56. Violette
VIOLETTE
My heart aches as my fingers stroke the arch of Azrael’s brow.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Even if Levi hadn’t killed him—however briefly—I’d still want to help him. Ease his pain, if not eliminate it altogether.
For reasons I don’t understand, I feel connected to Azrael, and outside of that, for what little I know him, he is a kindred spirit.
Despite being a little wicked.
A little unpredictable.
Volatile.
Tortured.
All adjectives that apply to me.
Perhaps, somehow, some way, I can convince his soulbound to give him a chance. The tether between them is terribly faint; a mere phantom of what it should be. So faint I can scarcely follow it to where she is—somewhere on Terrenea.
Though I cannot yet discern specifically where.
Persephone has a ward of some kind preventing anyone who might possess the power from finding her.
I can’t help but wonder why she would reject Azrael as her soulbound.
Willingly cause herself so much pain... Only something truly unforgivable could warrant such an outcome.
And I intend to find out what it is before we reach the final stages of courtship.
The stages that require intimacy.
My fingers come to a halt as the last of Azrael’s wounds heal and the ghost of his presence hovers behind me.
Azrael’s eyes remain closed as his severed head whispers.
“Don’t stop.” His eyes peek open. “Please? I can’t recall the last time I was touched with such tenderness.”
My fingers resume tracing his brows, and he hums.
“Are you in pain?”
He gives a noncommittal grunt as a corner of his mouth curls softly. “I’ve experienced far worse.”
Akash.
Azrael’s eyes dip as if attempting to see his earrings.
“How do I look?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Dashing as ever.”
Palladium—the metal I used to weld the earrings—suppresses magic. It isn’t a painful sensation, but an unsettling one. Like a phantom limb.
“They aren’t too uncomfortable?”
“It was a necessary precaution, I suppose. I’m rather flattered you fear my wrath.”
“Any cognizant person would.”
Azrael huffs a laugh. “Your human doesn’t.”
“I think he has a death wish.”
Azrael frowns at that. “Don’t we all…”
“Aren’t you furious?”
The weight of his palm, and the electricity that follows from it, draws my gaze to find a hand-shaped shadow resting on my shoulder.
“In the moment, yes, but your touch has since calmed me. And it’s not like I can blame him for his actions. I would have done much worse than murder and beheading if I had been in his shoes.”
My brows are lost somewhere near my hairline. This male is wildly reasonable. A far cry from the many nefarious rumors I’ve heard about him.
“Thank you for not killing us.”
It feels like a lame thing to say, but a necessary thing to acknowledge.
Azrael’s brows pinch. “I prefer you alive, my darling. As for your soulbound?—”
At my look, he corrects himself. “Former soulbound, you clearly prefer him alive.”
Despite it all.
“Yes.”
Azrael gives a thoughtful hum. “I assumed as much.”
“You called him Salvatore Amato, but I know him as Levi Graves…”
Azrael gives me a look one might give to a child when explaining the obvious. “We all have our pasts, precious seraphim. It isn’t personal. I’m sure he will confide in due time.”
Silence follows briefly as my mind attempts to fathom who and where Levi came from, but only a few seconds pass before Azrael frowns. “Be a lamb and fetch my body, will you?”
My nostrils flare, registering the distant scent of burning flesh.
Hellish fuck.