Chapter 75: Chapter 75: SUMMONING AZRAEL

VALORIA WILDEROSE

(THIS Chapter CONTAINS ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT — PLEASE READ WITH CARE)

I hold back the bile rising from my gut, watching him with clear disdain. Every cell in my body rejects his presence, his touch, the very air he breathes in my direction.

“I w–was never h–happy with yo–you.”

The words hang between us like a declaration of war. For once, I don’t regret speaking my truth, even as his expression darkens.

“And are you happy now with that monster king? The man that torments and looks down on your people?” His voice drips with condescension, as if he has any right to judge anyone after what he’s done.

“I w–won’t ev–ver be h–ha–happy until I–I’ve rid myself of y–y–you peop–ple,” I spit venomously, and he’s not the least bit pleased.

His hands fall to my shoulders and grab tight, fingers digging into already bruised flesh. I can’t help the wince of pain that escapes me, and he sees it—enjoys it even.

“Valoria… everything I did was because I needed power. Power you couldn’t give me. Power I deserved but was denied by fate, by circumstance, by everyone.” His grip tightens as he speaks, punctuating each word with more pressure. “Enough power that I didn’t have to rely on anyone—not your sister, definitely not your father—and after the experiments, I’ve gotten it. I have more than enough now to take everything that is owed to me, and by right you are one of those things.”

Experiments? The word sends ice through my veins. I have no idea what he’s talking about, what he means by experiments, or what they have to do with anything.

The way he says it—with such conviction, such pride—makes my skin crawl.

His eyes have that manic gleam I’ve seen before, but amplified now, more unhinged than ever.

I’m only more confused about how any of this has anything to do with me, how I became something he thinks he’s “owed” when he’s the one who threw me away like garbage.

He stops his speech, watching me in silence when I don’t respond. The seconds stretch on uncomfortably, his gaze roaming over my face like he’s searching for something.

Then something wicked flashes across his mind and his smile returns—more sneaky than before, more predatory.

“Did you know? Fucking is nowhere close to sensational unless it’s with someone you’re originally mated to. So I’ve heard from the others who’ve tried it.” He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. “I’m still offended that you held out on me when we were together and I never had the chance to have a taste. We could have been so good together, Valoria.”

The casual way he says it—like my boundaries, my choices, my body were his to claim whenever he wanted—makes my stomach turn violently.

He slides a hand up my thigh into my dress, and I grab onto it before it can go further, every muscle in my body tensing with disgust from his touch. My skin feels like it’s burning where he makes contact.

“W–W–What are yo–y–you doing?!” I half-scream, my voice cracking with panic and rage.

He grabs me by the neck in one swift movement, cutting off my air.

He drags me closer to him with inhuman strength, pressing his face and nose into my neck before taking a deep, disturbing inhale—like he’s trying to memorize my scent.

“You didn’t let him touch you, did you?” His voice turns dangerous, possessive in a way that makes my blood run cold. “I swear I’ll fucking kill him if he has. I’ll kill the fucking Lycan king with my bare hands. I can do that now.”

He laughs hysterically at an inside joke I still don’t understand, the sound echoing off the walls like a madman’s cackle.

Whatever these experiments did to him, they’ve clearly broken something fundamental in his mind.

“P–Please st–stop!” I yell louder, feeling his tongue dragging against the curve of my neck while I struggle against his iron grip.

Every patch of skin he makes physical contact with throbs painfully, like my body is trying to reject him on a cellular level.

The mate bond that once existed between us feels corrupted now, twisted into something sick and wrong.

He doesn’t stop despite my tears or struggles. His hands roam freely, claiming territory that was never his to begin with.

Unlike before—unlike the Ronan I knew who was weak and cowardly—I can’t fight him off. He’s strong. Too strong. Unnaturally strong.

“Your father already promised you to me as a whore on the side if things worked out, so stop resisting,” he warns lecherously. “You already belong to me! You always have!”

Tears pour from my eyes as I’m forced to endure a fate worse than death itself. I wonder what I’ve ever done to deserve all of this, why my life has never been remotely fair, why every man in my life thinks they own pieces of me.

As he rips a portion of my dress off with a sickening tear of fabric, pinning me down to the bed with his full weight, my mind wanders far off to someplace away from the present.

A time where I wasn’t so scared or terrified. When I could just exist without constantly being under attack. When I could be myself, even if just for a moment.

Somehow Azrael comes to mind—lying in bed right next to me in the darkness of our shared room, answering all my random questions in a heartbeat, no matter how annoying or trivial they were… just because I asked.

In that moment I had forgotten his cruelty and everything else about the world. We were just two people having a conversation. Nothing more, nothing less.

“…and if you need me at any point you need only think of me.”

I recall him saying those words the first day we arrived, after putting some unknown spell on me and disappearing with Father for their meeting.

Back then I didn’t take him seriously. I thought it was just another one of his games, another way to mess with my head.

I guess if I ever need him in all my life… it would be right now.

“Azrael…” I whisper his name inaudibly into the surrounding darkness, my voice barely a breath.

Ronan pulls away to watch me with sick, twisted insanity—eyes glowing an odd unnatural color I only now notice in the dim light, and the whites of his eyes slowly turning pitch black like ink spreading through water.

Nothing like his plain dirt-brown eyes I’m used to. These eyes belong to something else entirely. Something monstrous.

“You’re mine now,” he gasps with deranged excitement, leaning close to me once again with clear intent.

Just as his lips are about to meet mine in a kiss that would destroy whatever’s left of me, a hand grabs ahold of his head from behind—four long fingers peeking from the front of his skull, looking directly at me.

Ronan’s eyes widen in confusion and shock before he’s flung backwards into the wall in front of me with devastating force, crashing right through it and making a human-sized hole in the process.

Dust and debris rain down around us.

Standing in his place and towering over me is the devil himself.

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