Azrael's gaze lingered on her, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes but carried a depth of emotion that made Celeste's heart ache. The way he looked at her, as though she was something fragile and sacred, made her chest tighten.
He stepped closer, slowly, cautiously—like he knew any sudden movement might send her spiraling into fear again. Celeste watched him approach, her body tensing instinctively. When he reached out, his fingers barely grazing her cheek, she flinched.
Azrael froze immediately, his hand withdrawing just enough to show her he noticed, he understood. His expression didn't change to frustration or disappointment, only deepened into something quieter. More protective.
"I'm sorry," Celeste whispered, dropping her gaze. "I don't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," he cut in softly. "It's not your fault."
His voice wrapped around her like velvet, and she peeked up at him through her lashes. Azrael sank to his knees beside her, no longer towering but meeting her on her level.
"I want to be someone you feel safe with," he said, voice low, nearly a whisper. "Even if it takes time."
Celeste swallowed hard, emotion thick in her throat. The world had never waited for her. It had pushed and pulled and broken her in silence. And now, here was this terrifying, powerful being—kneeling before her, offering her the one thing she had never known: gentleness.
"I don't know why you're being so kind," she said. "Why someone like you would care so much."
Azrael tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes softening. "Maybe because someone like me knows what it's like to be feared… and to wish someone would just see you as more."
She blinked, startled by his words. There was a vulnerability in them that she hadn't expected—a quiet echo of her own pain.
Before she could respond, another distant sound cracked through the trees—low, muffled, like footsteps. Azrael's eyes flicked toward the shadows, his expression hardening.
"We're not alone," he murmured.
He rose in one fluid motion, his cloak billowing behind him. "Stay behind me," he told her, his voice sharper now. "No matter what happens, don't move from the fire."
Celeste nodded, heart pounding, watching as he moved to the edge of the clearing.
A figure emerged from the darkness—tall, broad-shouldered, but not threatening. Azrael relaxed slightly, and Celeste heard him mutter something under his breath before calling out.
"Beta Caelan," he said with a nod. "You nearly startled the horses."
The man stepped into the light, revealing sharp eyes and short-cropped dark hair. "Forgive me, my King. We've secured the perimeter, but there's movement to the east. Possibly scouts."
Azrael's jaw tensed. "Keep patrols doubled. We move at first light."
"Yes, sire." Caelan bowed, then turned his gaze toward Celeste. His expression softened slightly, and he offered a respectful nod. "My Lady."
Celeste, caught off guard, could only offer a small nod in return.
Azrael returned to her side, crouching once more. "It's not safe here much longer. We'll ride in the morning."
He hesitated, then slowly reached for her hand. She tensed again but didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers trembled slightly as he laced his with hers.
"May I… stay by your side tonight?" he asked, voice almost reverent.
She looked at their joined hands, then up at his eyes—still glowing faintly crimson, but soft, not threatening.
"You may," she whispered.
And in that moment, under the crackling fire and the silent watch of the stars, something began to shift between them—not yet trust, not yet love, but the fragile, trembling beginning of both.The smile on Celeste's face lingered even as Azrael turned away to assess the disturbance in the forest. A moment ago, she had felt safe—wrapped in the warmth of his cloak, his voice, his arms. Now, cold air bit at her skin, reminding her of the danger that still lurked just beyond the trees.
Azrael's figure stood like a dark sentinel, poised and silent as he scanned the woods. The flicker of his crimson eyes pulsed faintly, glowing in the shadows. Then, with a graceful movement, he turned and strode back to her.
"It's nothing," he said, kneeling before her again. "Just a wandering creature. But I'll increase the perimeter wards tonight."
She nodded, relief flooding her. But as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, she flinched.
It wasn't intentional. It never was. But the instinct—the deep, ingrained fear—tightened her muscles before she could stop it. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened as she stared at his hand, now hovering in midair, frozen.
Azrael stilled, a flicker of pain flashing through his expression before it vanished behind calm composure. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've asked first."
"No, I…" Her voice trembled. "It's not you. I just—"
"You don't have to explain, Celeste." His voice was soft, laced with understanding. "I'll wait. However long it takes. I'll never touch you unless you want me to."
That quiet promise unraveled something inside her. Not guilt. Not shame. Just something deeply buried, rising to the surface—a longing to be seen and understood.
Before she could speak, a rustling came from behind the trees, followed by the sound of hooves on dirt. A pair of shadows approached, and Azrael stood swiftly, placing himself between Celeste and the approaching figures.
Two figures emerged from the darkness—a tall, lean man with close-cropped hair and sharp eyes, and a young woman with silver-blonde hair pulled into a high braid. Both bowed low in deference as they stepped into the firelight.
"My King," the man greeted, voice steady. "We've finished securing the trail ahead."
Azrael nodded once. "Good. Celeste, meet Beta Draven and Gemma, my trusted second and commander of the guard."
Gemma stepped forward first, her expression gentle as her eyes met Celeste's. "It's an honor to meet you, my lady. We've been waiting for you."
Celeste sat up slowly, her hands clutching the edge of the cloak wrapped around her. She managed a small, polite nod, unsure of how to respond.
Gemma noticed the tension and knelt beside her, but carefully kept her distance. "I know this is all new and overwhelming," she said softly, her voice a balm to Celeste's nerves. "But you're not alone. We're here for you. And we'll protect you—no matter what."
Something in Gemma's words, in her warm and open eyes, reminded Celeste of the sister she never had. And for the first time since stepping into this strange, dangerous world, she felt a flicker of hope.
"Thank you," Celeste whispered, her voice cracking. "That… means more than you know."
Azrael stood silently behind them, his gaze watchful but proud.
And though the forest around them held danger, the fire's warmth now felt different—less like a fragile defense, and more like the beginning of something healing.