Page 52 of Moon Flower


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“There!” Azriel exclaimed, pointing to a patch of long, purple stalks that were undoubtedly the lavender blooming.

Galen helped him snip as much as he could find, and they placed the cuttings in his bag before moving on to another area and another, walking farther away from the town.

Once their search farther out proved fruitless, Galen plopped down in the grass, trying to catch his breath, and Azriel did the same. He looked lighter than he had in days, and it was all because he felt useful and enjoyed the work he was doing at the apothecary.

Galen lay back in the tall grasses and looked up at the clouds, wishing he’d brought his drawing pad to sketch the sky, but his memory would have to be enough.

When their hands inadvertently brushed, Galen longed to intertwine their fingers, feel the weight of Azriel against him, and taste his tongue in his mouth. He turned his head and saw Azriel’s eyes were already upon him, and it made his skin prickle. Azriel stared unabashedly, and Galen noticed new things about this alluring man. How his dark eyelashes fanned from his stunning eyes, his puffy lower lip as he panted softly, and the lone freckle that dotted his nose.

“What?” Galen found himself asking as Azriel’s gaze seemed to burnish his skin.

Azriel shrugged. “It’s lovely to share the afternoon with you, away from the others.”

Galen couldn’t stop the smile that broke across his face. He felt giddy in Azriel’s presence, even as his pulse throbbed and his chest ached. “I’ll have to agree.”

The moment was cut short by the sound of children laughing nearby.

“Suppose we should head back,” Galen said, swiping the grass off his breeches as he sat up, a bit blue that their time together was ending.

Azriel nodded. “Madam Langley will wonder where we’ve been.”

They’d just gotten back into town, when he heard a familiar voice behind them, from a group of men exiting a tavern. He’d recognize that deep, menacing tone anywhere. It was the man from the alleyway, and from the sound of his laughter, he’d already gotten his fill inside the tavern.

Galen flattened himself against the brick wall, his heart thrashing wildly.

“Is something wrong?”

“That man, he—” His eyes flicked to the men walking their way, but he didn’t know what to do, couldn’t move. If they ran, it would look suspicious, but logic was not on his side right then.

“Is that him? The man who hurt you?”

Without waiting for a response, Azriel pulled him into a narrow close between two establishments, and far enough inside that they were engulfed by the shadows.

Galen rested his forehead against the stone wall, trying to calm his reedy breaths. Azriel stood close to him, as if to protect him, his puffs of air heavy against Galen’s cheek. They could hear the rowdy men pass by the opening without detecting them, but Galen still didn’t feel safe. Not yet.

After minutes had passed, shame began to settle inside his bones, and he felt silly for his overreaction. “Likely he wouldn’t have said anything in broad daylight.”

“Or he might’ve called you a thief,” Azriel replied. “We would have no recourse but to deny it or run.”

“True. And our version of events would never be accepted over his,” Galen said through clenched teeth.

He could feel Azriel’s heart beating against his shoulder blades, and all his hair stood on end. He no longer thought they were in danger, but he didn’t want to move for anything.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Azriel asked against his ear, and it made him shiver.

They were alone, away from probing eyes, and Galen wanted nothing more than to indulge it. “Perhaps. But let’s wait a bit more.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Azriel’s breaths tickled his nape, and Galen moaned low in his throat, unable to hold back.

“Are you all right?”

“I will be,” he replied around a hard swallow. “But you make it difficult, standing so close.”

“Am I suffocating you?” Azriel took a step back, which was the opposite of what Galen wanted him to do. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Galen smirked. “I enjoy having my pulse galloping like a wild stallion and my prick stiff as a board whenever you are near.”

Azriel groaned. “You cannot say such things.”

“Why not?” Galen panted out.

“Because things do not usually end well for men like us.”

“I don’t want to believe that.” He sighed, the weight of his proclamation hanging like a heavy coat. “I’d rather pretend for a while longer.”

There was a pause, and then Azriel snickered. “I told you, you’re a romantic.”

“Perhaps I am.” Galen turned to face him. “And perhaps it’s easier to confess these things to someone when you can barely make out their features.”

“And what else is there that you’d like to confess?” Azriel murmured, the breaths between them mingling.

“That I want to kiss you again,” he said, and Azriel gasped. “But I know you’ll say it would be reckless. So instead, I shall look forward to the next time Mr. Blackburn visits.”

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