Chapter Thirty-Six Azrael
Chapter Thirty-Six
Azrael
I don’t understand what Charlotte’s doing when she finally breaks free from the others, until suddenly she’s standing alone in her old office, a nostalgic smile on her face like she’s revisiting old memories. I watch over her from the Nothing.
“Take me to your favorite place,” she whispers into the silence to me.
My favorite place isn’t on this shithole planet, that’s for certain, but I don’t bother to point that out before I become corporeal and take her into my arms.
When we reappear on top of the building in the cold night air, I’m holding her from behind. “Hang tight, little siren.”
I flap my wings, and then we’re soaring.
Charlotte lets out a startled shriek.
She covers her eyes the first few minutes, and I chuckle at the thought that mine and Lucifer’s little siren might actually be afraid of heights, but once she realizes I’ve got her, she peeks through her fingers.
I’m never going to let her go.
We soar over the darkened city, stopping on a ledge overlooking Midtown on top of the Empire State Building.
It’s fucking freezing up here this time of year, and the wind is howling, but I like the view.
I prop myself against the building, wrapping my arms and legs around her as I nestle her warmth into me.
“You were amazing, standing up for yourself today.”
We stare down from the rafters at the city.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words so quiet they’re almost lost on the wind.
“You don’t need to be.”
“But I do.” She looks at me. “I know you’re probably not used to anyone taking your feelings into consideration, Azrael.
Lord knows that’s not Lucifer’s biggest strength, and God and humanity have never been very fair to you, but I see you.
I know how you feel about him, and yet I still treated you like you were just a tool for my pleasure.
” Her voice trails off. “Will you forgive me?”
I allow her to say it, closing my eyes and tipping my head back as I bask in how it feels to be truly seen.
For the first time in my whole fucking existence.
“I forgive you,” I say, after we’re both quiet for a time. “But only if you forgive me.”
Her face falls. “We both consented to the scene. You don’t have to apologize for—”
“Not that.” I lean down and kiss her deep, our tongues mingling. “For scaring you. For not showing you all of me.”
“Do you really enjoy—”
“I’m not a sadist.” I shake my head, glancing out at the city lights. “But humanity has always feared the unknown, and I see everyone at their worst points. My purpose, what gives my existence meaning, is . . .”
“Complicated,” she finishes.
I nod.
She lets out a long sigh. “Some people only turn toward Heaven in the end. When they fear no one’s on the other side.” She cups my cheek, guiding me to her. “But at least you’re there, waiting for them.”
She kisses me, and the desperate feel of her mouth on mine is a cruel thing.
She understands me, and for the first time in a long time I feel . . . hope.
Hope for what this could be.
“And yours and Lucifer’s kiss?” she asks when our lips part. “At the CFDA awards?”
My breath stops. “That’s not the only time that we—”
“I knew it!” she squeals, a joyous grin blossoming as she wiggles her eyebrows. “I saw how you looked at one another in the playroom.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Her enthusiasm is . . . heartwarming.
If I had a heart, that is.
“Charlotte, I want you to know I would never—”
“I know. You and I are solid.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. “I know you’d never try to take him from me, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes I don’t wish that the three of us could . . .” Her voice trails off.
We both fall silent.
“Can we have a do-over?” she asks sometime later.
I lift a brow.
“Of what I told you in the playroom.”
I nod, my smile widening.
She frames my face with her hands, and the hope in her eyes is soul-baring. More open and honest than Lucifer and I have ever been. “I love you, Azrael.”
My eyes fall to her lips. “I love you too, baby girl. More than I would’ve thought possible.” I close the distance between us and capture the sweet taste of her on my tongue. Like milk and honey. Sin and temptation.
Or sunlight cast over a grave.
Everything alive and sweet.
“So, what does this mean? For you and me?”
I quirk my scarred brow. “What do you want it to mean, little siren?”
She turns and relaxes back, and I pull her tighter to my chest, resting my head on top of hers. “I think it means a new beginning,” she says, “for all of us.”