Chapter 146 My Angel | 039
NOELLE
There's blood on his face. That's the first thought that hits me. My gaze travels down to his chest. He's wearing a white button-down. Therefore, the red stains are unmistakable.
My heart is still hammering in my chest from the nightmare I just had. Waking up to Azren's side of the bed being empty had scared me even more. So I went looking for him. I just...didn't expect...this.
We both stare at each other for a moment. Then his head lolls to his side, locks of his hair falling over his face. His lips curve into a rueful smile, and he brings a hand to his face, partially covering it like a child caught with chocolate smeared on his mouth.
"Hi, pretty Noelle," he rasps, his voice soft.
I swallow hard. "Azren... what—"
He lowers his hand slowly, revealing the blood stain smeared across his cheekbone and jaw. His eyes are glassy, his pupils wide.
He pouts, his lips pushing out in an exaggerated sulk that should look ridiculous on a man his size but somehow makes my stomach flip instead.
"C'mere," he says, his deep voice coaxing. He lifts his other hand and slowly makes a lazy come-hither gesture with two fingers. And the way he's looking at me...it's as though he's daring me to refuse.
I hesitate.
His pout deepens, his brows knitting in mock hurt. "Pretty Noelle," he whines softly, dragging out the words until they sound like a plea. "Don't make me beg. I'm too tired for that."
My feet move despite the warning bells in my head.
I cross the room in quick strides and stop between his spread knees. He's slouched low in the leather chair, his head tipped back against the headrest, watching me through half-lidded eyes.
He pats his thigh, inviting me.
"Sit."
I gulp again, but I'm already moving. I lower myself carefully onto his lap, straddling one of his thick thighs. His arms come around me instantly, loose but possessive, pulling me flush against his chest. The blood on his shirt smears against my sleep shirt.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck and inhales like he's trying to drink me in. A long, contented rumble vibrates through his chest into mine.
"Missed you," he mumbles against my skin. "Even though you were only gone for... forever. No, wait. I'm the one who was gone..."
What is he even saying?
I let out a shaky laugh. "You're being dramatic."
"It's been forever," he insists, nuzzling deeper. Then he yawns and tucks his face right between my breasts like it's the most natural pillow in the world.
I freeze for a second. Then my hands move on instinct, sliding into his hair and cradling the back of his skull.
He sighs, every ounce of tension leaking out of him.
I reach over to his desk, snag the pack of face wipes he keeps there, and gently tilt his head back. He lets me, his eyes half-closed, watching me through his dark lashes.
I dab at the blood on his cheek first. Then the stains under his nose. He doesn't flinch. He just blinks slowly, like a big cat being groomed.
"What happened?" I ask softly, wiping the last smear from his jaw.
He yawns again, both adorably and infuriatingly, then he presses his lips to the swell of my breast through my shirt.
"Some idiot tried to buy you," he slurs, his voice thick with sleep. "He offered me two hundred million. Called you replaceable."
My hand goes still.
He opens his eyes fully then, meeting mine. There's no playfulness left. Only a blunt coldness.
"I ripped his tongue out," he says. "Shoved it down his throat and watched him choke on it until he stopped moving."
The words are calm. Matter-of-fact. As if he's describing what he had for lunch.
I stare at him.
He watches me right back, waiting. He's clearly waiting for me to pull away, to be disgusted or to run.
But how do I explain the tingle in my belly that blooms knowing how far he would go for my sake? Stars above, something must be wrong with me.
Taking a deep breath, I lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Good," I whisper.
His brow lifts in surprise. Then he smiles, those pretty dimples popping out.
"Really?"
I nod. If we want to win, we have to be even more ruthless than the enemy, r-right?
I'm not...I'm not scared of him at all. He's still watching me closely, like the way a curious pet watches the hand that feeds it.
I finish cleaning his face, then I cup his cheeks and tilt his head so I can look at him properly.
"You're covered in blood and yawning like a sleepy kitten," I murmur. "How are you still this hot?"
He chuckles and turns his face into my palm, pressing a kiss there.
"Kiss," he mumbles against my skin, his voice small and needy.
