The Demon's Mate: Wrath's Delight
It was difficult to suppress, so she bit down on her lower lip, a makeshift dam against the joyous ripple threatening to spill over.
Heat radiated from her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears. It felt like a telltale blush, a delicate bloom of roses on her fair skin. She was acutely aware of Azazel's piercing gaze on her, his amusement as palpable as the plush velvet beneath her fingertips. She prayed, oh how she prayed, that her blush wasn't as noticeable as she felt it was. A silent plea to the universe, her wishful attempt to hide the overwhelming emotions playing across her face.
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