Page 32 of His to Break
I can’t watch him do this—each stab plunges deeper into my heart than into his flesh. The magic still pulls at him relentlessly; I can see it struggling against his willpower. He’s trembling now, each movement sending fresh pain through him as he keeps stabbing himself.
Hagaruz’s confident smile falters; anger clouds his features as realization dawns on him that Azrael's plan to resist is working. “You’re mine!” he roars, lunging toward me with a dagger gleaming wickedly in his hand.
My instincts kick in. I throw up my hands instinctively, feeling a pulse of dark energy ripple from my fingers. But Hagaruz is too close; before I can react fully, pain slices across my arm as his blade tears into my flesh. I stumble back, vision swimming with agony and shock.
Ragged breaths escape me as I fight to steady myself against the wall behind me. Blood trickles down my arm and pools at my feet—my mind races even as darkness edges around the corners of my vision.
But through the haze of pain and chaos, something ignites within me—a flicker of power that feels both intoxicating and terrifying.
I lock eyes with Hagaruz as I take a step forward again, letting adrenaline guide me past fear. “You want me so badly?” My voice comes out thick with confidence—the seductive resonance of my incubus bloodline flows through each word like honey laced with poison.
His steps falter; confusion flashes across his face before desire twists it further into something grotesque and desperate.
“Then hurt yourself for me,” I purr softly but firmly, feeling that dark energy swell around us like a storm gathering force.
The shift is palpable; it's almost electric as Hagaruz hesitates—his gaze riveted on me with a mixture of lust and dread that makes every hair on my body stand on end.
“Do it,” I urge him softly, almost coaxingly—every syllable drips with unrestrained power and control that courses through my veins now like wildfire.
He grips the dagger tighter; there’s a moment where uncertainty flickers across his features again before it hardensinto resolve. The change unsettles me; this isn’t just some game anymore—it’s raw manipulation steeped in dark magic, one where both predator and prey are shifting roles rapidly.
Hagaruz’s hand twitches, the dagger hovering in the air. Then, slowly, he drags the blade across his own skin, laughing maniacally as blood pours from the wound. “Yes… yes…” he whispers, his eyes wide with madness, stabbing himself again and again.
I watch in horrified fascination as he drives the dagger deeper into his flesh, each stab more brutal than the last. My heart races; I’m trapped between revulsion and a twisted thrill. He’s laughing—his voice high and deranged—lost to a darkness that echoes my own power.
“More…” he mutters, his voice breaking, before collapsing to the ground in a pool of crimson and insanity. His laughter fades into ragged breaths, the light in his eyes flickering out like a dying flame.
I stand frozen, processing what just unfolded—a part of me repulsed while another revels in this display of dominance. It’s intoxicating to witness someone so powerful reduced to this.
Hagaruz's fingers tremble as he scoops up a handful of filth from the floor and forces it into his mouth, choking on the taste until he falls to the ground.
I shake myself from the horror of Hagaruz's madness, my focus snapping back to Azrael. He lies on the cold stone floor, blood pooling around him, his face pale like a ghost.
“Azrael!” I cry, dropping to my knees beside him. Panic surges through me as I see his shallow breaths and fluttering eyelids. “Stay with me,” I whisper, hands trembling as I press them against his wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. But it’s too much—he’s lost too much blood.
I can’t let him slip away.
Without thinking, I pull a dagger from my belt and slice my wrist, the sharp pain grounding me in this moment of chaos. Holding it to his lips, I command, “Drink.” My voice shakes, fear twisting in my gut. At first, he doesn’t respond; his body is too weak to react. But then I feel the warmth of his breath against my skin as my blood drips into his mouth.
His eyes flicker open slowly, revealing that familiar glow even through the haze of pain. His lips part slightly, and he begins to drink—weakly at first, but then with a newfound strength that ignites hope within me.
As I watch color return to his face and the wounds start knitting together before my eyes, relief floods over me like a wave crashing onto the shore. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I cradle his head in my lap, feeling the weight of everything we’ve been through.
“You’re not leaving me,” I whisper fiercely, my voice thick with emotion.
His hand reaches up to rest against my cheek—a soft gesture that seems like it has no place after everything we’ve just been through. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, each word laced with determination despite his weakened state.
I lean down instinctively; our lips meet in a soft kiss—there’s no hunger or dominance this time—just a quiet intensity shared between two souls bound together by fate and circumstance. When we pull apart, our foreheads rest against each other, breaths mingling in the stillness surrounding us.
In this moment of vulnerability, I sense something shifting between us—a deep connection forged not just by desire but by shared battles and unyielding loyalty. We’re no longer just slaves caught in a cruel game; we’re allies destined for something greater.
“You're mine,” I vow softly into the space between us, knowing now more than ever that we must fight—not just for ourselves but for each other and whatever future lies ahead.
27
KARA
The memory of almost losing Azrael haunts me as we sit in the aftermath of the battle, the echoes of chaos still lingering in the air. I watch him, propped against the wall, his strength slowly returning. Each shallow breath he takes sends a ripple of fear through me—not fear of defeat, but fear of losing him. The thought of him walking away, leaving me behind in this cruel world, feels unbearable.
