Chapter 114 My Angel | 007
NOELLE
Hours later, the door shuts behind Azalea and their mother, Danika. Apparently, they had somewhere important to go and couldn't wait to hang out with me soon. She had insisted that I call her, like we were already family. And now, the penthouse suddenly feels too small. Too full of him.
Azren hasn't moved from the chair across from me. He's still in the same black shirt he wore when he teleported us to the penthouse, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His elbows rest on the dining table, his hands loosely clasped, but his eyes... they're different now.
They aren't blank like before. They are hungrier and darker, like the eyes of a predator deciding whether to pounce or play.
My stomach flips. Heat crawls up my neck so fast I have to press my thighs together under the oversized shirt which I borrowed from Azalea. Technically, she raided his closet for me.
It smells like him. And God help me, I can't help but be hyperaware. Every time I shift, the fabric brushes my skin and reminds me that I'm wearing just panties underneath.
I try to breathe normally and fail.
He definitely notices.
His gaze drops to where the hem rides high on my thighs, then slowly drags back up. My face burns, and I tug the shirt down uselessly.
"You still have time to change your mind," he says, his voice rough. "Last chance, Noelle. Walk away. I'll get you somewhere safe. Somewhere Haden will never look."
I swallow hard. My throat is paper-dry. Haden will find me if I leave. I can't... I shouldn't leave.
"I have nowhere else to go."
A muscle ticks in his jaw. He exhales through his nose.
"Fuck," he curses. "You really had to wear my shirt, didn't you?"
The words land like a spark on dry grass. My pulse hammers in my ears. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. I just sit there, shrinking smaller in the chair, my arms wrap around myself in a pathetic attempt to hide how fast my heart is racing.
He reaches for the small leather-bound notebook and the pen on the coffee table between us. His knuckles are white around the pen.
"We need to set rules before the contract is prepared," he says. "Clear ones. Non-negotiable."
He flips the notebook open and starts writing. The scratch of the pen is the only sound for a long minute. I lean over to see what he's writing.
1. No touching unless absolutely necessary for appearances.
2. Separate bedrooms. Always.
3. No questions about my past, my habits, or what I do when I leave the penthouse.
4. You eat three meals a day. I check.
5. No leaving the building without me or approved security.
He stops and scratches out the sixth one before I can read it. Then he writes again.
6. No wearing my clothes.
I feel my face burn hotter. He glances up, catches my expression, and his pen freezes.
I shrink back into the chair, my stomach knotting. Each line feels like another wall going up between us, and I hate how small it makes me feel. It feels like I'm back in that locked room with Haden, waiting for the next condition, the next punishment disguised as protection.
He keeps writing.
Rule 7: No looking at me like that.
I blink. "Like what?"
The pen clatters onto the table. He drags both hands through his hair, gripping at the roots.
"Stop," he says hoarsely. "Stop looking at me like a fucking wounded puppy. Please."
"I'm not—"
He exhales heavily, clearly pained. "You don't understand, Noelle. I'm terrified."
I lift my chin, even though my hands are shaking in my lap. "Why are you scared?"
In the blink of an eye he's out of the chair and standing over me. I don't even see him move.
One second he's across the table, the next his shadow is swallowing me whole. He braces one hand on the back of my chair, the other catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His face is inches from mine. Close enough that I can see the dilation in his pupils and his unfairly pretty lashes.
"Because I'm a madman, Noelle," he says, his voice so low that it vibrates through my bones.
"I have no control. None. The only thing that's kept me from the psych ward for the last ten years is a cocktail of suppressants and whatever poison I can shove down my throat to numb it all. My head is a literal war zone. And you—" His thumb traces the edge of my bottom lip.
"You make it quiet. And I'm terrified that the second I let myself want more than the silence... I'll drag you straight into the fucking hurricane with me."
My breath catches in my throat. His eyes are molten now, glowing like blue fire. I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his scent intoxicating me.
He's not touching me anywhere else, but I feel him everywhere.
I should be scared. Strangely, I'm not.
I'm trembling, yes. But it's not from fear.
"Azren," I rasp, unsure how I'm supposed to tell him that him being this close is making me grow stupidly aroused.
Did Haden really fuck me up that badly? No, I don't think so. I was never attracted to him. But with Azren, it's like setting fire to dry leaves.
"I don't know how to do this," he continues, his voice softer. "I don't know how to be gentle. I don't know how to be anything except hungry." His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, to where his shirt gaps slightly at the collar.
"I won't be able to stop, Noelle."
I clamp my thighs tighter, biting my lower lip. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut the moment I do that. When he opens his eyes, he looks like he's physically in agony.
"But everyone's waiting," he says bitterly. "My mother already loves you. Azalea's probably texting the entire family group chat. They think this is real. They think I finally brought home a wife. And I'm supposed to walk in there and introduce you to everyone."
His fingers tighten slightly on my chin.
"So tell me again," he rasps. "Tell me you understand what you're signing up for. Because once I write the next rule... there's no going back."
I stare up at him, tears blurring the edges of my vision, but I don't look away.
"I understand," I whisper.
His eyes close again. Then he lets go, steps back, and picks up the pen again. But his hand is shaking. Have I really traded one monster for the other?
Is my Prince Charming the dragon himself?
Azren's hand trembles above the page. Then he writes the last rule.
8. No lying to each other. Ever.
He underlines it twice, the pen digging so hard into the paper it almost tears through. He stares at the words, then he slams the notebook shut and shoves it across the coffee table towards me.
"That's it," he says, his voice hoarse.
I don't reach for the notebook. I can't look away from his face. He looks like a man who just signed his own death warrant and knows it.
He stands slowly as if he's forcing himself not to lunge.
"Come on," he mutters. "I'll show you your room."
I rise on unsteady legs. The oversized shirt slips a little farther down my thigh and I yank it back into place, my cheeks heating up. He doesn't comment, but his gaze darts there anyway.
He doesn't offer his hand.
Instead, when I walk past him towards the hallway, he places his palm flat against the small of my back.
The contact is light and almost professional. But the heat of it sears straight through the thin cotton. My spine arches involuntarily, a tiny shiver racing up my nerves. He must feel it because his fingers flex once before he locks them down again.
We walk in silence down the long corridor. The penthouse feels endless, all sleek black marble and floor-to-ceiling glass.
At the third door on the left, he stops.
The handle is cool under my fingers when I reach for it. I turn the knob. The room is beautiful, full of soft creams and golds, with a massive bed with too many pillows and a window seat overlooking the skyline. It smells faintly of clean linen and lavender. Nothing like the black silk prison I escaped.
Azren leans in, cups the back of my head with infinite gentleness, and presses his lips to my forehead.
The kiss is soft. It lasts for maybe two seconds.
"I'm so sorry, Angel," he whispers against my skin.
A tear rolls down my cheek and drips onto the collar of his shirt I'm still wearing. I look up slowly into his eyes. His breath hitches in his throat. And in that breathless moment, his lips crash onto mine.