I rounded the doorway to the kitchen to find Azazel sitting at the table eating what looked like porridge, except it was a light purplish color. His hair was neatly brushed and pulled back in his usual half-pony style. Most guys wouldn’t be able to pull off the look, but his wholly masculine features gave him a barbarian edge. A barbarian who’d opted for jeans and T-shirts. And what a fucking T-shirt. It molded to his shoulders and pecs like a second skin.

My heart puttered and flipped as my fantasy slid back into my mind. His mouth on my intimate place, and his tongue lapping at me. I resisted the urge to back out of the room. It was just a fantasy. Not real. Everything was okay. He didn’t know. Shit, don’t think it. Don’t.

“Are you going to come in, or do you intend to hover all morning?” he asked.

His cool, unaffected tone was just the douse I needed for my saucy thoughts. “What is that?” I indicated the porridge-like substance in his bowl.

“Gruel. It’s good for you. Have some.”

“It looks like smurf puke. I think I’ll pass.”

I popped two slices of bread under the grill and turned it on.

“Toasted bread won’t give you the energy you need for training.”

My pulse spiked. “Training? Today?”

“You wanted to train. So we train.”

I stared at his back, at the slight ripple of muscles as he raised the spoon of gruel to his lips.

“You’re on fire,” he said.

Huh? The smell hit me.

Shit. The toast. I pulled the tray out of the grill to find carbon-coated bread. Fuck. “It’s fine. I’ll scrape off the …” I trailed off as he pushed his chair back and fixed his intense silver eyes on me.

“Eat the gruel. You’ll need the energy.” He grabbed a bowl, filled it, and handed me the purple stuff. “Eat.”

“Bossy much?”

“Stubborn much?”

I blinked at him in surprise. Were we bantering? Did monoliths made of living stone banter? But there was a definite edge of softness in his silver eyes this morning.

“Try.” He dipped the spoon in the gruel and then held it to my lips.

A frown crossed his face as if he was surprised at his own action.

My tummy fluttered. Eyes locked with his, I accepted the offering. His gaze dropped to my lips as they closed over the spoon and remained fixated on my mouth as he slid the spoon out.

Sweet with a hint of savory, the gruel was pleasant, but my stomach was busy being invaded by moths as Azazel’s thumb grazed the corner of my mouth. My breath caught at the wonder in his eyes. He was looking at me as if seeing me for the first time, as if he was seeing something new. The mark on my chest throbbed in time to my heartbeat.

He blinked sharply, cutting off our connection. “Try not to drool,” he said, and then dropped the spoon in the bowl and walked out of the room. “Training in an hour,” he called over his shoulder.

I was still standing with my ass against the counter, clutching the bowl of gruel, when Conah entered a moment later. He paused at the sight of me and concern flitted across his face.

“Fee, are you all right? Is it Cora? Is something wrong?”

No, I’m just standing here because Azazel looked at me with wonder and touched my face gently, and for some reason, I’m having trouble breathing, and he’s my soulmate, and I’m beginning to wonder if that’s such a bad thing.

“Nothing.” I shoved another spoon of gruel into my mouth. “Just fueling up for the day ahead.” The last thing I felt like doing was having a chitchat with him, but years of ingrained politeness had me falling into conversation regardless. “How’s Kiara? I haven’t bumped into her for a couple of days.”

He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of blood. “She went home.” He uncapped the bottle and poured the thick dark liquid into a mug before popping it into the microwave. “Wedding preparations,” he murmured.

My stomach sank. “Of course. Um, when’s the day?” I didn’t want to know. I didn’t need to know.

“A month.”

The microwave pinged, but he didn’t go for the blood. Instead, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small golden envelope.

“This arrived for you via phoenix last night,” he said.

Last night, but he was giving it to me now. “Phoenix?” I took the thick envelope.

“They carry messages between the Underealm and the Beyond.”

He was staring at the envelope in my hands, waiting for me to open it. Part of me wanted to be mean and walk out of the room with it, but there was only one person who would be contacting me from the Beyond, and the news he was sending was meant for us all.

