Page 160 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
Azrael makes a beeline for the bathroom; the slides on his feet—my slides—make a softthwack, thwack, thwackacross the shiny white floor.
Violette, on the other hand, turns 360 degrees, lips parted in awe as I sidle up beside her. “There’s so muchstuff.”
I scan the vicinity, lasering in on the security cameras and attempting to guide her in a direction away from them—towards the bathroom.
“Come on, princess. Why don’t you go use the bathroom, while I grab something to wet that pretty beak of yours.”
Violette’s gaze—glamoured to no longer be lilac but brown to everyone but me and Azrael—slides to mine. I nod in the direction of the bathrooms, and she briefly glances behind her to find about a dozen women of all shapes and sizes, children in tow, pouring in and out of the bathroom entrance.
When her gaze returns to mine, anxiety tenses her brow. My heart squeezes, and I have the urge to hold her hand and escort her to the bathroom. But because that would likely end in the police being called, I settle for closing the distance between us and brushing my nose and lips over her forehead.
“I’ll be waiting for you right here, sweetheart.”
The moment Violetteexits the bathroom and strides towards me, I finally exhale the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.Azrael, already holding an armful of shit we don’t need, is busy perusing a variety of coffee mugs and tumblers with a shrewd, narrowed eye like that of a diamond dealer.
My stomach swoops, and my heart swells when Violette tucks herself into my side. “Everything okay?”
She nods. “Yes, I’m just not a huge fan of crowds. And this is all very...overstimulating.”
Thankfully, I don’t have to shout or roam across the store for Azrael to hear me. The byname pops out of my mouth before I can think twice about it because broadcasting the nameAzraelisn’t exactly inconspicuous.
“Az.”
Azrael turns toward us wearing a slight look of surprise. I tip my head in a ‘come here’motion. He promptly sets down the bedazzled tumbler he was inspecting before joining us. His eyes shift to Violette, concern pinching his brow. To my dismay, the sincerity in his voice makes my wall crumble a little further. “Are you alright, little seraphim?”
She nods as I lead us to the check-out counter. Azrael tosses his armful of crap onto the counter: a couple neck pillows, a blanket, a bobblehead, and no less than three Christmas onesies featuring ass flaps—the kind that unbutton just at the rear.
I canfeelthe elderly cashier woman’s eyes on us as I look between Azrael and the pile of shit she’s scanning at a sloth-like pace.
“Do we really need matching onesies?”
Azrael straightens, looking oddly self-conscious.
“Well, I... I just thought that it might be nice, since we ugh... Well, you know... Being on a road trip and all... As friends and paramours... And um…”
Some soft squishy thing in my chest twinges as the realization hits me. Violette nudges me in my side as if to alert me to the obvious.
The God of Death is fucking lonely.
And for some reason, I care...
I actually find myself nodding and shrugging nonchalantly.
Instead of stabbing him.
“Cool.”
Azrael clears his throat, looking more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him—even more vulnerable than when I blew half his face off. “Awesome.”
The word sounds new coming from his mouth. Like it’s the first time he’s ever said it. It gives me the sudden urge to laugh at the wildness of all this. Perhaps I would if it weren’t for the geriatric woman in bifocals scrutinizing us.
“That’ll be $186.29 whenever you’re ready.”
“Can you add $90 to pump twelve, please?”
I reach into my back pocket to pull out my wallet when Azrael steps in front of me, blocking the cashier. Wearing an excited look, he pulls out a square, tooled-leather pouch peppered with strange-looking gilded runes embossed on both sides. My inner nerd’s eyes widen with excitement as he pries it open to reveal…
Nothing.
