Whenever he spoke, he had a way of drawing her in. Back home, he would be considered a dangerous men. Beautiful men with power and charisma were the most dangerous. According to her grandmother at least. But he was not Moroi and he had never tried to take advantage of her. Fallen Angel hadn't been what she ever expected to become involved with, but she had seen deeper into Azazeal than she had with most people. She was proof he was a good man, even if he was still a dangerous one.
"Don't tease," she whispered, moving closer until she was straddling him. The water was hot and she wasn't even paying attention to it. His fingers tracing her hands seemed to shoot electricity straight to her soul. The more she looked into his eyes, the deeper she felt herself fall even if physically she wasn't moving at all.
"What can we do to reclaim it?" She missed it. The closeness and the knowing they were intertwined in every possible intimate way. When she thought back to the boys back home, the ones that Rose tried to warn her about, she felt like a fool. They were just after one thing. Conquests.
Men like Azazeal had lived. Truly lived. He had seen lifetimes pass, and still he seemed to find some interest in a girl from the village in Russia. And she found him the most intriguing of all the men and women she had ever met. "Tell me the story," she teased, glad he could follow the native tongue because she liked the way it sounded when it passed from his lips.