66. Levi
LEVI
Violette steps over the threshold, all while side-eyeing me suspiciously. I’m guessing she expected me to put up more of a fight about Azrael joining us, but I couldn’t argue with her reasoning, and I’m not about to dig myself a deeper hole by making demands I no longer have any right to.
Now, I’m certainly not fucking happy about it, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s giving me a chance.
And so help me God, this woman is mine. I don’t know what magic Azrael worked, but it didn’t change how I feel about Violette in the slightest. It just eased the pain that was constantly shooting down our tether.
It seems Violette hasn’t changed much either.
The moment we’re alone, we’re drawn back together.
And despite Azrael being prettier and a seven-foot-tall god of death...
I don’t see that same fiery chemistry between them.
She isn’t drawn to him like she is to me.
When she looks at me, there’s fire in her eyes.
When she looks at Azrael, there’s appreciation.
I appreciated my family. I appreciate my friends.
But my soul is on fire for Violette.
And I know she feels the same.
So, I’m not worried.
Possessive, yes.
Deranged, desperate, and all the other things I openly admitted that I am for her? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Worried that she’s going to choose Azrael over me? Not even remotely. Not unless he plans to kill me. In which case, she’d never forgive him.
I hope.
Okay, so that is a minor concern, but I can only control so much. The rest I’ve learn to let fucking go of.
So, as Azrael prepares enormous plates of food for Violette, Winnow, and Gideon, I make myself comfortable against the kitchen wall.
Gideon only has two stools at his kitchen counter—an intentional move considering he doesn’t like having guests outside of Beau and me—so he stands, offering his seat to Violette, and comes to stand next to me, plate in hand.
“You should eat.”
I grunt in decline.
He grunts back in understanding, and proceeds to eat.
The secondhand awkwardness I experience as I shift my attention to Violette and Winnow attempting conversation is borderline excruciating. Even their aesthetics clash: Violette’s dark, gothic look beside Winnow’s sunshine and pink aesthetic.
Azrael in his fancy Italian suit suddenly fills my vision. A plate of food is in his hand. “I can’t decide whether or not to offer you any food considering you sawed my head off a few hours ago, but... it also seems like poor manners not to offer you any.”
He hesitates for a moment before finally offering me the plate.
He huffs, rolling his eyes when I don’t move to grab it.
“Look, if we’re constantly at each other’s throats?—”
I glare. His mouth twitches.
“—it’s not going to endear us to her, now is it?”
He waits a beat before painting a blinding smile on his too-perfect face. “At the very least, we can be civil for Violette’s sake.”
There’s an unspoken threat glittering in his eyes.
Gideon goes rigid beside me, gaze flicking up to Azrael.
Violette and Winnow go silent behind him.
I take the plate from him.
“For Violette.”
The sharp smile on his face softens before he nods and turns back towards the kitchen to make himself a plate.
When my attention returns to Violette, she and Winnow are both staring at me. I raise the fork in my hand in a cheers gesture and begin shovelling food into my mouth.
My chewing slows as the flavor hits and my mind catches up.
How-fucking-dare-you.
To my complete and utter dismay, it’s inarguably some of the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted.
Fucking cunt.
My eyes slide to Azrael, fully expecting him to give me a cocky, knowing grin. Instead, he just gives me a tight but earnest smile.
Perhaps it’s the darkness and misery I see hiding behind his eyes, but for some reason, it almost makes a tiny bit of my hatred for him dissolve.
Almost.