The Hand That Beats You

Chapter 13

• Grayson •

I wake with a strangely warm feeling, my mind clear. No nightmares? At all? I search for one, for any sign that any sort of bad dream had happened to me while I slept, but nothing. My skin pebbles over. Why the hell did I sleep so perfectl—

A soft grumble comes from the deliciously warm body next to me. Azrael's scent reaches me, and my eyes widen as I realize that I'm still in his bed. It's dark in the room, the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. Carefully, to avoid waking my quietly sleeping mate, I wriggle backwards until I'm face to face with him. His fingers tighten in my hair, gently scratching even as he sleeps. The soft light illuminates his features, making him look like an angel bathed in silver, eyelashes resting on his cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly.

He's beautiful.

Anyone who denies it is blind.

The smooth, slightly tan skin along his face and body, blemishless and clean, entices me, and I move one of my hands from his waist to cup his cheek, brushing my thumb along it. A soft sigh escapes him, but nothing else. I smile at the messiness of his bed hair. Since it's so long, it puffs out slightly, making him look like a lion.

Azrael shifts his body slightly, leaning more into mine. A soft creak sounds from outside, and I frown, sitting up slightly. My mate huffs when I move and nestles into my shoulder. Who was awake right now? The moon hangs in the window, still high in the sky. It couldn't be anywhere before the middle of the night.

Another sound comes from outside the door, this time closer. I strain to hear for anything else, but the door muffles any sounds of breathing or a heartbeat. My hand rests over Azrael's waist as I listen, staring at the door, waiting for something to happen. For a moment, it's dead silent, the creaking stopped. But then the door knob twists.

I drop down and shut my eyes, curling up against my mate. He wakes with the sound of the door opening, sitting up. I stay silent, pretending to be asleep as someone steps into the room, coming nearer. Azrael's hand moves to stroke my hair. My body melts under the gentle affection as he pulls me closer.

The soft voice of his mother comes. "How are you feeling?"

I can feel his eyes look down at me. "Perfect." His voice is husky from sleep.

Warmth rushes through me. Fuck me and my goddamn weak heart. Why does Azrael insist on being one of the sweetest—

"Did the new pills change anything?"

—little shits on the planet—wait, pills?

I focus back on the conversation. Azrael continues stroking my hair, but his body stiffens lightly. "I would not know. Grayson tends to relax the symptoms even if I have not taken the pills. I would need to be away from him to tell."

Hold the fuck up, what symptoms?

"I'm going to guess you don't want that," his mother continues, like they've had this conversation before.

"Preferably not. What time is it?"

"Two in the morning." Maricella's footsteps sound as she comes nearer, pressing a soft kiss to my mate's face. "Go to sleep."

Azrael waits for the door to close before he lays back down, hugging me to his body. My mind reels, and I think about speaking, asking him what's wrong that he has symptoms and needs to take pills, but he falls asleep soon after, his face buried in my neck. His arms move to embrace me in sleep, tugging me flat against his body. Questions burst behind my eyes, flashing like a carousel of madness as I try to think of some sort of symptoms he had that I might've seen before. Did the exhaustion count?