Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
MIDNIGHT BALLAD
Poe
“In his arms, I found safety—even if his soul was made of shadows.” – P
T he early morning light streamed through the half-open velvet curtains, casting a soft glow over the dark room like it didn’t realize how rude it was being this damn early. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and it read 7am. Ugh. Mornings. My mortal enemy. Especially when I’ve been up all night having a romantic meltdown over a certain gray-eyed menace.
Azariel.
Thoughts of his kiss and the gentle touch of his hands kept wide-eyed under the covers while the storm outside raged and then fizzled out. Not my heart, though. Because how do you calm a heart that’s finally being handed everything it ever quietly wished for? A heart that once felt like it would never find a home in him.
A thousand bats are doing aerial stunts in my stomach just thinking about the way his gray eyes locked on mine like he had been waiting for a thousand years for me.
God, I was whipped. There was no point in denying it any longer.
I sat at the edge of the bed, plot notebook in hand, as I stared out the window toward the blue and clear skies. The memory of his soft lips on mine was still fresh, tingling as if it just happened. His kiss had been nothing like I’d expected. It wasn’t desperate or fiery or movie-scene passionate. It was sweet, raw, and it made my heart race just thinking about it.
I’ve been kissed before. But never like that . Kissing Azariel felt like kissing the stars. Like every other kiss before it was just a prequel and he was the actual story. The happy ever after.
Every word he whispered, every soft look— another chain snapped loose from my heart. I kept telling myself to slow down because, let’s be real, love in this era is fleeting. It’s shameful. But my heart had been tripping over Azariel since I was a child. Even when he pushed me away. Even when he treated me as if I didn’t exist, I loved him. If I’d known back then what he was hiding behind his cruel indifference, I might’ve fought harder for a place in his broken heart. Or at least kicked down a few emotional doors.
Maybe we needed to fall apart first. Maybe we had to lose those quiet kids reading their favorite book at night like the ugly world outside them was just loud noise to find our way back as something sweeter but most of all… braver.
And now? Now the love I’ve caged for so long has finally broken free. I wonder what my cousins would say if they knew. Actually, I do. The three piranhas would probably roast me for “ losing all my bad bitch points .” Honestly? Worth it.
Oh, well. I’m not exactly proud of how deep I’ve sunk into this pit of love, but I sure as hell don’t regret it. The two baddest women I know love their men with everything they’ve got—and honestly, that just makes them even more badass in my eyes.
Even my writing has changed. I’ve cranked out more romantic scenes between my main characters in the last few days than I have all year. Romance scenes that would’ve made me gag a few weeks ago now have me blushing like a full-time lover girl. And weirdly? That fills my heart with joy.
I feel like me again. Like the little girl who wore heart-shaped headbands for Valentine’s Day and dreamed about a dark-haired boy with stormy eyes and the personality of a morally gray romance book villain.
That Poe is writing this book. And that Poe is finally in control of her heart.
Yeah, there was no way of stopping what Azariel stirred in me with his silent support of my dreams, or the way he pushed me to be a better writer, or how he gently nudged me out of my shell to overcome my social anxiety like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
And then... the letters.
Thousands of them. Hidden in my books, scattered across the manor’s library like he was leaving breadcrumbs straight to his heart. Every single love confession chipped away at me. Vulnerable, honest, beautifully painful and so damn sweet. Like he was handing me tiny pieces of his soul and trusting me not to break them.
And the statues. God , the statues in his hauntingly beautiful garden with roses the same shade as my hair.
I can’t stop thinking about them. The way he carved my memory into marble like he was afraid I’d disappear if he didn’t. Like he wanted to freeze me in time just to prove I mattered. Just to prove that I was in his life in some shape or form. No one will ever top that gesture of love.
Impossible. Besides, I don’t want anyone else. Anything else. I want him. Good, bad, beautiful and ugly. Perfectly-imperfect him.
My heart felt like it was going to combust. It pounded against my chest, the beat erratic and fierce. I pressed my hand to my chest, as if that could calm my heart. It didn’t. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting this feeling take over me.
What I was feeling for him was the strangest, most terrifying thing. But it was beautiful, too. The way he had opened up to me had cracked open something in me that I didn’t even know was there. A part of me I’d never met before had come alive because of him. And now... I didn’t know how to quiet it. I didn’t want to. I wanted that part to rise, to soar, to take over every piece of me and fill it with everything that Azariel is.
The thought of seeing him again after last night lit a fire in my chest. I swung my legs off the bed, hair a wild mess around my head, and caught my reflection in the mirror with a wince. “Okay, forest witch,” I muttered to myself, trying not to laugh, “we need to tame that hair.”
Azariel was somewhere in this manor and I had to find him. I… needed to find him.
I practically floated to the bathroom, anticipation fizzing beneath my skin. After a quick shower, I patted my face dry and went through my skincare routine like it was a special occasion. It was.
Wrapped in a towel, I stepped into the massive walk-in closet and paused, just like I always did since I arrived here. I hadn’t brought much on this trip—just my laptop, my cat, and the usual emotional baggage. But he had thought of everything else. My favorite colors. My go-to fabrics.
He did that for me.
I’d been so caught up in everything that he has done for me that I’d missed how carefully he planned everything. Thoughtfully. Sweetly. Meticulously.
God, no wonder my heart felt like it was doing cartwheels inside my chest.
