AZRIEL

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A week went by.

I hadn’t seen Azriel for most of it, or Julian and Celeste - not that I was concerned, but it felt strange being able to roam around the house without bumping into a six foot four cocky Arch Angel. The only people I had encountered were Cirse and a few of the other maids on the ground floor who served my meals, made my bed and would reluctantly ask how I was doing.

Seeing as I didn’t have much to do today, I had decided to trudge along the second floor of the premises - a place which I had not yet explored despite it being perhaps my second or third week here already. It was majorly quiet and I hadn’t seen any servants so far, which indicated they probably weren’t allowed up here. As I continued to walk along the corridor, staring at the gold and white embellished walls, I had heard the soft humming of what was definitely a male.

I slowed down my walk to try and make my footsteps less audible as I approached the door of the room I believed it was coming from. 

“You can come in, Adeline,” A gentle voice beckoned me from inside suddenly and I jumped at the unexpected mention of my name.

Julian.

Remaining cautious, I peered into the room from the doorway and found Julian lounging on a dark purple sofa of velvet material, his head leaning on the arm rest and a book gripped between his two hands in front of him. He put down his book onto his chest and turned to look at me, giving me a smile.

“How did you know it was me?” I questioned, keeping a healthy distance away from him as I watched him from the doorway.

“I could sense you,” He shrugged as though it was the most obvious answer, “I could sense you from the moment you started climbing the stairs.”

I stared at him long enough to see if he was joking or not, but when he turned back to the book in his hand without another word I knew he wasn’t. If Julian could sense me, that would have meant Azriel could too - and even Celeste.

I cringed at the thought.

“You want to sit down?” Julian pulled back his lounging long legs from the sofa to make room for me and hesitantly I obliged, leaning my back against the other arm rest so I was facing him. I observed his book from the other end of the sofa. 

“Wuthering Heights?” I said my thoughts aloud, “You’re reading that?”

He sat up slightly, folding the top of the page of his book as a bookmark and then closing it. His hazel eyes looked to me in delight, “Have you read it?”

“Of course I have,” I nodded, “It was one of my favourite books when I was younger.”

He smiled warmly, his tone enthusiastic, “Mine too, and it still is. I read it again here and there for the fun of it.”

“For fun?” I now felt a small smile curl on my lips, “You read a twisted, dark romance story for fun?”

His finger ran along the edge of the copy of the book he held in his hands as if he was in thought, and then nodded, “It’s because reading it reminds me of one of life’s absolute truths: that love is pain - there can never be strong love without that little bit of pain.”

I leaned back into the arm rest and released a sigh I hadn’t even realised I was holding. His words generalising such a large subject like love so simply had me in awe. My voice due to hesitancy came out quiet as I asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

I almost heard his breath hitch from the opposite end of the sofa, as though he wasn’t expecting me to ask such a question. I noticed he refrained from eye contact and ran a rough hand through his tousled ashy blonde hair.