But he was here now, in the flesh, and goodness knew how long that would last. There was something I desperately needed to do, not just for my sanity but because I’d fucking missed the hell out of him.
His chest was heaving now in anticipation of my touch, and then I was stepping into the familiar heat of him, my hands grazing his tunic. The fabric was downy-soft against my skin as I slid my arms around him, or tried to, because the guy was huge. His forest aroma filled my head and memories of our cave home stung the back of my eyes, forcing me to squeeze them shut to hold back the tears.
“Anya.” My name was gruff on his tongue, and then he wrapped his arms around me and I was finally home.
Damn, this felt good. “I fucking missed you.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “I fucking missed you too.”
“Anya?” Helgi’s sleepy voice drifted toward us.
Shit. I wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
Azazel released me and tipped my chin up with the crook of his finger. “Tell no one about me. Not until we know who we can trust. We are headed into unfamiliar territory, and I can be of more use if I remain hidden.”
He was already losing form, his finger a mere wisp beneath my chin, the pressure like a butterfly’s kiss.
He sighed. “Are you sure you need all your companions? One of them may give me a few more hours in corporal form.”
I bit back a snort of laughter. Yep, this was my childhood friend all right. The boy who’d challenged my morality at every turn. “Sorry, they’re all invaluable.”
“Even the dragon?” He arched a brow.
“Especially the dragon. We need him to get into the Keep. I need to get a book to the dragon lord Orion.” The words tripped off my tongue easily, because although Dad had asked me not to tell anyone about the book, Azazel wasn’t just anyone. He was the other half of me, and there was nothing I would hide from him.
“Fine, have it your way.” He inclined his head, his curved horns glinting in the moonlight. My fingers ached to touch them, but I curled them into a fist as I recalled the last time I’d made such a faux pax.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth softened, but then the crunch of boots headed our way registered and he vanished in a swirl of shadow.
“Hey, who you talking to?” Helgi asked, her face still creased from sleep.
“Just myself. You can sleep more if you want. I can keep watch for longer.”
She ran a hand through her bedhead. “Nah, I’m up now. Go catch some shut-eye.”
Leaving her to play sentry, I headed back toward the campfire and found a spot to curl up. The ground was hard and cold, and damn, how the heck was I ever going to get to sleep? Heat pressed against my back, curling around me and slipping over my waist.
Azazel.
A mournful howl painted the night somewhere to the east. My body tensed and the phantom pressure of Azazel’s arm around my waist increased a fraction.
It’s all right. We’re safe. They won’t venture out of the warping.
I’d heard tales of such a place, fantastical stories of creatures that defied both science and magick, but they were just tall tales because no one had ever met anyone who’d physically been into that part of the Outlands. No one even seemed to know exactly where it was. Azazel was spinning a yarn, like the ones he’d whispered to me in our cave home years ago.
I turned my head slightly toward him. “The warping isn’t real.”
A low chuckle. Many wish it wasn’t, and only a fool would venture into the haze surrounding that place. It has no fixed location but is a place displaced, and right now we must skirt it to get to our destination. But we have several safe routes, so there is no need to fear.
My mind and body were too hungry for sleep to feel fear, and the tension seeped out of my muscles.
Sleep. You will need your strength. I will keep watch over your friends.
Yes. Azazel didn’t sleep. He didn’t need to. Which brought me back to the question that I’d never asked for fear of losing him. I bit it back now out of habit, but it rang clear as a bell in my mind.
What was he? What was Azazel?
Will you dream of me?
His whispered words followed me into slumber, into the dank cave we’d called home, and into a memory that still brought a flush of shame to my cheeks.
The boy lay with his eyes closed. He was angry and upset with me because I’d made him feel bad for being corporal. The man he’d killed had been beating a dog, but still, murder was murder. He refused to see it that way, calling it vigilante justice. The dog had bled to death not long after the man had gasped his last.
Azazel lay silent beside me now. He said he wasn’t upset with me, that my cutting words didn’t matter, but they did. I knew they did. We’d been fighting more and more recently, and he’d taken to sleeping on the other side of the cave on more occasions than not. Although when I woke up in the night, he’d be beside me, his forever warmth wrapped around me like a blanket. I’d be afraid to move. Afraid he’d realize I was awake and withdraw again.
“Azazel, I’m sorry.” The words were a whisper.
His chest rose and fell in a sigh, but he didn’t answer.
I reached out and placed my hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up beneath my palm. “Hey, you could accept my apology, you know. You’re meant to be the older, wiser one, remember?”
The corners of his mouth lifted sardonically. “You’re no longer a child, Anya. You’re old enough to pick your words
