Blinking and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up in bed. “Azrael’s here?”
“Yes, and he’s brought a bunch of people with him.” Her voice is strained.
“Okay, I’m coming.” I pull my worn robe over my nightgown, fastening the belt in a tight knot.
The floors are cool beneath my bare feet as I follow my mother down the hall. Sure enough, she leads me to the kitchen where Azrael is waiting. My heart skips a beat when I see him. Dark hair falls across his crystal-blue eyes, which threaten to hypnotize me when they catch mine.
I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. Goddess bless him. He’s dressed for a hard day’s work—plain trousers, an undershirt clinging to his chest, and a belt. A black button-down hangs over the back of the chair like an afterthought. I wouldn’t mind one bit if he took his undershirt off, too.
“Why are you laughing?” he asks, reaching for me.
His fingers wrap around my wrist and I soar across the space between us, landing in his embrace—blushing. “Azrael, my mom is watching.”
A mischievous smile spreads from ear to ear. “So I shouldn’t do this—?” He firmly grabs my chin and brings his lips to meet mine.
It’s soft, gentle, and utterly swoon-worthy. The tenderness with which he restrains himself—kissing me so sensually, barely touching me at all—is more promise of what’s to come than reality. I melt.
He pulls away. “Sorry,” he breathes against my ear, nipping it just slightly as he takes a step away.
“Where would you like to begin?”
I’m forced to look at my mother, cheeks flushed with embarrassment from Azrael’s open display of affection in front of her. I thought she’d be upset, but when I finally bring myself to look at her face… she’s beaming. An imaginary weight lifts, and I relax.
“Mother, where would you like to begin?” I repeat his question.
“I’ve packed most everything of importance into three trunks under my bed. A few things left to grab. And, if it’s possible, I’d like to take some furniture. Just a couple of rocking chairs that have been in the family for years.” She wrings her hands nervously at her waist.
Azrael nods, snapping his fingers at the strongman—whose impossible strength I remember from the circus tent—and at Sylis, whom I also recognize from when I visited. They’re seated in the front room, which I hadn’t noticed until just now.
“Show my friends where the trunks are. They’ll carry them back to the manor,” Azrael tells my mother.
She leads the men to her room. When they re-emerge, Sylis is carrying one trunk, and the strongman balances one on each shoulder. I marvel at the sight of them as they head out the front door and down the road.
“Won’t people see what we’re doing?” I ask Azrael, concerned someone might alert my father.
He merely smiles. “I have my secrets. Don’t worry.”
I stare at him, astonished. Disbelief nagging at my emotions—this is too good to be true. We’re really going to escape. This is really happening, and we both have a chance at a new life. Azrael is saving us. It hits me hard—Azrael loves me.
He’s doing all of this because he’s in love with me. The last of my doubts dissolve, and a ripple of relief pulses through me. He actually loves me. This isn’t a dream. It’s real. I wish this moment could last forever. My heart swells, and all I can think about is never leaving his side again. I want to spend every moment possible wrapped in his arms.
“Show me everything in your room you’d like to take,” Azrael says.
I lead him to my room, heart pounding, and return to the half-filled trunk I abandoned the night before. Each item I pack now feels like closing the door on my old life.
“This is one of the chairs she wants to bring,” I say, pointing to the corner of my room where it rests.
Azrael walks over, inspects it, then waves his hand. Shadows swirl and fill the space, swallowing the chair. Once they settle—it’s gone.
“How? Where?” I gasp.
Azrael grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s waiting for you in your new room.”
I struggle for words. He made my chair disappear right in front of me. “Don’t do that in front of my mother,” is all I can manage.
He chuckles. “Where’s the other chair?”
“In her bedroom,” I answer.
