Page 79 of Sweet Venom

Azariel didn’t say a word as he led the way, his long, steady strides echoing against the stone beneath us.

There was something about the way he moved—like the night bent around him, like the shadows followed him home and did whatever he asked of them.

And as I stared at the beauty in front of me—him— a small part of me wondered if I was in over my head. If I was walking into something I didn’t fully understand.

But then I remembered his hand in mine earlier. The way his touch burned but didn’t hurt. How he’d held my hand without hesitation—quiet and steady, like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like he knew exactly when I needed it.

It hadn’t been dramatic.

It had been grounding and sweet.

And it had meant more than I could put into words.

It reminded me that there was more to Azariel Solonik than his sharp edges and cold exterior. It made me think that maybe behind the powerful and cold-hearted mask and all that quiet and ink, was someone soft. Someone waiting for someone to see beyond it all.

It scared me but I didn’t need all the answers tonight.

I just knew in my heart that I wanted to follow him.

Even into the dark and the unknown.

Because wherever he was going…

I wanted to be there, too.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

A MATCH MADE IN MIDNIGHT

Poe

“I don’t want a happy ending—I want our ending, no matter how twisted.” - P

The moment we crossed the threshold of the manor, Azariel led me through long, quiet hallways, where the only sound was the soft echo of our footsteps against marble floors, muffled by thick, faded red rugs.

Old paintings lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow us as we moved.

Eventually, we reached a door. Heavy. Dark wood. A brass handle, aged to a soft tarnish.

He opened it for me and stepped aside.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, his voice lower now. Rougher. Tired, maybe. Or something else entirely. “You should rest.”

I turned to face him, lips parting to speak—but I didn’t even know what I wanted to say.Thank you? Don’t go? Stay?

But nothing came out.

So I simply nodded. “Okay.”

He studied me for a moment longer—his eyes lingering in that maddening, unreadable way of his, like he was trying to memorize every part of me. Then he pushed off the frame and turned, melting into the hallway’s darkness like he belonged to it.

“Goodnight, Poe.”

Just like that, he was gone—leaving me standing alone in the warm silence of a place that already felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever been.

I stood there for a breath, maybe two, feeling the silence settle around me. And when I stepped into the room, I felt like I’d walked into a dream or maybe a gothic dark novel. I wasn’t sure which one, but I had a feeling it was one where I was the unsuspecting heroine, and Azariel was the mysterious, brooding villain who kept me on my toes.

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