Draven lay on the bed, his broad chest rising and falling steadily, his mind preoccupied despite the exhaustion weighing on his body. His fingers idly traced patterns on the sheets, thoughts drifting between the fragile truce with Valerion and the inevitable storm awaiting them once they returned to their separate worlds.
The tent flap shifted, and he immediately turned his head. Azrael stood at the entrance, draped in a long black nightgown that cascaded down her frame like liquid shadow. Her golden eyes locked onto his, but something about them felt… off.
“That took a while,” Draven muttered.
Azrael stepped forward, forcing a small smirk. “You know how my father is.”
She climbed onto the bed, her movements slow, deliberate, controlled. The moment she was close enough, Draven’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, seeking comfort in her warmth. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady, grounding rhythm of his heartbeat.
Draven exhaled deeply, his lips grazing the top of her head. “What did you two talk about?”
Azrael hesitated—just for a second—but it was enough for Draven to notice. “The truce,” she finally said. “He’s agreed to calm the vampire court when we return home.”
Draven processed her words, but his mind latched onto something else. Not the truce. Not the vampire court.
***Home.***
His arms around her tensed slightly. “And after that?” His voice was low, careful.
Azrael pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. In the flickering candlelight, she saw the longing in his brown eyes, the silent battle waging within him.
“How are we ever going to see each other again?”
The question sent a chill down her spine. For a fleeting moment, she considered telling him everything. About her father’s warning. About the way the past was repeating itself, how the ghosts of their parents' choices now haunted them.
But she couldn't.
Not yet.
Instead, she mustered a small, reassuring smile and reached up to cup his face. “Don’t worry about it, Draven.”
His brows furrowed. “Azrael—”
“We’ll see each other again,” she whispered. “Eventually.”
She leaned in before he could say another word, capturing his lips in a deep kiss.
Draven wasn’t convinced. He knew her too well. But as soon as her lips pressed against his, as soon as he felt her body melt into his, he let go of everything else. The war, the truce, the future—none of it mattered in this moment.
Azrael pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, “No more talking.” She traced her fingers down his bare chest. “Let’s savor the time we have left together.”
Draven exhaled harshly as she kissed him again, her hands trailing lower, her touch igniting a fire inside him.
“Just like you said,” she murmured. “Forget about everything else. It’s just you and me in the world.”
Draven growled against her lips before deepening the kiss, his hands gripping her hips possessively. His tongue slid into her mouth, claiming her with a desperate intensity. As he kissed her, his hand slipped beneath her nightgown, spreading her legs apart.
Azrael moaned softly as his fingers brushed against her wet cunt, her body already reacting to him. He pressed two fingers inside her, thrusting at a steady pace, his eyes darkening with hunger at how easily she took him.
Her breath hitched. “Draven—”
He added a third finger, increasing his pace, his thumb circling her clit mercilessly. Azrael jerked, her back arching as pleasure crashed into her like a tidal wave. She gasped, moaning his name as her body tensed—then unraveled completely.
She came hard, her juices soaking his fingers and the sheets beneath her. Draven smirked, pulling his fingers from her before bringing them to her lips.
“Taste yourself.” His voice was rough with arousal.
Azrael’s golden eyes gleamed as she parted her lips, sucking his fingers clean while maintaining eye contact. Draven groaned at the sight, his patience snapping.
He shoved his trousers down and flung it across the room, his thick, rock-hard cock springing free. Azrael’s eyes dropped to it, hunger flashing across her face.
She wrapped both hands around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly. Then, without warning, she flicked her tongue across the tip, making Draven shudder.
“Azrael,” he gritted out.
She licked him from base to tip, savoring his taste, before taking him into her mouth. She bobbed her head, her tongue swirling around him as she sucked him deeper and deeper.
Draven groaned, his hand threading through her long black hair as he thrust into her mouth. She gagged slightly but didn’t stop, taking him even deeper.
“Fuck,” he growled, pulling out abruptly. He needed to be inside her. Now.
He grabbed the hem of her nightgown and yanked it over her head, tossing it aside. Then he turned her onto all fours, gripping her hips as he positioned himself at the entrance of her dripping cunt.
Without warning, he slammed into her.
Azrael cried out in pleasure as his cock plunged deep inside her. Draven gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on her waist as he thrust into her again, harder this time.
She moaned loudly, her body shuddering with every deep stroke. “Draven—”
He leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of her long hair, pulling her head back as he fucked her relentlessly. His grunts mixed with her moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the tent.
He pulled her up against his chest, one hand kneading her breast while the other rolled her sensitive nipple between his fingers. He kissed her neck, her jaw, before capturing her lips in a possessive, bruising kiss.
“I’m close,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic.
Azrael’s walls clenched around him, sending him over the edge. With a deep growl, he buried himself inside her, filling her with his release.
They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies tangled together, their breaths ragged. Azrael could feel some of Draven's nut leaking from her cunt. She inserted a few fingers inside herself and then put it in her mouth so she could taste him. Draven smirked and captured her lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply lay there, their hands idly caressing each other, memorizing every detail, every sensation.
Eventually, Azrael turned her head, staring at the flickering candle on the bedside table.
She could already feel the weight of tomorrow creeping in, the cold grip of reality pulling them apart.
Draven exhaled, his fingers running through her hair. “Azrael…”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”
And so he did.
As the night stretched on, they held onto each other, pretending—for just a little while longer—that the world outside didn’t exist.