I reached for a soft beige skirt that hugged my ass in all the right ways. I slid into the skirt and tugged the shirt over my head. It was plain, nothing fancy, but I knotted the front to add a bit of flair. Then, I brushed my hair back into a sleek ponytail that reached my lower back. I chose to not wear makeup today. For once, I felt like I didn’t need to hide behind any mask. I just wanted to be me.
I looked simple yet chic.
But of course, nothing was simple when you had a cat who had a snobbier attitude than an entire room filled with royals.
“Demon,” I called, narrowing my eyes at the familiar sound of movement from the dresser. Sure enough, there he was, perched smugly at the top, his fluffy tail swishing back and forth like a little pompous asshole king. “Don’t even think about souring my day with your negativity,” I warned, my voice stern, but I knew he didn’t care. He never did.
Not today, you hellhound. Just… be decent for a day. Dammit.
Prince looked down at me, blinked lazily, and then, just as if he had decided he’d had enough of listening to me for one morning, he hopped down onto the floor with that slow, deliberate grace that irritated me to no end.
He let out a soft, almost mocking mew , as if he were replying, “ And what exactly are you going to do about it? ”
I shook my head, trying not to smile. “Don’t give me that attitude. I already apologized for forgetting your dinner last night.”
Prince’s almost white eyes locked onto mine, and I swear, if he could roll his eyes, he would’ve. Instead, he gave me another haughty mew , as if he were saying, you should get your shit together.
I was an hour late. It’s not like he was starving. The cat’s fat. He could live off reserves for a week.
Then, without so much as a glance back, he turned and sauntered away, leaving me alone.
I rolled my eyes, still smiling, and I watched him go. I couldn’t help feeling a warmth inside me at the ridiculous bond I had with this stubborn creature.
After that, I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled when I realized that the woman staring back at me looked genuinely happy—and I hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. With that thought in mind, I stepped out of the room, adjusting the hem of my skirt as I went.
I wasn’t sure exactly where Azariel would be, but I knew I needed to see him. After last night, I couldn’t wait to find out what our days moving forward would look like.
I had no clue, but I knew deep down in my soul that my days with him would be magical and more. Of that I was sure of. How could they not? When it’s … him.
The cold hall stretched out before me, but I wasn’t sure where to start looking for him. He could be anywhere, and I was determined not to waste time.
I started with the library and he wasn’t there. Neither was in the sitting room. Maybe he’s in the garden. I should’ve looked for him there first. When he was a boy he would spend countless hours helping aunt Kadra to tend the roses.
My footsteps were soft against the polished floor as I moved deeper into the house. Then, as I neared the grand ballroom, I heard voices. Quiet at first, then rising with the hum of busy activity.
I slowed, curiosity tugging me forward. As I rounded the corner into the expansive ballroom, I came to a halt. The sight before me stopped me cold.
What is going on?
A small group of staff was working diligently on decorations, each person moving with purpose, hanging blue ribbons, adjusting flowers, and positioning candle holders in shapes of hearts. The space was alive with movement and beauty that left me in awe.
But it wasn’t the strangers that made me stop—it was the transformation of the room itself.
The manor’s grand ballroom was being transformed into something out of a blue dream. Long, dark blue ribbons cascaded from the high ceiling, curling around the edges of the space and draping down the walls. Blue roses were scattered across the marble floors in artful disarray, their pretty blue shade a contrast with the pale floor. Black chandeliers, their crystals glinting in the soft light, hovered just above the dance floor, casting a cool glow over the entire space. It was breathtaking, and it left me wondering what was going on.
My attention was on the two men who were carefully positioning blue roses along the edges of the dance floor. Their delicate petals made the room seem like something straight out of a fairytale. Their design was so deliberately haunting—it was hard to imagine how it would look when it was finally finished. I’m sure it will look amazing.
I took a few steps into the room, wondering where Azariel was in all of this. He hadn’t mentioned he had a party today.
I wandered further inside, looking for him, but there was no sign of him. Instead, one of the decorators, a handsome young guy with auburn hair tied into a messy bun, noticed me.
I frowned, a thought ticking in the back of my mind. “Hi. What’s all this for?” I asked, my eyes sweeping over the scene.
He gave me a warm smile. “The boss’s annual birthday ball, Miss. It’s a tradition his mother insists on every year.”
“Birthday ball?” I repeated, blinking in confusion. I didn’t think Azariel did birthdays. The whole idea seemed so… alien to the man I knew.
A birthday ball? Why didn’t I know this? No one in our family has ever mentioned Aunt Kadra threw him a birthday ball every year.
“Yes, Miss. It’s always an extravagant affair. Very much a family tradition.”
Ahh… maybe they celebrated him just for them. That makes sense since Azariel never had a birthday party growing up. It’s because they kept it between them perhaps knowing it was the only way to celebrate their son.
I stood there for a moment, processing. I couldn’t imagine him enjoying such an event, especially with how private and guarded he was and how little he enjoyed the gatherings our family used to host when we were kids. But then again, maybe it wasn’t for him. Maybe it was to make his mother happy.
“Well, that’s… sweet,” I muttered. “Thanks for letting me know…”
“Lucas…”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
The man nodded, his smile unwavering. “Of course, Miss. Would you like to see more?”
Of course, I did.
I wanted to see more of everything and even more so if it’s the love his mother shows him through a birthday ball.
I can just imagine his cold ass enduring a birthday bash just because it brought his mother joy.
How sweet.