Chapter 190 My Angel | 083

Chapter 190 My Angel | 083
NOELLE

Sunday afternoon light creeps in softly through the curtains when I finally decide to wake my husband up.

Azren is sprawled on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, the sheets tangled low around his hips. He looks so peaceful like this, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. He’s been reduced to a sleepy, hungover mess.

I smile and crawl closer, gently brushing his messy hair back from his forehead.

"Baby..." I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Time to wake up."

He groans, lets out a deep, pitiful sound, and curls tighter into me like a big grumpy cat.

"My head hurts," he mumbles into my neck, his voice hoarse and raspy. "Everything hurts. Kill me."

I laugh softly and kiss the top of his head again, running my fingers through his dark hair.

"You're not dying. You just need food and water, you big baby." I keep stroking his hair, loving how he leans into my touch. "Come on. I'll make you something gentle and comforting."

He makes another pathetic noise but slowly lifts his head. His eyes are bleary, his hair wild, and there's a faint red mark on his cheek from the pillow. He looks adorably hungover.

A slow, sleepy smile curves his lips.

"My baby always takes care of me," he mumbles, his voice thick with affection.

Before I can reply, his hand slides under the oversized shirt I'm wearing – his shirt – and he gives my bare ass a firm, loud slap.

I yelp, jumping slightly.

"Azren!" I squeak as he squeezes the same spot possessively, kneading it with a lazy grin.

He chuckles, low and raspy, clearly still drunk. "Can't help it. It's right there. So soft and perfect."

I swat his shoulder, laughing. "You're impossible."

He rolls off me with a dramatic groan, nearly falling off the bed before catching himself. He staggers to his feet, swaying like a sailor on a storm-tossed ship.

I'm up in a second, slipping an arm around his waist to steady him.

"Easy, love," I say, biting back another laugh. "You're still very drunk."

He leans heavily on me as we shuffle towards the bathroom, his arm slung over my shoulders.

"How are you still drunk?" I ask, shaking my head in amusement. "You're a tribrid. Shouldn't your body burn through alcohol faster?"

He just hums happily and nuzzles my hair. "Special whiskey," he mumbles. "Wolfsbane blend. Hits different."

We reach the bathroom and I help him inside. He braces himself on the counter, still swaying. I'm about to turn and give him privacy when I hear it.

A low, gorgeous voice.

Azren starts singing.

He sings softly at first, then a little louder. It's a slow, beautiful melody about a girl with amber eyes who saved him from the dark. The lyrics are simple, almost clumsy, but his voice... oh my, his voice.

It's rich, deep, and slightly raspy from the whiskey, but so incredibly warm and soulful it makes my chest ache. He's singing about me. About how I brought him flowers. About how I make the screaming stop.

I freeze in the doorway, my eyes wide, my heart fluttering wildly.

I've never heard him sing before. Especially not like this.

He catches me staring in the mirror and gives me a crooked, drunk smile, still singing.

I press a hand to my mouth, tears pricking my eyes from how beautiful it sounds.

When he finally finishes the last line, he turns to me, still swaying slightly, and grins like a proud idiot.

"Did you like it?" he asks, his voice hopeful.

I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest.

"It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," I whisper. "Sing for me again sometime when you're sober?"

He kisses the top of my head, humming happily.

"Only for you, Angel. Always only for you."

Even hungover, swaying, and still half-drunk... he's still the most perfect man I've ever known.

...

We eventually migrated from the bed to the couch.

Azren is sprawled out like a big, miserable cat, his head resting heavily in my lap. He's shirtless, wearing only a pair of white shorts, and every few seconds he lets out these pathetic little groans that make my heart squeeze.

I keep rubbing slow, gentle circles over his abs, my fingers tracing the hard lines of muscle. His skin is still a little too warm.

"Still hurting?" I ask softly.

He moans again, his face scrunched up. "Everything hurts. My head. My stomach. My soul. I think the whiskey betrayed me."

I smile despite myself and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. Even hungover and grumpy, he's unfairly beautiful.

"You ate two full plates of food and still look like death," I mutter, continuing to rub his tummy in soothing strokes. "This isn't normal, even for you."

Azren nuzzles closer, turning his face into my stomach. Then he presses a lazy, open-mouthed kiss right over my belly button, making me shiver.

"Don't overthink it, Angel," he mumbles against my skin. "I just drank too much. I'll be fine."

