Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
ORDINARY
Poe
“My world could burn to the ground, and I’d still choose you from the ashes.” – P
T he weight of the letters Azariel wrote for me still lingered in my mind, their meaning pressing heavily on my chest. Each one had a different date, the oldest from my college graduation to the most recent one, which was from three weeks ago.
God, he was there at my graduation, hidden in the shadows like always. That image hurt my heart. I remember that day. I looked into the crowd, feeling my family’s love and support, yet I had a hollow ache in my chest. I felt like something was missing, and he had been there all along.
All this time... he knew what I knew from the moment we first met. We were destined for more. My heart recognized on the first day we met.
So he wrote letters but never sent them. Why? I remember the words he wrote about how he thought he wasn’t worthy of love—of friendship. Life had been especially cruel to him from a young age, convincing him he didn’t deserve either. But he did. He always did, and I was willing to give my heart to him, even when I didn’t understand what it all meant.
For years, I thought he was cruel. I believed I wasn’t enough for him. But now I see—it wasn’t that he found me lacking. It was his fear. He was holding himself back.
Oh, you beautiful, broken prince. Your darkness never scared me. It never will. The only thing that scared me was that he was the only one with the power to completely shatter my heart. Only him.
I think about how he hid those letters in places he must’ve known I’d look. He hid them in books. There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me to find them. And I did. So, what now?
Was this what he meant when he proposed we chase romance? I thought he was just talking about the book. But maybe he wanted me to find the romance waiting for me... in him.
I didn’t have all the answers. Hell, I still had so many questions. But there were things he’d done for me that I couldn’t ignore. Signing me to his publishing house. Offering me a three-book deal. Publishing all my books and making them an instant success. Supporting me through my first-ever meet-and-greet with readers—one he arranged just for me. And the way he kept all my books, a dozen copies, in his home library. He bought them all. Filled his library with them. He filled his library with… me.
He wrote me letters, too. Dozens of letters he never sent.
And then it hit me.
Maybe, in a way, he was giving me the romance he wanted me to write. Maybe all of this—everything—was his way of saying he loved me. It has to be, right?
But this was happening so fast, although it felt like it had been building for an eternity. My thoughts spun in circles. I needed to know more and my mind wouldn’t settle.
I needed to talk to someone who could help me understand. Someone who could help me understand him.
That person was my Aunt Kadra. She knew Azariel better than anyone—better than he knew himself. She was the most important figure in his life, the one who, alongside Uncle Vitali, had shaped the world he’d grown into after he escaped whatever hell raised him first.
I admired my Aunt Kadra more than words could say. She would be the one to help me understand everything. I couldn’t just walk up to Azariel and tell him I’d found his letters. That didn’t feel right.
I glanced at my phone, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. I opened our chat and typed quickly:
Me: Hi, aunty. I’m sorry for texting you this late. If you can, please message me when you see this. I need you. Love, P.
The message was sent, and before I could find my next breath, my phone vibrated with an incoming video call. Aunt Kadra. She never hesitated to answer no matter the hour. No matter how busy. She was always there for the people she cared about.
When the call connected, there she was as stunning as ever. She wore black satin pajamas, her straight black hair pulled into a high ponytail without a single strand out of place. She wasn’t wearing any makeup—not that she needed it. She was still as beautiful as she had been when she was younger. In fact, I think she’s even more beautiful now.
My Uncle Vitali was as obsessed with her as my dad was with my mom, and rightfully so.
Her golden eyes seemed to see right through me. For a moment, I felt like she already knew why I was calling. “Poe,” she said, her voice cool and calm but full of affection. She was one of the most feared and respected crime bosses in the country. The first female to run her own crime family and still found in her to be soft and gentle. She amazed me. All the women in my family do. “What’s wrong, darling girl?”
