“Damnit, Azriel, look away!” I hissed as he landed in front of me. Incapacitated from the stream flowing between my legs, I twisted my knees awkwardly to hide myself the best I could.
“But why are you crouching? Are you hurt?” He stepped closer until his gaze focused on the state of my pants.
“Turn around, you infuriating beast! How many times must I say it?”
A wide grin broke out on his face, but not before shading his cheeks a deep red. He finally twisted to give me privacy, but the trembling of his wings told me everything I needed to know—he was laughing violently at my impossibly humiliating situation.
“It’s not funny!” I said, standing up and fixing my bareness. “Loren kept making me hydrate, and I lost track of my ounces.”
“It’s a little funny—you have to admit.”
“I admit nothing.”
“Are you finished yet?”
I sighed, not eager to see his face when he ultimately turned around. “Yes.”
He slowly spun to face me with his lips pressed into a thin line to contain his amusement. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s perfectly natural.”
“I’m not ashamed!”
“Yes, you are. Your voice gets shrill every time I catch you doing something…intimate.” He snorted, unable to hold back his giggle.
I ran both palms over my heated face, wondering if it looked as warm as it felt. A hand touched my forearm and gently pulled it free from its anchor on my cheek, and I peeked open my exposed eye to see Azriel. His face softened at my misery.
“Laugh, Arya. I only tease you to hear the sound.” His voice was silkier than the feathers at his back. I wanted nothing more than to lean into the texture despite the razor-sharp edges that seemed to cut me every time I got too close.
“You must enjoy the sight of my tears, as well, if your treatment of me is any indication.” I snapped, ripping my arm from his grasp and turning back toward the road. How dare he say that to me, to act like he cared about me. His words were pretty but superficial, tempting but just another false promise. After a lifetime of smoke and mirrors, I finally knew how to recognize an illusion when I saw one.
His footsteps crunched behind me, rushing to catch up to my retreat. “I had to hurt you, Arya. Trust me when I say it was not my choice, nor did I enjoy it.”
I spun around, facing him with a fierce expression, his face only inches from mine as he stopped dead in his tracks. Any shard of ice he’d thawed in my heart a moment before suddenly froze over again. “Don’t lie to me! You always have a choice, Azriel. Trust me, I lived without one for years.”
“Not everything is black and white. You of all people should know the right choice isn’t always the easiest, nor is it always what we want. I said what I said to protect you—”
I laughed in his face, interrupting whatever bullshit he was about to offer me. “I never asked for your protection, nor do I want it. Lies do not guard those we care about. They hurt and use and deceive, making you feel false feelings and see the world in a silver-colored filter. So, which was it then? Which was the lie—the kindness you fed me on your bed or the apathy you showed me before the council?”
“What I said earlier was wrong,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Indifference is the furthest thing I feel concerning you or our friendship. I didn’t mean any of it.”
I shrugged one shoulder and shook my head, stealing a glance sideways as my nerve faltered under the pressing weight of his building apology. “It’s fine. You just did what every single person in my life has ever done. You joined the rest among the ranks of disappointment and botched promises.”
“How so?” Shadows formed beneath his brows as he furrowed them in genuine curiosity.
I muttered a curse under my breath, rubbing my forehead wearily as my patience completely drained with this man. Wings he might have, immortal he may be, but he remained as clueless as every other male I’d had the pleasure of knowing past late nights and cold sheets. “You claimed you’d always strive to be worthy of my confidence, yet you chose to hurt me and disregard the trust I gave you. I was careful under the mountain. I knew the people there, and I knew what to expect from them. But when I met you, I thought you were different, thought life outside would be different.”
He was quiet for a moment, a strange occurrence for him, I imagined. His lips twitched as a million words hung on the edge, waiting to be set free, but his mouth slammed shut and held them all back with a forked tongue. “I’m sorry,” he simply said. “You deserved better, and I failed you. Will you at least let me explain?”
The look in his moondust eyes was gravitational, and I didn’t have the strength to fight its pull on my heart anymore. The fire in us both extinguished with two simple words, a mutual surrender despite my raw instinct to fight. My shoulders fell slack, along with my grudge. “Later. For now, my anger with you is fueling my run, so I’d like to capitalize on it.”
“In that case, you’re welcome,” he said with a wink.
My eyes rolled. Hard. This brought a devastating smile to his lips. I stepped back from our exchange to continue the journey, but he looked too satisfied, standing there with the promise of certain redemption. I had to do something about that, something to torture him until the moment I saidI forgive you.
A horrible idea crept in my head.
“Do you know who I was thinking about in the bathtub the other night?” I cocked my head slightly to the side as my steps fell slowly against the dried earth.
The half smile fell from his lips, parting them barely as he balked at my question. The abrupt switch in subject caught him off guard, his cocky complexion falling with it. The little glimpse of his genuine self made me eager to find what else coiled beneath all that attitude. He gave a weak shrug. “I assumed you were thinking of Loren.”