Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
THE DARK ONE
Azariel
“I’d walk through hell if it meant holding your hand at the end.” – A
A s the line of readers moved forward, Poe smiled and signed, though she looked every bit as anxious as she had when we’d first stepped through the door. I watched, quietly, from behind her as her hands shook slightly, but she powered through. She was stronger than she realized. She was braver than she realized too.
The woman had a sharp tongue and quick comebacks but behind that mask there’s a woman with the sweetest heart. She hid it well, though. I remember the sweet little thing who would watch me from the shadows of my family’s mansion until she did what many didn’t and most still don’t do– she stepped out of the shadows and tried to give me her friendship.
Now she’s a woman— an infuriating stubborn one at times but there’s also the one that loved her family dearly. So much so that she talked with her parents and brothers more than once a day. Not many grown children do that but she did. There’s the girl who doted on her cat like a king even though he’s the biggest motherfucker to her. That white furry rat was lucky she loved him—otherwise, I might have snuck some rat poison into his tuna bowl a long time ago for being such an asshole parasite. She’s good. She always has been.
She’s also the girl who cried while watching Korean dramas even though the little cheat always watches the end of the series to make sure there’s a happy ending.
That’s who she was to her core. Sweet, sour and mine.
I always intended to give her… her dream. Give her the world but I needed that girl back—the one who believed in love and magic not the cynic who wrote romance but didn’t believe a word she wrote.
I should’ve asked, but I’ve never been good at asking permission and she would’ve fought me anyway. So I went ahead and, for three days straight, worked behind the scenes with my team to get her unpublished books and name trending on social media until she blew up. It also helped that famous members of her family reposted her posts, along with the ones I was pushing through the Blackthorn Publishing account. Hell, even my aunt Arianna and my cousins helped spread the word. When I say she’s a sensation, I’m not exaggerating—celebrities are posting about her books, too.
It was easy, though. The books were gold but she only needed to get the word out. Is it unfair to other authors? Maybe. But I don’t care. No one deserved it more than her. That’s her dream and she is mine.
Now, I’m here like I’ve always been. Behind her, rooting for her. But once I rooted for her from the shadows and through a screen. Now, she’s here.
With me.
I kept my eyes solely on her and kept silent watching everything unfold before me. Readers held books tight to their chests—some cracked and well-worn, others pristine and untouched. Eyes bright. Smiles shy. They spoke to her like she was something sacred. Like her words had changed something in them.
And every time, she answered with that soft, stunned sweetness. That barely-there smile she didn’t even know she wore. The one that curved slowly and quiet, like it was afraid to take up too much space. She laughed with her hand half-covering her mouth like someone might call her out for enjoying herself.
God, she was trying so hard not to take up too much space in a room built for her.
“Can you... please sign these for me?” A young girl asked, her voice nearly cracking as she held up three books. All from Poe.
“Of course,” Poe said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still a little anxious, but each time she glanced up at the next fan, her eyes softened. They all adored her, and something deep in my chest ached at the thought.
I moved from behind her and I watched Poe’s face closely. Her emerald, green eyes are wide with gratitude and joy even though I can still see a little bit of shyness. It’s… endearing. Most people get to this point and they feel like they’re entitled to this just because they’re good authors. The gratitude was lacking.
Not, Poe, though.
With every reader that came to her table she acted the same. Sweet and grateful, a side of her I hadn’t seen since she was a little girl since before I hurt her heart and that is why I did all of this.
To get that sweet as fuck heart back.
Another girl, this one couldn’t be more than fifteen approached the table with her mother right at her side. The girl had pink strips of hair, too big of glasses on her face, a strawberry dress and a beige tote bag that read “My love language is books.” The moment Poe sees the girl her eyes spark just like when she’s lost in a book. I watched as Poe signed all her books. She took her time, offering small words of thanks to both mother and daughter and even engaged in more conversation. Her nerves slowly subsided as the afternoon wore on.
I wasn’t a man given to sentimentality. Before Poe I didn’t know how to feel, let alone how to show it, but after coming face to face with the reality that I didn’t want to live in a world where she wasn’t mine.
My heart never softened, at least not with people who weren’t my mother or sister, but with Poe it did. The heart inside my chest raced every time she smiled at a reader, every time she posed for pictures something inside me jolted.
She was so beautiful, but it wasn’t just her looks. It was the way she made the people around her feel, the way she quietly left an imprint on their lives.
A boy that looked like he was in his late teens was next in line and there was something off about him. He looked pale and his hair was shaved off. He approached the table with a tired smile and I noticed he looked like it was taking a lot of him just to stand up. Shit. He waited in line.
He was sick. I wonder what was it? Cancer? Something inside of me hurt watching the kid reminding me of a time my own mother had to battle that fucking disease.
I made it my mission to donate as much as I could to every project trying to find the cure.
This kid was a fighter just like my mother.