“Darling girl…” Memories of every time she had called me that since I was a little girl flashed through my mind. Like our nighttime tea parties, where I would dress up like her and enjoy catching her up on what was going on in school. Or the times my brothers and I would beg to go over to the Solonik mansion for a Wizard of Oz movie night. When Azariel hurt my heart, I was too embarrassed to face him, so I stayed behind whenever Dad or my brothers visited Aunt Kadra. That went on for years, until he went off to college. Still, Aunt Kadra always found a way to make me feel included. She called almost every day or visited me at our house so we could have our girls’ dates, like Mom used to call them.
Thinking about it, maybe Aunt Kadra knew more than she let on back then.
I hesitated, biting my lip while I looked at my aunt through a screen. “I’m sorry for bothering you this late,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. The pressure in my chest won’t go away. “I don’t even know where to start.”
She smiled softly, and suddenly, I wasn’t nervous anymore. That’s that mother’s touch that always makes everything feel like it’s not the end of the world. “How about you start by telling me what’s keeping you up?”
I stayed silent for a second trying to find the right words.
“Poe?”
“I don’t know what Azariel has told you about… us.” I hesitated again.
“About you? Many things.” Her smile was knowing, the kind that made me feel like she’d always known. Now I’m curious about what Azariel has told his mom about me.
“All this time I… I thought he hated me,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I thought he couldn’t stand the sight of me, and that’s why he wanted nothing to do with me. But now he’s pulled me into his world, and everything I thought I knew doesn’t make sense anymore. He’s… He’s…”
“He’s what?” Aunt Kadra pressed.
“He’s turned my world upside down, and I don’t know what to do next. I don’t understand any of this.”
She was silent for a moment, sipping from her tea, studying me. Then, she set the cup down gently and spoke, her voice softening slightly. “You only really need to know one thing, Poe,” she said, her eyes soft yet unwavering.
“And what’s that?”
“He’s not like the rest,” she said with conviction and love. So much love. “Azariel’s always been… complex. Nothing has ever been black and white with him.” Aunt Kadra looked sad. “He’s never known how to be vulnerable—not in the way you expect. He’s like his father and I in that way. Life taught him pain before love, chaos before peace. That’s why he hides his heart in the shadows. He’s afraid of it, afraid of love, afraid it’ll hurt him. But you, Poe... You’ve always been his exception.”
Me? My heart skipped a beat. I was his exception. Why? What did he see in me? I’m just… well… me.
Her words hit me like a wave and every emotion I feel towards her son good and bad hit me all at once. “I found letters,” I whispered. “He wrote me dozens of letters. And they all had one thing in common.” One thing that made my heart feel like it wanted out of my chest.
“What’s that?” she asked, her gaze steady.
“They were confessions of love,” I said, barely above a whisper, almost afraid.
Aunt Kadra’s eyes softened even more, but there was a sharpness in them as she set her cup back down, studying me carefully. Then— I wasn’t talking to my Aunt Kadra but Azariel’s mother.
“Do you know, Poe,” she said softly, “that when he was little, it was hard for him to say the words ‘'I love you’ to me and his father?”
“I did not know that.” I answered.
I imagined it must’ve been easy adjusting to a life filled with love after so much chaos. It must’ve been so hard for him. Fuck.
“But we never needed his words. We could feel his love in the quiet moments he shared with us. In the way he used to sit beside me, drinking tea for hours, just letting me love him. In the way he spent his evenings training with his uncles. The way he helped his father take care of my roses. The way he held onto Raiza’s hand when she was born and never let go—not even now, when they’re both grown.” A look of pride crossed her eyes before they turned sad again. “Azariel’s love is raw and untamed. But he’s always been afraid to lose control, thinking it would hurt him or the people he loves. He’s been afraid of it his whole life. But you…” She paused, her gaze soft and full of warmth. “You managed to make him want to try.”
Me? My chest tightened, and I could barely breathe. Was it possible that he had been showing me his love all along, even without words? I think back to everything he has done. How was I so blind?
Aunt Kadra’s smile lit up her face. “Hearing that he wrote you those letters… it makes me happy. It makes me so damn proud.” I swear I saw her wipe a tear but it happened so fast that I think I imagined it. “I worried about him, Poe. I feared he would never let himself be happy. But those letters? They’re proof he’s trying. He’s trying because of you.”
