(Metheea's POV)
Stone dust rained across her hair.
Metheea's eyes widened at the gouge his claws had left beside her face, the crack running jagged through the floor. Fear thundered in her chest.
She tried to squirm away from beneath him, desperate to push herself free.
But the movement dragged her body against his.
Azrayel shuddered above her, a guttural groan breaking from his throat as if her touch was fire.
His weight pressed harder, his hips grinding down against hers. Heat radiated from him in violent waves, his breath coming ragged against her cheek.
"Let me go," she gasped, her palms striking his chest again.
She fought, twisting, but every shove only seemed to tear another sound out of him. His claws scraped stone, trying to hold himself back even as his body betrayed him.
Her lips burned from his earlier kisses, still swollen, every breath catching high in her throat.