But I am overthinking.

My hand keeps moving in slow circles, but my mind is going out of control. What if this isn't just a hangover? What if it's that shard of Haden's essence he absorbed last night? What if it's spreading? What if Haden is trying to take over his body from the inside?

The thought makes my stomach drop. My hand falters for a second.

Azren notices. He cracks one eye open and looks up at me, his gaze soft and a little hazy.

"Hey," he says gently. "Stop worrying."

I bite my lip. "I just... I'm scared. What if this is because of the essence? What if Haden is still in there, trying to—"

He cuts me off by kissing my belly button again.

"I'm still me," he whispers against my skin. "I promise."

I keep rubbing his abs, pressing a little firmer now.

"Does your stomach still hurt?" I ask.

He hums, his eyes drifting shut again in pleasure.

"No... but your hands feel so fucking good. Don't stop."

I chuckle softly, continuing the gentle massage. "You're such a big baby when you're hungover."

"Your big baby," he corrects, smiling against my stomach.

We stay like that for a while, tangled together. My fingers never stop moving across his skin.

Eventually, I ask the question that's been sitting on my tongue since last night.

"Did Nyxara tell you how we're supposed to use Haden's essence? Like... what the actual ritual involves?"

Azren is quiet for a long moment. Then he sighs.

"She gave me the basics," he says, his voice low. "But it's not simple.“

He doesn't elaborate, but I can feel the weight behind his words.

I lean down and kiss the top of his head, still rubbing slow circles on his tummy.

"We'll figure it out," I whisper. "Together. Like always."

He turns his face fully into my stomach again and wraps both arms around my waist, holding me like I'm his anchor.

"Together," he repeats softly.

Even with the hangover, even with the new darkness inside him, he still feels like home.

I just hope I don't lose that home.

Azren's eyes are half-closed now, his breathing heavy but steady. For a moment, everything feels peaceful.

But the worry keeps gnawing at me.

"Azren?" I whisper, my fingers still moving gently across his skin. "What if... what if I used my Light of Return on you? The spirits that cling to you, the ones that never let you sleep well... maybe I could pull them out. I mean...Blaze helped with your dad. If I try, it might work."

He goes very still.

For a second, I think he's considering it. Then his hand suddenly tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force. His eyes snap open, and for a brief, terrifying moment, they're not fully blue anymore. There's a sickly tainted black slipping through them.

Azren's lips curl into a slow, unfamiliar smirk.

"You think you can just clean me, Angel?" His voice is rougher, with an edge that doesn't sound entirely like him. "You want to rip out pieces of me like I'm broken? Like I'm something dirty you need to fix?"

I freeze, my hand stopping on his stomach.

"Azren... that's not what I—"

He sits up so fast it startles me, pulling me roughly onto his lap until I'm straddling him. His hands grip my hips hard, almost painfully, as he yanks me closer. His cock is already hard beneath me, pressing against my core through the fabric of his shorts.

"You don't understand," he growls, his nose brushing mine. "Those spirits? They're part of me now."

His hand slides up under my shirt and squeezes my breast roughly, his thumb flicking over my nipple. There's a dark glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist.

"I don't want your pretty Light scrubbing me clean," he whispers, his voice dripping with something cruel and possessive. "I want to fill you instead. Breed you until you're swollen. Until everyone knows exactly who you belong to."

I suck in a sharp breath. This isn't my Azren. Not completely. There's something else underneath. And it reminds me of...Haden.

"Baby..." I whisper, cupping his face with both hands, trying to ground him. "Look at me. It's me. Noelle."

For a second, the black in his eyes recedes slightly, and I see a flash of real panic in the blue. His grip on my hips loosens just a little.

Then the darkness pushes back. He leans in and bites my neck, hard enough to make me gasp.

"Don't try to fix me, little wolf," he rasps against my skin. "You might not like what crawls out."

He pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes glowing faintly. For a terrifying moment, I don't recognize the man staring back at me.

Then he blinks, and the darkness fades. Azren looks exhausted again and guilty.

"Fuck," he mutters, pressing his forehead to my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I don't know where that came from."

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight, my heart hammering. But deep down, I'm terrified.

Because I know exactly where it came from. Blaze growls in my head, possessive. Haden has no place in my husband’s body. And I’ll make him leave. With whatever way possible.