My heart raced faster, pounding in my chest. “Is this really happening?” I asked. “It feels like a dream. Why now? Why is he suddenly ready?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then she leaned back slightly. When she spoke again, it was with quiet certainty. “Because he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. He finally woke up and realized what we all have known since you were kids.”
All? Who’s all?
“What do you know?”
Her smile turned a little cocky before tenderness took over her expression. “That you, darling girl. You’ve slowly made him believe, Poe. You’ve shown him that love doesn’t have to be feared. That it doesn’t hurt. You’ve taught him that he can trust someone with his heart.” She paused, a knowing smile on her lips. “You’ve made my sun believe he can trust someone other than his family. And trust me when I say, you are to him what my Russian is to me.”
Her Russian... Uncle Vitali. “What’s that?” I asked, feeling a little nervous.
She touched the gold chain around her neck, the one with the initials of her husband and children and smiled and I could see in that smile how much she loved them. “My one day in the sun.”
My one day in the sun…
I let that sink in, and my heart swelled with the beauty of her words. After so many storms, Azariel had finally found his one day in the sun.
Me.
And me? Well… I was finally embracing the beautiful storm.
Him.
Then Aunt Kadra’s voice broke through my thoughts, almost in a whisper. “Now, if you have any doubt about where Azariel’s heart truly rests… go beyond his garden.”
My breath caught. “Beyond his garden?” What did that mean?
That’s when I realized she knew exactly where I was. Of course. Yet, she didn’t ask why. She just let me be.
Aunt Kadra’s eyes met mine, unwavering and filled with secrets. “Go beyond his garden, Poe. And you’ll find the answers your heart seeks. It’ll all make sense there.” She smiled one last time before saying goodbye.
The call ended just as her words settled into my mind and heart. I stared at the screen, her words still echoing in my head. What will I find beyond Azariel’s garden? What answers would my heart find there?
I didn’t know, but I knew one thing for sure: I needed to find out.
So, I did.
Now, if you have any doubt about where Azariel’s heart truly rests… go beyond his garden.
Aunt Kadra’s words played through my mind like a loop as I stepped into the cool night air.
Azariel was still nowhere to be found. As I left my room and walked through halls, I could’ve sworn I heard movement behind a door I assumed was his. But I still don’t know which one it is. The manor is so vast, his room could be on the other side of it.
The rain had stopped, yet lightning still split the sky. The manor loomed behind me, its gothic silhouette stark against the black heavens, while the garden ahead seemed to beckon me as if aching to reveal the secret of Azariel’s heart.
Something tugged at my soul, urging me to move deeper, beyond the rose-laden paths that I’ve been dying to explore since we arrived. Moonlight bathed the flowers, casting jagged shadows as I followed the winding trail. My steps were light, steady, until I reached the garden’s edge. Aunt Kadra’s words returned, softer this time: Go beyond his garden.
I looked at the roses. My breath hitched.
Every time I’d seen this garden, it had been under the cover of night.
“What…”
I expected something like his mother’s garden. But this wasn’t the hidden sanctuary I remembered.
Instead of crimson roses—Cobalt.
Blue.
Blue roses.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I froze, only for a moment. Then, with a breath, I pushed through the dense thicket, the velvet petals brushing my fingertips. That’s when I saw it: a wrought-iron gate, concealed by vines and shadows.
Half-hidden.
As if it had been waiting for me to find it.
Loud thunder sounds starling me but not even that could stop me from discovering what was waiting for me there.
I stepped forward, drawn to it, my heart racing faster as lightning lit the sky and my way. The gate creaked slightly as I pushed it open, the sound strange and otherworldly in the middle of the storm. What was beyond the blue roses? What awaited me? My breath caught in my throat as I stepped through, leaving the first part of the garden behind.
What I found took my breath away and made my heart gallop wildly.
