Chapter 17

CHAPTER17

Surprisingly, the rest of the party went all right after that, and to my unending appreciation, both Caleb and Hekesha masterfully pretended they’d missed the entire humiliating start of the affair. At some point, I didn’t even want to wring both Azmodea’s and Mammon’s necks anymore.

I kept reminding myself that everyone had those choice family members from Hell that randomly incited the urge to commit violent crime. Mine just happened to be literally from Hell.

To be fair, Azmodea and Mammon were great most of the time, and I did love them. I was lucky to have at least those two to get along with, considering the rest of my in-laws were more firmly in the “infernal” category, especially my grandfather-in-law, Lucifer. I’d met some of Azazel’s other relatives here and there, and the vibe I’d gotten made me glad they weren’t involved in his life as much as his sister and nephew.

“Here,” Azazel said as he sat down on the couch next to me while the others talked among themselves, the party having simmered down to the comfortable casually-hanging-out-together that I liked. He held out a simple black box with a bow on it, a bit bigger than a shoe box. When he saw my glance at Azmodea, he smirked. “It’s safe to unwrap. Really.”

“If you say so…”

I gingerly opened the lid and peeked inside. A stack of DVDs greeted me, the one on the very top being Spaceballs. Grabbing the stack, I flipped through it… Naked Gun 1-3, Top Secret, Hot Shots 1 and 2, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Airplane 1 and 2, Monty Python’s Life of Brian, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, UHF.

I stared open-mouthed at the collection of movies, all of them the silly kind that I loved so much.

“You got them all,” I whispered. I’d mentioned these off-hand here and there, and how I’d loved watching them as a kid and teenager. I grinned as I looked at the back of Top Secret. “They just don’t make ’em like this anymore.”

Turning to him, I laid my hand on his cheek and leaned in for a kiss. “Thank you,” I murmured against his lips.

“There’s something else,” he said, materializing another object in his hand.

I stared at the inconspicuous looking, thick stack of paper he held out, the pages held together at the top by a simple black clip.

“What’s this?”

“Something you’ve been waiting for.”

Raising a brow, I flipped over the first page, which was blank—and then I gaped at the title.

“Is this…”

“Sarah J. Maas’s next book.”

“But it’s not even published yet!” I’d marked the date on my calendar, and we were still out a few months.

“It’s an early uncorrected proof.”

“Ohmygod!” I clapped a hand over my mouth.

He cleared his throat and shot me a dark look.

“Sorry, sorry!” I grinned at him, giddy beyond reasoning. “Oh, my gloriously talented demon darling!”

Mammon leaned forward in his seat on the divan opposite us and clicked his ballpoint pen. “Is she always this creative in her exclamations?” he asked Azazel.

“Watch it,” Azazel snarled.

“Oh, I am.” Mammon scribbled something down on his notepad.

“This is incredible,” I muttered, effectively pulling Azazel’s lethal attention away from Mammon.

Azazel’s gaze seemed to drink me in. “Happy anniversary.”

I froze. Shit.

“This”—I swallowed hard—“this is an anniversary gift?”

He nodded and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch making tingles course over my skin.

Fuck me sideways.

I had nothing, zilch, nada, prepared as an anniversary gift for him, because my stupid, anxiety-ridden, all-over-the-place brain had completely skipped over the fact that officially, our relationship had started on my birthday, with that fateful skit of a wedding in front of those three drunk women at the bar.

Crap on a shitstick.

Here he was, not only having remembered our anniversary like a perfect hubby should, but with a present that showed how well he knew me, how much he cared, and how much effort he had gone to in order to make me happy.

And here I was, with nothing to show for my love for him because I’d forgotten the entire thing.

Add this on top of the blunder from the other day—you know, the thing I had not actually forgotten, but couldn’t tell him about—and I had to come across as the worst wife ever.

I met his gaze, his expression so warm and open as it only ever was with me, and heat burned the back of my eyes.

