Page 76 of Raziel

What do you get a man who has everything?

He blinked.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.” I folded my arms.

He stared at it like it was a weapon. Then looked at me.

“I’m supposed to carry this?”

“Yes,” I said, grinning. “It goes on your keychain. With your brass knuckles or whatever other medieval shit you carry every day. To remind you of me.”

“I don’t—” he started.

I cut him off.

I pointed. “Say it. Say Yes, Maya. I will put this mildly terrifying, deeply accurate doll version of you on my keychain like the whipped man I am.’”

His lips twitched. A near-smile. A real one.

“That’s what you think I am?”

“That’s what you are, baby.”

He shook his head and pulled his keychain out of his pocket. Slid off some sleek black metal charm shaped like a lion’s head and replaced it with the little demonic Maya.

He held it up between us. Studied it again.

“It looks like you.”

“I know.”

“She’s ugly-cute,” he muttered.

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s rude.”

“It’s weird.”

“I know.”

There was a flicker of something soft in his face.

“I already think of you every second of every day. I don’t need this… but I’ll keep it.”

I couldn’t help it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight, burying my face in his shoulder.

“That was my goal. To chip away at your mean-spirited ass.”

His arms came around me, solid and sure.

He held me for a long moment, his breath warm against my temple. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—his usual gravel smoothed away.

“I want to show you something.”

He started pulling me toward the door.

“Go out like this?” I asked, raising a brow.