I was in a new part of the garden now, one I hadn’t noticed before, as if it had been concealed from me until this moment. This part of the garden was darker, more mysterious, shrouded in a thick veil of night, but there was something beautifully haunting about it.
Then I saw them. This couldn’t be real. I had to be dreaming all of this. Things like this don’t happen in real life.
Ugh… if I’m woken up from this dream by my demon cat slapping me on the face I’m going to be seriously pissed. Because this has surpassed my wildest dreams.
I looked at the towering sculptures ahead and realized that I would’ve never believed in real life romance like everyone else did because my person was always him. Romance was Azariel and now I’ve found it. He showed himself to me.
I stood in awe, watching hundreds of sculptures standing like silent sentinels in the shadows of his world. They were gothic, hauntingly beautiful, and exquisitely detailed. Every statue depicted a woman and my breath caught as I stepped forward and saw one that resembled me.
But it wasn’t just me. It was me in every era, every incarnation.
Each statue was different from the next. There were some of me in flowing, ethereal robes with crowns made of flowers and others of diamonds. There was one of me clad in warrior’s armor, sword in hand. Another stood in delicate lace, with flowers woven into long waves of hair cascading down her back. One had immense angelic wings and a halo, her posture regal and unyielding.
Then there was the one in a long gown, a high slit revealing her thigh, hair swept up in an intricate twist—two devil horns woven through the locks.
My parents have taken me to every corner of the world, and still, I’ve never been anywhere as beautiful as this garden.
My heart pounded harder than moments ago as I moved closer, inspecting each statue. The figures were captured perfectly, their faces frozen in expressions of strength, sorrow, joy, and mystery—an array of emotions that spoke to something deep within me. Is this how he saw me? And why did that thought both scared and thrilled me?
The statues seemed to watch me as I moved through the garden, their stony eyes glinting under the moonlight and lightning, as though they knew I was the one they’d been waiting for. He’s been waiting for.
There was more, though.
Among the statues of me—of myself in every form, every time, every mythical realm—there were others even more breathtakingly beautiful. Creatures like dragons, phoenixes, serpents, mermaids, and other fantastical beings, all intricately carved from stone, frozen in time. Some were majestic, others terrifying, but all were undeniably beautiful.
And they were all blue.
Blue. The same color as his car. His roses. Now these statues. The same shade of blue as my hair.
As though something was pulling me forward, I stepped closer to one of the statues, my fingers brushing lightly against its cool surface. It was a depiction of me as a fairy, the wings stretched wide, the form both graceful and fierce. It looked as if I was about to soar into the night sky. But my heart skipped a beat as I saw my features carved into the stone. My face was serene, my eyes closed, and a dimpled smile played on my lips.
I was stunned, my breath uneven as I slowly circled the garden, taking everything in. These weren’t just statues—they were something more. They were reflections of me, spanning times and lives that I haven’t lived. It was me in every form and skin.
Was this his way of showing me how he saw me? No one has ever seen me this way. I don’t even see me like those statues. What do you see in me, my dark prince? My hands shook as I touched another statue, this one with a black dress, holding a book, her face serene yet pained. The statue has a melancholic air to it.
I felt an overwhelming sense of connection to each piece. Each one was a piece of me, a part of my soul. Me .
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop them from falling as I moved from one sculpture to the next, unable to tear my gaze away.
The realization hit me hard, so sharp and overwhelming I nearly dropped to my knees. Words. When words failed him, actions spoke louder.
Azariel had created all of this. Every piece, every statue, every tribute to me. These weren’t just sculptures. They were how he saw me. They were versions of me he loved. All the iterations of my being, captured in stone and memory forever.
Obsessions.
My father once told my brothers and me that they were dangerous, yet everyone has them. Azariel had always been mine. And now, as I stand in his garden surrounded by statues of myself, I realize—he, too, is consumed by an obsession. Me.
I closed my eyes, taking in a breath that shook me to my core, and when I opened them again, I saw something shimmering from the center of the garden—a stone pedestal, and resting on it, a final statue of me.
