Azrael reached for her hand, his grip strong, possessive.
I looked up at him, dark eyes meeting mine, and in that instant, our pasts his memory of the innocent girl, my memory of the life I lost collided.
"You're still that girl," he whispered, voice low, almost reverent. "Somewhere beneath all of this…"
My chest tightened.
I wanted to protest, to push away, but I didn't. Something in the way he spoke, in the way he held me, made me feel seen in a way no one else ever had. He didn't just want my body; he wanted every piece of me, even the broken parts.
And in that moment, I realized I didn't just crave his obsession. I needed it. Not because I had no choice, but because he understood the chaos inside me, and he embraced it.
The room was silent, but the weight between us was immense.
Dark, possessive, unyielding.
And neither of us could deny the pull that had begun so long ago, the force that would carry us forward into fire, into obsession, and into love that consumed everything.