Page 7

Azrael

Score one for self-restraint.

These arrows are no fucking joke. I’ve decided that every Cupid—interim or not—needs to experience their powers before going out into the world.

Shit’s straight dangerous .

I’m sitting here, trying to concentrate when every cell in my brain—and let’s be honest, my dick—is thinking about the way Beau was ready to devour me. Leaving him all heavy-lidded and kissable, with his huffing breaths and flushed cheeks, was hard .

Harder than putting a book down when you’re in the middle of an amazing chapter, or needing to get up and pee when a cat is making biscuits on your tummy.

Hard , hard.

Because of this, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind as I headed towards the door. A special blend of anxiety steeped in my stomach—one that was a completely foreign mix of emotions. Desperation to stay by his side and equal desperation to get away from him.

It all mixed into the need to flee before I did something stupid. If I didn’t leave, I’d leap straight into his arms and incinerate all these paper-thin boundaries to ashes. He stopped me, extraordinarily confused, and asked where I was going.

He’d driven us there, and I’d forgotten.

What if I’d just poofed out of existence and left him thinking he’d gone insane?

“Uh, Uber?” I’d responded, only to have him glance at my empty hands that were not, in fact, holding a phone. I didn’t even own a phone at that moment, which is why I couldn’t give him my number.

Because I didn’t have a number.

It was a very confusing few minutes.

I blamed it on low blood sugar, naturally, so now Beau is also concerned about my make-believe insulin issues. With no better solution, I reluctantly agreed to let him drive me back to the grocery store, where I swore my cousin would pick me up.

The cousin with fake Tourette’s, if you’re struggling to keep up.

I need a diary to manage the lies, and a family-sized bottle of Pepto Bismol to manage the guilt-induced heartburn.

My clothes were forgotten in his dryer, which meant I had to go inside the store wearing his oversized sweats and t-shirt. The cashier shot me a few funny looks as I paid for my new cell phone and prepaid minutes but kept her comments to herself.

Phones don’t work in the Cherub’s realm, so I’ve been leaping at the chance to make more matches. Honestly, it’s pitiful how often I’m visiting Earth. But being on Earth means texting Beau, which leads to planning for a date.

A date .

Half of me worried he would change his mind as soon as the convenience of a hookup was out of the question. That he’d leave me hanging, and I’d be nursing a wounded heart. Better now than later , I reasoned, but the very moment I texted him, all of those insecurities were squashed.

He had no chill whatsoever, and didn’t waste a single second before he responded. And then used a heart-eye emoji. It was so sweet, I actually aww- ed out loud.

I’m completely in the dark about the date because he begged me to let it be a surprise, and I caved. Of course I caved. The man could ask me to lie on his front step and let him wipe his feet on me, and I’d wear my fuzziest sweater to ensure he got all the dirt off his boots.

Now I’m standing in my closet, thumbing through everything I own. It really shouldn’t matter what clothes I choose, considering the first time we met, I ended up covered in flour.

But it feels like a do-over, and I want to make a good (second) first impression.

A nice pair of dark-wash jeans hug my ass nicely, and I match it with a pale pink button-up. I stare at my light gray vest before shrugging and pulling it on. It makes my eyes stand out.

Sue me for exploiting an asset.

I pull on plain white sneakers and admire myself in the mirror. Even I can admit I look good. My hand grazes over my freshly oiled curls, tugging on one and watching it bounce back into place, and I offer my reflection a tentative smile.

Beau was only willing to tell me our destination after I insisted on meeting him there. I call on my magic, dropping myself across the street from the modest brick building. The Thomas County Community Center is hand painted on its facade in faded white lettering. In the front, Beau paces the sidewalk and stares at his phone, chewing on his lip.

Nervous .

He’s nervous for our date, and that realization eases the swarm of butterflies in my stomach. It doesn’t eliminate the fluttering, but settles it enough to give me the courage to approach him.

My heart almost can’t handle how adorable he is, wearing a black polo and jeans that cling to his ass like they were molded from it. When he glances up, he does a double take before breaking into a warm smile.

“You look amazing!” Strong arms wrap around me and hug me against his chest, his chin resting against my head as he holds me there. It’s intimate and comfortable, much more so than is logical when he’s a near-stranger.

When he finally releases me, a pleased flush burns on my cheeks and ears. “I’m not overdressed?” A couple walks inside hand-in-hand, both of them wearing jeans and t-shirts. Suddenly self-conscious, I cross my arms.

