20. Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
AZAZEL
M orte’s fire doesn’t burn me as she regenerates. It’s as though her beast knows and still loves me, despite how badly I’ve fucked things up for her.
For us.
A faint scent of smoke and ash linger between us. Glistening tears streak down her face like tiny rivers, smudging the soot that marks her skin as I hold her naked form against mine.
My shirt did not spare her fire’s wrath as I gripped her to me, watching as my mate burned in my arms.
Waves of soul-deep grief radiate through our bond, and I want to cushion it, cradle it between my palms as I coax it back to life, begging my whole universe to right itself but the betrayal hangs around like a thick oil spill. No matter how you try to clean it, it leaves its sticky residue.
“Let me explain.” I swallow, running my thumbs along her cheekbones, smearing the remnants of her pain. “Please.”
Her blue-green eyes, two molten pools of liquid pain, stare through me as if I’m already a ghost in her past. “Explain?” Her voice is rasp, edged with the rawness of rebirth. “That you tricked me? Made me love you and then you reached your fucking hand in my chest and squeezed? Walked away when another fae was going to rape me?”
She shoves out of my lap, scooting as far away as she can from me. It shatters something inside me.
Panic gnaws at my core, my breath ragged as I stare at her. “He didn’t … But he was just on a power trip … The king told his soldiers to mess with you—to break you emotionally. H-he surely wasn’t going to actually … I made it clear you were mine to mess with. Did he?—”
I reach out, desperate to bridge the space between us, but she flinches. “Don’t,” she hisses. “You must’ve thought you were really something, didn’t you? Tricking the soul bonded mate of Aggonid into her heart and into her soul.” She huffs a bemused laugh. “But you know what? I’m nothing, and I’m no one! Before creating The Great Company, I spent my entire existence sheltered, cut off from all of Bedlam except for pockets of stolen adventures with Wilder. I was a fucking scribe, and the only reason I was any good as a warrior is because I don’t stay dead.” She gives another huff. “You didn’t slay any giant monster or all-powerful god by breaking my heart, Azazel Valtorious .” She says my name like a curse, her stare drawn to where she digs her fingers into the pillow she drags to her chest. “No, you trampled a fledgling bird beneath your heel. But now?” She raises her head, eyes rimmed red. “Now, you’ve given me a gift. You’ve reminded me I’m a phoenix reborn from her ashes, and just as easily as I burn, I rise. So no, he didn’t rape me.” Relief, like cool water poured down my throat, eases the ache inside me. “He did plenty just as bad before I saved myself .”
Grief stabs like shards of glass taking residence inside me. I thought I had time. Hoped I had time, because it was the only way to save her. He was showboating. Wanted to scare her. I thought he’d bully her with his words for longer before he laid a finger on her. But I failed.
Failed her.
Morte’s fingers relax around the pillow as she pulls air into her lungs. I open my mouth to speak, but she continues .
“And you’ve taught me that betrayal slices deeper than any sword. I’ve been subjected to torture, mutilation, explosions, dismemberment, and countless other forms of death and disfigurement. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to your soul-searing betrayal.” She wipes a tear that rolls defiantly down her cheek, her expression hardening with each word as she hugs her knees, trapping the pillow against her thighs. “So, thank you, Azazel. Thank you for showing me who you really are, and that you are never to be trusted again.”
I climb to my feet and pause in front of her, lowering into a crouch. “Firefly.” Huge, glassy eyes meet mine when she lifts her head. “Everything we have is real.”
Her breaths come uneven, her lips trembling as she draws in air. “I don’t fucking believe you,” she whispers, her words cracking like thin ice. Fragile. “And even if what you’re saying is true, I needed you, and you let that monster violate me. He was going to rape me!” Her words end on a shriek and her body shakes in rage.
The air punches out of my lungs as I crash to my knees. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I tried to save you.” I crawl the few inches that separate us.
As I reach for her, desperate to close the distance, she flinches, eyes wide, burning with an anger that flays me wide open. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Her sentence lands with brutal precision, each syllable striking against the guilt tearing me apart. My throat tightens, a hollow ache where words should be, and I can barely force them out.
