“I don’t do ditches,” he says, following me. “Too predictable.”
When we reach the door, Cat meows, seemingly rushing us out. Then he turns his back on us both and heads for my office, leaving us behind.
Fifteen minutes with Azrael, and Cat is learning how to be just as dismissive as he is. Smart bitch.
Azrael’s Rolls-Royce Wraith smells like fresh leather, sandalwood and the hint of cigarette smoke that follows him everywhere.
His driving style is just a mirror of his personality: utterly precise yet restless. During the ten minutes we’ve spent in the car so far, he’s broken three or four traffic laws, but it only makes sense. This is a man who really doesn’t give two flying fucks about anything.
At the first red light, he finally stops the car. That’s when he acknowledges my presence for the first time since we left.
“You were right,” he says, looking straight into my eyes. “Shame was almost a mistake.”
Dropping his eyes to the console, he flips it open, pulling out a brown bottle. Uncapping it, he pulls out a cloth and slowly drenches it in the clear liquid.
What kind of chemical fantasy bullshit is this? Am I thrilled? Yes. Just like during my missions, the adrenaline rushes through my veins.
The scent inside the car slightly shifts as a note of sweetness is added to the mix.Oh, fuck no, anything but this.
“Don’t you fuc—” But I don’t have time to finish the sentence. His right hand shoots to the back of my head while the other shoves the chloroform-soaked piece of fabric against my mouth.
I try to fight it—nails to skin, knees to glass—but the combination of him pinning me down and the fastened seat belt doesn’t help.
The chemical burn hits first, and then a blur seeps into my vision and coats my brain, making everything fuzzy.
His voice is the last thing I hear before the darkness kicks in. “You wanted pain. Now choke on it.”
CHAPTER 15
AZRAEL
My sanity had almost cracked because of her.
No, scratch that. It did. Spectacularly.
Choosing a face that resembled hers seemed like a solution, and that had helped exactly zero percent. It took me days to figure out a plan that would actually make sense with her. Every time I was sure about what I was supposed to do next, a little voice in the back of my head piped up to point out that I would need to go even harder on her. So, I had nothing.
I even gave up once or twice, telling myself she wasn’t worth the trouble. But then she decided to show up at my place, which only reminded me of things I’d rather forget we did together.
That’s when it hit me. Nobody would work—not a similar face or voice or height—except for Victoria.
So here I am now, driving the car back to The Place again.
Once she passed out, I messaged Vincent to make sure everything was in order before we got there.
Azrael: Make sure your men are ready. No safe word.
It’s Victoria’s own doing, she didn’t ask for limits, and now she’ll get to experience what that really means.
He replies with a thumbs-up and a devil emoji, entertained by the possibility of seeing me in action.
We arrive at the location, and I get out of the car to smoke, trying to temper my excitement and my thoughts.
Five minutes later, the sound of her voice creeps through the cracked window.
“Well,” she rasps, “that was quite unnecessary.”
The drug is fading, but it will still dull her for a while. This will not do it. I need her wide awake. I need to see the panic on her face, not a pair of glossy eyes that can barely discern reality.