Page 22 of Azrael

“We’ll handle it,” Azrael said.“Once things cool down, we’ll get your stuff.As for the rest…” He shrugged.“You won’t have to work unless you want to.”

“Just like that?”I raised an eyebrow.“I’m now the property of Azrael so everything is magically taken care of?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips.“Something like that.Get settled.We’ll talk more when you’re ready.”

He turned to leave, but I called after him.“Azrael.”

He paused, looking back at me over his shoulder.

“Thanks.Really.”

He nodded once, then disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone in the spare room that was now, apparently, mine.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the soft fabric of the comforter.The events of the past twenty-four hours crashed over me in waves.And now I was here, in his house, drinking his coffee, sleeping in his spare room.And apparently his woman.

I unzipped my bag and began unpacking the few items I’d brought.A change of clothes.My toiletry bag.My phone charger.Pathetic, really.My entire life was still in my apartment -- clothes, books, photos, the quilt my dad’s mother had made, my laptop with all my work files.

My mind raced with logistics.How would I pay my rent without access to my apartment?Would my landlord think I’d abandoned the place?Would my boss fire me for not showing up?I had a deadline for the Henshaw account, and no way to access the files remotely.I may have taken a few days off, but I should have been back in my office by now.Since my job was a few hours away, it looked like I wouldn’t ever be returning.I knew others worked remotely.Maybe they could set up something for me as well.

I pulled out my phone and checked for messages.One from my coworker asking if I was sick.None from friends.Not that I really had any.More like acquaintances.

What would I tell them?How could I explain any of this?

My breathing quickened, my chest tightening with panic.I’d taken the leap and agreed to be Azrael’s, but now that I had more time to think about it, had I made the right choice?Was this a decision I could live with?

I stood abruptly, needing to move, to do something.I put my clothes in the dresser, arranged my toiletries on top, plugged in my phone.Normal actions that felt absurdly inadequate in the face of the chaos my life had become.

When everything was put away -- which took all of five minutes given how little I had -- I stood in the center of the room, at a loss.On the nightstand was a lamp, a clock, and a book.I picked it up.Hemingway.The Old Man and the Sea.Not what I would have expected from someone like Azrael.The pages were worn, the spine creased from multiple readings.I didn’t remember it being here last night.I wondered if he’d left it for me.

I set it back down carefully and took a deep breath.Self-pity wouldn’t help me now.I needed information.I needed a plan.Most of all, I needed to understand the world I’d stumbled into and the man whose protection I’d accepted.

I picked up my cooling coffee and headed back to the kitchen.Azrael was still there, now sitting at the small table by the window, scrolling through his phone.He looked up when I entered, those dark eyes unreadable.

“Better?”he asked.

“Not really,” I admitted, sliding into the chair across from him.“But I’m dealing with it.”

He nodded, setting his phone down.“You’re stronger than you think.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know enough.”He leaned back, studying me.“I know you didn’t cry or faint when you were faced with those assholes.You screamed for help.I know you’ve handled this whole situation without falling apart.”

I took a sip of coffee to hide my surprise.I didn’t feel strong.I felt terrified and out of my depth.

“What happens now?”I asked, setting the mug down.“I need to know what to expect going forward.”

Azrael’s expression shifted to something more serious as he leaned forward, forearms resting on the table.His massive hands capable of such violence -- I’d seen it firsthand -- cupped his coffee mug almost delicately.“There are rules,” he said, his voice dropping to that low timbre that seemed to vibrate through my chest.“For your safety as much as the club’s.When I say something is club business, that means it’s off-limits to you.No questions, no arguments, no trying to find out on your own.That’s non-negotiable.”

I matched his posture, leaning in.“Define ‘club business.’”

“Anything that happens behind closed doors at the clubhouse.Our dealings with other clubs.Our income streams.The decisions made by the officers.”He held my gaze, unwavering.“You don’t want to know most of it anyway.”

“Maybe I do,” I countered.“Maybe not knowing makes me more nervous than knowing.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.“It’s for your protection, Zara.What you don’t know, you can’t tell -- willingly or otherwise.”

The implication sent a chill through me.I’d already seen enough to understand that the Devil’s Boneyard existed in a world parallel to normal society, with its own laws and consequences.

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