Long Way Home

VII

My mind was still fighting the wine induced muddle, trying to grasp the fact that Azriel was really here. My body though, acted on a reflex. I had repacked the basket, rolled the mat and was out of the clearing before he opened his mouth to speak. I heard nothing but the gush of blood into my head, and I quickly went inside and locked the door of the main entrance.

I didn't know what to think. Azriel had come here. He had come to a place which was unknown to everyone but me and father.

The mat and the basket slipped from my hands and thumped on the wooden floor. The cloak was halfway down my shoulders as I pressed myself against the door, parting the curtain of the window adjacent to it to see if he was outside.

He was.

There was a verandah extending from the front door with a wrap-around porch. The roof over the verandah was held upright by two carved pillars, and Azriel was sitting down and leaning back against one of them. His head was turned the other way, watching the stars still falling.

His usual leathers were absent; in their place was a black shirt and pair of black trousers. The buttons of the shirt glinted in the light like gemstones. His hair was ruffled, silver jewellery adorned his neck and hands. He was the still the most beautiful fae I had ever laid my eyes on, and the mating bond within me flared to life for a moment and tugged painfully.

I wanted nothing but to open the door, walk out and hold him.

The sensible part of me held me in check. Even though he was supposed to be my mate, he had given me nothing but pain until now, and I couldn't let go of it that easily. I clamped down on the bond, let the curtain fall back and went upstairs to my bed.

The entry of my room's balcony was set with French windows, and its curtains were always parted to let in the scenery. The sky was still lit, but fading as the event was coming to an end. This was the second time since that night when I cried myself to sleep.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next day, I found a note on the kitchen table. It was my father's handwriting, with two words on it.

I'm sorry.

Well, that solved the mystery of how Azriel came to know about this place. It didn't matter. I was not angry. I was not sad. I was empty, tired. The spark of feeling in me had withered and I had no idea how to revive it.

In the days that followed, Azriel made a habit of lingering. I noticed him flying in at dusk, possibly after finishing his duties. He never imposed himself on me, he was just...there.

As I moved inside, he followed from outside. The porch around the villa had a thick, low wall for comfortable seating which he took advantage of. Every room I was in the ground floor, I could see him out the window, seated on the porch wall. He was in his usual leathers and cloak, and I could see the dim light emanating from his chest and the back of his hands. His head was always turned the other way, as if he was looking out, but I knew he watched me when I wasn't looking at him.

I let him be. I didn't want to talk to him, let alone argue and send him away.

He perched on the balcony wall when I was in my bed, and the only room he couldn't look into was the bathroom. However, I could see him from the window, on the porch railing directly underneath it.

As it was, he was comfortable. He had his cloak to protect himself from the cold, and I'm sure he ate during the day.

He was waiting for me to willingly let him in. And for that, I hoped he had the patience of a saint because this wasn't going to be easy.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─