath ragged. "That's us, Kyrie. That's our bond."

She nods, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "It's... it's incredible," she pants, her body moving in sync with mine.

I grip her tighter, my thrusts matching her rhythm. The room blurs around us, the only sound our ragged breaths and the slap of flesh against flesh. The bond between us throbs, growing stronger, more intense.

"Azrael," she moans, her body tensing. She's close, so fucking close. I can feel it, her pleasure building, ready to explode.

"Come with me, Kyrie," I command, my voice hoarse. "Come now."

She cries out, her body convulsing. I feel her climax, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure crashing through the bond. It triggers my own release, a violent explosion of sensation that rips through me. I groan, burying my face in her neck, riding out the storm together.

The bond between us flares bright, our emotions intertwining, amplifying each other. It's intense, overwhelming, a connection deeper than anything I've ever felt. As we come down, our breaths slowing, our hearts pounding in sync, I know nothing will ever be the same.

She collapses against me, her body trembling. I hold her close, my arms wrapped around her, protecting her, cherishing her. Our bond pulses softly, a gentle reminder of the connection we share.

I couldn't ask for anything better.

26

KYRIE

The silk sheets whisper against my skin as I shift in the enormous four-poster bed. Even after the last few days of recovery at Azrael's estate, I still can't get used to this level of luxury.

Crystal chandeliers drip from gilded ceilings like frozen waterfalls, their magical flames dancing without heat or smoke. The walls shimmer with enchanted murals - scenes of angelic battles and celestial gardens that move and change throughout the day.

It'll be a good rest of the month until I get my wings and can return with my mother's medicine.

I drag myself to the window seat, wincing at the lingering pain in my muscles. Below, perfectly manicured gardens stretch toward the horizon. Floating orbs of light drift between towering silver-leafed trees, their branches swaying despite the absence of wind. Fountains spray streams of water that twist into impossible shapes - dragons, phoenixes, unicorns - before dissolving back into rainbow-tinted mist.

"You should be resting, little bird." Azrael's deep voice startles me. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

"I've been resting for days." My fingers trace the cool marble windowsill. "Where I come from, we can't afford to lay about all day."

"Where you come from doesn't have healing springs infused with ancient magic." He crosses the room in long strides. "Or servants who spend hours weaving restoration spells into your bedsheets. And still, I say rest."

I glance at the ornate tapestries adorning the walls, their threads gleaming with embedded enchantments. Even the air here feels different - thick with power that makes my skin tingle. Back home, we were lucky to have basic protection wards around our doors.

"Your family must have ruled for generations to accumulate all this." I gesture at the room's grandeur - the imported rugs that never collect dust, the enchanted mirror that adjusts its reflection to show your best angles.

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