Chapter Thirty #2
We got in the bath, the hot water burning in the best way.
He pulled my back to his chest, humming Celeste’s song again as he slid his fingers across my skin.
And though he swore not to be physical with me until I talked about my feelings, Az did the most intimate thing he could have: he helped put me back together.
While I’d never admit it, I knew then that I loved Azazel Altair too.
***
“I almost forgot, I got you something!” Az said the next morning after rebel training.
Day two was much harder than day one. Maybe because I was sore, or perhaps because I was emotionally drained.
Either way, I was wheezing by the time we got back to the cottage.
My misery had me groaning at Azazel’s excitement.
“Stop whining, you’re going to love it.”
Leaning into the counter, I stretched my back and calves, bending in half. Just as my bones began to crack, I felt something bump against my fucking ass, sending my hips forward.
“Did you just hump me?” I asked, laughter spurting out of my mouth as I stood straight. Az smiled innocently, holding out my favorite crackers.
“Of course not,” he gasped out, shaking the bag in the air. “I was just grabbing you some crackers, you sexual deviant.”
“Liar!” I shoved his chest, trying to swipe the sack out of his hand. He lifted it higher, bringing his face down towards mine. Our lips nearly brushed, my laughter dying out.
“Want to talk, Little Void?”
Yes. “What did you get me, Snake?”
Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Stubborn as ever.”
His other hand lifted, tendrils of shadows swirling around his palm until a small, worn leather book appeared. Reaching out my fingers, I just grazed the thick cover when Az smacked my hand with the bag of crackers.
“Hey!”
“That’s for accusing me of humping you.”
“You did hump me, pervert!”
“Okay, fine, I did.” He pushed the book towards me, winking as I quickly grabbed it from his hand.
Opening to the first page, I read Hope in Darkness. “What is it about?”
“It’s a written account about the very first rebellion.”
“There was a rebellion before? Like against the core families?”
“Yeah, small ones. Nothing successful or worth adding to history books you would have read. This one in particular happened about a thousand years after the stars first gave Dajahim magic.” He leaned in, sliding his fingers down the pages and fanning them until he reached the spot he was looking for.
“It was led by a woman who didn’t believe in magic at all.
She thought no one should have it. Famously, she called it soul corruption. ”
“How do you know so much about this?”
“My father brought it up a few years back when the protests started to ramp up. Specifically, he said that every rebellion was a new waste of time. I’m pretty sure he didn’t think they’d get this far. The eadi never have before.”
I slid the pad of my finger over the slightly smudged ink, grinning like a fool. “Thank you. I love it.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think giving it to you after…you know…yesterday, would have helped.”
“Thank you for that, too, by the way.”
“I didn’t do much, Nova.”
“You did more than you know.”
I leaned over and pecked his cheek, wishing I could say more.
That I could give him back even half of the peace he offered me the day before.
Because as he whittled and smoked and cooked for hours, I read.
He didn’t make me do anything. All I had to be was myself.
More than anything, I wanted to allow him that too.
He coughed, backing away from me as his cheeks quickly turned bright pink. I giggled as he scratched his head, squeezing his hip with his free hand.
“Are you telling me you can say absolutely filthy things to me while I’m naked, but you can’t handle me kissing you on the cheek?”
“You’re really making fun of me after I was so nice?”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m going to go read this.
” He nodded, smiling soft enough that his dimples stayed tucked away.
He’d finished his sculpture of Death, which he’d proudly set on the small table in front of the couch, using it like decoration.
It was beautiful and detailed, though I could tell he didn’t love doing it in the same way I loved to read and brew.
What would he like? What did he like?
I stared at him as he sat down at the table and began scratching Death behind the ears.
He was great at just about everything, but that didn’t really mean he enjoyed doing those things.
He liked his clothes. Loved them, really.
But I doubted he’d enjoy making them, especially when it would be hard to produce quality that lived up to his standards. What else?
My gaze honed in on his fingers, the rings glinting in the light.
“You know, before my father’s accident, my mother liked to make jewelry,” I said, trying to act nonchalant as I opened the book. Peeking up at him through my lashes, I saw his attention focus on me.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Yeah, she got pretty good at it. Even had a book about soldering and polishing that she let me read to her.” Holding back my smile at the way his interest seemingly piqued, his arms folding over the table and his torso leaning forward, I continued. “I remember all of the steps too.”
“Wow, good memory,” was all he said, but I could tell by the higher pitch to his voice that he was growing excited. If anything, it made me realize just how well he knew me.
“Want to learn?”
“Absolutely.”
By the time we’d finished hunting through old volcanic tunnels and hot springs, collected enough silver-laced volcanic rock, and melted it down to be molded, night had already fallen.
Immediately after training the next morning, he got back to work, listening intently to each of my instructions.
Again, he proved himself to be annoyingly exceptional at all he did, every step coming easier than the last.
Before the end of the following day, Azazel had made a brand new ring.