Chapter 145 My Angel | 038
AZREN
"Azren..." she starts, her voice tender. "Why not? If it helps you—"
"Because I'm terrified that I won't stop.”
The words feel like a confession of a sin I am yet to commit. I drop my hands from her cheeks and rake them through my hair instead, messing it up.
"I haven't tasted blood in... gods, over a decade. Not since the last time I lost control and—" My throat tightens. Trent's face flashes behind my eyes, wide-eyed and trusting. He'd been trying to help me. At the end, it had cost him his life and his blood. So much blood.
"Yet, you still keep her close. Hypocrite," Trent snaps at me.
I feel sick to my stomach because he's right. Even so, I can't... I won't let go of her.
"What happened with him? Trent, I mean," Noelle asks, her eyes fixed on me.
I let out a shaky breath, my stomach churning.
"I was starving and freezing. Nothing could warm me up...except blood. The spirits were screaming louder than ever. I thought one taste would quiet them. Just one. Trent offered. He said it was okay. He said he trusted me."
I let out an ugly laugh.
"I drained him dry. I couldn't stop. The taste... the power... it drowned everything else out. When I came back to myself, he was already gone. And...I...I was still hungry."
Noelle's breath hitches. She doesn't move away. She just watches me, her eyes shining with tears.
I force myself to meet her gaze directly.
"If I taste you—even one drop—I don't know if I'll be able to stop at what's needed to quiet the spirits. I don't know if I'll be able to stop at all. I could kill you, Angel. I could drain you until there's nothing left and still want more."
My voice cracks again.
"And the worst part?" I whisper. "Part of me wants to. The part that's still starving. The part that remembers how good it felt to take everything."
Noelle reaches up slowly, her fingertips brushing the side of my jaw.
"Then we don't do it," she says. "Not until you're ready. Not until we know you can stop."
I let out a shaky exhale.
"You're not scared?"
She gives me a small, sad smile.
"I'm terrified. But I'm more terrified of losing you to the voices. To the cold. To her."
Her thumb traces my bottom lip.
"We'll find another way. It seems being close to me quiets them. We start there. We build from there, step by step."
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to hers.
"You're too good for me," I mutter.
"No," she whispers back. "I'm just stubborn. And I happen to be obsessed with an idiot who thinks he's a monster."
I let out a laugh, and she kisses the corner of my mouth softly.
"We'll figure it out," she promises. "Together."
I pull her closer, burying my face in her neck again. Her scent wraps around me like a warm blanket, comforting my weary soul.
...
"Az?" Jake says, pulling me out of my thoughts. I'm seated in my study tonight. For some reason, I can't stop thinking about my wife's suggestion earlier. Noelle fell asleep in bed two hours ago, and my beta decided that now is the perfect time to give his report.
"Go on," I drawl, propping my head on my cheek, trying to pretend that the pounding in my head is merely background noise.
"Blue's awake. She's conscious and already bitching about the IV. Val says she'll be fine by morning."
Relief sinks into me.
"Good. Tell her to rest. No assignments until she's cleared."
Jake's mouth curls upward. "She already tried to punch the doctor when he told her that. I'll pass it along."
He pulls out the chair opposite me and drops into it without ceremony. His eyes dart over my face, and I blink at him.
"Are you okay?"
"Get on with the rest of the report, Jake."
He smiles, flipping open the folder.
"There have been three new possession cases in the last forty-eight hours. Apparently, the cracks on the veil are widening. The werewolf corps is getting involved."
I rub my temple. The pounding escalates, nearly blinding. My vision spots black at the edges for a second. I grit my teeth.
Jake notices.
"Are you cold?" he asks, his voice laced with worry.
I shake my head. "No. Just... a headache. Withdrawal, probably."
He exhales through his nose. "Are you sure that's all it is?"
I don't answer. Instead I reach for the stack of pack documents he slides across the desk. Standard shit. My hand trembles when I pick up the pen. The ink blurs on the page. I blink hard. It's still blurred.
"Azren."
Jake's voice is sharper now.
I force my eyes to focus, signing the top sheet. Then the next. My signature looks like a drunk spider crawled across the paper.
"Talk to me," he says. "You're shaking. If this is withdrawal, it's hitting harder than usual."
