Page 6 of His to Break
My heart races as he continues, “Power to destroy them. Don’t you want that?”
The answer lingers on my tongue—a yes that’s been trapped beneath layers of fear and despair. I want it more than anything. I’ve spent years buried in the dirt and grime of servitude, each day blending into the next like shadows creeping through the mine shafts. But now? Now a fire ignites within me.
“Imagine it,” he says, his eyes dark with an intensity that draws me closer despite myself. “You could have your freedom. You could make them pay for every lash they’ve laid on your back.”
I swallow hard, envisioning their faces twisted in fear as I unleash whatever magic lies dormant inside me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine—part exhilaration, part terror.
“What would I have to do?” My voice is barely a whisper, caught somewhere between curiosity and dread.
Azrael closes the distance between us, his towering figure casting a shadow over me. He reaches out slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with fingers that feel both gentle and electrifying against my skin.
“Just trust me,” he breathes, his voice low and seductive.
My breath catches as he leans closer still, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that threatens to consume me whole. There’s something about him—something dark and alluring that beckons to parts of myself I’ve kept hidden for too long.
“What if it changes me?” I ask hesitantly, uncertainty creeping in like fog through the night.
“Change is inevitable,” he replies softly. “But think of what you’ll gain—the strength to fight back.”
He moves even closer now; I can feel the heat radiating from him, enveloping me in warmth and danger all at once. His fingertips graze my collarbone again before trailing lower along my neck. The contact sends shockwaves through my body; desire ignites like wildfire as instinct battles reason.
“What if I don’t want this power?” My voice trembles under his touch.
He pauses for a moment, searching my eyes as if trying to read my soul. “Deep down,” he whispers, leaning closer so that our breaths mingle in the charged space between us, “you know you crave it.”
His words send a jolt through me; he’s right in ways I can’t comprehend yet fully acknowledge. The idea of rising above my circumstances pulls at something primal within—a hunger for more than mere survival.
But then doubt washes over me like cold water snapping me back to reality.
“I… I can’t.” The weight of fear settles heavily on my chest again—the familiar chains binding not just Azrael but also myself in this suffocating life as a slave.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I murmur finally as panic rises inside me.
As if sensing my retreating resolve, Azrael takes a step back but not without keeping his gaze locked onto mine—hisexpression morphing from desire to frustration. “You’re afraid,” he says quietly but firmly.
I nod slowly; the truth spills out before I can stop it—fear has always been a companion since being thrust into this life of servitude under dark elves’ whims.
“Don’t let them control you any longer,” he urges gently yet intensely. “You deserve more than this.”
Desire warred with fear within me as his words echo like thunderclaps against my heart. But those shackles are deeply ingrained; uncertainty holds tight around my throat.
“I need time.” With that desperate plea escaping my lips, I turn away from him—every step away feeling like tearing apart an invisible thread binding us together even while fear clings like ivy around my heart.
I escape into the dim corridor beyond the door—the weight of possibility lingering behind as dread pulls at my heels like an angry shadow refusing to let go.
6
AZRAEL
Iwait in my chambers, the cold stone walls echoing my frustration. The chains rattle with every restless movement, and the shadows twist ominously around me. I’ve summoned her, but minutes stretch like hours. I can sense the air thickening with tension, an undercurrent that pulls at me. Something has shifted since our last encounter.
Finally, the door creaks open. Kara steps inside, and my breath catches. Blood smears her cheek and arm, dark streaks that hint at violence. Her hair falls wild around her face, and her eyes gleam with a frantic light. I can hear her pulse racing like a drum in the silence of the room.
“What happened?” My voice drops low, an edge of alarm threading through it as I scan her for injuries.
She swallows hard, and for a moment, fear flickers across her features. “I… I killed one of them,” she whispers, disbelief hanging on each word.
I freeze. The weight of her admission slams into me like a physical blow. My eyes narrow as I search for clarity amidst my surprise and rising concern. “How?” I demand, incredulity lacing my tone.
