Olethros

thirty one - azriel

Leaving Freyja in the early hours of the morning was torturous. She had let me bring my thoughts to words and allowed me the peace of not pushing for more. I didn't know how to explain what was happening in my mind, I could hardly decipher my own emotions. All I knew was that I felt comfortable with her. I felt safe with her.

My shadows seemed to climb back into my head as I found myself in my bedroom at the House of Wind. They chanted my fears of ruining Freyja, of losing control and harming her. I didn't think it would ever happen, but it suffocated me. And I hated the part of me that grew excited at the thought.

I was a creation of violence. I was made in a brutal way, brought into a life of aggression and torture. It was my very blood. I know the things I did in the war and the effect it had on others. Even then, just those few years ago, I was a not much past my maturity. I was just beyond a child and I was able to create a spray of blood in one step. It was what I craved, and also the very thing that had me spiraling.

I believed that my time with Flora, seeing my own blood on another's skin, could've been my attempt at redemption. The times I brought my blade to my skin even without sexual pleasure, perhaps it was my way of spilling my own blood to vindicate myself for each drop I spilled in my fits. Though, I knew it as well as any other, I'd never hold enough blood to cover the stains of my past or present.

I wondered if Freyja ever heard of the things I did. If she knew the true barbarity I could release. I almost wished she did as much as I hoped she didn't. I wanted her to know every piece of me just so that she truly knew the male she claimed to find an obsession with for so long. I didn't deserve her admiration, I didn't deserve her.

When Freyja had asked if she was a distraction from Mor, I didn't know how to answer it. It made me want to run. A female had never shown any interest in me beyond sexual attraction. I gave them pleasure, they gawked at me, and it was over. Freyja spoke as though she wished for more, and I didn't know how to give that to her. I couldn't even fathom a true relationship with her.

I still hadn't even accepted the fact that my lust had slipped from my grasp and I took from her the very thing I promised myself I never would. She gave her body to me and I was a greedy male. I devoured her, I reveled in it. I enjoyed the ruination of Freyja, yet I hadn't gotten to indulge like I wished. I wanted to see her fair skin bound in delicate rope. I wanted to hear her voice break as she screamed my name. I wanted tears streaking her cheeks from how far I stretched her.

I didn't believe that those simple touches had brought me to completion. I'd came in an effortless position and soft kisses. I'd been entirely nude. That fact had not left my mind since I stepped out of that cabin. I'd let these hands graze her perfect flesh. I'd let her find comfort in them. I didn't think my hands could do anything more than destroy.

"Azriel?"

I had forgotten where I was, perched on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. My clothes were in disarray after quickly dressing myself and racing back to Velaris at the barest hint of dawn. I hadn't slept- which wasn't uncommon anyhow- and surely looked it. Fuck, I hadn't even heard Mor open my door.

She stood there, golden hair falling in waves over her thin silken top. Tired eyes blinking at me, head resting on the doorframe. She looked beautiful, I could see that, but I didn't feel the strange fluttering in my stomach. Freyja had taken that with her along with my soul.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Are you alright?"

I hummed in response, praying it was enough. I couldn't think straight with the chanting in my ears and the constant buzzing beneath it. I wanted peace. I wanted Freyja. I hated it.