107. Levi
LEVI
“We need to leave.” There’s a thread of panic laced through Azrael’s voice as his blazing amber eyes meet mine the moment I step out of the fucking bathroom. Because of course we do.
Azrael rubs at his chest, brows drawn together into one hard line. “Something is wrong–I can feel it. I was sound asleep and felt this pain in my fucking chest.”
Anxiety turns into a vicious knot in my sternum.
Is the god of death having a fucking heart attack? Is that even possible?
Considering he survived a beheading, I suppose anything is possible.
“And then when I woke up with the sound of their voices?—”
“Voices? Who’s they?”
He shakes his head drawing in a shuddering breath as he begins pacing. “My people.”
Violette and I exchange a nervous look. She’s hunched over and rubbing her eyes as she sits on the edge of the bed.
She looks tired, but otherwise ok, outside of this nerve-wracking news.
Azrael on the other hand, normally so unperturbed, wears an expression that has my cortisol kicking into high gear.
His handsome features are set in grim lines, one hand gripping the hilt of his matte black and gold rune-covered sword like he’s waiting for assassins to burst into the room. My mind recalls the way Azrael was hiding his face. The demons craning their necks to look at Azrael as we entered the inn.
My M-16 is already in my hand by the time I will my borrowed fighting leathers to replace the towel around my hips.
“You think someone recognized you?”
He nods as Violette’s face scrunches up with confusion mid-yawn. “So? What the hell is going on? Why are we suddenly armed and panicking? Surely, we can at least bathe and sleep?”
Azrael slides his sword into the holster at his back, shaking his head as he kneels at her feet, collects her hands, and looks up into her face.
“How much do you know about gods and their domains?”
Her brows knit closer as she frowns in a silent but clear reply. Azrael continues, words swift and urgent.
“You’re aware that a god’s soul is tied to their domain? And its people?”
She nods. He continues.
“Imagine a tiny fragment of my soul scattered upon the cosmos of my realm and each one of those fragments burst into life—each one, a precious soul... Yes?”
She gradually nods. “Go on…”
“Our souls are inextricably... one. It’s a rather reductive way of putting it, but it is no less true. In any case, it also means that I can intuitively feel them. Like a distant limb. I can also feel their intent.”
“Okay?”
“You might recall hearing about Mareina, this realm’s goddess, tearing open the fabric of Vassileo, my Hell realm?”
Violette nods. My mind reels, feeling like I’m listening to something that should be written as a parable in a religious text.
“Well, as you might have heard, a tremendous portion of Vassileo’s population flooded Bellorum.
Atratus, more specifically. I assumed that because Selcarim was so well protected from the rest of the continent, the likelihood of us running into any of my people was slim-to-none.
” He pauses, full lips pressing into a thin line. “I was wrong.”
Fuck, I was really looking forward to a nap.
Violette groans, falling back onto the bed; her hands slip free from his, and he hangs his head. My chest squeezes. I step beside him, keeping my voice calm.
“What kind of intent are you sensing from them? What do you think they’re going to do?”
His back and shoulders expand as he draws in a long, deep breath before expelling it and rising to stand. When he faces me, the guilt and anguish in his bright eyes is palpable.
“The closer they are, the more clearly I can feel their thoughts, their emotions, their desires. I was sound asleep moments before you walked in, awoken by their collective hunger for vengeance.”
“Vengeance?”
“As I said, Vassileo is a Hell realm. They know me as their oppressor.”
“Were you?”
Azrael’s eyes glisten, becoming a juxtaposition of water and flame.
“It was their karma that led them there. To put it in human terms, if you were to consider Vassileo a prison, I would be the warden.”
Fuck.
Just when I thought we had an actual moment to breathe.
“How many of them are out there?”
“Twelve.”
My brows knit together. “Twelve?”
Azrael’s brows cinch further. “Yes, twelve…”
“Is there another god among them?”
“No... ?”
“Can they make the blood in my veins boil? Or... set me on fire with just a thought?”
Azrael gives me a strange look. “Well, no, but?—”
A soft chuckle rises from my chest as I sling my M-16. My posture relaxes, and I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Let them come.”
Azrael looks bewildered. Helpless. Dismayed. “But I have no magic to protect us.”
“Violette and I do. Plus,” I pat the assault rifle hanging from its sling, “We’ve handled a lot more than twelve hostiles. We’re good. You’re underestimating yourself.”
Azrael and Violette exchange a look. Violette gives a prim grin. “I’m going to bathe.”
