Chapter Sixty-Three Azrael
Chapter Sixty-Three
Azrael
When Charlotte and I stumble out of the Louvre, she’s so broken, so full of grief, she’s shaking.
The sun is starting to crest over the horizon, lighting up the Parisian streets like a lost memory, but we make our way through the courtyard, heading back toward the Ritz on foot.
She needs some air to clear her head, but she’s supposed to be with him, not me, and that’s when I turn toward her and say, “Is it true? What Lust said?”
I tip my chin toward the Louvre.
I overheard. I saw. Even when that slippery bastard made it so I couldn’t get to her.
Charlotte looks a bit lost, but then she nods. Just barely.
My cock stiffens, and it takes everything in me not to touch her, to pull her into my arms and give her exactly what she wants. The fact that I can’t makes it feel like I’ve been gutted from head to toe.
“I wanted this, with Lucifer”—she places a hand on her belly—“and I know things with us are still new, but someday, I . . . also wanted it with you,” she whispers, her voice small and broken.
Wanted. Not want.
Past tense.
I swallow, my throat writhing.
“I need a minute.” I turn away from her, raking a hand through my hair, uncertain what to say. She’s his now. I know that.
Touching her would be a violation of the little trust Lucifer’s placed in me.
And I still love him too.
I know creating life won’t ever be a possibility for me, but . . .
She wanted it to be.
She wanted it to be.
And all I know is this fucking changes things.
Fuck, I can’t do this.
I can’t stand by her side, wanting her while he . . .
My shoulders stiffen. “And if I could?” I ask, turning toward her, a newfound hope sparking in me. “If I could give that to you?”
“Azrael, I—”
“Answer me.” I grip her by the back of the neck, dragging her to me. Collar be damned.
Our mouths are so close I can practically taste her on my tongue, feel the moment when her knees go weak. She melts into me.
“Be honest, baby girl.”
She inhales, shuddering slightly. “How couldn’t I?” she whispers, her lips parting. She closes her eyes, another tear slipping free. “I love him, but I love you too. I didn’t want you to leave me.”
My grip on the back of her neck tightens, my breathing uneasy.
I want so badly to kiss her, but I can’t.
She glances away. “Azrael, I . . .”
“It’s okay, little siren. It’s okay.” I pull her into me, wrapping her up tight, her head resting against my chest.
Just for a moment, just long enough to ease the ache inside me.
But that’s when I see Gabriel standing on the corner, waiting for us.
I sweep her behind my back in one swift move, positioning myself in front of her.
Ever her guardian. Their guardian.
Always.
“Go back to the hotel now, Charlotte,” I order.
The clock on her deal with Sloth is still ticking, and Lust already fucked with her enough.
But she doesn’t move. She’s still staring at Gabriel, her eyes narrow and angry.
“Charlotte,” I growl, my tone laced with warning.
I may not be her Dom anymore, but I don’t need to be in order to get her to listen to me.
She disappears into the ether, leaving me and Gabriel alone.
For a moment, I just glare at him, neither of us saying anything.
Our stares clash in a silent war.
He and I are supposed to be on the same side, technically.
And yet . . .
I’ve never actually been on God’s side. Have I?
I drop my hands, the chill in the courtyard plummeting several degrees as my face turns skeletal before I become Nothing.
I barrel toward Gabriel like a phantom, his eyes going wide at what he knows is coming. I’ll end that fucker with a single touch for even looking at her wrong. But he hightails it out of there at the last second before I reach him, like the little bitch he’s always been.
He races into the sky, clearly deciding that whatever I’m going through right now, he doesn’t want to fuck with me.
I don’t blame him.
Nothing on this goddamn planet could survive me right now.
I stare up into the endless blue after him, a furious look on my face.
“Why?” I snarl, uncharacteristically shouting at the heavens like the sound of my voice alone can bring them down.
The same way Lucifer did that night outside of the Abyss.
“Why abandon me right at the fucking end like this? After all I did for you? I guarded your secret, kept it all in for you, for him, even when it destroyed me!”
A few passersby on the street start to gawk, turning away in fear, but I don’t care. I’m furious. Furious and . . .
Done.
I am so fucking done.
I won’t be His celestial errand boy.
I turn away, stalking back toward the glass spire outside the Louvre, unable to stop myself from thinking about how it felt.
When she told me she loved me on the Empire State Building, when she shivered in my arms, when he left in Gethsemane, the longing in my chest when she let me touch that tiny thread of life in her.
No one’s ever trusted me enough to let me hold a life at its very beginning before.
At its creation.
And if He lied, if He really did fail me, I’m not only going to lose them, but they’re both going to lose . . .
Something ignites inside me.
Something primitive, terrifying, furious, and . . .
Life altering.
This has gone too far.
I’ve been loyal to Him long enough. I was too much of a coward to risk losing them before, but now . . .
Now I’d cut out my own heart if it’d ensure they wouldn’t bleed.
I shatter apart, one part of me barreling toward the edges of the universe as the others work to fulfill their duty.
An old woman in a nursing home.
A newlywed in India.
A sick little girl in Tokyo who cries when she sees me.
So many lives. So many endings.
And never once did I stop to question.
Never once did I succumb to my own grief.
Every order. Everything He asked.
The Garden. Gethsemane. Grand Central. The lance. Her friend.
And for what? For Him to do this?
To fucking abandon me right as we reach the finish line?
No.
I am Death. Destroyer of Worlds. Reaper of unjust gods.
And this ends here.
I find Lilith at the edge of existence, where form forgets itself. She spills through the silence like a fault line—not arriving, but unmaking arrival. The void clings to her like memory to a dream. Near her, even light dims, ashamed of its simplicity.
She smiles, not in welcome, but in a prophecy fulfilled, as she turns toward me. “I had a feeling you’d be coming to see me.”
“I hear you want grandchildren.” I step forward, the void reluctantly parting.
Her grin widens. “I do.”
“If that’s the case . . .” I swipe my hand over my lips. “Then I think I might have an offer that suits you.”