What was I supposed to tell him? Hey honey, thank you for the most thoughtful gift that speaks to how much you love me, happy anniversary, oh by the way, I’ve got nothing for you in return because I forgot our anniversary, just like I forgot that your mom’s dead, oops, sorry!

What if he took this as a reflection of my love for him? As an indicator of how little I cared? If this was the first instance of me messing up, it might not be a big deal, but in combination with the other screwup…

Dammit, he didn’t deserve to think that the person he was passionately in love with and had pledged himself to seemed to be inconsiderate of things that mattered to him. He deserved better than to feel neglected like this.

His face blurred, tears now clouding my eyes. My chest burned, shame scorching me from the inside out.

“What’s this?” he murmured, tilting my head up.

I pressed my trembling lips together and shook my head. I’m the worst, I wanted to say. “Just…happy tears,” I choked out.

Through the shimmering veil of wetness blurring my vision, I saw his brows draw together. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Lord Azazel,” someone interrupted from the other side of the room.

Still frowning, he held my gaze for a moment longer before he glanced toward the demon standing just inside the open door—it was Cadriel, the female who’d been my father’s guard until Azazel sent her on another mission earlier today.

As soon as Azazel saw her, his features hardened, his energy giving off a dark pulse. Glancing back at me, he said, “Hold that thought. We’re not finished here.”

He rose from the couch and walked over to Cadriel, and I surreptitiously wiped my eyes, the conversations around me still going, the others thankfully unaware of my inner turmoil. My sight now less blurry, I watched Azazel listen intently to what Cadriel told him. They were too far away for me to hear what it was that she said in a hushed voice, but I could read expressions and body language just fine.

Cadriel held herself stiffly, her face serious, her eyes downcast. Azazel stood with tension in his shoulders, his features hard, his attention on her—until it suddenly shifted to me, his gaze hitting me like an electric current. Cadriel looked at me at the same time, her brows twitching closer together for a moment in what I thought appeared to be pity. Azazel’s eyes, on the other hand, held something raw, a momentary glimpse at deep pain, before he schooled his features into neutral hardness again and broke our stare.

Looking back at Cadriel, he nodded and said something. Cadriel stepped back and bowed, then turned on her heels and left. For a moment, Azazel stood in place, his gaze on the floor, a whisper of dark power curling around him. Then he rolled his shoulders, the darkness dissipating, and came over to where I sat.

Me being me, I had to ask. “Bad news?”

He settled on the couch next to me, resting his arm on the back behind me, and nodded without meeting my eyes.

A sliver of dread snaked its way into my heart. “It’s something to do with me, isn’t it?”

He still wouldn’t look at me. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I whispered, my throat feeling raw.

His gaze slammed into me, a second of unguarded, unmitigated pain, then he blinked and visibly corralled whatever lurked in his depths. “All right. I won’t lie. But you won’t get the truth, not tonight.”

I blinked and drew back a bit. “What—”

“Zoe,” he said, took my hand in his and gave the back of it a tender kiss. “It’s your birthday. I will not taint your joy.”

That sliver of dread morphed into a full-blown wave of anxiety. “Tell me.”

“Tomorrow.” His face was hard, unyielding. “You might curse me for it now, but you’ll be glad I stood firm.” His thumb stroked over the back of my hand. “Now is not the time to worry. Enjoy your night.”

I trembled from the inside out. When, in the history of mankind, had it ever worked being told not to dwell on impending bad news? As if I could simply erase the knowledge, or switch off the part of my brain that excelled in imagining worst-case scenarios?

“I can’t not worry,” I whispered. “Have you met my mind?” I gestured at my head. “I might frequently tell people ‘No worries!’ but it’s a blatant lie, because I am, in fact, all worries, all the time. It’s not like I can shut it off.”

He tilted his head and regarded me with eyes of molten heat. “I know a way to shut it off.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Azazel beat me to it.

Without taking his gaze off me, he raised his voice over the chatter of conversations and said, “All right, party’s over, everyone out.”

“You can’t just throw them all out like that,” I protested under my breath.

