Chapter Nine
1030 Words
Chapter Nine
Nemesis POV
“Mmm… ah,” I moan as Azrael pinches and tweaks my n*****s.
“Azrael, I’m trying to study,” I grumble, and he smacks my textbook off the bed with a lazy hand.
“Why do you insist on finishing high school? I could just make you a diploma,” he murmurs, then turns his full attention back to me.
“Because I like learning,” I say, trying to sit up to reach the fallen book.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls playfully, catching my waist and sliding me down under him.
Anything that ends with him pressed against me turns me on. It’s ridiculous how much of a reaction I have.
“To get the textbook you rudely swatted off the bed,” I tell him, smiling.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face and leans in for a kiss—then the bedroom door bangs open. I yank my shirt down, cheeks burning, as my parents stand framed in the doorway.
“We have a problem,” Athena says, glancing at Hermes with a look I can’t read.
“And that couldn’t wait until after I had some pu—” Azrael starts, and I clamp a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up,” I hiss. He goes still, then shoots me a smug grin.
“Raphael escaped,” Hermes says flatly. Azrael stiffens beside me, and a cold line of dread slides through my chest.
“Who is Raphael?” I ask, voice small.
“He’s dangerous,” Hermes replies. “After he kidnapped Echo, we imprisoned him on Olympus. Somehow, once he learned of you, he managed to escape. There’s little doubt he’ll try to force you to be his mate.”
“No way,” I blurt. There’s no way he could make me his — I already have someone.
Azrael pulls me into his lap without hesitation, inhaling my scent like it steadies him. I wrap my arms around his neck, letting his hold ground me.
“What’s the plan?” I whisper into his shoulder.
“For now: tighter security.” Zeus’s voice issues from the hallway, steady and authoritative. “Azrael will accompany her everywhere. He is stronger than Raphael and can protect her.” The order leaves no room for argument.
Azrael nods, chin tucked into my hair, his arms drawing a little tighter. “Give me a moment,” he says softly. “I need to get centered.”
My parents leave without another word; their steps fade down the corridor and the front door clicks shut. The house exhales, and we’re left alone in the sudden quiet.
Azrael looks up and meets my eyes. Then he leans his forehead to mine, and the rawness in his voice makes something ache in my chest.
“I’ve waited for a mate for so long, Nemesis. I will not lose you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t fight me when I want to be near you. I know you’re independent and strong, but please—don’t stop me from keeping you safe. If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll become.”
He looks vulnerable, unguarded in a way I haven’t seen. My chest warms.
“Okay,” I say, and the word feels steadier than I am. “I won’t push you away. I understand. I’d want the same if it were me.”
He nods, then lets his head fall back to my chest. I glance out the window; the sky is dark and studded with stars.
“Maybe some fresh air?” I suggest. “A walk in the Garden of Eden might calm us both.”
He lifts his head and smiles, a small, tired thing. “Sounds good.”
I pull on a sweater against the night chill, and we leave the bedroom hand in hand, winding through the mansion and into the garden. The path opens onto light and scent and silence that feels like balm.
We wander beneath trees and past fountains until a hush settles around us. Then Azrael’s voice, soft and sudden, splits the quiet.
“I love you.”
I stare at him. The words hit like a slap and a caress at the same time. Love? Already?
My throat tightens. I haven’t planned for that. Lust, yes. Commitment, maybe. Love feels enormous and strange.
“That’s…a lot,” I mutter.
“How so?” he asks.
I turn away, cheeks hot. “Because I don’t know if I know what love even is. I’m not sure I believe in it yet.”
His face drops a fraction, but only a fraction. He squeezes my hand. “You’ll know it when you feel it,” he whispers, then leads us onward.
I feel small for keeping my chest closed while he’s been so open. So I offer him something in return — a piece of myself I don’t usually give away.
“I’ll share something,” I say, and then I speak the poem I keep folded in my head.
I knew a boy who loved to draw.
He sketched the world he wanted to see.
His best lines came under quiet night,
Soft light, a corner where he could be.
He kept his pages tucked away,
A secret gallery, bright and shy.
One night beneath the stars he showed me—
A single page he’d kept to hide.
He glanced down, unsure, then smiled;
I rolled up my sleeve and offered mine.
Two hidden hands, two private worlds,
We found the same line in our designs.
Azrael listens with his head tilted, eyes open and soft. When I finish, he draws me close and murmurs, “I’ll match you, line for line.”
“I’ll give as much as you do,” I tell him. “Thank you for being honest. That’s mine for you.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Thank you for sharing. I’ll meet you halfway.”
We stand there a long time, fingers braided, the garden folding itself around us like a quiet promise. For now, that is enough.
- Writer
