Page 212 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
I’m quite literally in the midst of sending them whatever telepathic signals I can muster—not a gift of mine—to do so. Instead, it seems to alert them to my presence because they both angle their heads up at me, twin smiles splitting their handsome faces.
Returning their grin, I shout around my mouthful of pancake.
“Just kiss already!”
Their distant laughter reaches my ears, and the warm sound makes my heart leap with joy.
The two of them roll to their sides before rising to their feet and striding towards me. Their wounds already half-healed—Azrael’s notably less so than Levi’s. Concern winds tight in my chest.
“Do you need another tonic, darling?”
Azrael nods, but I don’t miss the flash of worry in his eyes before his gaze falls to the ground. “Yes, please.”
Iwilla small vial of healing tonic into hand and pass it to him. I need to save the magic-enhancing ones for our journey through Selcarim.
“Your shadow will be joining us on our journey?”
Azrael downs the tonic. “I will certainly urge him to.”
Oh dear.
“Well, if not, then it would be better to stay here in Terrenea, as I’m sure you can agree.”
The insecurity in Azrael’s eyes is palpable, but he nods in understanding. “I’m sure I can... incentivize him.”
Willingmy plate away, I still, dusting my hands. “Well then, we should get ready to leave, either way, no?”
Azrael nods, turning towards Levi. “I would still encourage you to drink my blood. Despite its lack of magical potency as of late.”
Levi gradually nods. “Tonight then. After we set up camp.”
Azrael’s gaze returns to mine, “You’re welcome to imbibe as well, obviously, my sweet seraphim, without any expectation of you reciprocating.”
LEVI
The group of us makes swift work offoldingto collect some essentials from my house, and Azrael’s. If I wasn’t so nervous about our visit to Selcarim, I might have been able to actually appreciate my fleeting glimpse of Azrael’s palace. Instead, I was too busy interrogating Violette about Selcarim’s environs, all its predators and prey. Now, Azrael, hiswraith,and I are standing in the cabin’s living room waiting for Violette to finish preparing. A small armory is laid out before us, ready to be strapped to our bodies. Sitting beside two assault rifles—one for me and one for Azrael—are a peppering of handguns for the three of us, Violette’s bow and arrow, which looks like something straight out of Lord of the Rings, and a matte black sword with finely engraved naturalistic details decorating the handle and pommel; gilded runes run the length of the blade.Thanapheros,Azrael had called it, claimed it was forged in hellfire and imbued with his death magic. The nerd in me tried very hard not to squeal with excitement.
When I took them outside to teach them how to handle a gun in case we ran into predators during our journey, Azrael impressed me with genuine skill. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised considering that he is a God of Deathand has travelled across numerous worlds—one of his favorites being Earth—where he seems to be innately familiar with its technologies. When I asked him what drew him here, that sad look returned to his face. “I spent a lot of time here, searching for Persephone... Fell in love with it, and many of its people, along the way.”
Dressed in a pair of dark fighting leathers, Azrael is even more striking. They’re even more flattering than the Italian suits I’d seen him in before our trip began.
I’m borrowing a pair of black leathers from him. The chest and shoulders have what I can only assume are dragon scales sewn into the chest, shoulders, ribs, forearms, and the tops of my thighs. When I’d tried to insist I wear my own gear, Violette immediately shot down the idea in favor of blending in.
Azrael’s amber-y, burning wood scent fills my nose, and my body reacts to it despite my best efforts. The smell of him is both comforting and arousing all at once. Even if I can’t help but wonder what atrocities have been committed or experienced in these leathers.
There’s an underlying cord of tension between us—one wrapped in a growing affection, appreciation, and a mutual innate understanding of one another—that seems to tighten, creating a sense of both yearning and apprehension.
My fingers twitch with the need to grab him and pull him close. To kiss and devour him in the only way I know how. Wholly and mercilessly. Force him to surrender this horrific fucking idea that he doesn’t want to continue living.
But he is the embodiment of everything I’ve tried to run from.
So, my fear wins in this moment.
“How are you feeling about this?”
Azrael looks mildly surprised by the question. “Selcarim? Or this survival challenge?”
“Both.”
