Satisfied, I raise my hands over my head and rain down fire on the entire house, bursting into shadow as I wrap the severed head in my tendrils and shoot into the sky. It doesn’t take long before the entire house is engulfed in flames.
I glance back toward the garden and remember Mercy’s final request. Materializing just enough to wield more magic, I wave my hand over the garden and the small orchard. They vanish into thin air, and I know that when I reach the manor, I’ll find them intact on the side of the manor.Because there’s nothing I won’t do for my mate. I don’t have a soul to give her, so I give this instead—blood-soaked magic and a garden untouched by fire.
Chapter 37
Mercy
Slats of light leak in through the curtains I forgot to draw last night. After Azrael left, I returned to my mother’s room to help her get settled. By the time we finished dinner, she was exhausted and ready for bed. I tucked her in, wished her goodnight, and slipped back to my room across the hall. But I couldn’t sleep. I curled up on the lounge beneath the window, gazing out at the moon and stars, lost in my own thoughts and dreams of a future with the man who finally uttered those three simple words:I love you.
I don’t remember climbing into bed, but I must’ve wandered to bed at some point… or Azrael moved me. He relaxes by the fire, tea in hand, a tray before him. Hemusthave moved me. I smile to myself. I wonder if he spent the entire night watching over me—or if he’s only just returned to wait.
As if sensing my lingering gaze, his eyes dart across the room, locking with mine. “Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
I stretch, taking my time to respond. “I think I slept much more comfortably than I ever have, especially after you moved me.”
“Ahh, guilty. When I came to check on you after the show last night, I couldn’t resist moving you,” he confesses, as a tendril of shadow drifts over the bed to stroke my cheek.
I lean into the touch, welcoming it, finding comfort in the cool embrace. It brings a smile to his lips, and though I can’t explain how I know, I sense his satisfaction at my acceptance.
“I can feel you,” I whisper across the room, a teasing glint in my eyes at the discovery of yet another power I’ve come to possess.
Azrael beams brighter, his thumb circling the rim of his cup “What do you feel?”
Warmth and happiness wash over me as a sense of calm settles in my bones. “Your happiness. And peace. A burden you no longer feel.”
“I can feel you too,” he admits, eyes twinkling.
“Why is that?” I ask.
Unease crosses his face, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “I assume it’s our bond.”
“Why does that bother you? Is it because you own my soul now?” The words slip out like a splinter—sharper than I meant them to be.
He takes a sip from his cup, places it on a saucer, then tilts his head to one side. “It doesn’t bother me.”
He avoids the question about my soul, but I’m not ready to lay the subject to rest, so I press on. “Are you connected to all the souls you own? Do you own other souls?”
“Come sit with me and I will explain.” His shadows wrap around me, lifting me from the bed and delivering me to the empty chair.
The velvet of the plush chair is soft against my skin, the small fire warming away the goosebumps his shadows left behind. I can feel the heat of his stare devouring every inch of me as I sit on display—for him and only him to admire. The words are a whispering echo in my mind, a confession from his lips:he loves me.Even though he’s imprisoned my soul, it’s because he loves me.
“Tea?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Only if it includes answers. You’re avoiding my question, Azrael.” I lift a brow at him, and he chuckles.
“I’m not avoiding it, I promise. Yes, I own other souls. And before you ask—many. No, I won’t give you an exactnumber.” He rattles off his responses casually, glossing over the connection.
“And do you feel the other souls? Can they feel you the way I do?”
He picks up his cup, finishes it, then pours another for us both. “To answer your question: no. We cannot feel one another the way you and I do.”
“Why?” I ask, reaching for the cream and dropping a sugar cube into the steaming tea.
Azrael sighs, a pained expression painted on his face, and I can sense there’s something he doesn’t want to tell me… he’s holding back.
“Please, no secrets,” I beg.
“Tea first then, darling. Secrets once I know you’re awake enough for them.” He concedes, the playful tone returning to his voice.
