❛ it's not a threat, it's a warning; ❜
Azazel Hastings hates Zander Martin and she's having his baby. Aside from that, she's an aspiring singer, songwriter, and she's planning a murder.
Zander Martin is a member of a successful breakout boyband and...
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Zander Martin gently brushed his hands against Azazel Hastings' soft stomach. There were no obvious signs of a developing baby; the curving of her stomach hadn't occurred yet and there wasn't any distinct bulging or weight gain, still, Zander knew that inside of Azazel there was a tiny blooming life.
For about three months now, he would slowly open his eyes, exposing them to the rays of light pouring in between the ivory satin curtains that Azazel had picked out, admiring the light's beauty against the fabric before turning over in bed and adjusting himself to stare at the sleeping figure beside him. He would spend a second or two taking in her appearance; it was the only time Azazel ever looked completely innocent and trusting.
After the seconds passed, he would slip underneath the comforter and reach for her stomach; reach for the baby. The baby that would arrive in a few months. The small life that he had managed to help create. His stomach did somersaults thinking about how he would soon have a living breathing baby in his arms. He was terrified and thrilled all at the same time. If this was how he felt now, he struggled to imagine how he'd feel when the child finally arrived.
In the past, he could barely picture himself holding a baby, much less creating one so soon. It was an accident, but it wasn't a terrible one.
He pulled himself from his thoughts, focusing back on Azazel's stomach. He was excited for the day when he'd put his hand on her belly and he'd feel something; a gentle nudge, a light kick—something. Though for now, all he could feel was Azazel's squirming as she let out a whimpered groan. "Your hand is cold! Move!"
Zander cracked a smile, letting his hand linger a few seconds more before he pulled away. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"Well you did," she muttered sleepily as she opened her eyes. Slowly, she moved closer to Zander and wrapped her arms around his warm body while she buried her face in his neck. She took in his scent, an obnoxious mixture of overpriced sultry cologne and pungent alcohol. She chose to solely focus on the smell of the expensive cologne and not the smell of liquor seeping from his skin. If she paid too much attention to the alcoholic smell, her mind would roam back to late nights with loud music, sweaty strangers, and all the smoking, and drinking she used to participate in months ago. Though months ago felt like yesterday and however long ago it really was, she missed it.
"How are you feeling?" Zander's voice was laced with exhaustion, he was tired and couldn't remember what time his head had hit the pillow. Like any other day, he had had a late night. If it were up to him, he'd remain in bed and sleep the day away with Azazel lying next to him, but he couldn't, not today.
"I feel fine," she said. She had been lucky so far. Her pregnancy had come with no sickness whatsoever. She had never had a morning met with nausea and she was always able to keep her food down. Very few people around her knew about her pregnancy, the few that did know warned her that her luck would run out sooner or later and she'd find herself hovering over a toilet seat in agony as every meal was unwillingly squeezed out of her.
