Chapter 9: Obstacles in my way

Zoe:

I wake up feeling even more exhausted than I did the night before. Raising my hands up, I cover my eyes, trying to stifle the morning light coming through the bedroom window. The room is quiet. I can hear a bird singing from a nearby tree, a lawn mower’s roar, and a few car doors slamming nearby.

It was early morning when I got in. And about five in the morning when I eventually slipped into the sweet release of sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Azazel and his delicious kisses. Once I fell asleep, I dreamt of him again.

This time, I’m in a castle. My face and hair are ragged and dirty. I’m wearing a servant’s garbs. The other servants are moving around the kitchen, preparing for a celebration. I walk through the halls, my hands laden with food and nearly stumble back when I bump into a solid form. Bread and cheese fall carelessly to the floor. I look up to find myself looking into the most beautiful amber eyes I’ve ever seen. His hair is the color of wheat, and his skin is a golden luminescent hue. He’s wearing a knight’s tunic with the king’s bull crest etched in the center.

I turn my gaze down to the floor. We’re not allowed to talk to nobility or knights. The penalty is death for those who dare. I cringe in terror when he reaches forward and picks up my fallen fare, then looks down at his golden head in horror. “Please, sir. Let me do that.” But he ignores my plea and hands me back the tray. “Apologies. I was not looking towards where I was going.” He says with a husky tone. I’m speechless. All I can do is stand there and gape into his radiance.

However, before I can say another word, another man stops next to him and pats him hard on the back. “Azazel, it’s good to see you.” His eyes halt in front of my form. “And you found a pretty little wench for our pleasure.” Dread crawls up my throat as the man moves closer and runs his finger down my throat and neck. My vision blurs, and terror threatens to overwhelm me. To my surprise, the golden man moves his companion’s arm away and says, “You don’t want any of that, Donovan. She’s filthy. James has a few whores who’d be more to your liking. Let’s go and see.” The man—Donovan gives me one last look and sneers. “You’re right. She is a bit tarnished. Let’s go.”

As they both turn around and walk away, I look up to find the golden knight giving me one last look and move on. Unfortunately, I don’t get the opportunity to see him ever again. That same night, a knight shows up in the village and runs a sword through my stomach. I died alone and impoverished in my little hut, never to see the beautiful golden knight again.

I wake up after that dream. I can’t help but feel that my dreams are memories. That’s how real they are. But of course, it’s not possible. I guess my mind is still in turmoil about my feelings towards him. I have to see the irony in the dreams, though, when each dream shows me to be a servant, and Azazel is some kind of grand hero. Even in my dreams, I’m poor. How depressing is that? Plus, there’s no way that the same man kills me over and over again. It’s just too ridiculous to believe.

Regardless of my dreams, I wake up feeling restless. My energy is depleted once again. I don't know what it is, but lately, all I feel is exhaustion. The urge to sing is almost a compulsion now. It terrifies me to no end that what happened last time will happen again. Everyone thinks that it was a freak accident, but I know better. I know that my songs do unexplainable things to people, especially when I have no control over them.

I’ve done some research online, but most of the things I found out were based on mythical creatures in the ocean that lead men to their dooms. I tried telling Bree about it when it happened the second time. But after she gave me a weirded out expression, I laughed it off as if it was a joke. The truth is—I've always known that there was something different about me.

I remember when I was six, I was playing deep in a secluded part of the Dawson's garden. My mother left me there while she served at Dawson's garden party. I was climbing a tree to get a better look at the revelry when a bird slammed into a tree and fell lifelessly to the ground. I climbed down from the tree to inspect the injured bird. It was dying. Its wing was crooked, and its neck was broken. I was devastated.

Wanting to comfort it as it lay dying, I sang it a song. I don’t remember what song it was. But something happened during my song. I could feel some kind of power resonate with every lyric. Then, as if by magic, the bird’s wing healed, and its neck straightened out. I remember the bird sitting up and giving me a regal bow before it took off in flight. It was the most wondrous and unbelievable experience that I’ve ever had.