“I tried, Morte. I—” My voice chokes off, barely a whisper. Shame crawls under my skin, eating me alive. “You think I wanted any of that to happen? That I wanted to walk away and let him …?” I hang my head, knowing I’ve given her every reason to believe I would. “After everything I’ve done, how could you believe anything else?”
Her jaw clenches, and something colder settles over her stare. Her silence is sharper than any accusation she could throw, and it leaves me grasping for the words that have long since failed me.
“I set the explosion,” I rasp, eyes locked on her, willing her to see something—anything—that could show her the truth I couldn’t speak in that tent. “When I went missing for hours while the tents were being secured. That’s what I was doing. Putting it all in place. And then when that—animal—started to toy with you, I knew I needed to go and set it off. I couldn’t go against my father’s command, and I couldn’t give him anything to think I wasn’t all in on his plans. It was the only way to get back to you without his eyes on us.”
Her scowl hardens, pain flickering in her expression, but she says nothing. Just that silence, ringing in my ears.
“I will find him in this life and the next, and he will pay. Over and over again, I swear it. He will never know a moment’s peace for putting his hands on my mate,” I whisper, fingers trembling as I reach out to touch her hand, to feel that spark that used to be so strong between us, that used to mean something to her. “I’d let the realms burn before I’d let anyone?—”
“But,” she cuts in, her words hushed, venomous, “you still walked out. If I meant anything at all, how could you have left me? Half a second later and he would’ve raped me. But just before that? He had his fucking fingers in me, Az. I’ll never feel clean again.”
Bile rises in my throat, and grief pierces through me.
Angry tears, like rivers, pour down her cheeks and I want to hold her, spill my blood at her feet and make an oath to show her that since the very moment I fell for her, she’s it. Everything I do is to protect her.
But her words claw at me, and I struggle to breathe under the burden of her rage. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first. I drop my gaze to the floor, my fingers curling against the stone as I force myself to answer.
“Because…” My words barely push through the grief thickening my throat. “Because if I’d fought him right there, if I’d stayed, my father would have found a way to make it worse for you. I thought—I thought I could end it quicker if I made a distraction, all without requiring you to get tortured and killed.” I grind out the words, each one an admission that tastes like ash. “But fucking Roth followed me, and I had to lose his tail before I could set it off. I planned the blast during the hours I disappeared from camp. I set it on the ridge when he sent me out, knowing it was the only chance we’d have. But Roth ...” I grind my teeth, the name acrid in my mouth. “That bastard followed me when I’d left the tent. He always does. He saw me working to detonate it, and I had to lose him before I could finish.”
The weight of the past bears down on me, squeezing the words from my throat. “He and my father ... they’ve killed everyone I’ve ever cared about. All of my friends. My mother.” My throat tightens around the word. “Anyone who meant something to me, they found a way to rip apart. Their command, but my hand. And if I let him see how much you mean to me, he’d have done the same to you. I was trying to protect you, even when it looked like I wasn’t.” My voice breaks as rage fills me. “I would’ve had the time to detonate it if I weren’t interrupted. I would’ve taken that soldier’s hands, otherwise. I would’ve skewered them onto sticks before shoving one up his ass and the other down his throat before I carved the flesh from his bones.”
A bitter laugh escapes her, and when I look up, her eyes burn with betrayal so raw it feels like I’m looking at a stranger. “It doesn’t matter,” she spits. “Because you still let it happen. Whatever plan you thought you had, it wasn’t enough. You left me alone with him.”
Each word is a blow, and I feel myself crumble under her stare. I wish I could turn back time, could do anything to erase the memory of her terror, of my own failure. But I can’t. All I have are these broken explanations, these empty excuses.
I reach out, my fingers brushing the edge of her hand, and though she flinches, I don’t let go this time. “I know you won’t believe me. I know … there’s no reason you should.” I look into her beautiful ocean-colored eyes, holding her eyes with mine as my shadows caress her cheeks. “But I would trade my life for yours a thousand times over, Firefly. I would sacrifice everything if it meant keeping you safe. I gambled, and it hurt you. For the rest of eternity, I’ll live with that guilt.”
