Chapter 153 My Angel | 046
NOELLE
The morning light catches on the steam rising from the pot of oatmeal I've been stirring for the last ten minutes. I scoop a generous portion into Azren's bowl and add a swirl of honey and a handful of blueberries. My hands are steady, but my chest feels heavy.
Last night replays in jagged flashes. I held Azren until the tremors eased. I stayed awake long after, stroking his hair, listening to every uneven inhale like it might be his last.
I set the bowl on the counter and wipe my palms on the apron, trying to shake off the ache that's settled in my heart. I reach for my phone on the counter and scroll down my contacts to where I saved Torres' number.
My thumb hovers for a moment. Then I tap the call button. Just as it connects, I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn to see Jake there. Quickly, I end the call, refocusing my attention on the bowl, pretending to be busy with it.
"Morning," he says. He leans against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me.
I force a small smile over my shoulder. "Morning."
His eyes lower to the bowl, then dart to my face.
"How is he?" He asks softly.
I look down at the blueberries bleeding purple into the oatmeal. My throat tightens.
"He was... in a lot of pain last night," I whisper. My voice trembles. "He was shaking so hard."
My eyes burn. "I held him until he fell asleep, but... I don't know if it helped. I don't know if anything I do helps."
I try to blink back my tears, but one slips and lands on the counter. I wipe my face angrily, hating how easily I cry. Especially when I'm not the one who's in pain.
Jake pushes off the doorway and covers the distance with quick strides. He doesn't touch me. He just stands close enough that I can feel his presence.
"Hey," he says softly. "Hey, look at me."
I do. Reluctantly. His grey eyes are steady and kind.
"You care about him," he says. "A lot."
I nod, swallowing hard.
"I know it hurts to watch," he continues. "I've watched him for years. It never gets easier."
I blink up at him.
"You're staying," he says. "You're not running. You're not looking away. You're here. That matters more than you think."
A sob catches in my throat. I press my lips together, trying to hold it back. Jake reaches out slowly and rests a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't do anything rash, okay?" he says. "Not without talking to me or to him first. Whatever you're thinking... whatever plan is spinning in that head of yours... bring it to us. We'll figure it out together."
I freeze.
He knows.
Somehow, he knows I was thinking about Torres' card. About bargaining. About trading pieces of my safety for Azren's relief.
My lips part. The confession is right there, trembling on my tongue.
"I—"
But before I can speak, warm arms slide around my waist from behind.
Azren.
He's so warm. His chest presses to my back, his chin hooking over my shoulder. He nuzzles into my neck like he's scenting home.
"Morning, Angel," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Smells good."
He doesn't even glance at Jake. All his focus is on me. I swallow hard, guilt-ridden.
His arms tighten around me, oblivious. Jake watches us both, his expression unreadable. Then he pushes off the counter.
"I'll leave you two to breakfast," he says. "But... think about what I said, Luna."
He gives Azren a meaningful look—one that says 'we need to talk'—and slips out of the kitchen.
Azren yawns against my neck, completely ignoring the tension he just walked into.
"Feed me," he mumbles, nuzzling deeper. "I'm starving."
I force a small laugh, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
"Okay," I whisper. "Sit."
He lets go long enough to drop into the chair at the island, tugging me between his knees. His hands settle on my hips, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles.
I pick up the bowl, scoop a spoonful, and hold it to his lips. He opens for me sleepily.
I watch him chew, swallow, and hum in approval.
Yet all I can think about is the fact that I almost betrayed him. I almost traded his trust for a chance to make the pain stop.
I lean down and kiss his forehead gently. He sighs, his eyes fluttering closed.
"I can feel a confession coming," he drawls, and I bite my lower lip, heat creeping up my neck.
When he opens his eyes again, they are shimmering.
"Whatever it is, I forgive you," he tells me, and I gape at him.
"You—what?" I stare at him as if he's just announced that he plans to adopt a dragon. "You don't even know what I did."
Azren shrugs.
"Doesn't matter," he says, opening his mouth for another spoonful.
I narrow my eyes at him but feed him anyway.
"That is possibly the dumbest thing you've ever said," I mutter.
He chews thoughtfully, then swallows.
"I've said way dumber things," he replies.
"That's true," I admit.
He tilts his head, watching me and I squint at him.