But this one… this one was different. It was new. It wasn’t like the others. It felt like a secret, carefully kept just for him.
This one was real and raw. It was a sculpture of me, standing tall and strong, a fierce expression on my face as if I were ready to fight the world. It was a piece of me I didn’t fully recognize but felt deep in my soul. It felt like looking into a mirror. It was the version of me who had come into herself, who was not controlled by fears and anxiety.
There was no doubt that this was more than just art. This garden was love. His love for me— shown in every detail, in every curve of the stone. A love that has been built from a thousand versions of me, across time, across worlds, but all leading to this moment.
Aunt Kadra was right. I found my answers. Azariel’s heart is here— in this garden surrounded by me.
It all pulled at my heart and I was finding it difficult to find my next breath. And then, as if taken out of a fairytale, the garden revealed another secret.
A shimmering glow flickered in the distance, like fireflies dancing in the dark. I turned toward the light, my breath catching in my throat as it twinkled and flickered in the night. It was almost like the lights were beckoning me, like a path that had opened just for me.
As I stepped forward, the softest, most haunting melody began to play. It was delicate and ethereal. A melody that reminded me of the gentle tune that plays from a jewelry box when its lid is opened. It was a sound that seemed to hold secrets, promises, and love. It wove through the cold air like a thread, tugging at my heartstrings as it whispered through the garden.
The lightning kept coming hard and the glow intensified, illuminating a space ahead of me. Then I saw it.
A carousel.
At first, it seemed like a dream, something I could only imagine in the depths of my mind. But no, it was real—a massive, hauntingly beautiful carousel, its intricate, dark beauty standing proudly in the center of the garden. It looked as though it had materialized from the pages of an old fairytale, the kind told in whispered tones at midnight, the kind that dances between the realms of dreams and nightmares. It felt like both a dream and a beautiful nightmare.
One I never wanted to wake up from.
The carousel was another gothic masterpiece. Its frame was wrought black iron, twisting and curving in elegant arches, each curve like a dark petal of a rose. The horses, carved from ebony wood, were unlike any I had ever seen. Their forms were sleek and majestic, with elongated, elegant necks and haunting eyes that gleamed with an otherworldly green light. Their manes were wild and flowing intricate patterns, as if frozen in mid-motion, caught between life and the fantasy of their existence. Each horse seemed to carry a different expression—some fierce and untamed, others serene and joyful. They were also all blue.
The music, though soft and delicate, seemed to grow louder now, swirling around me like a haunting lullaby, wrapping around my heart and filling the night air with a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. The music gave me the same feeling that my Aunt Kadra playing her cello did.
The twinkling lights above the carousel flickered and danced, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted across the garden, making the entire scene feel like a dream.
For a moment I wished I’d brought my phone with me so I could capture this perfect world he created for… me.
I could feel a strange pull, an irresistible urge to step closer. But I remained where I was, unable to move, my feet rooted to the damp earth beneath me as I saved every detail in my memory.
And then, without warning, the carousel began to turn.
I sucked in a startled breath. Some had to turn it on. Was it him? Azariel? I looked around but I didn’t see him anywhere.
Are you hiding in the shadows again? No more. I smiled to myself as I watched the scene before me.
Slowly at first, the horses moved, their forms shifting with a grace that seemed impossible for something made of wood. The haunting melody continued to play. The lights above the carousel flickered in time with the music, casting fleeting shadows across the garden as the carousel spun in its dance.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a shiver ran down my spine as I realized that, somehow, this was another love letter to me. Another shared secret, woven into every thread of the garden’s fabric.
Tears welled in my eyes, and for a moment, I felt like my heart might burst with the overcome of emotions rushing through me.
With my hand in my chest, I stepped forward, the music guiding me, my heartbeat in rhythm with the soft melody that swirled around me. The lights of the carousel danced around me, their glow casting shadows that made the whole scene feel like I was in another world. A world he made for me.
