Page 11 of Breathe
There was no way he could have sat there. Being near Real made him want to force his kiss on the warrior.
What he should have done was punch Real.
Once the idea occurred, it took root, and Azrael vowed that the next time they met, he was going to do just that.
He might need a ladder, though.
Real was a lot taller than him.
Azrael released a snorting laugh as he walked down the darkened street.
Damn, hewasmessed up.
Good thing he already knew that about himself.
Maybe he should get his head checked.
The following morning…
Real rubbed at his jaw as he walked down the stairs. The house felt empty.
Azrael was nowhere in sight, but neither were Apollo and Cash. He hoped that the three young men had a good visit because it was rare that Azrael got to see his brother.
A picture of Azrael sprinting across the roof last night came to mind. The boy’s hair had flown around him like a dark, silky curtain.
The only way he could have stopped Azrael was to grab him before he sprinted away.
But his gut had told him that Azrael would have fought tooth and nail if he tried to detain him. And the last thing he wanted was to get in a physical fight with Azrael. The teenager was pint-sized compared to him, and it wouldn’t be a fair fight.
Real rubbed at the sudden burn in his chest. He needed to stop drinking so much damned coffee. It was making his heart pound.
Walking into the kitchen, he found a freshly brewed pot and poured a cup. He’d quit another day.
Back out in the hallway, Real headed towards Dave’s study.
“Come in,” Dave called through the wooden door at his knock.
Stepping inside the room that also doubled as a library, Real found Dave and Stone at the small bar.
“Did you talk to Azrael last night?” Stone asked.
“No, he was too…angry to talk,” Real said, walking over to the two men.
“Are we still keeping this from them?” Stone turned to Dave.
“It’s better this way,” Dave said pouring an iced tea into a glass with ice and carrying it over to sit in his favorite chair. Stone followed, carrying his own glass of iced tea.
Real plunked some ice in a glass and then carried that along with his coffee over to where the two men sat in a large alcove. The section was carved out of one side of the room.
It was Dave’s spot.
Two chairs sat with a small table between them. A rust-colored sofa sat on an antique-looking rug. A wall of glass that overlooked a garden provided a spectacular view of the beach on a bright Saturday morning. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filtered into the room.
Stone took the chair closer to Dave and set his glass on the small end table between them.
Real settled onto the sofa that sat off to the right, placed the glass with ice on the low table in front of him, and sipped at his half-full cup of coffee.
“Did they settle into the house near Angeles National Forest?” Real asked Dave.
