Halo Of Horns

SIX

Azazel sat there for longer than he planned.

Irina's intrusion was unexpected and most certainly unwelcome but he could not find it in his heart to make his presence known and force her to leave. Instead, all he wanted was the deep crease between her brows to dissipate and all her tears to be wiped away. 

He did not know who this woman was that stumbled into his bed. Sure, he knew she had once been the little Irina he watched throw tantrums and push away food she didn't like, but this woman was not the same girl.

She couldn't be!

She was much too perfect. Too seductive. Such effortless beauty radiating in the darkness. Beauty that shown through tear stains and hiccups.

Hours passed in the darkness, only the sound of her light snores and the crackling wave of lightning outside guiding him through the night. As tired as he was, the sight of her was more relaxing than a century's worth of rest.

The longer she slept in his bed, under a net of his protection, the wrath within him was lulled to an even balance of careful observation. Instead of bubbling beyond the surface, it was simmering below watching and waiting for its turn.

Shockingly, his demons did not try to jump at the vulnerable young woman, presenting herself so helplessly to him. Instead, they leaned back, and even though the temptation was strong and sometimes they slipped, Azazel was able to maintain his composure.

It was the scent.

The honeycomb and lavender led his demons to a place of solitude and harmony. A place where they did not belong.

His glowing red eyes glided over her sleeping form, the sheets hiding the lustrous curves she had grown into. No doubt that each thread of the fresh sheets was now laced with that addictive spice.

The sickly sweet aroma caught his attention not only when he returned to the castle and was greeted by his brother, but when he was standing outside on the balcony. It swirled in the air all around, following clear paths through the hallways and mingling in certain rooms, thicker in some areas than others.

He could sense it. She had been in his bed chambers before.

More than once.

More than twice.

Irina squirmed in her sleep, shifting to her other side so she was now facing where he sat. Her hands glided beneath the pillows and squeezed them close so her face was scrunched into the soft cushion.

Envy.

Lust.

Pride.

Wrath.

A beautiful woman in his bed, waiting so elegantly for him to join her. How it would feel to run his hands over the vast dips and valleys that outlined her body. To play with the bundles of curls upon her head as she lay against his chest, feeling the flutter of her breath against his bare skin. The thought raised the hairs on the back of his neck making a terrifyingly delightful tingle run down his spine.

Azazel grit his teeth as he watched, biting his tongue and severing all thoughts that infiltrated his mind.

He had long gone without the touch of a woman and the sight of one so beautiful, so pure and innocent, was making him behave like a prepubescent fool. He would not lower himself to such a standard and he cursed himself for even entertaining such thoughts.

She was human. Not only that, she was his brother's child. Lucifer's 'gift.' She should know better. She would know better.

The verbal lashing and reprimand could wait until the morning. Until then, he would let her rest in ignorant bliss only to awaken to the truth. He smirked, knowing what was to come was sweeter than her scent. Her cries were a melody ready to be played and he was a musician.