The Hand That Feeds You

Chapter 8

I am so sorry.

Also this has spoilers for Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. When they start talking about Rick Riordan skip down until you hit the next block paragraph if you don't want spoilers.

I'm going to put a little note when you should start playing the audio.

Good luck

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• Azrael •

Even though I was aware Grayson would most likely not be meeting me, I found myself sitting in the café, hoping that he would appear and I could apologize for what I had done, even if I believed I had done nothing wrong in the first place. I would not apologize for messing up, but rather for upsetting him. And although he could ask me, I would not lie and tell him I regretted breaking his father's wrist—I truly did not, no matter how tirelessly I begged my mind to feel some sort of rue. How could I? With how he had treated me when I was only trying to protect my mate; his son? Yet while I could not bring myself to regret it, I did wish it had not affected Grayson as it did.

The entire thing had gone completely wrong the moment I had felt Grayson's panic. After that my rationality simply ceased to exist in preference for the deep, guttural instincts. It had controlled my mind and I had been too weak to stop it. Especially because of the migraine that had blasted away all my other worries. That was an entirely different problem that I would sort out with Celeste later today.

For now, I sit in the café, my chest aching as I wait for someone who was not going to appear. My coffee grows cold in front of me. The air in the room seems frigid despite the warm clothes I wear. Every minute that passes my heart shrinks further. I would apologize to him eventually, I knew that, but I wished it to be as soon as possible.

I had been so excited for the date...

"Honey?"

I glance upwards at the woman who owned the café. "Yes?"

"Darling, you've been sitting here for hours... Who are you waiting for?"

I swallow around the lump in my throat. Pain crackles through my chest. "I suppose nobody..."

The gentle-faced woman frowns. "Someone stood you up?"

I shake my head and smile weakly. "It is my fault he is not here." I stand and reach for my coffee, which is already cold to the touch. "I apologize for taking your time."

Ashley, her cheeks bunching up. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." She sees the coffee in my hand and takes it. "I'll make you another one."

"Ma'am, that is not necessary..."

She walks away without hearing my protests. "Nonsense. And you can call me Ashley love. I've been telling you that for years."

I smile quietly to myself and wait. The bell of the café tinkles as a customer enters. I glance up quickly enough to see who they are. My body stiffens as sharp green eyes look around the store. Now that Grayson was here, I could not find it in me to walk up to him. Instead, cowardly, I turn my gaze down and allow my hair to curtain my face.

I close my eyes and fruitlessly attempt to push down the pain in my chest. I can feel him. Every step he takes I can sense as though I myself am moving. Subconsciously, my breath syncs with his and my heart beats to his tune. And in spite of myself I love it. I love how every part of my body naturally adjusts to him.

"Azrael?"

I loosen a breath before looking up. Grayson watches me with a soft and apologetic expression. A cold wave passes over me as I mentally prepare to apologize to him. "Yes...?"