Page 36 of Hopelessly Teavoted
And he had spent it all here, in the corner, at the coffin-shaped table—not to be confused with the casket-shaped one—eating muffins and reading a romance novel.
It was hard not to catch feelings for Azrael Hart. Again.
Today, Azrael lingered past closing, lounging at one of the sofa seats with a paperback copy of what appeared to be a romance novel about baseball. She hoped he was here out of longing to see her, but suspected that it was to ask more questions about the investigation, or worse, her soul debt. A thread of worry knotted in her stomach, reminding her of her obligation to the devil. She didn’t have time to sort through long-buried feelings for a friend.
Perhaps Lex could be summoned by mere thought, though, for when she locked the door and hung up her apron—black, with cheery little red skulls clustered like cherries, which wouldhave made Persephone Hart proud—she heard a low laugh from the back. Azrael sprang up from his seat and was at her side instantly, hands poised to snap.
“Let me take the lead,” she hissed, and he frowned but nodded.
She pushed open the swinging door, and Lex was there, clad in all black, smoke billowing dramatically in his wake as he leaned against her desk. He laughed again and inspected his long, graceful fingers, wisps of gingery, warm air trailing in their wake.
“What is it that you need now, devil?”
“Ah, Victoria, my dearest, can’t I just long to see your lovely face?” He was frustratingly handsome, even in his unwarranted intrusion.
“Unlikely,” she said, rolling her eyes. Next to her, Azrael tensed.
Lex’s smile curled up, a catlike, sensuous thing that shouldn’t have been allowed. Vickie supposed it was his right, as a devil, to be charming as hell, but she didn’t have to like it.
“Fine,pet, if you must know, I do have some business with you, of the sort that all lesser devils do with their debtors. But Iamadditionally pleased to see you. Who is your friend?”
Azrael opened his mouth. “How dare you call—” Az began. Vickie grabbed his arm, shaking her head.
Lex was trying to vex her. He saw it work on Az, and mischief flitted across his face.
“You have no right to spy and sneak up on us.” Vickie crossed her arms, not breaking eye contact. Devil or not, she was unafraid. Lex held up a hand, tossing and catching a pear. Hallowcross was known for orchards, but this wasn’t just about sampling the local delicacies.
“Don’t worry, Victoria, I wasn’t sneaking. I just couldn’t miss the scent of pining lingering here. I can pick up traces of heartbreak, too, so it must be rough for him, poor chap. You little minx.”
“My parents died,” Az muttered. Steamy magic lingered at Azrael’s fingers. She needed to get control of this.
“His heartbreak is not about me,” she cut in. “And he always smells like that. Burnt lemons and wood.” He always smelled so good, like home, the kind she’d never had in her parents’ house.
Lex sniffed. “Like Pine-Sol?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Azrael bit out, but he stopped again at her grip. Lex’s eyes flickered down to her hand, narrowing.
“No,” said Vickie, unable, as always, to pipe down. “Sweeter. Lemonade. Warm summer evenings and a crackling fire.” She needed to tread lightly here.
“Well, in that case, it’s a shame he’s so cross with you.” He winked and bit into the pear once again, but there was an edge to his voice now as his eyes darted between them. Juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it with a finger slowly enough that sensation curled in her stomach and lower. This was going beyond sympathy for the devil.
“You must be the Hart boy, then. Sister just won a seat on the Council. Parents just died. Bit of a local tragedy, I hear. Very sorry for your loss, handsome. The Harts were exceedingly good witches.” His gaze flitted over Azrael. “And, obviously, exceedingly good-looking.” He winked.
“Um. Thank you?” Azrael’s brow tensed tightly into the beginnings of a permanent line, though she noticed his eyes dart up and down the devil’s body, and the tips of his ears redden.
She glared at Lex, and he wiped pear juice off his lips once more with a look like he’d very much prefer to run those long, pale fingers across anything soft and secret. Her. Azrael. Both of them, maybe at once.
She shovedthatthought out of her mind.
Azrael was looking between them now, crossing his arms. “And what does a devil care about the Witchery Council?”
“Now, now. Watch your words. We mustn’t throw around names. Do call me Lex. There are greater devils than those of us tasked with rounding up souls and keeping them orderly.” He turned to Vickie, stepping closer. “Which, by the way, my pet, is why I need you tonight.”
“How did you know who Az was?” Vickie asked, trying not to feel his words thrum a little, forbidden and delicious. “And what do you mean about greater devils?”
“Ah, pet, I forget sometimes that you are mortal.” He smirked, smile crooked with temptation. “There are three greater devils, who reap body and soul. Lucifer, who you so ignorantly mistook me for when last we met, is one of them. Four lesser devils, like me, who reap souls and can bestow gifts. Our bargains are less…” Lex’s mouth ticked up for a moment, and a shiver of fear slipped down her spine. “Consequential.” The word was lascivious in her ear, inappropriate as that reaction might be, and she suspected there was more he was not saying. If bargaining with a lesser devil meant she owed three souls, she could only imagine the price of a bargain with a greater one.
“What does that mean?”
