Page 63 of Hopelessly Teavoted
The words curled warm and catlike, a comfortable flame in Vickie’s stomach.
Once outside, Priscilla and Evelyn climbed into the back seat, and Az stood for a moment, face serious in the moonlight.
“Would you want to drive?” He pulled his hand through the length of the curls at the top of his head.
“Really?” Vickie had, in fact, always wanted to drive the Packard.
“Yes.” His smile was wide, and all for her.
“I would very much like that.”
Pulling open the driver’s-side door, he gestured and held out the keys. She took them gingerly to avoid any more deaths.
Vickie slid in, buckled her seat belt, and tried not to notice how Priscilla and her brother exchanged a knowing look.
Priscilla would carry on her parents’ tradition, the next generation of Harts prepared to meddle and encourage her relationship.
It softened the blow of losing Persephone and Benedict, knowing that Priscilla and Azrael would look after each other always.
Azrael snapped his fingers, covering his hands in formal wear, and threaded a gloved set of fingers between Vickie’s for a moment.
As Vickie turned the key in the ignition, the Packard hummed to life, and she relished the smooth ride, punctuated by faint whispers from the back seat that she couldn’t quite make out—probably for the best—and occasional squeezes from Azrael’s gloved hand—definitely for the best.
By the time Vickie dropped off Evelyn and Priscilla at Evelyn’s condo, the magic of anticipation thrummed between her body and Azrael’s in that wide front seat. If they were to seal things between them, she needed to come clean.
“Vickie,” Az started. “If you’ve changed your mind… I haven’t. I meant it all, and I still mean it, but if you have—”
“I haven’t. I love you. I still want to do this.” Vickie smiled, continuing, “There’s something I need to tell you, though.” Holding the steering wheel and guiding the behemoth of a car toward Hart Manor made her bold. Like she could direct her own sails.
Like it was time to stop fearing the possibility of loss, in the face of actual loss. To stop fearing clinginess, in the face of a love worth holding on to.
“The night in high school with the sugar-rimmed margaritas.”
“I remember,” Az said softly.
“I drank too much, and it was hazy, but when I woke up across that king bed from you, I thought for a moment that maybe I loved you. I reached for you, and I was about to tell you.”
“Vickie.” His voice was a question. “I need to tell you—”
“Hold on, Az. There’s more. I’m sorry I threw up instead of telling you how I felt. I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage. I was so afraid of losing everything we had, and then I lost it anyway. I want to tell you now. I don’t want to wait a second longer to tell you again. I love you.”
His gloved hand gripped her thigh now.
“You never lost me, Vickie. And you’re not the only one who faltered in pivotal moments. Do you remember the time we went hiking?”
“When Priscilla bailed for her girlfriend and I dared you to go skinny-dipping, but you made me turn around until we were waist deep?”
“Yeah. That time.” Az’s voice was rough now, the words scraping out.
“I was sure you weren’t interested. Because you insisted that we could only swim if neither of us looked getting in.”
“Vickie. I was a teenage boy terrified of showing you my dick in the freezing mountain air.”
She snorted. “You don’t need my validation, but I will reassure you that all of you is perfectly magical.”
Good goddess, she wanted to touch him now. Not enough to kill him, but still.
It was taking all Vickie’s resolve to pay attention to the road, but she snuck a glance to her right and saw that he was blushing.
“I was not thinking straight,” Az muttered. “I was so into you, Vickie. I loved you. I still love you, so much. This whole time. I always have.”
Had she known the whole time, and just been too afraid to act on it? She bit her lip, uncertain which part of her immaturity of youth had prevented them from being together.
“Okay, then. If you weren’t disinterested, how did you really feel?”
“Vickie,” Az groaned. “I’m the worst. I… I snuck a look when you got out.”
“You absolute dog ,” Vickie said, delighted at the admission. “Go on.”
Azrael covered his face for a moment with a gloved hand.
“You were standing in the starlight, and I could see all your freckles, water dripping in rivulets I so desperately wanted to trace down the sides of you. Honestly, I almost told you then, but I didn’t even know how to put it into words. I went home and wrote angsty poems about it for a while.”
Vickie smiled.
“You used to write sad poetry about me? Instead of jacking off? Really?” Vickie teased.
Azrael looked serious now, eyes glancing to hers as they pulled up to the gate.
“As serious as the devils I’m named for. And, fine, I did also fuck my hand afterward. I was weak.” Even the tips of his ears were red from embarrassment now.
“Aw, Mr. Hart, you know devils are tricksters. And that I love watching you fuck your hand.”
“Fine, Vickie, I’m as serious as the grave. As serious as you were when you swore me to secrecy after we found the sex dungeon and you told me you didn’t think you minded the idea of whips and spanking.”
Vickie coughed a little. The memory made her bite her lip, but his word choice caught her off guard, and she smirked. “I thought you said it was a home gym.”
“Yeah, well. Semantics.”
Vickie parked the car in front of the house, got out, and shoved her hands into her pockets to keep from reaching for Azrael and tempting death.
They had a vow to make, and she wasn’t about to accidentally kill this man just when they’d finally started to get things right.