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T he following morning, Azrael gingerly sat up in the rumpled bedding.

Real sat on the edge of the mattress with his back to him, his hands gripping the sides.

“From the way you ran out of here last time, I thought your ass was on fire,” Azrael said to Real’s back.

Real turned, eyes snapping to his with a look of astonishment on his face.

Last night had been incredible…again.

Now, Real looked ready to bolt.

It was clear that the warrior wanted to pretend like nothing had happened for the second time, and Azrael didn’t know how many more chances he could give him.

If the situation hadn’t been so tragic, it might have been funny.

But Azrael wasn’t laughing.

“Why do you think I slept with you?”

A muscle twitched in the man’s jaw, and Real glanced away from him and stood up from the bed. Real walked over to yank on the clothes that were lying discarded on the floor.

Was Real going to run out of here before taking a shower and dressing in clean clothes?

But then again, Real could take refuge in the other hotel with Crow and Rebel.

Whatever.

Azrael would get this conversation over with because he had other shit that needed taken care of.

But this right here needed to be addressed, and then he could concentrate on killing Micky.

As far as he knew, Genesis and Erebus were tracking the guy.

And it wouldn’t take him long to get the information on Micky’s next location. He was a master at that.

Real stayed quiet and continued pulling on his clothes, and sat in a chair to pull on his socks and boots.

“Answer me,” Azrael snapped, running out of patience. “Why do you think I slept with you twice?”

Real finished tying his boots and then stood up. The warrior moved a few steps away, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck as if unsure of how to answer.

It was enduring and irritating at the same time.

“Because I saved you.”

The blunt words created a lump in Azrael’s throat, and he swallowed hard.

Real had saved him, but that wasn’t the reason he liked him, nor the reason he’d slept with him.

“If you think it’s hero worship, then you need to get your head checked.”

“You can’t say that it’s not,” Real rasped, glaring at him.

“You think the reason I want to go out with you or the fact that I slept with you is because of fucking gratitude?” Azrael scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“What?” Real looked confused, and yes, finally, a bit hurt.

It was nice to see something other than the cold, steely resolve that was normal in the man’s cool gray eyes. Or at the moment, the color was a mixture…like blue gray.

Azrael was honestly incredulous, and he knew that came out in his voice when he next spoke.

“I’m grateful to Dave. I’m also grateful to Crow and Fisher, Justice, Ice, and Echo. But do you seriously think I want to fuck them?”

Real jerked back as if he’d been slapped.

“I…” the man mumbled, taking several steps away from him.

Good!

Real should step back because he was about ready to clock the guy. Real seriously needed his brain checked.

“I’m grateful to Dave, but I wouldn’t crawl into his damned bed!” Azrael was pissed and it came out in the snappish way he spat the words.

He had a moment to feel guilty, but then decided he was right to be angry. In fact, he was livid.

He couldn’t get over the fact that Real thought he had offered up his ass because he was grateful.

Crude, yes, but accurate.

“I’m better than that. I’m better than the way you think of me. I want a man who supports me for who I am trying to be. I don’t need someone who runs on assumptions and makes up shit,” he said, clenching his fists.

“Az…”

“Stay the hell out of my way from now on!” Azrael had heard about seeing red, but now he knew what that meant.

He stalked up from the bed and walked naked into the bathroom. He took great pleasure from slamming and then locking the thick door. Breathing hard, he grabbed the counter and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a wild man.

Thank god Real didn’t try to prevent him from leaving the room because Azrael would have stabbed the guy.

And chances were that he would have killed him.

And while that thought was kind of appealing, he really didn’t want Real dead.

Real stared at the closed bathroom door for several long moments with his mind racing.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, the five o’clock shadow scraped at his palm. He strode from the hotel room and ended up in the hallway.

Every step he took away from Azrael grew slower and slower.

“I’m grateful to Dave but I wouldn’t crawl into his damn bed!”

Real stabbed one finger at the elevator button, Azrael’s angrily spat words kept punching like flashes through his head.

Oh, he’d seen Azrael angry before. The young assassin was a spitfire, but he had never seen Azrael as pissed as he was now.

“I’m better than that. I’m better than the way you think of me.”

Another punch to the gut.

Real found himself in the lobby with no memory of traveling down in the elevator.

“I want a man who supports me for who I am trying to be.”

“God damn it!” Real muttered and ran both hands down his face as he walked out into the bright sunshine.

A coffee shop sign caught his eye and he reached for the door.

It was the hotel’s shop with an entrance from the street as well as inside the lobby.

He pulled open the street entrance and stepped inside.

Ordering a black coffee, he walked to an empty table and sat cradling the hot brew between both hands.

“I don’t need someone who runs on assumptions and makes up shit…so stay the hell away from me.”

Azrael’s words had hurt like fucking hell.

They stung.

They burned.

But they had also forced open a crack of something inside of him.

His hands shook, and his throat tightened.

He fucking had it bad. That was the first thing he admitted to himself. He wanted nothing more than to be with Azrael in every way possible.

They needed to talk. He needed Azrael to clarify things. Yeah…like the shit he’d just said wasn’t clear enough?

He sighed. He had to get Azrael to slow down and listen to him explain.

Real snorted. Explain what? That he had been a righteous, self-centered prick?

That would do for starters. What he needed to do was trust that Azrael knew his own mind and feelings. What he also needed to do was stop projecting his own assumptions about them.

The one thing he wouldn’t do, even if they weren’t meant for anything more… was stay away from Azrael.