Healer

Chapter 19

Azriel nearly flew back to his room. His mind was racing and the only thing at the finish line was her. The scent of her had been so strong, he could taste it. He thought of the moment in the meadow when he sensed her arousal, and standing in the hallway with her now had confirmed that's what it was beyond any shadow of a doubt. He was so hesitant to touch her in spite of it, the thought of pushing her into something she didn't want, the thought of all the males who had, making him unwilling to even touch himself in her name.
Regardless, that encounter would prove to her that they had an undeniable connection, even if to her it was only lust. The thought that another male had kissed her just that morning left a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He ran a bath and shed his tattered clothes on the floor. He would deal with them later. Adrenaline put him on edge and he knew sleep would be evasive so he wouldn't bother. Not now. His mind went back to the evening before his moment with her. The attack in the woods would prove to be a major concern, especially since they couldn't be sure of the death of the taloned beast. Rhysand would no doubt send them looking for it, and with the summer solstice ball in two days, they were more vulnerable and distracted than usual. Or so an enemy might think. 

He sank into the hot water, letting it sooth his sore muscles, as the steam blocked his sight to the world around him. The more he thought of her, the more his heart lay bare. She deserved so much more than a confrontation about her decisions, than a chance interaction in the dark of the house. She deserved more than being sent away alone without him, or someone, watching over her as she was forced to prove who she was to those that could never, never appreciate her. She deserved more than a foreign male pushing himself against her hard enough to leave his scent when he didn't even know her. He saw her face when she said she had wanted it with the day court male. Whatever it was. Hot anger burned at his core and he gripped the sides of the tub to stay inside. There was no point. She had said it confidently, it wasn't a lie, but there was no light behind her eyes either. He willed the tension from his jaw and shoulders.
She didn't need him to take care of her, he knew that. Cassian had said she was capable and he was right. All Azriel wanted was just to exist on the same plane, for her to know he was there should she need him, for protection or for comfort or to listen or to love her in a way that was simply not possible with anyone else. His mind still racing, he was met with the images the Hex had thrown at him to break him, great, dark pictures of every cold, bloody thing he had done. And at the center of it all, the loss of her. Emotion washed over him like the water encasing him, soothing the burn of jealousy.
He knew, it didn't matter if he felt unworthy, there was not a force on the planet that could keep him from her. She claimed to be unafraid, and even in the nightmares he faced, she stood strong and unwavering. He could only hope that that lack of fear would last long enough for him to show her the depth of his heart and how it opened only in her presence. He sat there, attempting to slow his pulse and his thoughts until the water became mild and lukewarm and the steam died around him. He exited his room again, uncaring about the time, and went back to the terrace and the stars.
You look distracted. Rhysand's way of saying he related, not chastising him. Azriel remembered when Rhys had returned from under the mountain and how Feyre had consumed every ounce of his being even as he did his best to hide it.
You don't have to tell them, but you can tell her, his high lady had said as he poured some lame excuse out to his family in an attempt to hide the truth.
That he was afraid. She could reject him. She might be aroused by him, she might go with him to his meadow to talk, she might tell him she wasn't afraid, heal him, care for him, but that didn't mean she wanted to be bound to him for the rest of her life. Maybe the male at day court hadn't been something she wanted to pursue, but maybe it had opened her to the possibility of finding more elsewhere. He would wait for the right moment and he would tell her, when she wouldn't feel pressured one way or the other, so that he could at least be in the running. His life, his job, the battles he had fought, the pain he had experienced both physical and emotional, alongside that which he had inflicted, had all been leading him to her. It was a lot of pressure for her, nearly as heavy a burden as keeping it from her was for him.