Hekesha and Caleb, though, had already jumped to their feet and were on their way out the door with hasty waves and muttered happy birthdays and goodbyes. Azmodea stood with her hands on her hips and a glare aimed at her brother.

“You have no manners,” she snapped.

“What I have,” he replied, glancing at her with a dark smirk on his face, “is a wife in need of physical attention, and you’re keeping me from taking care of her.”

“Azazel,” I hissed.

“Well,” Azmodea said, laying a hand over her heart and batting her lashes, “far be it from me to block your cock, brother. Enjoy!” And with a little wave of her fingers, she swished out of the room.

I covered my face in my hands. This family.

“You, too,” growled Azazel, and I glanced up to see him level a death glare at his nephew, who was still lounging on the divan as if he’d just settled himself even more comfortably in his seat.

“Who, me?” Mammon raised both brows, his face all innocence. “I’m just a little fly on the wall. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Azazel materialized a fly swatter—we had those down here? What kind of flies needed swatting here in Hell? Not sure I wanted to know—leaned forward and slapped Mammon over the head with it. “Get out.”

“Fine, fine!” Mammon rose from his seat. “You’re really no fun at all.” Blowing me a kiss, he added, “Except for you. Just the look on your face…” He waved at his head and chuckled. “Too funny. Ah, always a pleasure poking at you. Even if it’s not the kind of poking I’d really like to do with you—”

His sentence ended in a squeal when Azazel shot up from the couch, and then Mammon took off, his laughter echoing in the next rooms over until the door falling shut cut him off.

I stared after him, feeling the heavy weight of Azazel’s gaze on me as he settled back on the couch, my body already heating in all the places it knew his touch.

“That was very rude,” I said, biting my lower lip.

“I agree.”

I glanced at him and raised my brows in surprise.

“They all should have left an hour ago.”

I tried and failed to suppress my grin. “You’re impossible.”

He tsked and leaned in, nipping at my ear lobe. “Just being honest.”

I shivered at the pleasure rolling out from his touch while the worry inside me hummed to new life. “Speaking of which…”

“Nope.” He drew back enough so he could pin me with a stern look. “This”—he tapped my forehead—“is switched off for tonight.”

He leaned in again and trailed hot kisses down my throat.

“But—”

Straightening, he gave me a smoldering look from underneath his dark lashes. “Do you want me to actually switch you off?”

I bristled, knowing he could do exactly that. The memory of that time he’d used his powers to knock me out when I’d panicked at the sight of his wing collection rose to the surface, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

Something sparked in his gaze. “That’s entirely up to you.”

I sputtered. “You high-handed, overbearing—”

He softly flicked my nose, which effectively shut me up, though it only made my blood boil all the more.

Leaning closer until his breath mingled with my own, he silkily asked, “Am I making you mad?”

“Yes,” I hissed. To think he’d threaten to magically put me under… The nerve. The audacity. The supercilious—

“Then fight me.” The words seemed a declaration of war, but the way he said them…like a gently murmured endearment, a verbal caress.

I softly sucked in air. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You’re just trying to distract me. You don’t want me worrying, so you’re pretending to be all domineering to rile me up and get me to have angry sex with you so I won’t have brain space left to think about what you won’t tell me.”

“You think I’m that manipulative?” he asked, but the spark of amusement in his eyes undermined the intent of his words.

“I know you are.”

He nodded, not even disputing it. “Then you should also know,” he said, his voice all silken seduction and dark charm, “that I don’t pretend to be domineering.”

Uh-oh. My stomach made a little flip at the way he looked at me, effortless power pulsing off him with every breath, the dominant energy he usually curbed a bit now on full display. He didn’t often let me feel the extent of it, but it was always there, an undercurrent to his presence.

It swept over me now in a breathtaking wave, raising the hairs on my arms and neck—and making my lady parts tingle. It was almost embarrassing how instantly wet I got. Involuntarily, I shifted on the couch, and his gaze dropped to my hips, a knowing smirk flirting with his mouth.

“You look entirely too smug,” I said.

His smile deepened, his eyes flashing. “On your knees,” he purred.