The fire crackled softly in the center of the camp, its orange glow dancing on the shadows of the surrounding trees. The scent of pine and earth mingled with the warmth of the flames, but none of it could chase away the icy feeling in the pit of Celeste's stomach. She lay nestled in Azrael's arms, her cheek resting against his broad chest, but her body was far from relaxed.
She had heard his words—the soft, comforting promises he had given her earlier. "I'm not going to hurt you." But she wasn't sure if she could believe him. She wanted to. She truly did. But the fear, the uncertainty that had followed her her entire life, held her in place, trapping her in the silence between them.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his cloak, clinging to him as though he might vanish at any moment. She wasn't afraid of him. Or at least, she didn't want to be. But the way his presence seemed to overwhelm her senses, the way his touch ignited something deep inside her that she didn't understand—it terrified her.
"I don't know how to trust you," she whispered into the quiet night, her voice barely audible.
Azrael didn't respond at first, and for a moment, she thought he hadn't heard her. But then, his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, as if he had been waiting for her to speak those words.
"You don't have to trust me right now," he said softly, his voice low and steady. "I'll give you time, Celeste. I'll be patient."
His words hit her like a soft, unspoken promise. Time. She had never been given time to heal, never allowed the space to come to terms with her own fears and pain. Her life had always been a series of battles—physical, emotional—always running, always hiding. But with Azrael, for some reason, it felt different. She didn't feel like she had to hide. Not yet, anyway.
Azrael's fingers brushed through her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart race. "Do you trust me enough to tell me what's really bothering you?"
The question hung in the air, and Celeste swallowed, her heart thudding in her chest. She wanted to tell him everything. About the way her stepmother had tortured her, about the emptiness she had carried for years, about how she had never felt safe until now. But the words caught in her throat, trapped by the walls she had built up over the years. She wasn't ready. Not yet.
"I'm… afraid," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "I'm afraid of what's happening. Of what you are. Of what I'm supposed to do now."
Azrael's eyes softened as he listened, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "You don't need to fear me, Celeste," he said, his voice a deep, soothing growl. "I may be the Demon King, but I'm not the monster they tell stories about."
Her heart fluttered, but doubt still lingered in her chest. She wanted to believe him. The warmth of his touch was undeniable, the gentleness in his voice was real, but the fear in her heart, the remnants of all her past suffering, made it hard to accept that someone like him could be kind. Could be good.
"I don't understand this world, Azrael," she murmured, her fingers clutching tighter onto his cloak. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be. I don't know how to be… with you."
Azrael was silent for a moment, then he gently shifted, lifting her chin with his finger so that her eyes met his. His gaze was intense—those crimson eyes piercing into her very soul, but they softened as they lingered on her face.
"You don't need to understand everything right now," he said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "You don't need to have all the answers. You just need to be yourself. I'll show you how to live in this world, step by step. But only when you're ready."
His words made her heart ache, not from fear, but from something else—something warm, something that stirred deep within her. He wasn't rushing her. He wasn't demanding. He was giving her the space to breathe, to exist as she was. And that, more than anything, made her want to trust him.
"I don't want to be afraid anymore," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But it's hard. It's so hard, Azrael."
Azrael's jaw tightened, and for a moment, his expression became unreadable. But then, as if making a decision, he reached out and pulled her even closer, his lips brushing the top of her head in a soft, comforting kiss. "You don't have to be afraid, Celeste. Not while I'm here."
The words were a vow, an unspoken promise that wrapped around her like a blanket. She wanted to believe them. She wanted to feel safe. But something still gnawed at her, a fear she couldn't shake.
Azrael's grip softened, his eyes scanning her face with a tenderness she hadn't expected. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "You're more than you think you are, Celeste. And I'm not going to let you forget that."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. But just as she opened her mouth to respond, a distant rumble broke the fragile silence. The horses in the distance snorted and pawed at the ground, unsettled.
Azrael's entire body tensed. His gaze shot out into the darkness, and for a fleeting moment, Celeste saw the deadly creature beneath the calm surface—the Demon King who could strike fear into the hearts of thousands.
She instinctively clung to him, feeling the cold shift in the air, the electric charge of imminent danger. "What's happening?" she whispered, her voice small in the face of whatever threat lay ahead.
Azrael didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently pushed her back against the warmth of the campfire and rose to his feet, his form looming like a shadow. "Stay here," he ordered, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Don't move."
Her heart pounded in her chest, and for the first time since they'd left her kingdom, she felt truly alone. Alone in a world she didn't understand, with a man she didn't fully trust, surrounded by enemies she couldn't even see.
Celeste took a deep breath, steadying herself, before something suddenly bubbled up from within her, an instinct she had never felt before. "Azrael," she called out, her voice trembling but more sure of itself than it had been all night. "Can I... Can I call you by your name?"
Azrael froze, his back still turned to her. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his pause, the way his body went still. Then, slowly, he turned back toward her, those crimson eyes softer than before, and she saw something flicker within them—something warm, something human.
"I thought you'd never ask," he said, his voice quiet but full of something she couldn't name. He took a step closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her once more. "Of course, Celeste. You may call me Azrael."
Her heart fluttered, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small smile tugged at her lips.