The Tithing (The Sacrifice Duet Book 1) by A. Zavarelli & Natasha Knight

Author:A. Zavarelli & Natasha Knight [Zavarelli, A. & Knight, Natasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-20T16:00:00+00:00

If I thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell I could get out of this dinner, I would have taken it. But Azrael hauls me to the dining room, his palm guiding me along until it’s too late to run.

As we make our grand entrance, silence falls over the table, and all of his family’s shocked gazes fall upon me. If I didn’t already know how obvious it is, their expressions are confirmation enough that it’s no secret Azrael just had his way with me.

Heat flushes my cheeks as I try to smooth out my tangled hair, but it makes no difference. I can feel the dried mascara that bled from my eyes when he choked me. My lips are still swollen from his kiss.

When Salomé narrows her gaze on my ripped dress, I find myself wishing a crater in the earth would just swallow me whole.

Emmanuel shoots his brother a questioning glance as he helps me into my seat, and Rébecca stares at me ,wide-eyed and innocent.

“Are you okay, Willow?” Her voice severs the quiet tension in the room. “You look…” She doesn’t finish that thought, but she doesn’t need to.

I look wrecked. That’s what she meant to say. But something in her expression tells me she doesn’t have the slightest idea what happened. I think she’s been far too sheltered to understand the depravities of men.

But who am I kidding? Because clearly, I’m just as depraved.

“Azrael.” Salomé’s indignant tone pierces my ears. “I’d like a word. Now.”

“It will have to wait.” He takes a seat at the head of the table, nodding at the food. “Dinner is ready.”

She clenches her jaw, casting a withering glare my way, as if I’m responsible for his refusal.

I shoot her a sweet smile in response, only because I know it will piss her off.

Dinner is a stilted affair. While the food is lovely and elegant, Salomé’s company most certainly is not. She continues to mean-mug me through all four courses while Emmanuel and Bec carry most of the conversation. Emmanuel is well-spoken, charming, and intimidatingly large, just like his brother. He’s handsome like Azrael too, but there are subtle differences between them—most notably their distinct eyes.

While he asks me casual questions about my family, I feel the heat of Azrael’s gaze on my face. It seems to caress my skin like a physical touch, and I wonder if he notices me squirming in my chair as his come sticks to my thighs.

I try to focus on the food, devouring almost everything the chef sets on the table. I plow through the butternut squash ravioli and baby kale salad, embarrassingly famished after Azrael’s ravishing.

The only thing I don’t touch is the lamb. The smell nearly makes me gag when it’s presented. I’m hoping nobody noticed, but I don’t get so lucky.

“Is there something wrong with the food?” Salomé asks right in front of the chef. “Is it not to your tastes?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the food.” I offer the chef an apologetic glance.

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