Things like that happened to me a few more times after that. It was mostly with animals. The only time I healed someone was when I found out that our cook, Augusto, was very ill. I was eleven at the time. Augusto was like a father to me. He would always make me cookies or have a special treat for me when I was sad or alone. He would even take me to school or help me with homework. One night, my mother rushed into our room to let me know that he had a heart attack. The doctors said that he wouldn’t make it through the night. I was crushed. While my mother was sleeping, I took a bus to the hospital and snuck into his room. I wanted—no, I needed to know if my voice had healing powers or if it was just a delusion of a sad, lonely little girl.

I remember seeing his pale weathered face and his fragile body laid out on the hospital bed. His thinning gray hair stuck to his head, and his lips were set in rigid lines. He wasn’t the most attractive man in the world, but he was the epitome of a hero in my eyes. I approached his bed carefully and took his soft bony hand in my small one. He looked peaceful in his repose. I wanted to cry. What if it didn’t work and he died? But I persevered. I remember he loved to sing Con Te Partiro by Andrea Bocelli. So I took a deep breath and sang it with all the love I felt in my heart. As I sang, his face gained color, and his body stirred. Once the song ended, I snuck back home and waited. He recovered quickly after that. The doctors said that it was a miracle.

Augusto retired the day I graduated high school. When I asked him why he said it was because his work was done and I didn’t need him anymore. He also gave me a small check and told me to never stop singing. I’d like to think he knew that I saved him.

It wasn't until nearly a year ago that my power turned against me. It wasn’t until that day that I realized how dangerous my voice was. That was also the day I began having nightmares that have been haunting me.

My body trembles with fatigue. It almost overwhelms every part of me. As gently as I can, I rise from my bed and adjust the bottom of my pink flannel nightgown. The nightgown has cap sleeves with a string tie neck and falls near the top of my thighs. Bree calls it my seductive virgin lingerie. I just love it because it’s comfortable in this sometimes stifling California heat. I look over towards Bree and Lana’s bed. Neither of them is in bed. They must have risen earlier.

I look at my nightstand when my phone dings with a message. Reaching over my nightstand, I read the screen. “I need to see you.” It says. I don’t recognize the number, but somehow I know that it’s Azazel. “How did you get my number?” I reply back. A minute passes before he responds. “I have my ways.” I bite the tip of my thumb and respond. “I want to see you too.” His reply is swift. “Meet me outside in five minutes. Wear something comfortable.”

I know that I have a stupid smile on my face, but I can’t help it. I’ve never felt so giddy. All at once, it’s scary and thrilling. Feeling beyond exhilarated, I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and slip on a long t-shirt with no bra, cut-off jeans, and flip-flops. Bree is in the kitchen, making herself some coffee, and Lana is lying on the couch watching television with a coffee cup in her hand. I swear that the girl survives on coffee. She will have at least three cups a day. She says she needs it to function.

“Hey,” I say, moving past her and taking an empty coffee mug from the cupboard. Our cupboard is pretty much like the rest of our place. There is a hodgepodge of mismatched furniture that we purchased at the thrift store. The cups, like the furniture, are in various stages of despair. The one that Bree is holding has a picture of a squirrel with red eyes, and the one that I’m holding says, I’m silently judging you.

“Hey.” She greets me cheerfully. “You’re up early. I thought you’d still be asleep considering how late you got home last night.” She says with a bubbly laugh. Bree has always been a morning person. That’s one thing I love most about her.

I shake my head and pour some coffee into the mug. “Yeah, you’d think that, but you know I can't sleep when I know that Sahara and Marina are coming over.” I bite my lip and give her a secret smile. “And…I’m going to meet Azazel in a few minutes.” Her head snaps up, and her eyes narrow in thought. “Azazel? Hold up! Wait! Are you talking about that really hot Gladiator that fights for Sahara?” I nod excitedly as I take a sip from my mug.

Suddenly she explodes with an excited squeal and jumps up and down with excitement. Lana rises from her seat with a startled frown. “What the hell Bree? What’s wrong?” Bree rushes over to Lana and throws her arms around her. “What’s wrong is that Zoe is about to meet a really hot guy in a few minutes. You should see him, Lana. He’s…” He says with a love-struck grin. “…freaking gorgeous.”

