Page 3 of Tempting Azagoth (Angelic Shorts #1)

TEMPTATION

AZAGOTH

T he diner buzzed with conversations, colliding with the clink of plates, and several mouths chewing.

It all grated on Azagoth’s nerves. He wanted to shout for them all to shut up, to afford himself a moment of silence. Instead, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, admitting it wasn’t the noise teasing his ears that agitated him.

It was the thoughts, desires, and whims of the humans surrounding him that pressed on his mind.

Such temptation .

Hunger clawed at his belly. He wanted to drink from their wells, siphon their greed and compel them to destroy themselves in a bid to satiate their lusts. The tip of sheathed claws pressed against their confines, wanting to rip free and tear into flesh.

“Can I get you anything else?” a voice murmured beside him. His gaze swung from the crowded parking lot winking at him through the diner’s grungy windows to the waitress standing a safe distance away, like she sensed his otherness .

A half-filled coffee pot rested in one hand, a minute tremble traveling up her arm. He motioned at the table, tapping it with a finger. Steam curled from the full white porcelain cup near his left hand, but he suspected if she carried that pot any longer, she'd drop it.

And would that noise irritate the shit out of me.

She set it down with a small smile, brown eyes downcast. Sunlight trickling in kissed the inside of her wrist and his brow rose at spotting the inverted pentagram tattooed there. It was a common symbol among select sects of Satanists.

She flinched upon rising, tracking his gaze to her tattoo. Her hands crossed in front of her stained apron.

“Anything else?” she said too brightly. He shook his head, watching her hasty retreat from his table. His eyes followed her around the diner, his ears prickling from the desires of some of the patrons.

“What a nice piece of ass.”

“I’d love to order her off the menu.”

“I wonder what time her shift ends. Maybe I’ll surprise her after work.”

His lips pressed into a line, nostrils flaring from the subtle threat weaving through those thoughts.

The waitress wasn’t his concern. What did he care about a devil worshipper? Most of them were delusional and power-hungry. They’d piss themselves if faced with the true Morningstar.

But her thoughts slipped through his mind, too quiet to pick apart, drowned out by the surrounding masses, much like her voice. He found himself curious to what her desires are. The need to know prodded at him.

There’s only one way that’ll happen .

He needed to wait , much like the unsavory men lusting after her, for her shift to end. Leaning back into the cushioned booth, plastic creaking beneath him, he settled in for what would inevitably be a long day.

For me and for her.

DELILAH

Golden eyes, glinting with a subtle glow that must be a trick of the light, followed Delilah the remainder of her shift. Her skin kept tingling under the gaze, like the dark-haired stranger stroked a featherlight touch underneath her uniform. It unsettled her.

Excited her.

No, she shook her head, feeling his gaze even then as she wiped a table down. It was near time to close and still he sat in the booth at the back of the diner, face aimed out the window. She didn’t buy it.

And he saw my tattoo.

He hadn’t commented on it, simply raised a brow and now that she thought on it, she’d yet to hear him speak.

I bet his voice is deep and rough .

She chastised herself again. Had her time at the compound taught her nothing ? Even handsome faces hid ugly truths. Their darkness disguised behind a smile .

Father smiled a lot. Even as he prepared to ? —

A tightness clamped around her chest and she nearly dropped the dishrag in her hands. They trembled as she stalked to the white Formica counter. She needed to count the till. She didn’t care if the stranger wanted another cup of coffee or a late snack. Home—safety—beckoned.

Out in the open wasn’t safe. And she’d noted the trio of men with lecherous smiles following her with their eyes earlier. Their gaze did not have the same effect as the stranger. A slimy feeling coated her skin whenever she caught them staring at her, their eyes focused on her butt. Flushing, she’d scurried away from them as quickly as she could, but hiding in the kitchen hadn’t been an option.

The register popped open under her expert hands. She dragged bills out, eyes darting from the stranger, the door, and the money she proceeded to count as quickly as possible. She should’ve locked the door. But Tevin, the cook, was still in the back if trouble burst through the frosted double doors.

And I can’t forget him .

Silence, broken up by the rustling of money, settled into the diner. He never moved, imitating a statue with his stillness, golden eyes fixed away from her. But she couldn’t ignore the tingle every time she glanced down at the dollar bills.

He must watch me whenever I avert my eyes .

That could be the only explanation for why she never caught him in the act.

When she was done with the till, the tension in her shoulders loosened and a shaky breath slipped past her lips, only to freeze in her throat as she glanced in the stranger’s direction.

He’d vanished!

He’d just been right there! The bell above the door hadn’t even jingled to announce his exit.

Is he messing with me?

“T-Tevin,” she called out in an uncertain voice.

“Yeah? I’m getting my things. You done?” his voice answered from behind. She never took her eyes off the empty chairs filling her sight.

“I’m done. I’m going to head out now.” She took a cautious step around the corner, swinging her eyes left and right, but the stranger never popped out at her.

Maybe I’m imagining things. He never even spoke. Maybe I’m the only one who saw him.

She didn’t like any of those ideas, but couldn’t beat them back. This could be His Lordship’s revenge, taunting her mind before shoving her deep into the well of madness. If so, she prayed he’d make her death a quick one.