“You look very handsome,” Beau insists, bumping me with his shoulder, loose fists twitching at his sides like he's unsure if he should touch me again or not. My arms unfold, fingers reaching for his, but someone calls his name, and I yank my hand back.

A blonde woman bops over, every curve on her body bouncing in a way that's somehow enticing and cute. If I tried that, it would look like an overworked bowl of Jello trying to bust loose from its mold. She flashes Beau a giant toothpaste-ad-worthy smile and leans forward, intimately close.

“How have you been?” she squeals, pulling him into a hug. Something ugly flares in my chest when he returns her embrace, and I shuffle between my feet, forgotten.

“Great!” He pulls away from the hug quickly, but she lingers in his arms. “How’s your mom?”

“Oh, she’s good. Still finding trouble, if you can believe it.” His laugh is loud and relaxed, easy , and it hits me then—how out of place I am here. Not only am I awkward and butterfingered, but I’m not even human.

I’m different.

I’ll always be different.

“Of course I can,” he chuckles, “your momma has always been trouble.” She reaches out, squeezing his hand and holding on.

Like I had been about to.

Like I didn’t.

A dismissive glance shoots my way, her eyes taking a very judgmental journey over my pink shirt and vest before flitting away, as though she can’t figure out why I’m standing here.

Stupid , I think.

Idiot.

This? This is exactly what I was afraid of with Beau. The closeted baby bi shows up on a date with another man on his arm, feeling like he can take on the world. Then reality hits, and everything is hugely different.

Suddenly Sandra is here, with her perky tits and child-bearing hips and her momma, who wants her to wrangle a guy like Beau. She’s here, serving as a reminder of how simple things could be.

Without me.

Her soul is darker than his, but she isn’t a bad person. If I were summoned and found them as my targets, I’d probably make the match.

Beau’s gaze snaps to mine as I take a step backward. Understanding plays out in real time on his face as he pulls his hand from her grasp—respectfully, because he’s a gentleman— and reaches for me. He doesn't grab me, though, just waits for me to close the gap between us. Hesitantly, I slide my hand into his, and he smiles as he threads our fingers together.

“Sandy,” he says, and I stifle my frustrated groan, because of course he has a nickname for her, “this is Azrael.”

Her smile is clearly fake, a thin, tight line stretched across her face, but he doesn’t appear to notice. Innocent, na?ve man, believing the rest of the world is as kind as him. “So nice to meet you,” she says, before returning her gaze to Beau. “Is he a new friend?”

His eyes narrow as he senses her judgmental vibes, and I try to pull away, wanting to shield him from criticism. A chillingly pleasant smile spreads on his face as his grip tightens, pinning my hand with his. “My date, actually.”

Her nose bunches as if something rotten is under her nose before a phony, practiced smirk slithers onto her glossed lips. “Oh, gosh, Beau, I had no idea .” He tilts his head at her, like he’s confused about the condescension coming from her voice.

I tug on his hand, drawing his attention back to me. Not worth it , I try to project into his mind, and he huffs a silent, unamused laugh.

“We’ll see you in there,” he finally says. It’s an obvious dismissal, and she scoffs before sashaying past us and opening the door, freeing a momentarily loud blast of twangy music.

“Beau, we don’t have to do this.” Keeping him safe and cozy inside that closet suddenly seems like a much better idea than I originally believed. “We can just go back to your house and hang out. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

Sad but determined eyes find mine, seemingly a deeper blue, as he crooks a smile at me. “You deserve to be shown off,” he says simply, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth that sends my heart rocketing straight into the sky. “So, let’s go show you off.”

He doesn’t release my hand as we step inside, and my eyes sweep over the large, open room, milling with people. I finally spot the sign, and it sets me off in a fit of horrified laughter.

“Line dancing!?” I demand over the twang of steel guitar, and his grin could light up the entire town. “Oh, Beau, I’m so uncoordinated,” I wail, and he laughs as he squeezes my hand.

“Just follow my lead, darlin’.” He whisks me off to the dance floor, earlier stress forgotten. We dance and spin and twirl, trip and stumble and laugh as everyone stares, but Beau doesn’t care.

He’s too busy looking at me to notice.

I may never get used to having to climb a literal ladder to get inside Beau’s truck, but he holds my hand as he helps me, and I smile at the thoughtfulness. The muscles in my cheeks ache, sore from the non-stop smiling. We danced for hours, and I made an absolute fool of myself trying to keep up with the steps, but he didn’t care, so neither did I.

