Page 116 of Body and Soul

“What do you want?” Azreal asked, his tone clipped and harsh. He made no move to let me inside.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let my unease show on my face. “I live here.”

“So?”

“So can I come in?”

“Shepherd's not here,” he said flatly. “And he’s not going to be here. Neither are the others. I’m going to be here all night and I have plans.”

The announcement hung between us, sharp and heavy, but it wasn’t an outright rejection. If Azreal didn’t want me there, would he say so?

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, the takeout bag crinkling in my grip. “Well, um, can I still come in? I brought Chinese.” I held up the bag lamely. “Wonton soup is good for headaches.”

Azreal's jaw tightened and for a long moment he stared at me, his eyes boring into mine like he was trying to see into my soul. Finally, he stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Fine. But I'm leaving in an hour.”

“Cool, thanks, man.” I stepped inside, toeing off my sneakers by the door. The living room was dim, the curtains drawn against the gray November sky outside. I flicked on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the leather couch and walnut coffee table.

In the kitchen, I unpacked the takeout containers, the rich scent of garlic and ginger rising in the steam. “You want a plate or the container?” I called over my shoulder.

“I told you, I'm not staying,” Azreal said from right behind me. I startled, almost dropping the wonton soup.

“Fuck, wear a bell or something,” I muttered. I turned to face him, leaning back against the granite countertop. “So, what are these big important plans you got tonight?”

Azreal's dark eyes flashed with something I couldn't quite read. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the fabric of his black henley stretching taut. “If you must know, I'm going to church.”

I blinked at him, sure I must have heard wrong. “Church? Like... with pews and shit?”

A muscle ticked in Azreal's chiseled jaw. “Yes. With pews and shit.”

“Huh.” I scratched the back of my neck, trying to wrap my head around it. After all the fucked up stuff Shepherd went through with that cult, I couldn't believe any part of him would still want anything to do with religion. “I didn't take you for the church-going type.”

“There's a lot you don't know about me.”

I paused, tilting my head to one side. That almost sounded like an invitation. “Like what?” I asked cautiously.

Azreal stared at me, his expression unreadable.

When he didn’t say anything, I decided prompting him was the way to go. “Who’s your favorite Bible character?”

“Esther,” he answered without hesitation.

I blinked at him, surprised. I’d been expecting him to name Job or maybe Paul, some long-suffering character with deep Biblical significance. I wasn’t even sure I remembered who Esther was.

Azreal's eyes took on a distant look, like he was seeing something far beyond the kitchen walls. “Esther was a Jewish woman living in Persia. She was beautiful and clever, and she caught the eye of the king. The king made her his queen, but he didn't know she was Jewish. Esther kept that secret, even from her own husband.”

I busied myself spooning wonton soup into a bowl, letting the story wash over me. I didn't know much about the Bible, but I could tell this meant something to Azreal.

Azreal leaned against the countertop. “Then the king's vizier, Haman, convinced the king to sign a decree that all the Jews in Persia should be killed.” Azreal paused, his jaw working. “Every last one of them, down to the women and kids.”

I set the soup on the counter in front of him. “That's fucked up.”

Azreal agreed with a slight bob of his head. “Esther had a choice. She could keep her mouth shut, let her people die, and save her own skin. Or she could risk everything—her position, her privilege, even her life—to try to stop it.”

Azreal picked up the soup spoon, turning it over in his long fingers as he spoke. “Esther ended up telling the king that she was a Jew. She risked it all to save her people. And you know what? It worked. The king tore up the decree and hung Haman.”

He took a sip of the soup, his dark eyes flickering shut for a second like he was savoring the flavor. When he opened them again, he fixed that intense gaze on me. “I've always admired that—her willingness to put everything on the line for what was right. Even if it cost her everything. That fearlessness.”

I leaned my hip against the counter, folding my arms across my chest. “Sounds like a badass lady. Kinda surprising they let that story stay in the Bible, with the way they're always trying to keep women down.”

---