I lean in and press my lips to his cheek. He sighs like it's the best thing he's ever felt.
"Another one," he whispers. I kiss the other cheek.
He hums happily like a big baby.
"One more."
I laugh under my breath and kiss the tip of his nose.
He cracks one eye open, his smile making me giddy.
"Did you have a nightmare earlier, baby?" He asks, and I lower my gaze.
I'd dreamt of Haden again. This time he had covered my nose and mouth, trying to cut off my breathing, and he'd whispered that I would never escape him.
It had felt so real.
My husband's beautiful blue eyes darken. "You saw Haden again, didn't you? What did he say?"
I stare at him for a moment, uneasy. What if he decides to go after Haden? What if he's not prepared at all? Haden isn't just a monster. He's the devil. But, Azren—
I'm not sure who's the greater evil. Something tells me that I've been underestimating him.
Azren cocks his head, blinking. "Angel?"
Steeling my resolve, I tell him everything. He studies me closely, his features blank.
"I have a great idea," he says, and I perk up.
"Really? What's that?"
"I can go right now, find Haden, and kill him. Problem solved."
My eyes go wide. I can't believe I actually thought he had some grand idea.
Gently, I run my fingers through his hair. "You can't act rashly, honey. Who knows? Haden might have set a trap. What if he's got something that gives him the upper hand? Something like a trump card? I refuse to believe that someone like him wouldn't set up insurance."
"All the more reason why I should kill him," Azren replies, and I sigh.
"Just listen to me. Let us make sure he doesn't have a trump card first. After that you can do whatever you want."
He crinkles his nose. "You're no fun."
....
The lecture hall is half-empty during the mid-morning break, and I'm sprawled in the back row, pretending to scroll through my phone while Blair and Cooper argue about whether the new horror remake is better than the original. I’m not sure which movie though.
Blair is winning. She's perched on the armrest, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten granola bar. "The practical effects in the original were chef's kiss. The CGI in the reboot looks like it was made by a thirteen-year-old on a laptop in 2009."
Cooper snorts, leaning back with his arms crossed. "You just hate change, Blair. The new one has better pacing and—"
"Better pacing?" she scoffs. "It has jump scares every three minutes. That's not good pacing, that's Pavlovian conditioning."
I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. They've been at it since the professor left. It's nice. Normal, too. For once I'm not thinking about spells or hunters or werewolves.
Cooper’s gaze meets mine, lingering in a way that makes me uneasy.
Right then Blue walks in, her leather jacket slung over one shoulder, bubble gum popping between her teeth. She drops into the seat next to me without asking.
"Miss me?" she asks, blowing a perfect pink bubble.
I grin. "You're supposed to be resting."
"Resting is boring." She pops the bubble with her tongue. "Besides, my alpha said it was okay to hang out with you."
The lecture hall door bangs open. A guy in a black tactical jacket steps inside. He's built like a linebacker, his eyes scanning the room until they lock on me. He doesn't hesitate. He just strides straight down the aisle towards our row.
Heads turn, hushed whispers filling the air.
Blair stops mid-sentence, and Cooper sits up. Blue's posture shifts from lazy to alert in half a second.
The guy stops in front of my desk, his voice low.
"Mrs. Lakewood. Your husband requests your presence. Immediately."
My eyes go wide.
Blair's jaw literally drops to the floor. "Wait—husband?"
I force out a nervous laugh. "It's... complicated."
Cooper leans forward, his eyes wide. "You're married? To whom?"
Blue is already on her feet, casually stepping between me and the guy.
The man doesn't react. He just looks at me again.
"He said—and I quote—'Tell my Angel if she doesn't come right now, I'll chop off the messenger's head.'"
Blair makes a strangled noise. "That's... romantic?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "That sounds exactly like something he'd say."
Blue snorts. "How charming."
I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text to Azren.
Me: Are you really here? Some guy just said you threatened to decapitate him if I don’t show up.
I stare at the screen, waiting. But no reply comes up.
The man shifts his weight. "Ma'am. He's waiting."
Something is very off.