We’re both damp with sweat as he cranks the engine, and I choke back a laugh when he gives a fluttering wave to Sandra. We pull into the steakhouse parking lot, and my stomach lets out a lion's roar at the mouth-watering smell.

Beau reaches for me, weaving our fingers together as we walk inside. He requests a booth, trying to hide hissmile at my surprise when he slides in beside me instead of across.

“You’ve never told me about your job,” he says, and I’m thankful he’s staring at the menu as my eyes flare in panic.

“Oh, well,” I stutter, and he gives me a furrowed sideways glance. “I, uh, work in PR… in public, um, relations.”

Real convincing, Az. A-plus for believability.

“That’s one of those professions you hear about on TV, but never meet anyone that does it. What do you actually do in PR?”

“Well…” My voice comes out as a squeak before I clear my throat. “Basically, I make sure that relationships succeed. I check out both sides to, um, verify they’re compatible before they… go into business together.”

There. That was better.

“Do you enjoy it?”

After a moment’s consideration, I give a slow nod. Despite the absolute anarchy that has followed me around since I was appointed The Cupid, I revel in watching couples as their connection forms. Their joy when they realize they might have a partner… someone they mesh with, body and soul.

Someone to spend their lives with.

“Yeah, I really do,” I say, voice quiet.

He slides his hand into mine. “Well, that’s all that matters.”

“Debatable,” I mumble, and his attention fixes on me like a laser. “I…” Those ocean-deep eyes meet mine, encouraging me to continue with no signs of judgement. “I told you I’m not the fastest learner in the world. Plenty of people would say I’m not exactly great at what I do.” A self-deprecating sigh pushes from my nose. “Doesn’t matter how much I love it if I can’t do it well. There are… lots of things I’m not particularly good at, as it turns out.”

“What’s something you want to get better at?”

I respond without thinking. “Archery.”

“If you gave me a hundred guesses, I don't think I would've gotten that one right,” he says with a quiet, breathy laugh. “But luckily for you, it just so happens I’m pretty skilled at archery. If you’re interested, I’d love to help you work out the kinks.”

My cheeks tinge, both from happiness at his offer and the sheer dirty pleasure I get from hearing him say the word kinks . “You’d do that for me?”

His sweat-heightened spicy scent surrounds me as he leans in, his sincerity written in the gentle curve of his smile. “We’re both figuring out there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you, aren’t we?” My gaze falls to his mouth, so close to mine, then returns to his eyes.

My lips part, whether to respond or to kiss him, we’ll never know, because a clatter of dishes makes both of us jump as we separate.

Destiny has other plans, indeed.

“You,” I growl as our waitress stands there, none other than Delilah, blowing a giant pink bubble.

She snaps it with a pop, leering at me before fluttering her eyes as she turns to Beau. “Sir, is this man continuing to bother you?”

“My date, you mean?” Beau slides his arm over my shoulders as Delilah's snarl turns murderous. “Don’t have any flour hidden in your pockets, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she sighs, sounding as though she truly is disappointed. “Sweetheart, what did he do to make you think he’s the best choice? Whatever tricks he does with his mouth, I promise I can do them a hundred times better.”

Beau stutters, choking on a cough as his face flames. “You need to go. How do I request a new server?”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad, sugar. I’ll send Beatrice over to your table.”

She walks away, and I’m immediately suspicious. “That was too easy.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I knew I’d seen her before when she was bothering you at the store, but I didn’t remember she worked here, or I never would’ve brought you. We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine… really. The food smells amazing, and besides—she shouldn’t win.”

A smirk tugs on his lips. “Competitive, are we?”

“Actually, no, not at all,” I say with a laugh. “I was always so happy to be picked for a team that I never cared if I won or lost. But with bullies like that, it’s always about how much they can take. If we leave, she’ll just push harder.”

“Hmm, knew you were smarter than me.” He leans in and presses a kiss against my temple as a sudden rush of gratitude weighs on my chest.

No one has ever thought I’m smart.

It’s always been clumsy, scatterbrained Az. Others have never called me dumb outright, but you don’t always have to use the word to get its meaning across.

And they did. Loud and clear.

