Hell was where she burned, where she cried, begged and pleaded.
Azriel was her only way.
Nimou, Princess of the Kingdom of Sea is trapped in a storm of nightmares and pain that threatens to come alight with each step forward.
Azriel, her saviour w...
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"We all bear scares. Mine just happened to be more visible." -SARAH J.MAAS
CHAPTER FIVE HOOKED
NIM ROLLED ONTO HER BACK, arching her spine in an unnatural curve. Look at me—She gave him the perfect view of herself. Take me– His eyes focused on the crackling fire, not even a waver in control.
"I would like to go for a walk." Nim admitted defeat. She didn't want to think about how many oversexualized advances she attempted with this stunning male, the amounts of items she dropped, or the book that just happened to be across from him and her ravenous reach. And yet, he took no notice of her. The only time he even acknowledged her was upon her entry to the warm lounge. His large wings spread from wall to wall, calking them out in such a stiff manner as if to warn her that he was the one in control. The things she would do to those wings, Cauldron, the things she would do to him. He won this time– "I haven't felt the sun on my skin in so long."
The Illaryian sat with poise and patience, his shadows trembling and twisting against the wooden floor. Azriel nodded, her melodious voice calling to him and finally, he looked up at her. "You're going to need to change, you will freeze." He said with a low tone, his gaze pausing at the smokey pink bralette before trapping himself back to the fire.
She sank the hook.
"It is okay to look." Nim said, her voice a soft breeze. "My people love to dance and kiss in the nude, it's just a body." A distressed cough bellowed up his throat, a deep swallow tightening his neck. She saw the trail his eyes took and she was certain he was picturing exactly what she wanted him to. Her eyes twinkled, an outright burst of the sun burrowed in the sea depth. He was fascinating. How could someone be so shy, so shameful, and live in that body. She couldn't understand.
She picked her long locks off of her chest, allowing the flowing mane to settle messily down her spine. Azriel watched her unclip the piece of clothing that held her breasts. The lacy fabric tumbled onto the small table, her eyes hidden by her long lashes. She knew he wasn't going to say no, his eyes told her so with the uncontrolled shadows that swiped for her. She seized the moment, dropping to his lap. Her long skirt hiking up, her thighs bare. She faced the man, the beautiful, beautiful man.
His pleading gaze found hers before an urgency swept them from her freckled face to her long neck and down her collarbone. A shudder etched up her spine. She liked the way he looked at her. Nim gently placed her hand on his warm cheek, connecting their gaze. He didn't fight it; he succumbed to her.
She won.
"You can touch." She whispered, waiting for his skin to meet hers. He had free reign of her body, a flickering flame emitting in her stomach. "I give you permission." She said, relaxing her slender shoulders, yielding to him.
"Nim—" He whispered, uncertainty in his posture. Azriel had been with many females in the past, never quite reaching past the sex stage. They never saw him— not like she did.
