54. Azgorath
54
AZGORATH
P lease, please, please.
Azgorath chanted the words over and over again in his head.
Please. A hand placed on the one he knew to be his.
Please. Sorrowful rage coiled within him, something deep in his soul calling him to the fae lying on the bed.
Please . Wake up.
But it was no use.
His Lu stayed still. Silent.
And he hated the silence.
It reminded him of before .
His life Below. Cast out and shunned. An interloper among those who should have been like his brothers and sisters, in a place that should have been his home.
Just like the name she had given him—a piece of her, given to him—everything changed when he met Luella.
Azgorath was the violence of fists pounding against flesh. Anger and silence. But Az was someone that could perhaps be worthy of her. He yearned to be worthy of her. Worthy of her love.
Az didn’t think he would ever stop trying to make himself better for her. Just so he wouldn’t feel so inadequate when she wrapped her small hand around his or curled into him or looked up at him with those big, beautiful golden eyes.
She was his, and he was hers, undoubtedly so.
Az didn’t think he could breathe without her—he didn’t know how he had survived so long without her presence. Her soft scent, the smattering of freckles dusted across her nose, the mellifluous sound of her voice. Something in him had awoken, as if from a deep slumber, the very moment he had laid eyes on her in the dungeons.
He wanted to curl around her and sleep. Kiss her dizzy and keep her safe. Show her everything she had missed while she was locked away her whole life.
Az sighed, stretching his legs out on the bed as he shifted to rest his back more comfortably on a pillow. The action jostled Luella where she lay on the plush mattress, and she leaned into his side, the bed dipping under his weight.
"What do you dream of?" Az whispered over her cool skin.
He knew there would be no answer.
It had been days, after all. Days after silence and pining and waiting. It reminded him of before she came.
But this time, there was hope. She would wake up. She had to. Or it would all be for naught. The Fates would have foreseen her death, and the prophecy would not have been woven if she were going to die here and now. So Az had hope that she would wake up.
Anything else just… couldn’t be true.
"Am I in your dreams?" Az asked. Tendrils of golden hair stirred from his breath. He pressed his lips to her temple, eyes closing as he breathed her in.
He was careful of his horns, not wanting them to poke her. His neck craned uncomfortably as he held them away from her, but he did not care.
If she was here, trapped in this bed and trapped in her mind, then he would be here too, trapped with her.
He lifted a lock of her golden hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. It was smooth and clean from where he had washed and brushed it the other night.
Those two maids had swept in, determined to keep her presentable at the behest of their King, but Az would have none of it. He couldn’t handle anyone else being near her. Touching her.
He would take care of her. It was his job. Not theirs.
Resting a palm on her stomach, he felt the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in air to keep herself alive.
In… Her chest expanded, and so did his.
Out… He echoed every breath she took.
Az was stretched out beside her, body molded to hers, but it was not enough. He wanted to crawl inside her—make a home in her heart.
"In the dungeons, when you slept, I often wondered what it was that you dreamed of," Az said. "Sometimes your face would scrunch up, and you looked so… peaceful. Soft. You always look soft, but in sleep, it was a peaceful, quiet softness. Like anything could happen, and you would still be at ease." He ran his nose along her cheek, the soft scent of ripe berries mixed with creamy rose soothing something deep in his gut.
He sighed. "But then you would wake up and realize where you were and that nothing was okay. And it broke my heart." A sob threatened to crawl from the depths of him. He shoved it down—it was what he was used to, making himself strong so others wouldn’t think he was weak. Even though he was.
He was too weak. Had grown up hearing it from his brethren in the Below, jaunts and teases and cruel words. Too weak to be a demon but too brutish and crude to live in the kingdoms. He was never in , always on the outskirts.
But as Az watched Luella sleep, he realized how grateful he was for that softness. It made her open up to him.
His soft heart had allowed for this .
Something gentle and sweet in his arms. Something that belonged to him.
His fingers tightened on her waist. But she was something that belonged to them , too.
"Everything is changing," Az murmured.
He held his breath, waiting for a reply, but none came.
Only the soft stillness of the night, flickers of moonbeams that shone through the glass doors of the balcony, and a soft breeze that kissed his bare chest and fluttered the curtains.
It was quiet, and they were alone.
Lu was so enticing. She looked as though she was merely sleeping. Maybe that’s what made him so bold.
Holding a hand against her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek, Az shifted to hover half of his body over hers, knees pressed against her side to keep himself up so he wouldn’t crush her under his weight.
The demon leaned down, warm puffs of his breath rustling tiny pieces of hair that framed her soft features. Her lips were pale, not as rosy as he remembered when she was awake and healthy. But still, so inviting. Would they taste as good as she smelled?
The ever-present blush that had marred her cheeks was gone, replaced by a pale smoothness. Pretty still, though in a different way. Less alive and more untouchable. Like she was something just out of reach.
He knew he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. It was wrong.
Az had been trying to do the right thing for her. He was trying to be good. His heart was soft. But the memory of her pressed flush against him as they hid in the Silva Noctis beckoned him salaciously. Desired thrummed deep in his gut, pressing hard under his skin.
Gods, he wanted .
He couldn’t help himself. Not when she was here, under him, looking so soft and sweet and utterly his.
A whisper of touch as his finger skimmed across her plump bottom lip, and Az’s mouth closed the scant distance between them. A soft closed-mouth brush of his lips against hers. It was dry, and both of their lips were chapped. But he would not change a thing about it.
He pulled away, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips. He tasted her on himself—the faintest flavor of rosy succulence.
It wasn’t enough.
One more , Az resolved. Just one more taste.
The next joining of their lips was slick with his own saliva.
Az parted Luella’s lips with his own, aching to slip his tongue into her mouth, but he refrained. Later, he would taste every bit of her that his tongue could reach.
She tasted so good. Her lips were so soft. Az melted into her, aching. He wished Lu were awake so he wouldn’t feel so vile, stealing this—what was most likely her first kiss—from her.
But this moment would be his. Shrouded in the quiet of this room, between him and her; though, she would never know. Only him.
Az smiled against Luella’s lips.
Something only for him.