8: Never Wanted Anyone until You

8

Briar's POV

I couldn’t sleep.

No matter how many times I turned, no matter how deeply I buried myself beneath the covers, my mind refused to quiet.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it again. How easily my body had betrayed me when Azrael touched me, how my breath had stuttered, how my resolve had crumbled like it had never existed at all.

It unsettled me more than the violence in the basement ever had. Fear, I understood. Desire like that—uninvited, unwanted, immediate—was something else entirely.

What disturbed me most was how deliberate he’d been about it. The slow drag of his fingers, the way he had watched my reaction instead of forcing it, like he’d already known what would undo me.

And then how he had lifted his hand afterward and licked his fingers clean and unhurried, his eyes never leaving my face, as if he wanted the image burned into me forever.

My throat tightened at the memory.

I pressed my palm to my chest and exhaled shakily. It shouldn’t have affected me the way it did. I hated that it had. I hated that somewhere beneath the fear and confusion, my body had responded to him like it recognized him.

By the time morning came, I’d given up on sleep entirely.

Angel noticed immediately when she came into my room.

“You look exhausted, my lady,” she said as she helped me into a simple breakfast dress. “Did you not sleep well?”

I forced a small smile. “Something like that.”

She didn’t press, only guided me out of my chambers and down the corridor to the dining hall.

The doors to the dining hall were already open. It was long and expansive, built to host gatherings far larger than two people, with tall windows lining one side and opening out toward the inner gardens.

The morning light filtered through the tall glass panels, catching on the polished surface of the long dining table.

Plates, cutlery, and crystal glasses were laid out. Silver covers rested over several dishes, trapping the warmth beneath them, while baskets of freshly baked bread sat uncovered, their rich, inviting aroma wafting.

There were bowls of fruit, and steam curled lazily from porcelain dishes, carrying scents of spices and herbs that made my stomach rumble in response.

I’d eaten the night before, so it surprised me when my stomach reacted like I hadn't eaten in days. The smell alone made my mouth water.

Azrael sat at the head with one arm resting against the chair, as if the entire space had been built around him rather than the other way around.

He looked exactly as he had the night before—composed, unbothered, and entirely in control.

I slowed before I reached the table, my body reacting before my mind caught up. He lifted his gaze and met mine, and the memory of his touch surfaced instantly.

I hated how quickly it happened. Hated that he could sit there like nothing had happened while my chest tightened at the sight of him.

Angel pulled out a chair for me across from him and left the dining hall immediately.

“Good morning.”

I took the seat opposite him, smoothing my dress as I sat, keeping my back straight and my hands folded neatly in my lap.

“Morning.”

Azrael picked up his cutlery, took a single bite, then set it aside.

“Everything tastes dull.”

I raised a brow. “Why?”

His gaze lifted slowly, settled on me without haste. “Because everything has lost its taste since I tasted you.”

I nearly choked on nothing. “That’s a line. Is that how you sweet-talk other girls?”

He didn’t flinch or smile. “There haven’t been any.”

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Right.” I picked up my spoon and took a bite.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the table.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Should I? You’re the Alpha King of Fangshire. Powerful, feared, rich beyond reason. You expect me to believe no woman has ever tried to get close to you?”

He looked at me with an unreadable expression. “That wasn’t your question.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Have there really been none?”

“None.” His voice was almost neutral, but there was a weight behind it that made it clear he expected me to register it.

I shook my head, unconvinced, and stirred the food on my plate.

“I don’t buy it.”

He studied me for a moment. “From all the rumors you’ve heard about me outside this palace, is there one about me liking women? Or keeping a harem?”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked and tried to search my memory. “No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I opened my mouth, hesitated, then shut it again. There wasn’t an answer I could give. The table suddenly felt heavier somehow, and the space between us was charged.

He lifted his cup, sipped slowly, and set it down. “It’s because I haven’t met the woman I wanted. Until you.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh, letting my spoon clatter lightly against the plate.

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect anything,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Belief is your choice.”

“Well, I don’t. This whole thing sounds rehearsed.”

“And yet, you can’t name a single woman who’s ever been publicly tied to me.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” I said, tapping my spoon against the plate.

“No,” he agreed, “but it should make you wonder why.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Because you’re untouchable. Feared. Powerful. Rich beyond reason. That alone keeps women away.”

He let that sit, then leaned forward slightly, fingers resting on the table. “Is that what you really think? That power alone can explain it?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “No. I… I don’t know. Maybe there’s something else. Something no one wants to talk about.”

He leaned back, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make me uncomfortable.

“Something like what?”

I opened my mouth but closed it again, then he pressed with a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Then the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Well, there's this rumor outside of the palace that the reason you’ve never been involved with any woman is because you can’t get it up.”