Chapter 4: Lessons in Seduction

“You need to stop looking at him like you’re about to cry.”

Azrael’s voice slid into her ears like silk laced with thorns. He was behind her again, watching as she applied lip gloss in front of her bedroom mirror. Freya sighed, her hand stilling mid-motion.

“I’m not crying,” she muttered. “I’m nervous.”

“Nerves are for prey,” Azrael said as he stepped forward, his fingers reaching out to adjust a strand of her hair. “You want to seduce him, not worship him.”

Freya met his gaze in the mirror. “I’ve never seduced anyone.”

“Then it’s a good thing you summoned a devil.”

He smiled—a slow, wicked curl of his lips that made her heartbeat skip in her chest.

Tonight was a party. Caleb had invited her. An actual invitation, spoken with that perfect smile of his and a hand brushing her arm a little too purposefully. It was everything she’d wanted for years. And yet, the anticipation of it made her feel… hollow.

Azrael noticed.

“You’re hesitating,” he said, watching her reflection. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down at the floor. “What if he only wants me because of your magic? What if it’s not real?”

Azrael stepped around her, his fingers brushing her jaw as he tilted her chin up. “It’s all real, Freya. I didn’t create you. I just showed the world what they were too blind to see.”

She swallowed hard. “So what do I do?”

He grinned. “Let’s start with how you walk.”

Thirty minutes later, Freya was pacing her room in heels, Azrael seated cross-legged on her bed like a bored cat, giving her pointers that made her cheeks burn.

“Swing your hips, not like a child playing dress-up, but like you own every eye in the room,” he coached. “You’re not asking to be noticed. You’re daring them to look.”

She groaned. “This is ridiculous.”

“You summoned the devil of desire, Freya. What part of this did you think wasn’t going to be ridiculous?”

Still, she tried again. This time, slower. More confident. Her back straight, eyes forward, lips slightly parted.

Azrael’s gaze flicked to her legs, trailing upward.

“Better,” he murmured. “Now look at me.”

She did.

“Think of something you want from me,” he said. “Something wicked.”

Freya’s cheeks flushed. Her thoughts betrayed her. They drifted to how his lips would taste, how his hands might feel on her bare skin, what it would be like to let him touch the places she only explored in secret…

“I said think, not scream,” he said, standing up. “You’re burning.”

“Stop it,” she whispered, stepping back.

But he followed.

“What’s the matter, little dove? You’re quick to dream of seduction, but afraid when it’s offered?”

She backed into the wall, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Azrael stopped inches away, trapping her there with nothing but his presence. His hand braced beside her head, and his eyes held hers like a cage.

“This is what it’s like,” he said softly. “When someone wants you. When they ache for you.”

She trembled. “And Caleb?”

Azrael’s smile faltered. “He doesn’t ache for you. He’s curious. Lustful. Temporary.”

“Isn’t that what desire is?”

“No,” Azrael said, and this time, there was no teasing in his voice. “Desire is when your soul pulls toward someone like gravity. When every look, every breath, feels like both a sin and a salvation.”

He leaned down, and his lips hovered beside her ear. “That’s what I feel when I look at you.”

She gasped softly, and his fingers brushed her waist—just barely—but it was enough to make her whole body pulse with want.

Then he pulled back.

“Go to your party, Freya. Let him chase you. Let him burn for you.” He smiled, wicked again. “And if he fails… I’ll be waiting.”

The party was loud and chaotic. Freya entered like she’d never entered a room before—head high, hips swaying with intent, her dress hugging curves she never knew she could own.

People turned.

Whispers followed.

And Caleb found her within minutes, weaving through the crowd like she was a magnet.

“Freya?” he said, eyes wide. “You look… wow.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

The music faded as they slipped outside. The backyard was dark, save for fairy lights strung along the fence. They sat under a tree, knees brushing, the air thick with summer heat and teenage hunger.

“I’m glad you came,” Caleb said, his voice softer now. “You’re different lately.”

“Different how?”

He hesitated. “Confident. Hot. Like, really hot.”

She laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, I guess.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

His lips were warm. Soft. But something was missing.

Freya kissed him back, waiting for that fire she’d always imagined. But her heart didn’t race. Her body didn’t tremble.

She thought of Azrael—his smirk, his whispers, the way he made her feel like lightning lived under her skin. Caleb was sweet. But Azrael was alive.

When the kiss ended, Caleb smiled. “Wanna go upstairs?”

Freya stared at him.

And in the darkness, she saw a flicker of gold near the tree line.

Azrael was watching.