If there weren’t a universal ban on time travel, I’d find someone to take me back and stop it, no matter the cost. But the gods shut that door years ago, twisting time itself into a sealed prison. They couldn’t risk another disaster after the High Queen's meddling cracked reality wide open. Now, it’s not just forbidden; it’s locked, impossible, no matter how much blood I’d spill to change things.
And if it were only illegal? I’d break every law in existence, tear through every realm to make it right.
Her eyes search my face, and for a second, there’s a trace of something that almost looks like the love we used to share. But it fades, replaced by the cold, hardened mask I never wanted to see from her.
“Then maybe you should’ve tried harder.” She pulls her hand back, venom lacing every word, her eyes blazing as if daring me to argue. The rejection slams through me, ripping through the cracks I’m barely holding together. I rise and haul her into my arms, gently, but she flails against me like a cornered wildcat.
She thrashes, fists landing wherever she can reach—my chest, my shoulders, clawing at any part of me she can touch. “Put me down,” she shrieks, clawing my bare back.
Ignoring the blows, I hold her close, despite her struggling, and her knees dig into my ribs. I keep my grip steady, bracing against her attempts to break free as I carry her across the room to the bed.
“Let me go!” Her fists slam into me, each hit fueled by every ounce of fury I more than deserve, but I sink onto the bed, pulling her into my lap, refusing to let her slip from my arms.
“You can hate me all you need,” I murmur, tightening my hold, even as she writhes, relentless, fighting to tear away. “But right now, you’re staying here, and you’re staying warm.”
“You fucking asshole! I hate you!”
Her wild eyes watch as I grab her hand, thread our fingers together, and place it on my bare chest. “You’ve lived here as long as I’ve known you, and you will live here long after my bones have turned to ash. I am yours, sure as the blood and metal I command and the fire you wield. I have made grave mistakes, but my love for you has never been a question. It’s only ever been the answer. I would do monstrous things to keep you safe. Have done monstrous things to keep you safe.”
“What are you talking about?” Her heavy breathing falters, and her gaze softens, but the hardness in her jaw tells me she’s far from forgiving me. Not sure I’d ever deserve it, anyway. “I need the whole truth. Don’t ever fucking lie to me again.”
My breath stalls in my lungs, but I release her hand and climb to my feet before depositing her onto the bed. I move to the small dresser across the room, rummaging through it for something that would work. I find an oversized sweater and walk it over to her, helping to slide it over her body so she’s warmer. Her magic can’t warm her right now, and her lips are taking on a blue tinge.
Sitting down beside her, I keep a respectful distance, our knees almost touching. I clear my throat, staring up at the ceiling of my father’s bunker as I recount what I know.
“My whole life, I had but one purpose: to train, to fight, to whittle my body into what it’s become, all so that my father could kill me.”
Morte sucks in a sharp breath. “Your father killed you?”
I give a humorless, bitter laugh. “Of course. It’s why I was born.”
“But why?” I don’t turn to look at the horror on her face, but I hear it in her voice.
“So I could help orchestrate his takeover of the underworld.” He sighs. “To serve as his weapon, not just against enemies, but within our own ranks. I was raised not as his son, but as his soldier, an enforcer for his ambitions.”
Her breathing is heavier now, labored. “But you’re his son. How could he …” she trails off.
“Kill me? Easy. The same way he filled my veins with molten sanguimetal as soon as I was old enough to hold my own spoon. Strapped me down to a table and let alchemists experiment on me, despite my screams.” I don’t have to speak his name out loud for her to understand where Roth fits into all of this.
A choked squeak comes out of Morte’s throat as I relive the agony in my head, the memories causing a visceral reaction she can no doubt feel through our bond. The cold needle sliding into my veins followed by the excruciating fire of superheated metal filling me, forging me until I was more weapon than boy. “My screams became the soundtrack of my childhood, and for another thousand years after that.”