"You're serious though?" I ask. "Just like that? Instant forgiveness?"
"Yep."
I poke his chest with the spoon.
"You're ridiculous."
"Probably."
"Dangerously trusting."
"Only with you."
I scoff.
"You don't even know what the crime is."
Azren leans back slightly in the chair, studying me with amusement.
"Alright," he says. "Let's hear it then. What terrible sin did my angel commit?"
I open my mouth. The truth sits heavy in my chest. The thought of Torres' card. The thought of bargaining. The desperation. But the words don't come. Instead, I huff and shove another spoonful at him.
"You know what?" I say. "Never mind."
His eyebrow lifts.
"That bad?"
I shrug, trying to play it off.
"Maybe I just poisoned your oatmeal."
He snorts.
"If you did, at least it tastes good."
I roll my eyes.
"You are unbelievable."
"Handsome too," he adds helpfully.
"Oh my god."
I shake my head, but a reluctant laugh slips out.
"You know," I say slowly, "I'm starting to think you'd forgive me for literally anything."
He doesn't even hesitate.
"Obviously. Well, except sharing what’s mine with another.”
My jaw drops again.
"Azren!"
"What?"
"That's not romantic," I say, exasperated. "That's concerning."
He chuckles softly.
"You're my wife," he says.
I point the spoon at him accusingly.
"That attitude is exactly how people end up getting robbed."
"Good thing I'm the one usually doing the robbing."
I try to glare at him, but it doesn't stick. He's still looking at me with that warmth in his eyes. The teasing fades a little. I set the bowl down on the counter beside us.
"You really mean that?" I ask.
Azren's expression softens.
"Angel."
His hands slide up from my hips to my waist, pulling me closer between his knees.
"If you screwed up," he says gently, "we'd deal with it. Together."
My throat tightens.
"You say that like it's easy," I whisper.
"It is."
I shake my head a little.
"No," I murmur. "It's really not."
He frowns slightly, studying my face.
"You're overthinking," he points out.
I don't answer.
Instead I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. My fingers slide into his hair automatically, stroking through the messy strands. He melts, his arms circling my waist and holding me close.
"Come on, finish up breakfast. I have early classes today," I say gently, brushing his hair away from his face.
He frowns slightly. "I'm coming with you."
My eyes go wide. "Azren, you can't do that!"
His frown deepens. "Why not? I'm sure I can blend. Besides, I'm still in my twenties."
I let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Oh sure," I say, waving the spoon at him. "You'll blend right in. Totally."
Azren tilts his head, unimpressed.
"I will."
I stare at him. Then I slowly drag my gaze over him.
From the broad line of his shoulders... to his beautiful abs... down to the long legs currently trapping me between his knees. My eye twitches.
"Yeah," I deadpan. "You're basically invisible."
He smirks.
"You're exaggerating."
I huff. He's ridiculous. Because the truth is... he could pass for a student. At least at first glance.
Azren has that unfair, supernatural youthful glow that makes him look like he walked out of a skincare commercial. His skin is smooth, his jaw sharp, and his hair is that annoyingly perfect kind of messy.
If someone told me he was a twenty-three-year-old grad student, I'd probably believe it. But then you look closer. And suddenly... nope.
First of all, he's huge. Like... very huge. Sure, there are guys on campus that are tall-ish. Azren is looming over doorframes tall. And don't even get me started on the muscles. Then there's his face.
I glance down at him again. Rude lashes. That straight nose. The stupidly pretty lips that always look like they're hiding a smirk.
And those eyes... so intense. Fine shyt energy.
Yeah. There’s no way in hell that man would blend into a college campus. He'd cause a traffic jam in the hallway.
"Angel."
His voice pulls me right out of my head. I blink down at him.
"Hm?"
"You've been staring at my face for a full minute."
Heat crawls up my neck.
"Okay, but seriously," I say. "What if someone recognizes you?"
His brow lifts.
"You're not exactly... subtle. You can't just stroll onto a college campus like it's a farmer's market!" I groan.
He leans back in the chair, looking completely unbothered.
"We'll be fine. We can even make something good out of it," he continues casually.
My stomach does a weird little flip.
"Like what?” I ask.
His hands slide back to my hips, squeezing gently.
"Campus date."
My brain short-circuits.
A date. At my college. With my husband.