I moved to help the kid but Poe beat me to it when she quickly stood up, walked around the table, moved a chair and helped the kid down to it.
I watched in awe as she so sweetly asked the kid if she could give him a hug and with the same feeling in my chest as watching the kid’s face turned pink as Poe gives him all her attention. She talks with him and takes pictures and signs the book he brought with him. Lastly, she grabbed a book stack of all her works and signed each of them before handing them to him.
Fuck.
So sweet.
She said a few words to the kid and then watched him go and when she thought no one was looking she wiped tears from her eyes.
Dammit.
I hated that. I hated women’s tears but her tears made a bullet to the chest seemed like nothing.
She quickly went back to signing and giving all her attention to each person that came to her table. While I stood back, silent. Watching.
I didn’t need to say anything. This wasn’t my moment. But I was there. My eyes were on everything—the readers, their body language, their tone, their proximity. I don’t trust, and I trust even less when it comes to her.
Most of them were fine. Kind, respectful. The teenage girl with the quirky dress and tears in her eyes gave Poe a drawing of her main character— Maxim, one of her most popular villains—, hand-shaded and clutched like it was treasure. Poe lit up like a sunrise and touched the girl’s hand gently, trying not to show too much emotion. An older Latino man came through and said he was buying the book for his wife but planned to sneak-read it first. Poe giggled—actually giggled—and I felt something in my chest pull tight. Jealousy too when I witnessed another man make her laugh.
It was all going according to plan. This was all I wanted for her.
Then he showed up.
Late twenties, maybe. Smug grin. A black turtleneck that was a size too tight. The fucker looked like he spent too much time in front of a mirror. He walked up like he owned the bookstore and slapped a book down on the table startling Poe.
Strike one.
“Sister’s a big fan,” the motherfucker said, smirking like a weasel. “Thought I’d surprise her for her birthday.”
Sure. His sister.
He leaned a little too close. Strike two.
“Gotta say, you’re hot. I thought you looked like a tired out middle-aged mom. Suzy’s gonna lose it when she sees this.”
Poe’s smile faltered. Just slightly. Not enough that anyone else would notice, but I did. She laughed awkwardly and took the book. Her handwriting shook a little.
“Think we could take a selfie?” he asked, already pulling out his phone, like he knew she wouldn’t say no because she wouldn’t risk making a scene.
And of course, Poe nodded. She was too nice to the fucker. Even when she shouldn’t.
He handed the phone to her, his fingers brushing hers. On purpose.
I saw red.
Strike three.
I moved before I could think twice. Stepped in close. Poe blinked up at me in surprise as I took the phone gently straight from her hands.
“I’ll take it,” I said, low and even, just enough bite to make the fucker flinch. He hadn’t noticed me at her back but he’s seeing me now. A rush of satisfaction courses through me when he swallowed hard and looked like he was rethinking the shit he tried to pull with Poe.
Poe was still signing books, caught mid-motion, eyes wide like she wasn’t sure if she should thank me or stop me.
I snapped the photo. Just her, mid-signature, head down, lips parted, completely unaware how beautiful she looked in that moment.
I turned the phone around, shoved hard making it stumble back toward the little weasel without a word, and met his eyes dead-on. “Next.”
He hesitated, mouth open like he wanted to say something, but then he looked at me again and seemed to think better of it. He muttered something and walked off.
Looked like the asshole wasn’t so dumb.
I didn’t move far after that. Stayed closer to her side than before.
She glanced up at me a few minutes later, the corners of her mouth twitching like she wanted to say something snarky. But she didn’t. She just gave me a look. Something unreadable. Maybe grateful. Maybe confused. Knowing her it was probably both.
And then she went back to signing, her shoulders just a little less tense. Her perfect smile more real.
And while she lived her dream, I kept watching mine.
Like I’ve always done. Like I always will.
I wondered if she felt it now. Does she see what she is to me? Maybe. Maybe not.
I’m not a man who felt fear until her. Because she has no idea how terrifying it is to feel this much. To care this much about someone else.
My mother once told me I had a heart as big as the moon and at the time I didn’t think much of it. I felt like she was wrong and was saying that because she loved me but now that I’m a man I know she was right because my heart was indeed as big and as beautiful as the moon because my heart wasn’t inside my chest but outside of it and had blue hair and emerald, green eyes that could start wars between men.
And God help anyone who ever laid a finger on her or thinks they can walk into her light and take advantage of it while I’m still breathing.
I watched her until the crowd thinned and when I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. The weight of the attention. The pressure.
Without thinking, I moved closer to her. My hand reached out, brushing hers as she moved toward the next person. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t look up at me. But she didn’t seem to mind either.
For a brief moment, I felt her squeeze my hand, her fingers tight and warm in mine. It was a small thing, but it felt like everything .
It was everything.
Slowly but fucking surely, I was getting there. I was close to the one thing I’ve wanted more in life. More than all the money and power in the world. The one thing that made me the richest man.
Her heart.