Novel & Cerita Azriels Obsession

I clung to his neck, face buried against his warm obsidian skin, breathing in that intoxicating scent of smoke, sex, and pure corruption. “I am yours,” I whispered against his throat, voice hoarse from screaming. “Completely. I do not want my old life anymore. Just this. Just you filling me forever.” Azrael’s golden eyes glowed with dark triumph as he carried me through a massive obsidian archway into what looked like his personal chamber. The room was enormous. Chains dangled from the ceiling. Altars and cushions covered the floor. The air was thick and humid, carrying the constant scent of sex and brimstone.

" I said sternly, giving Khloe no chance to argue. Sight sinks into the ground as Azazel was seen again on a throne with his legs crossed as he watched their every action through a display mirror before him. To Be Continued Song Of Choice : None Word Count : 2.4k Ask Your Questions :

Azrael didn’t let me come down. The moment my body stopped shaking from the last orgasm, he flipped me onto my back with terrifying ease, his massive frame caging me against the black silk sheets. His storm-gray eyes burned into mine, dark with obsession and something deeper something that looked almost like worship wrapped in violence. “You feel that?” he rasped, voice rough as gravel, as he dragged the thick head of his cock through my cum-soaked folds. “You’re dripping for me, Seraphina. Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

Lila followed the ritual exactly — black candles, fresh blood from her palm, the ancient words spoken at midnight under a blood moon. The air grew thick and hot. The candles flared unnaturally high. Then the shadows in the room coalesced into something massive. He stepped out of the darkness like he owned it. Azrael was beautiful in the most terrifying way. Towering over seven feet tall, with obsidian skin that seemed to drink in light, glowing crimson eyes, and a muscular body carved from pure sin. Horns curved back from his head, and massive black wings were folded behind him. His presence filled the room with raw, ancient power.

“And I will not let you or anyone else harm him.” Lyrielle’s eyes filled with tears, but I felt no pity. Only irritation. “Get out,” I said. “And do not come to me like this again.” She stood there for a moment, trembling. Then she turned and left, slamming the door behind her. I exhaled slowly and ran a hand through my hair. My heart was still pounding. The obsession I felt for Aziel was no longer something I could hide, even from myself. It had grown too strong. Too fast. I wanted him safe. I wanted him close. I wanted him.

The candles burned black, and the stained-glass windows no longer merely reflected the moonlight; they seemed to leak it, as if the sky itself was bleeding into the room. The priestess stood at the altar's heart, arms lifted high. Her voice flowed through the chamber like smooth oil, weaving words that seemed to stretch into infinity, syllables older than any scripture. Giovanni watched from behind her. Dressed in a new suit as dark as obsidian, he wore a relic around his neck—a jagged, hollow medallion etched with the same spiral symbol found in the book of hollow. “How long until she breaks?” he asked. Though the priestess continued her chant, her voice shifted slightly, like a melody deep