She stands, pressing a swift kiss to his lips as she saunters away, willing away her clothing as she does.
Azrael and I are left standing in her wake. My dick half hard just from that fleeting glimpse of flesh before she shuts the door behind her.
My eyes slide back to his. “Have you never fought without your magic?”
Azrael frowns. “Countless times.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “Well, what's the problem then?”
Azrael gives me a look that says the answer should be obvious.
“It was only my own well-being that depended on it.”
My heart aches at that. I step forward, diminishing the space between us until only a few inches separate our lips. “Come here, princess.”
The tension in Azrael’s body bleeds away as he huffs a soft laugh. That luminous gaze searching my eyes before dipping to my mouth and he leans in to press his lips to mine. Tentatively at first, before our lips part, tongues seeking, caressing.
My cock hardens further and I grip his waist, pulling his chest against mine. Something that starts in my heart and reaches all the way to my soul blossoms as our kiss deepens.
My forehead rests against his as we break our kiss.
Azrael’s words are scarcely a whisper, but the urgency in them is louder than the highest decibel. That thing between us pulls so tight in my chest, it feels like a cord about to snap.
“Take my blood. Please.”
My breathing stills and I pull back slightly to weigh the gravitas in his gaze.
“At least then, I can have the peace of mind that no matter what becomes of our corporeal forms, our souls will always find their way back to one another—in any after realm, in any life and incarnation.”
My heart pounds in my chest as tears sting my eyes.
I’ve never heard more romantic words in my life.
My fangs throb, lengthening of their own accord.
“Do we even have time? You made it sound like they were about to burst into the room with pitchforks and torches.”
“They might. All the more reason for you to take my blood now.”
“Teach me how to ward the entrance to our room, how to put shields around us.”
His brows pinch together. “That all depends on your magical predilections, but..." Azrael takes my hand, presses my fingertips to the side of his head. “I have a feeling you might be good at this... Close your eyes.”
Azrael’s eyes slip shut, and I follow his lead.
“Imagine your fingertips resting on a black stone wall.”
Before he even finishes his sentence, I can see it. Feel it. Impossibly tall, it rises high beyond the clouds. I’m standing in an expanse of disorienting fog; feet immersed in cool, black sand that seems... hungry.
“Do you see it?”
“Yes, among other things.” I shift restlessly from foot to foot as I realize the sand is creeping higher—from the soles of my feet to my ankles. “I don’t like this sand.”
I can hear the mirth in his voice. “You’re not supposed to.”
“Press your forehead to the stone. Ignore the dizziness. Ignore the screaming..."
Screaming?
I follow his instruction. My stomach swoops with intense nausea as my equilibrium whirls in spinning circles that I can’t control.
Wind howls so loudly within my mind it does indeed sound like distant screaming.
Its persistence, depth, and volume rising rapidly, reaching a crescendo that sounds like an infinite sea of voices wailing in fury.
Combined with the intense dizziness, every molecule of my being revolts; demands retreat.
Unseen fingers press into my flesh—through my flesh—as if they’re trying to grasp my soul and drag it from my body. Azrael’s voice is a calm tether, and the only thing keeping me on my feet.
“Ignore them... Just keep pressing further.”
Tingling energy rushes through me as they continue to pull and an unfamiliar sense of panic closes around my throat and weighs on my chest as I feel them take hold of my actual fucking soul.
Fear consumes me. This feels like death. The worst kind. Not swift and sudden, but gradual, unrelenting, and ravenous—and I’m powerless against it.
“Azrael... ,” is the sole word I can manage through gritted teeth.
His voice is a distant echo not heard over the howling wind and voices, but felt in my soul.
“You’re almost there. Just let go.”
Let go of what? I’m fucking dying.
All thought and recognition of this world—even of him—are fading. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to let anything go. Certainly not him or Violette, but I feel like with each pull of these invisible hands, my soul slips further and further outside of my body.
“Let them take you.”
The voice is familiar, but I can no longer remember who it belongs to. The tension pervading my body spills out in a rush and I feel like I can finally breathe.
Stars surround me, and I feel both awe and a soul-deep sense of returning home. No physical body or memory burdens me. The only weight upon my soul is that of infinite love bound by no singular body or mind.
It simply is.
I simply am.
A cosmic and multiversal knowing illuminates everything and nothing.
This is where I belong.
I need to stay here.
Until a gentle tug draws my attention, and I feel a distantly familiar name spoken.
“Levi.”
Levi?