My throat gets tight, and I’m stuck not knowing what to say, but Beau doesn’t appear to need a response. I’m saved from my internal battle as a different woman walks our direction with a sweet smile. Beatrice has graying hair and a portly build, taking our order with no drama. My guard remains up, but a fraction of the tension eases from my shoulders. “No peanuts,” I remind her as she walks away, and she acknowledges me with a nod as she jots it on her notepad.

Yes, Cherubs can have allergies.

It’s an extraordinarily low percentage, but of course, I defied the odds. Other than myself, I only know of one other Cherub that requires the occasional EpiPen.

Yay, me.

Dinner passes in a breeze, and by the time we’re done eating, the buttons on my vest are more than a little stressed. “Dessert, huns?” Beatrice asks, and I rub my palms over my bloated belly, shaking my head. A fleeting moment of disappointment flashes over Beau’s face, which makes me laugh.

“You can’t still be hungry.”

“Hey, I’m a growing boy.” He rubs a palm over his own stomach as he casts one final woeful glance at the dessert menu.

“How about a coffee to go?” she asks.

“We will take you up on that,” Beau says, and when I quirk my eyes at him, he leans into my ear. “Can’t have you falling asleep on me, now, can I?”

Heat creeps into my cheeks as we wait for the bill, and I fidget with the flip top on the plastic lid of my coffee, steam rising from the small hole. Beau insists on paying, despite my protests, though he allows me to leave the tip.

Hand in hand, we walk through the parking lot, and I take a few swigs of my coffee as I build my nerve. “Tonight has been perfect,” I say, and he glances at me with obvious affection.

“It has been, hasn’t it?” He helps me into the truck,passes me the coffees to put in the cupholders, then leans closer as once I'm settled. Flat-footed on the ground, he tilts his head up to look at me, the dusky sun reflecting off his eyes. “Have I earned a kiss yet?”

My palms land on his cheeks and I inch nearer, smiling when he brushes his nose against mine. “Don’t make me regret this,” I whisper as I push my lips to his. A shock of something electric arcs down my spine and I shiver, both of us absorbing the feel of each other.

Beau breaks the spell first, reaching around my neck to pull me closer as our mouths start to move. Patient, cautious kisses mix with deeper, more insistent ones. Heads tilt and noses bump as we learn each other, his breath huffing softly across my skin.

His mouth works mine open, and my tongue tests the waters, brushing along his lower lip as he shudders against me. Lips and cheeks tingle as he matches my hunger, his tongue rolling with mine as both of our breathing turns rapid.

Neither of us rush, but even with the slow, deliberate movements of our mouths, my entire body is on fire. My knees slide apart, and he immediately fills the space, a soft moan tumbling from my throat as my cock presses against his stomach. So enwrapped in the kiss, I forget how to breathe…

Wait…

The tingling in my cheeks gets worse, and I pull away, gasping for a breath. Beau’s eyes snap open, widening as they dart in a panic around my face. “What the hell? Az, what happened?!” I take a rasping inhale, fingers running over my swollen face as a loud cackle rings out from behind us.

Beau whips around right as my sights zero in on Delilah. She stands outside the restaurant, laughing hysterically as my lips blow up like a balloon. “Vee cawffee!” I grab my cup, and Beau snatches it from my hand and dumps it, showing me the glob of peanut butter at the bottom.

“Give me the other cup.” Red splotches on his cheeks grow more pronounced, and it isn’t from anger alone. I hand it over and he curses under his breath as he finds a dollop in his, as well.

“Awre woo awwergic, too?!” He nods, wild-eyed, as Delilah realizes this has turned into something more than she bargained for. She jogs over, amusement and terror warring on her sneering face.

“Beau, what’s—” He is furious as he whips around, skin speckled in neon red. “Oh, fuck! You weren’t supposed to be allergic too! I saw the note about the allergy for the little man on Beatrice’s pad, and…”

“Cawme own,” I say, cutting her off as ‘ little man ’ steals the last of my waning patience. He twists to me as I shake his arm, his grimace already telling me what my face looks like. “Do woo habe an epepeh?”

“A what?” he asks, brows knitted.

“A epepeh !?”

“Pee-what?”

“EH-PEH-PEHN?” I shout, tongue getting thicker in my mouth as the tingling spreads to my throat.

“Peen!?”

“EH! PEH! PEHN!”

“Hold tight, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. Oh, just get the fuck out of my way,” he growls at Delilah as he slams my door shut, running around to the driver’s side of the truck and climbing in. “We’ve gotta go to the hospital, darlin’. I’m afraid our plans are going to have to wait.”