Decade | | Azriel

10

Azriel's instincts roared at him, had been roaring at him since the moment he heard that terrible sob rip through Kyla the moment he was out of her room. That sob had shaken him to his very core, broken something vital inside of him.

And he could feel her fear and misery and pain through the bond, that damning connection between them. He could feel every ounce of horror she felt at being tethered to him.

She was scared of him.

She screamed in her head and he could hear it, could hear her screaming for an escape from him. He could hear her cries for a way to get out of this, to run and never be found. He could hear every brutal thought she had about what she thought he might do to her.

It made him feel like he might die. Her fearing him...it was something worse than death.

Worst of all, she had trusted him so completely. For just a blink of their existence, she had trusted him. She had told him of all the pain she had suffered and let him see her and then it shattered. And now she feared him. She feared the blood on his hands, that hers might join all that he had already stained himself with.

For a moment, he thought he should just take his own blade to his throat and remove what she saw as her greatest threat.

He couldn't stand that she feared him. His instincts screamed at him to protect her from the fear she felt, but he was the threat. The idea of all the power he held was the threat. What she thought he was capable of was the threat. How could he protect her from that? From the image she had crafted of him?

He couldn't blame her for her fear. He had told her so much over the years, given her so much reason to fear him. He had shown too much of himself, revealed things he should have kept hidden and been foolish enough to think she could feel safe with him despite knowing what a monster he was. She knew he had killed so many, had tortured ruthlessly and had shown mercy to so few. She knew he dumped prisoners into his torture chambers and left them to rot and waste away. She knew he had places that not even Rhysand was aware of. She knew he had countless spies scattered across Prythian. She knew how deadly he was, and after a decade she finally saw him for the monster he truly was.

He wished she knew he would sooner carve into his chest and rip out his own beating heart than hurt her. He would sooner burn himself alive than hurt her. He wished she knew that he would willingly gouge his own eyes out if she didn't want him to look at her. He'd tear apart every part of himself if it made her feel safe.

He swallowed back the urge to vomit at an image that spiraled down the bond.

She imagined him dragging her to his torture chambers and locking her away.

More images followed, paired with all that fear and dread.

He couldn't stop the bile rising in his throat, hunching over and emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash bin.

And, for the first time in a long time, he sobbed. He cried so hard he couldn't even breathe.

His own mate was terrified of him.

He wondered if she could feel his anguish through the bond like he could feel hers. Maybe she would mistake it as her own.

He sobbed relentlessly for longer than he cared to keep track of, thinking the most vile thoughts about himself.

Of course she feared him. There were so few people who didn't. So few people who were willing to hold his stare.

He thought of the nights he spent in bed with her, the rules she bent for him because she felt safe with him, the times she gave him complete control and trusted him with it. He thought about how he would likely never have that again.