Page 108 of Hopelessly Teavoted
“You were standing in the starlight, and I could see all your freckles, water dripping in rivulets I so desperately wanted to trace down the sides of you. Honestly, I almost told you then, but I didn’t even know how to put it into words. I went home and wrote angsty poems about it for a while.”
Vickie smiled.
“You used to write sad poetry about me? Instead of jacking off? Really?” Vickie teased.
Azrael looked serious now, eyes glancing to hers as they pulled up to the gate.
“As serious as the devils I’m named for. And, fine, I did also fuck my hand afterward. I was weak.” Even the tips of his ears were red from embarrassment now.
“Aw, Mr. Hart, you know devils are tricksters. And that Ilovewatching you fuck your hand.”
“Fine, Vickie, I’m as serious as the grave. As serious as you were when you swore me to secrecy after we found the sex dungeon and you told me you didn’t think you minded the idea of whips and spanking.”
Vickie coughed a little. The memory made her bite her lip, but his word choice caught her off guard, and she smirked. “I thought you said it was a home gym.”
“Yeah, well. Semantics.”
Vickie parked the car in front of the house, got out, and shoved her hands into her pockets to keep from reaching for Azrael and tempting death.
They had a vow to make, and she wasn’t about to accidentally kill this man just when they’d finally started to get things right.
CHAPTER 35Azrael
The bedroom door had clicked shut and locked itself, the lights dipped low, as if the room warmed to embrace them. Whatever happened between them, the house approved, and it shifted to make a cat door appear and disappear for Emily Lickinson to escape out of, yowling in judgment as though she was slightly offended that they were kicking her out.
It was warm enough that Vickie’s cheeks were spotted with color, and she moved to tug off the thick sweater while Azrael checked the door.
“You take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch while we wait.” He watched, mesmerized, as she slipped her pants off and slid, in a T-shirt and underwear, in between black satin sheets.
He snapped to add blankets and pillows, and then lay down, face up, on his couch. “Vickie?”
“What?”
“When do you think you knew? That you loved me?”
She laughed from between his sheets, and goddess, he wanted to be there too. “I think I knew for sure when you walked away in the rain. Though I definitely suspected the night with the margaritas, and I was too scared then and for years later to admit it to myself.” She paused. “When did you know?”
“I think the moment you moved in next door, if I’m totally honest,” he said.
“Az,” she whispered. “I love you. We should try to get some sleep until after midnight.”
For the next hour, he pretended to sleep on the couch, yards apart from the bed to keep from accidentally immolating himself. By the time he heard Vickie wake up, the couch was practically touching the bed, as though his furniture understood that he hadn’t been able to bear the distance. He pushed his hand against the velvet of the curtains, safely in the middle and away from the edges, and he felt her hand through the other side, pushing back.
He hoped she had slept while he’d tossed and turned on the couch, counting down the minutes until the spell would be ready and they could fix this thing between them for good. The curse would be gone, and to go through with the soul-binding, even though they didn’t have to, well, that meant something to him. Something big, and life defining, and he had spent the better part of the past few hours up thinking about it.
Judging from the shadows under her eyes, though, and the sound of his bedsheets rustling at her every movement, he doubted she’d slept more than he had.
They made their way back down to the library, where a fire rose in the hearth as though to greet them, the warm contained flames of the house licking at the grate.
“Victoria,” Az said, turning to her while fishing in his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and from it the small, crumpled sheet of paper, once fine with newness and hope, now wrinkled by age and time that had defeated even its elegant weight. “I wrote you this.”
“You wrote me a letter? Today?”
“No.” He bit his lip. It was embarrassing, but it was a secret he’d kept from her. And for the seal to work, he would need to make sure there were no secrets between them. He would need to tell her. To show her. “I wrote it eight years ago.”
Her eyebrows raised, and she blushed and whispered, “It’s the thing your mother said was in your wallet. You’ve carried it with you all this time?”
Azrael swallowed. His whole heart was on the line now,and he had waited too long to give it to her. The note and his heart.