That’s when I laughed out loud. I laughed with joy and happiness.
And then, as I took another step closer towards the carousel, I felt a presence behind me.
A shift in the air.
My heart stopped.
I didn’t need to see him to know it was him. I felt him.
Azariel.
I turned, and there he stood, his dark figure framed by the flickering lights of the carousel and the thunderstorm happening above us. His gray eyes glimmered in the shadows, and though his expression was unreadable, I could see something in the way he looked at me—something tender, something sweet, something that spoke louder than his words ever could.
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing with every second that passed.
“You built this for me,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, barely able to contain the wave of feelings that crashed over me. “Why?” I knew why, I just needed him to say something to prove to me that I’m not dreaming this.
He slowly stepped forward, like a predator sizing its prey. The way he looked at me made my heart flutter in my chest.
“Because,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur, “you’re the only one who could ever understand it.” Somehow it didn’t seem like he was talking about the garden or the carousel. It was as if he were telling me I was the only one who could understand his heart.
Oh, God. I’m going to lose every ounce of decency and self-respect and fall to my knees if this man said or did one more thing that felt like a romance out of the greatest love stories in literature history.
Step the fuck, back Romeo. Azariel Solonik has you beat.
As we stared into each other’s eyes, the music swirled around us and the carousel continued its endless dance, its lights flickering like stars. Because of the stork going on, there weren’t any stars visible in the sky so it was almost poetic.
At that moment, as the world seemed to freeze around us, just like the statues he had made for me, I knew this was it. This was the beginning of a love story that rivals every romance book I’ve ever written.
“Just tell me one thing. Why blue roses?” I asked, while stepping closer to him, until I was standing right before him. His eyes flicked down to mine, and I tilted my head slightly, looking up at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Why, Azariel?” I whispered again, my voice barely audible, as if afraid to break the spell we both seemed to be under.
He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he just stared down at me, his eyes deep, searching, almost lost in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him. For a moment, the weight of his silence seemed to stretch on, pulling the space between us tighter.
And then, just when I thought he might not answer at all, his voice came, soft but with an intensity that made my knees tremble and butterflies take over my stomach.
“Because you, Poe Nicolasi, you painted everything blue.”
His words hit me like a wave, crashing over me, sweeping me into the depths of something I couldn’t quite put into words. I felt the emotions stir inside me, like a storm that was impossible to control. It was so overwhelming, so raw and pure, that it took every ounce of strength not to let the tears rise up.
Blue.
I painted his world blue and I hadn’t even realized it. Just like he painted mine soft gray from the moment he first stared at me with those eyes that are inked not only in my heart but in my soul.
When what I felt for him took over all my control, I rose on my tiptoes, my heart beating wildly in my chest as my hand reached out. My fingers hovered just above his face, trembling slightly as I traced the outline of his features with the barest of touches. I didn’t dare to touch him—because I knew he hated being touched—but I couldn’t resist getting close, feeling the heat of his skin, the power of his presence.
I traced the sharp line of his jaw, the tattoo over his cheek, the curve of his cheekbone, the edge of his red lips. The sensation of his face under my fingers—barely there, yet so intimate—sent a shiver through me, a tremor that ran deep within my soul.
Azariel’s breath hitched, a sharp intake of air, and he stepped back, his expression faltering.
“What are you doing?” His voice was low, edged with something I couldn’t place, a blend of surprise and confusion that made my heart race even faster.
I didn’t answer immediately. I only looked up at him, my eyes locking onto his, feeling the weight of the moment settled between us like a deep, undeniable truth.
“I’m saving your look into my memory,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Why?”
“I need to remember this moment. This... this you. This Azariel. My not so heartless prince.”
He froze and his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything went still.
He looked surprised as if he wasn’t expecting the words that just fell from my lips. He looked impossibly adorable if you could call a six feet three man covered in ink and resembling death itself adorable. I would.
Adorable and irresistible.
I got the crazy impulse to kiss him but before I could take another breath, Azariel moved. Fast.
