Chapter 22

When Athasia returned home, she barely had a moment to breathe before a strong force pushed her down onto the bed. The familiar scent of firewood and something darkly intoxicating wrapped around her, a presence so familiar yet so unsettling that it made her body tense for a split second.

Then came the weight. Heavy, warm, unyielding.

Zamiel.

His hands were on either side of her head, trapping her beneath him. His crimson-black hair fell forward, framing his chiseled face as his stormy gray eyes bore into hers with an intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

A slow smirk played on his lips as he tilted his head, watching her. "How was the banquet?" he asked, voice smooth and deep, laced with amusement.

Athasia didn't respond. She merely let her eyes drift shut, exhaustion creeping into her bones. It had been an overwhelming night—finding Mira, realizing the truth of their connection, the strange pull of a family she wasn't sure she wanted. It stirred something in her, something foreign and uncomfortable.

But here, beneath Zamiel's gaze, she felt grounded.

When she didn't answer, his smirk faded slightly. His fingers trailed down her side, a slow, deliberate touch, sending a wave of warmth through her. "Ignoring me now?"

Still, she remained silent.

Zamiel let out a low chuckle. "You should know by now that silence only makes me more interested."

His hand slid under her clothes, fingers grazing against her bare skin. The contrast between his touch—featherlight yet possessive—sent a sharp heat curling in her stomach. Her breathing hitched, but she kept her expression unreadable, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But Zamiel wasn't one to be ignored.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed or demanding—it was slow, teasing, a deliberate pull meant to unravel her. His other hand slid to her waist, holding her there, as if daring her to push him away.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she immediately bit down, hating the way her body betrayed her.

Zamiel pulled back just slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Ah," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. "So you do feel something after all."

Athasia glared at him but said nothing. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths as she tried to push away the lingering heat of his touch.

He leaned closer again, brushing his lips against her ear, voice nothing more than a hushed whisper.

"Till tomorrow… Fenice Oscura."

The words rolled off his tongue in perfect Italian, the meaning clear—Dark Phoenix. A name that spoke of destruction and rebirth, of something mythical and untamed. A name meant only for her.

Athasia's lips curled slightly. "You're getting bold, Zamiel."

His fingers tangled in her platinum hair as he smirked. "And you're still pretending you don't like it."

She scoffed but didn't deny it.

Instead, she let her body relax against the bed, her mind already drifting to what awaited her tomorrow.

Because if tonight had been a storm, tomorrow would bring a hurricane.