I drop the pen, lean back in the chair and drag a hand down my face.
Jake's jaw tightens.
"You think the spirits are fighting back?"
"Maybe." I shrug. "Or maybe Sabrina's last fuck-you was making sure I'd suffer without her little cocktails. Either way, I'm not going back to her needle. Not ever."
He nods slowly.
"We'll figure it out. Noelle's mark... it burned Sabrina's hand. That's something."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"Yeah," I rasp. "That's something."
Jake rises.
"Get some rest, Alpha. I'll handle the night patrols,” he utters and leaves.
My phone vibrates on the desk, and I narrow my eyes at it, the consistent sounds jabbing at my skull.
Gritting my teeth, I answer the call. It's from an unknown number. I'm curious to know what this stranger has to say.
So, I set it on speaker and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes.
"Am I speaking with Mr Lakewood?" A nasal masculine voice speaks, and I exhale.
"Yes," I drawl lazily. "This is Azren Lakewood. Who's this interrupting my night?"
There's a pause on the other end. The caller clears his throat. "Ah, excellent. My name is irrelevant for now, but let's say I'm a... collector of rare artifacts. I've heard whispers that you possess something quite extraordinary. The golden wolf. Is it true? Do you have her in your keeping?"
My lips curl into a slow, predatory smile, though he can't see it. He's talking about my Noelle. Rage burns hot in my chest.
"Oh?" I purr. "And what makes you think I'd confirm or deny such a thing to a faceless voice on the phone? Whispers can be deceptive, you know, like shadows in the dark."
"Come now, Mr. Lakewood. We're both men of the hidden world. I've done my homework. I'm prepared to make it worthwhile. Name your price."
I chuckle softly, the sound laced with dark amusement, but my free hand clenches into a fist, my claws digging into my palm until I feel the warm trickle of blood.
The rage simmers, bubbling up, but I force it down.
"Price? How quaint. Let's say... a million. Dollars, souls, whatever currency floats your boat."
He laughs. "A million? That's pocket change. Try ten. Ten million, wired wherever you like. Think of it—freedom from whatever burden that creature brings. She's a liability, isn't she? Golden wolves always are."
Creature. Liability. The words ignite my fury even further.
"Ten million? How generous. But I'm a greedy bastard. Make it fifty. And throw in a yacht. I've always fancied sailing on blood-red seas," I say.
I could end the call and forget him. I choose not to.
"Fifty? Done. Seventy-five, even. Hell, a hundred million. You drive a hard bargain, but I can tell you're tempted. She's just a wolf, after all. A pretty one, sure, but replaceable. Sign her over, and it's yours."
Just a wolf? Replaceable?
The room blurs, the spirits whispering furious symphonies in my ears, but I laugh in delight.
"Tempted? Oh, you have no idea. But here's a counteroffer: how about I give her to you for free... if you can pry her from my cold, gray hands?" I drone.
The line goes silent for a moment, then he stammers, "W-what? Mr. Lakewood, be reasonable—"
"Reasonable?" I interrupt with a growl. "You call, uninvited, and try to buy what's mine? My wife? My mate? You think gold can touch that? You're not a collector, you're a fool playing with fire."
"I—I can go higher! Two hundred million! Name it!"
I end the call with a flick of my thumb, the rage exploding.
The phone shatters against the wall as I hurl it, but I've already locked onto his essence. Tracing the faint echo of his location, I rift-travel in a blink.
One moment, I'm in my study, the next, I'm in a dimly lit penthouse overlooking some glittering city skyline.
He's there, a pudgy man in a silk robe with a phone still in his hand, his eyes widening in terror as I materialize from the shadows.
"You—" he starts, but I'm on him, a shit-eating grin tugging at my lips.
I grab his jaw, forcing it open.
"Shh," I whisper. "You talk too much."
I plunge my fingers in, ripping his tongue out. Warm blood sprays, splashing on my face, and I shove the severed thing back into his gaping mouth, deep into his throat.
He chokes, gurgles, and claws at his neck as his face turns purple, his eyes bulging in horror.
I watch, laughing as he collapses, twitching. The spirits are quiet for a blessed moment, sated by the violence.
Then I rift back, collapsing into my chair. Good riddance.
"Azren?"
Oh, well.