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Not to mention there’s palpable tension between Azarius and I now, and I feel like I need to fix that before I can handle anything else. I take a few more bites, chewing slowly as I contemplate what I’m going to say, but he beats me to the punch.
“Devyn, I’m sorry,” he starts. I look over, but he’s staring across the room at something invisible on the wall. “I didn’t know what else to do, and I panicked.”
He isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, but I stuff another piece of food in my mouth to avoid interrupting him.
“I never imagined that Rafe would make me…” He shakes his head. “He’s a dark son of a bitch, but I didn’t know he was that twisted. I just—I just didn’t want him to kill you. Or me for defying him.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “We did what we had to do. I’m alive. Everything is fine.”
His gorgeous sapphire eyes slowly slide over to me. “Are you really okay?”
I finish off the goblet before pushing it and my empty plate aside. Head cocked, I look at him and nod sincerely. “I really am. We humans normally do dinner before sex, but this works too.”
I expect him to laugh, or at least smile, but he doesn’t. I don’t know what happened between then and now, but he isn’t acting at all like himself.
Instead, he huffs and looks away again.
“Are you going to tell me what your problem is?” I ask, leaning forward more to catch his eye. “Or do I have to guess?”
“This entire situation is my problem, Devyn.” He pushes himself off the bed in a swift motion. Running a hand through his hair and up one of his horns, he paces across the room before turning and heading back. “You’ve probably noticed, but I’m not like the others. I might be a beast by your standards, but I’m far from being a true monster. Elio is an asshole—he mainly cares about himself and his money. Rafe… you’ve seen. He’s fucking terrible. But the only thing I’ve tried to do since I met you is help you, and I can’t even do that.”
Before I know it, I’m on my feet and crossing the room. “That’s not fair, Azarius.” I stop in front of him, blocking his path. “None of this is your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”
He says nothing but rocks his head back and stares at the ceiling. The guilt eating at him is almost tangible, and I’m helpless. I never imagined a monster having so many feelings. I have to admit, it’s a bit odd—mostly unexpected—but it’s also a relief. With Azarius on my side, I know we can figure out a way to get me home.
If he agrees to let me go.
After all, I’m his claimed mate now. Whatever that means.
“Az, look at me.”
He doesn’t move, just continues to stare upward.
I repeat myself, more sternly this time. “Look. At. Me.”
After a moment of hesitation, he looks down and meets my gaze. His eyes are heavy with sadness that tugs at my heartstrings—to be a monster, he has more compassion than most humans I’ve met.
I don’t know what he needs to hear to believe that I don’t blame him for any of this or have any sort of resentment toward him, but I have to try.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a small step toward him. “For saving my life. More than once.”
The corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smile before it vanishes. “You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing what’s right.”
“And it would have been a lot easier for you to let me die,” I remind him, chancing another half step forward. “You didn’t have to do any of that, but you did. And I’m very grateful.”
He raises a hand and gently brushes my hair away from my face, his eyes studying mine like there will be a pop quiz on them shortly. I wish I could read his mind so I could get a glimpse of the maelstrom happening there, but I’ll have to settle for the hints he gives me.
“You’re welcome.” He brushes his fingertips against my shoulder and trails them down my arm. Tiny electric sparks spring to life beneath his touch and skitter through me, catching me off guard and making heat rise in my cheeks.
Is it possible to still get butterflies for someone after being coerced into fucking them in front of strangers?
The flutter in my stomach says it is.
Slowly, Azarius leans down and meets my lips with his, but unlike downstairs, this kiss isn’t greedy or full of lust. It’s soft, gentle, and makes me weak in the knees. It’s an unspoken promise to keep me safe, and I believe it wholeheartedly.
When he pulls back, his expression is lighter. It seems I’ve gotten through to him—he’s not wallowing in guilt anymore. His shift in attitude eases my mind about the next question forming on my tongue.
“So now what?”