Morte’s hand reaches out, trembling slightly as it finds mine; her touch soothing the echoes of my memories. “Azazel, I … gods. No one deserves that.” Tears stream down her face in steady, twin rivers. Her chin wobbles and she chokes out, “They can’t hurt you anymore, Az. I’ll kill every last one of them.”
“Blood magic bound me to his bidding when I was just a small boy who wanted his father’s approval. He wanted me ruthless. Unstoppable. And for a long time, I was.” My words break. “But hurting you,” I turn my face away, ashamed, “that was never part of my plan.”
“I thought blood magic severs upon death?” Her eyes search mine when her touch draws me back to her. “You’re free from doing his bidding now, right?”
I huff. “Not when sanguimetal runs through my veins. It’s like a cage. My blood, this metal, it’s a lock designed by the most evil of magic. I’m more metal than fae.”
“Even in death, you are never truly free from him.”
“No.” I swallow. “I’ve always been his puppet, dangling from strings that can’t be severed.” My fingers tighten around hers, clinging like she’s the only solid ground in a world that’s slipping away. "I never wanted any of this.” My words come out raw. “Not the lies. Not the betrayal. And gods, not a life where you looked at me like I was some stranger.”
Her stare hardens, her lips pressing together in defiance, but I can see the faintest crack beneath her hurt. "Then why didn’t you tell me in the first place? Why not let me in?"
“Because he would’ve hurt you.” The words rip out of me, jagged and stripped bare of any softness. “You’re the one thing I ever wanted for myself. My father doesn’t just punish—he annihilates. He’d have torn you apart, used your power against you. Every time I tried to resist, the oath tightened, like claws dragging me down. I was forced to watch as he destroyed anything I loved.”
Her jaw tightens, and I can see the battle warring behind her eyes. “But he hurt me anyway,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “He killed Aggonid. He was always going to hurt me. Why didn’t you—” She falters, the crack in her voice carrying all the devastation she doesn’t want me to see. “Why didn’t you fight harder? Why didn’t you trust me?”
My breath catches, each syllable cutting deep, a brutal reminder of how completely I failed her. “I did fight,” I snap, the desperation bleeding through. “Do you think I just stood by and let it happen? Every time I resisted, the magic twisted tighter, choking me. It was a cage I couldn’t break, no matter how hard I tried. But you—” My hand trembles as I reach for hers, clinging like she’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling. “You were the only thing I ever wanted to keep safe. And I failed. Over and over again.”
Her defiance falters, replaced by something far more vulnerable. “So, that’s it?” she whispers, the ache in her voice giving way to despair. “You let him take everything—Aggonid, me—because you were too broken to stop him?”
“Not broken,” I say, the words laced with every ounce of regret I’ve ever felt. “Defeated. I thought I could save you if I just played along long enough. But then he had Aggonid killed. And I knew. I knew there was no saving us.”
“Irid was working with him, too,” Morte whispers, more to herself than anything. Judging by the breath-stealing agony tearing through our bond, I can bet she’s reliving the moment Caius’s sister took off Aggonid’s head in the throne room.
I pull her into my arms, feeling her body soften a little as she’s yanked back to the present.
“And when he took you …” I choke out. “I didn’t know fear until I’d lost you for a second time.”
I draw a shaky breath. “So, I did the only thing I knew I could. Play the part. Do his bidding while I figure out how to get you back to safety. What we have—everything we’ve shared—it’s all I’ve ever wanted. And if I had to suffer for that, if I had to be his puppet to keep you safe, I’d do it all again. Because I know the cost of him taking you from me.”
She doesn’t look away, but her shoulders shift, her posture softening by the slightest fraction, and I seize on that sliver of hope. “I don’t care what it takes,” I vow, pulling her hand to my heart. “I will shatter this blood oath, this lock he’s created inside me. For you. For us. I’ll burn through whatever blood magic binds me to him. This curse, this chain wrapped around my blood—I’ll find a way to destroy it, even if it kills me. But you have to believe me, Firefly. Everything between us—everything I feel—it’s real. It’s always been real.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes still holding a world of hurt, but the edge of her anger dulls, and I can’t let go of the chance she might forgive me.