72. Violette
VIOLETTE
“We’ve got one room left, and it’s only got a king-sized bed.”
My stomach does a flip of excitement, and I internally scold myself all the while trying to maintain a look of dour disappointment.
The pretty young male with long painted fingernails standing behind the hotel counter examines Levi and Azrael before his gaze falls back to mine in a way that says he can see straight through my feigned annoyance.
He arches a brow at me, smacking his chewing gum.
“So do you want it or not?”
Levi dares to open his mouth. “I think we’ll keep look?—”
The interjection tumbles from my lips perhaps a little too hastily, “We’ll take it.”
I can feel Azrael’s gaze like a heated branding iron. Can even see the twitch of his lips in my peripheral vision.
Levi and Azrael draw their wallets like two males partaking in a duel.
Before Azrael can withdraw another enormous sum of cash from his wallet and leave yet another breadcrumb in our trail to the impending crime scene, the back of Levi’s hand lands on his chest. “Please. Allow me.”
The hotel clerk’s brows lift as he gives me a knowing grin and his fingers dance deftly across a keyboard.
Despite having spent twenty years in a brothel, my cheeks burn bright and clumsy butterflies thump around in my belly as I attempt to remind myself that, according to syrith courtship rituals, sex doesn’t take place until much further down the line.
Not to mention, I’m fairly certain that if I allowed Azrael to touch me, Levi, at the very least, would likely attempt to kill him again.
The room, mercifully, is clean enough. The promised king-sized bed, however, cannot possibly be deemed large enough for any king.
What of his harem?
Are they dwarves?
Levi alone is already an enormous male and will easily take up half of the bed. Azrael will take up the other half, with his feet hanging off of it.
And I am supposed to fit somewhere between them.
I fail to suppress my grin.
Poor, poor me.
Standing in front of the bed, attempting to look horribly put out even as, internally, my excitement grows to effervescent proportions.
Levi sidles next to me. “I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”
Allowing a few thoughtful seconds to tick by, I heave a long-suffering sigh as though I am gravely pained by the idea. “Absolutely not. You’ve been driving the entire day, encumbered by plots of murder. We can’t have you sleep-deprived, too, pet.”
I offer him a reassuring pat on his beautifully muscled back.
“I’m going to shower the day off of me. Shan’t be long.”
I make my way to the bathroom only to come face-to-face with Azrael. He feigns a demure look, batting his eyelashes down at me as he pretends to tuck his hair behind one ear and whisper-mocks, “...We can’t have you sleep-deprived, too, pet.”
Despite my efforts, my smile splits wide as I swat a hand at the stone wall that is his chest. “You are such a turd.”
Azrael chuckles, leaning one shoulder against the door frame as he folds his arms, humming with pleasure as though I’ve flattered him greatly. “Ah, yes. ’Tis I. The turd.”
He’s still dressed in Levi’s clothing, which I can no longer find fault with.
The paper-thin shirt leaves little to the imagination, bulging biceps fully exposed, as is the expanse of flesh that lies between his navel and the deep V of his obliques, only to be interrupted by a pair of equally thin shorts that—like paint to a canvas—hug the considerable bulge between his legs and muscled thighs.
The sight is maddening to put it mildly.
A person only has so much restraint.
I clear my throat, trying and failing to muster any semblance of propriety. “If you’re quite through, I need to bathe.”
Azrael’s grin turns devilish—a toe-curlingly handsome sight to behold.
Fuck me, I am so naive. How did it never cross my mind that I would literally be flinging myself into the gloriously muscled arms of temptation?
All fucking four of them.
Azrael grins as he winks, and I swear I feel it in my core. He steps aside, and I swiftly shut the door behind me, sagging against it as I do a quick mental jog of the facts.
Levi is courting me.
Azrael is courting me.
In the syrith way, which means that they will have to prove themselves worthy in every way. Demonstrate that they can provide, protect, and please.
Akash almighty, is this all really happening?
I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to survive this ordeal unscathed.
My heart sinks a little at the possibility Levi might give up on me when the time comes to actually fulfill the courtship rituals... namely, the part that involves sharing me with Azrael. Everything that I am now magically bound to do with him.
A small amount of guilt and shame nauseously winds through me at the undeniable fact that, no matter how my logical mind or my morals try to sway the heart of me otherwise, I want to do those things with Azrael.
In all these years, I never forgot about him. Had willed his pin betwixt my fingers on countless occasions. Had, in my weakest moments, yearned for him. Absolutely ached to call upon him. To be held by him, a stranger that showed me kindness, whose soul called to mine, but didn’t belong to me.
When Levi had given me the excuse to—when fate had at least given me a valid reason to seek Azrael out—as heartbroken as I’d been, a tiny, deeply suppressed and unacknowledged part of me had also been hopeful.
And now that I’ve gotten to know him; the sweetness, the tenderness, the vulnerability, and loneliness that’s been hiding behind all that power and mask of charisma... my heart, mind, body, and spirit yearn to show him just how much I adore him.
But I am equally heartbroken.
How will Levi ever reconcile this?