47. Chapter Forty-Seven
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MORTE
A zazel's whispered word, barely making it to my ears, ignites something deep inside me. Relief floods every cell of my body, an unstoppable flood that blurs my vision. I surge forward, wrapping my arms around him, feeling his chest against mine—warm, alive. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat fills my ears, and my knees threaten to buckle under the weight of it all.
I can’t talk, can’t even mutter a single word under the enormous tide filling up my throat, choking off anything I could possibly say.
Aggonid's shadows shift, their presence loosening as I take over, holding Az up. His form sags into me, exhaustion etched into every line of his body, but he manages to bring his arms around me, fingers barely brushing my back.
Emeric steps back, letting us have this moment. His fingers linger on Azazel's shoulder for a breath longer before he catches Aggonid's eye, nodding. They both slip away, shadows vanishing into the hallway, leaving us alone.
I bury my face in Az's golden neck, inhaling his scent—that metallic tang of sanguimetal and something uniquely his. Warm vanilla and earth. Tears spill, soaking into his shirt, but I don't pull away. I cling to him, the sobs wrenching from my soul despite my best efforts to keep it together. The grief I've held at bay crashes through me, raw and violent, but he's here—he's finally here.
"Firefly," he whispers again, his voice cracking. He lifts his hand, and his trembling fingers tangle in my hair, trying to comfort me even as he struggles to stand on his own.
I pull back, just enough to look at him. His deep blue eyes meet mine, so many emotions in their depths—apology, fear, and something that roots itself in my soul: love. My gaze trails over the faint remnants of black veins, the bruising along his jaw, the exhaustion painting his features. My heart shatters all over again, seeing the toll his death—and everything that led to it—has taken.
“My f-father,” he grunts as he tries to straighten.
“Dead.” I beam up at him. “Held his heart in my hands and squeezed. Roth is dead, too. You can play with them once you’re all healed.”
Relief has his shoulders sagging into me.
"Please, forgive me, Firefly. I love you. I've always loved you. I never wanted to hurt you."
The raw vulnerability in his voice shatters something in me. I shake my head, tears streaming freely. "No, Az. I can't forgive you. Not like this."
His expression crumples, fear and heartbreak flashing across his face. I slide my hands to his skin, feeling the faint beat of his heart beneath my palms, right where the horrible black mark is as I use my magic to buoy him on his feet. "The only way I can forgive you," I whisper, "is if you give me our bond back. I can't ... I can't keep doing this without you. I feel hollow, like part of me is missing. I need you."
He swallows hard, his eyes searching mine, the pain there nearly unbearable. He lifts a trembling hand, placing it over mine on his chest. "Are you sure? After everything?—"
"I'm sure." I cut him off. "I want you. I need you. Please, Az."
He inclines his head, the smallest of movements, but the relief that floods his eyes takes my breath away. He pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine, his voice a broken whisper. "Then take it. It's yours. Always has been. "
I close my eyes, letting his warmth sink into me, the feeling of his presence wrapping around me like a balm to my soul. “Tonight,” I breathe. “Once you’ve eaten and showered.”
“Are you saying I stink?”
I glance up at him, seeing a grin on his face. It’s devastating.
I can't help but laugh, the sound thick with tears. "Maybe a little," I tease, my fingers tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. "But I love you anyway."
Azazel's smile softens, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you too, Firefly. More than anything."
We stand there, wrapped in each other's arms. The ache eases, replaced by a warmth that spreads through me, filling the hollow spaces left behind. It's not perfect—we still have so much to work through, so many wounds to heal. But he's here, alive, and that's more than I dared hope for just hours ago.
"Come on," I murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Let's get you cleaned up and fed. Then we can talk about everything else."
Azazel leans heavily on me as we make our way to the bathroom. It's slow going, his body still weak from having been dead, but I don't mind. Each step reminds me he’s still here, still mine, and nothing will ever take him from me again.