I set the bowl down on the counter behind me and carefully unfolded the envelope. Neat black script filled my vision.

Seraphina,

You requested that I keep you informed of any discoveries in the vault. A single text is missing. The log is marked with a celestial symbol instead of a title. I am in the process of making inquiries as to what the text contains. In the meantime, please inform the Dominus of the discovery. I will contact you when I know more.

Uri

Conah didn’t probe or ask what the note said, so I handed it to him.

He scanned it. “This isn’t good. Why would the Dread want a celestial book? What could it contain?”

“Well, whatever it is, they made sure to make enough of a mess to stall us. They obviously wanted it really bad, and now they have it.”

He rubbed his chin, sapphire eyes darkening as if troubling thoughts were going through his mind.

He handed me the note again. “Why did Uri write to you?”

“Because I asked him to. I helped him with the log.”

“Yes, Mal might have mentioned that.”

An awkward silence descended between us, and for the first time since we’d met, I wanted to run from the room, not because I was trying to avoid throwing myself at him, but because the sight of him annoyed me. Looking at his golden hair and Adonis face reminded me of how stupid I’d been lusting after a man I didn’t know. Someone who’d decided I was too weak without giving me the opportunity to prove myself. He’d mollycoddled me and made it seem like he cared, but all the time he’d been doubting me, and the condescending way he’d spoken to me last night …

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Shit. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act contrite so I’ll let you off the hook.”

“You’re not the kind of person to hold a grudge,” he reminded me.

“It’s never too late to start.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think you were. I think you were protecting yourself. I think you were protecting the Dominus reputation.”

He closed his eyes for a beat and then nodded. “Maybe a little.”

My chest ached at his admission.

“Maybe to start with,” he continued, “but then it became more about you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

No, it was more than that. “You thought I wasn’t good enough. That I wouldn’t be able to do the job. You thought I was mentally unstable and physically unable.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you were strong enough. I was wrong.” He met my gaze levelly. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Cyril’s words came back to me, the conversation he’d overheard the other night. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t lie to me again, underestimate me, or keep secrets?”

A pained look flitted across his face. I waited with bated breath. This was his chance to fess up. To tell me about the thing Mal and he suspected. The thing he thought was a non-issue right now. This was his moment to redeem himself.

He blinked, and his expression smoothed out. “I promise you, no more lies and no secrets.”

His words were a thorn stabbing at my heart. “Right.” My lips turned down. I was tempted to storm out of the room, but fuck that. “Well, that’s just bullshit, isn’t it? I know you and Mal have another secret about me, one which you think is a non-issue right now.”

His eyes widened. “How—”

“It doesn’t matter how I know. All that matters is that you just lied to me. Again.”

“Fee—”

This time I did storm past him because I was done watching his pretty mouth move.

Chapter Twenty-Two

My arms ached from punching the shit out of the punchbag, but I was getting a good swing going when large hands grabbed it and halted my momentum.

I growled low in my throat and glared at Azazel. “I’m training.”

“You’re angry.”

“Aren’t you observant. Conah lied to me again today. I’m so done with his shit.”

I punched the bag again, but with him holding onto it, the damn thing didn’t even budge.

“You’re angry because you care,” he said.

“Of course I care. I care when people lie to me and keep secrets.”

“What about Mal?”

I walked away, unwrapping the bandages from my hand. “What about him?”

“Did he keep secrets too?”

I paused at his words. Mal … I was annoyed at Mal but not angry, not like I was pissed at Conah. “Mal’s different. I don’t expect anything from Mal.”

As soon as the words were out, the knot in my chest loosened. My anger wasn’t just about the secrets, it was about the fact that Conah had been the one keeping them. I was pissed off that he’d thought less of me. It was about him. It was personal.

Azazel handed me a bottle of water.

I twisted off the cap and took several gulps.

He lowered himself beside me, and I shifted away. “Don’t get too close. I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t mind sweat,” Azazel said.

I glanced across at him and caught a flash of intensity in his silver eyes before he blinked and it was gone.