Page 77 of Sweet Venom

It was beautiful in a way that hurt. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. Because somehow, impossibly, it felt like I was staring straight into Azariel’s soul.

And I was utterly, helplessly enthralled.

Twinkling lights hung high in the trees, like fallen stars trapped in the branches. They shimmered softly, casting a golden glow over the path ahead of us. The cold wind rustled through the leaves, carrying a hush that felt both sacred and haunted. The manor itself was grand and quiet, with tall windows that reflected the moonlight and ivy crawling like veins over the gray stone walls. It was odd. The manor didn’t just sit there—it waited for us. Watched us.

And I felt it. I felt this place deep in my bones. Like a sense of déjà vu and belonging which is strange since I’ve never been here. It’s the same feeling I felt earlier with Azariel. Something was pulling at the edge of my chest. Something familiar and strange.

“It’s…,” I breathed. “It’s… beautiful.”

Azariel said nothing.

But I saw the way his hands slowed on the wheel. The way his eyes stayed fixed on the glowing and magical path ahead.

Whatever this place was... it wasn’t just a stop on the road.

It was him.

I leaned forward, unable to look away.

The manor kept rising out of the night like a secret whispered into the dark. Twisting ivy curled up its stone walls like veins, and soft golden lights shimmered high in the trees, suspended like fallen stars caught mid-descent. It was breathtaking, yes, but not in a soft, gentle way.

No.

It was the kind of beauty that made your chest ache. The kind that felt like it had teeth and could bite if you got too close. Like him.

The manor looked alive in a way that made your heart slow and your breath catch. It felt like stepping into the pages of a story where you weren’t sure if the ending was happy… or tragic but there was no doubt that it would be beautiful.

The black iron gates groaned close behind us with a deep, echoing clang. Azariel didn’t flinch as if he had heard it a thousand times before. He simply drove forward, following the driveway that led us deeper into the dark. The world beyond vanished. There were no more city lights. No sound but the low hum of the engine and the soft sigh of wind through the trees.

“Is this your home?” I asked before I could stop myself, my voice just above a whisper.

Azariel didn’t answer right away. For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer at all.

Then, finally, his voice came. Low. So soft.

“It is.”

That was it. Nothing more.

I didn’t need anything else.

It was the way he said it—the quiet awe—that made my heart pound like crazy. As if this dark gothic, soul-stirring magical place meant something special to him. It wasn’t just another home. It wasn’t another haunted castle in its long, quiet story. No. It was his home.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I know, heart.

Will he ever stop surprising me? I don’t think so. I don’t want him to stop.

I stared at him, half in shock and half in wonder. He looked like a heartless prince from a forgotten tale… the kind you’re warned about. The one you’re afraid to fall for yet you can’t help but do it anyway.

The car rolled to a slow stop before the entrance.

I looked away from Azariel and then up.

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