I roll my eyes and reach for my keys and handbag. “I’m leaving now. Don’t forget that Sahara is coming over later.” Bree clucks her tongue in exasperation. “Aw, come on. We’ll be nice. Tell him to come up.” I shake my head and move towards the door. “Not going to happen.” I utter, stifling a smile when I hear a disappointed groan.

I have to blink several times when I see Azazel standing in front of the sidewalk. He’s leaning on the wall outside the apartments. The sunlight gleams over his silky golden hair like a halo, and his eyes glow with happiness. He’s wearing a white V-neck shirt and ripped, blue jeans that showcase his body to perfection. I run my eyes over his muscled chest and strong thighs and feel my mouth water. His skin looks like sweet honey, and I want to lick him. Sifting my fingers through a few strands of my hair shyly, I stop in front of him and smile. Azazel’s eyes meet mine. They look like the richest gold as they inspect me from head to toe. My body heats up as if I’m being touched by him. He pushes away from the wall and moves to stand before me and gives me a smoldering smile. I bite my bottom lip when he places his hand around my waist and pulls my body flush against his. “Good morn, my beauty. Did you dream of me?”

I roll my eyes and put my arms around his neck. “Did you dream of me?” I ask saucily. Even though for a moment, my heart sped up with surprise at his words. Because the reality is that I did dream of him, I’ve been dreaming of him for a while.

He licks his lips and kisses me gently. “I do dream of you. Do you want me to tell you all the dirty details?” He whispers enigmatically. My breath hitches with desire. He chuckles from under his breath and leads me to the sidewalk. “So, where are we going?” I ask as I follow. He points to his house. “I thought maybe I’d make you breakfast.” His voice is breathtakingly husky. It makes me shudder with desire.

The house is modern with its sharp angles and windows everywhere. Inside is just as splendid. There are various portraits of L.A. landmarks. The wooden floors are polished, and the walls are painted in muted tones. We move towards the back, where he opens a set of patio doors. “Through here, milady.” He gestures with a gentlemanly bow.

Delight overwhelms me at the sight that greets me when we step into the patio. There's a beautiful white wrought iron table loaded with fruit, bread, and other goodies. However, what really strikes me is the gorgeous grotto surrounded by lush greenery. There's a small waterfall flowing near the rocks. It looks like something out of a tourist pamphlet. Azazel walks past the cobblestone path and pulls out a cushioned chair. I'm speechless. No one has ever done something like this for me before.

I accept the seat he's holding out for me and watch as he sits across from me. “Do you like it?” He asks shyly. He reminds me of a little boy who's looking for his mother's approval. It surprises me because Azazel doesn't look like the kind of man who needs to be reassured.

I nod my head excitedly. “I love it.” He sighs in relief and grins arrogantly. “I knew you would. I cooked a little bit of everything because I didn't know what you'd like. So have at it, luv.” I'm struck dumb by his words. Amazement overwhelms me. “You cooked this?” I ask in surprise. He raises his eyebrows and nods his head. “Of course. I'm not one of those useless wankers that wait for a woman to cook for him.”

I snort at his evaluation. That's exactly what I thought. “You're full of surprises, Azazel,” I say, laying my elbows on the table. He pours me some orange juice and hands me a plate of food. “Oh, my beautiful girl, you don't know the half of it.” He mutters cryptically. Breakfast is wonderful. Azazel is a really good cook.

“This is good,” I say, pointing to the food on my plate. “So, tell me something about you, Azazel?” I ask, taking a bite of bacon from my plate. Azazel’s shoulders tense. But he continues. “What do you wish to know?” I bite my lip and roll my feet under me. “Well… How about your full name and birthday? Do you have any family here? It’s obvious that you’re British. Why did you move here?” He chuckles and raises an eyebrow. “Anything else, luv?” He asks acerbically. My face heats with mortification, but I don’t back down. “No, that’s it for now,” I say boldly.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his plate, thoughtfully. “Well, my full name is Azazel Dark. My birthday is in July. I haven’t been across the pond in a while, but I love to visit England when I can. I don’t have any family. My family is dead. The closest thing I have to a family is my sort of nephew, Mikhail. He actually attends Cal State. Um…I moved here because I love living here. It’s beautiful and peaceful, and the weather is brilliant.” I take in his information, but somehow I feel like I don’t know any more than I did when I first asked. I don’t push, though; I just absorb the little bit he shares. He looked a little sad when he said he had no family.