In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between us, his strong hand reaching up to grip the back of my neck, his touch possessive, powerful. His fingers dug into the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, and his other hand cupped my face with a force that stole the breath from my lungs.
His eyes locked onto mine with a possessiveness that made me tremble with the need to kiss him. I saw something moving in them. It was as if all those icy walls he had built around himself had finally come crashing down, and the man standing before me was no longer just Azariel, the cold hearted, arrogant man I had come to loathe.
I felt his breath hot on my face and a second later his lips crashed onto mine.
The kiss wasn’t soft, no. It was hungry, as though every ounce of emotion we had ever buried within us was being poured into that single, desperate touch. His lips felt cold, but somehow they set my skin on fire, igniting something deep inside me that I had never felt before. It wasn’t just a kiss—it felt like he was claiming me. With the kiss I could feel the undeniable connection between us that bound our souls together in a way that words could never explain.
I wrote for a living and yet I sucked at them when it came to him. This kiss said it all, though. I hope he felt it.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The world around us disappeared, and all I knew was him. The taste of him. The feel of him. The pounding of our hearts, crashing against each other in perfect sync.
When he finally pulled away, his breath came in ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath the dark fabric of his clothes. His eyes locked onto mine, heated and searching, like he couldn’t believe what just happened between us— as if he couldn’t believe it was real also.
“Do you understand now? Do you see it?” he asked, his voice rough, almost desperate. Every word bled out of his mouth with the rawness he usually kept hidden behind cruelty and silence.
I nodded, lips still trembling, not from the cold but from the intensity of his kiss. I understood.
I understood everything.
But most of all, I understood that in that moment with that kiss, he had given me something no one else ever could— his heart.
His truth.
His fire.
His soul.
All I ever wanted… my most beautiful dream.
“I do.” I whispered, a soft smile curving my lips. “I see you, Azariel. You’ve always been all I ever saw.”
His hand tightened around the back of my neck—not in a way that hurt, but in a way that made me feel anchored , like he was afraid I’d slip away. Like he couldn’t bear to let me go.
“About fucking time, little fox,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against mine.
About fucking time is right.
“What took you so long?” I breathed.
“It wasn’t the right time,” he said, eyes dark with emotion.
“And now it is?”
“ Fuck yes. ”
I smiled and rubbed my nose against his, needing that small touch like I needed air in my lungs. It was soft, almost innocent, a tender touch that a man who had lived what he had wasn’t used to. And just like that, the wildest plot twist of my life unfolded right in front of me. Deep down in my soul, I wished for it—but I never saw it coming. And yet, somehow... it found me. It found us.
Azariel didn’t speak and he didn’t have to. The loud beating of his heart beneath my palm was all I needed to know that we were both in this. Together. It might not be how most romance stories start but it was ours and it was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.
With a slow, tender motion, he lifted me off the ground as if I weighed nothing and like I was something precious, untouchable. And somehow, impossibly, my heart began to beat even harder.
As the storm above grew stronger, Azariel walked us toward a rose bush, his steps quiet but deliberate. His tattoos shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight, like silver secrets. He slowly reached out, his fingers brushing over the delicate petals before plucking a single blue rose. Then, with a tenderness that stole my breath away, he tucked it behind my ear.
With that sweet gesture, I felt like something fragile, something he cherished more than anything in this world.
And in that moment, I knew. This wasn’t fleeting. This wasn’t some sweet fairytale from beginning to end. No. Ours was kind of love that scars. That marks you. That owns you.
This was an obsession. Beautiful, brutal, and soul-consuming.
As I stared into harsh gray eyes, I knew this would last until one of us took our final breath and even then, I knew we wouldn’t be done with the other. We would follow each other into the dark, clawing through death itself just to find the other again.
Because what we had wasn’t just love.
I knew it from the moment my tiny heart recognized his broken one so long ago.
It was fate. It was destiny. It was written on every star in the sky.
And I would burn for it. I would burn for my ‘one day in the sun’ with him.