Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance. のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

Angel.The question slipped out of me before I could stop it, “What the hell is on your finger?”For a second, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks because exhaustion had been eating away at me since I broke out. Maybe the dim light had warped the color. Maybe Castle had just slipped on some meaningless piece of gold he’d picked up from the floor of his mansion.But the way his body stilled—the way silence settled over him like a blade pressed against the throat—told me everything.It was exactly what I feared.He didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t yank his hand back, didn’t make a joke about me overreacting. Castle, who always had an answer ready, who always carried words like weapons, had nothing to say. And his silence was worse than any confession.My chest felt tight, but there was no time for me to deal with it. I couldn’t afford to break, not when the clock was already ticking.The FBI would notice my absence any second. My face would go from

Angel.By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, steam was curling from my skin like smoke. The room was quiet. My hair was damp, my body was wrapped in a towel, and each step sent a faint ache rippling from my thigh. The wound had closed a little, but it still throbbed with every shift of muscle. I was prepared to find Castle gone or worse, pacing, unraveling. Instead, I saw him sitting on the couch. He was waiting and the first-aid box was open in front of him, gauze and antiseptic bottles arranged with precision. He looked up at me the moment I entered. And then lifted his hand and patted the cushion beside him. A quiet command, but gentle.I hesitated—because hesitation had become my armor—but then I limped forward, towel replaced with clean clothes, and sank into the space he had cleared for me. The leather creaked under our weight. My thigh pulsed with every movement, but the pain was muted compared to the storm in my chest.Without a word, Castle reached for the scissors,

Angel.The knock hadn’t woken me up, not completely anyway. It was the loss of Castle’s warmth that had done that. I had blinked myself awake and slipped carefully out of the bed, my leg aching as I limped into the living room to look for him. That was when I saw Castle on the couch, his robe loose around his shoulders, face still swollen with sleep. And standing across from him was Tomas.I greeted him politely. I was still sleepy, so things were a little awkward. But since I didn’t want to intrude, I pulled back into the bedroom, pretending I had only come out to ask about coffee.But the truth was, I couldn’t get Castle’s low voice out of my head. Why was he speaking so low?And then, there was Tomas’s stiff posture and something that felt like tension between them. My curiosity was piqued, so I slipped back out, padding toward the living room with the excuse of asking where the coffee was kept so I could get it myself. That’s when I heard the word. Kiss. They were talking abou

AngelI placed a little lick over the soft skin of Castle’s heat to let him know I was about to resume in earnest, then I lapped at it with long and leisurely strokes. My tongue entered him again. I pushed the tip of my tongue in first, spreading his cheeks wider, letting my tongue thrust hard, fast and deep. This time Castle did push back, rocking in time with the movement of my tongue. He was impaling himself on it, in a perfect imitation of the dance we would soon perform.I pushed and stroked deep inside him, back and forth, not missing an inch. I retracted my tongue to encircle Castle heat before diving in again, over and over.Finally, it was too much. I licked his well-wetted opening and brushed my lips over it one last time. I pushed a finger in him to gauge whether he was relaxed enough. The single digit slipped in with ease and I rumbled my approval."Mine," I husked."Yours…" Castle whimpered, his hips pushing back on my finger. A light, stinging slap stilled his movements.

Angel.Castle’s words clamped around my ribs like iron shackles: “You need to hide.”For a second, I just stared at him, disbelieving. Hide?I had never liked the sound of that word because of the way it reduced me to something shameful, something fragile, like a child sneaking away from a scolding. My throat tightened. I wanted to tell him no, that I wasn’t some secret to be shoved behind a locked door, while the man who pulled his strings marched freely through the halls of his empire.But then I heard his father’s voice again, thick and commanding as it echoed through the wood: “Son.”And every instinct in me screamed.Castle’s father wasn’t just a man. He was a monarch of cruelty. He was also a previous mafia Don and those people are to be feared. The only difference between him and Castle was that Castle loved me and he wouldn't let any harm come to me. But his father? If he knew I was here—bleeding, weak, and tucked into his son’s bed—he’d use me like a knife against Castle. E