I know what it’s like to not want to talk about personal things, especially family. The sound of the small waterfall’s water showering down reaches my ears. Pushing my seat back, I rise from my chair and move to stand before him and offer him my hand. Azazel frowns in question.

“Come on,” I say, waving my hand insistently. Azazel takes a deep breath and gives me his hand, letting me pull him towards the edge of the pool. He looks down at the pool then gives me a puzzled look. “Are you going to drown me, luv?” I shake my head with a scoff, take a step back, and lift my shirt over my head. His body stiffens as his eyes take in my bare breasts. I have his attention now as he watches me slip off my jeans, flip-flops, and white bikini panties until I’m completely naked.

Jumping into the pool, I rise to the surface and pull my wet hair behind my back with an inviting grin. “Join me.” He wipes at his mouth, thinking about what to do next, then he takes action and begins to remove his own clothes. My mouth waters at the sight of each revealing piece of skin. His chest is toned and strong. He has six-pack abs, and his legs are firm and strong. He remains in his black boxer briefs as he jumps in beside me.

Seeing his head surface above the water, I splash water towards him, playfully and swim away. Azazel follows behind me and grabs me by the waist pulling me into his arms. My body shudders at the contact of his hard body against mine. It feels so sensual and naughty to be in his arms naked. My body aches with need as our bodies glide together. Placing my hands around his neck, I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and dip it into the water, but it doesn’t cool any of my ardor. Our naked chests touch, igniting goosebumps throughout our bodies. A gasp escapes my lips when Azazel’s hands caress down my back, and his lips rain kisses on my neck and chin. I keep my eyes closed and rest my head on his shoulder, enjoying his passionate kisses. My body throbs, and my womb aches, feeling empty as we float there for a few moments enjoying the cleansing beauty of the moment.

Pulling back, I look into his beautiful molten eyes and rub my nose against his. I feel like we’re in our own world right now. Just the two of us finding enjoyment in each other. That is until a female voice interrupts the intimacy of the moment.

“Well, well, well…for days, I’ve been worried that you disappeared and weren’t answering your phone calls, and this whole time you’ve been shacking up with some girl.” Azazel stiffens in my arms and focuses his eyes over my shoulder. “What in the bleeding hell are you doing here, Nevaeh?” He says with a cold voice. I gasp in shock and gaze over my shoulder to see a beautiful brunette standing on the edge of the pool. She’s gorgeous with wavy brown hair and whiskey brown eyes. She’s not very tall. But she looks very fit.

I gaze back at Azazel and frown at the incensed look on his face. “Who is she, Azazel?” I ask quietly. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he clenches his jaw and grits out, “Go into the house, Nevaeh. We’ll talk in a minute.” The sound of an exasperated sigh, retreating footsteps, and a door sliding open warns me that the girl has stepped out of the patio.

Azazel pulls me away and wordlessly leads me to the steps of the pool with a hurried pace. I gasp in disbelief when he throws me my shirt. “What’s going on, Azazel? Who is that?” I ask incredulously. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he hands me the rest of my clothes and pulls them on. “I can’t talk about this now, Zoe. I’m sorry, but you need to go.”

I blink my eyes rapidly, shocked by his callous dismissal. Is this really happening right now? Slipping the rest of my clothes back on, I step in front of Azazel and give him my most heated glare. “You’re not the one that’s sorry, Azazel. Not as sorry as I am right now for coming here. Stay the hell away from me!” I utter coldly before I walk out of the side gate. I had never been so angry in my life.

Tears gather in my eyes as I make my way into the apartment. Thankfully, Bree and Lana are not there. I don’t think I could have handled any of their questions. An image of the girl flashes in my mind again. She was beautiful, and it was obvious that Azazel knew her very well. She must be important for him to have kicked me out of his house that way. Since he just told me he has no family, I have to assume she’s not a relative.

What I do know is that Azazel did not want me to speak to her or meet her, which is telling. Shame infuses me at how easily he dismissed me. I will never let him do that to me again. I should have known that giving him a chance was a mistake. I should have known that at the moment I let him in, he’d let me down.