Azrael's Nemesis

Chapter Three

Nemesis POV

I can’t shake the man from the window. Standing in the shower, I scrub until my skin is hot and prickly, trying to wash the thought away, but it sticks.

I’ve sensed spirits before—felt them like a cold finger along the spine—but I’ve never seen one so…present. He wasn’t fragile or misty. He looked solid, like someone cut out of stone and heat. Whoever he was, his energy held weight.

And he looked like trouble.

I step out, toweling my hair, and change into pajamas. Call it habit: I like buying nice things for myself. A soft nightgown, a simple slip — comfortable, not for anyone else. I’m not dressing for anyone. I’m dressing so I don’t feel exposed.

Before I sleep, I write. It helps. I pull out my notebook and the worn pen I always use and let the words come.

I’m fine, she says, the world replies

But silence sits heavy in her bones

She laughs and the room thinks it’s light

But something moves in the dark of night

She keeps her face for everyone to see

While storms rage loud inside of me

Words pour out until they steady breath

Writing saves me from the rest

When I put the pen down, my hands tremble. The words go where I don’t always want them to, and that’s the point. Better ink than anything worse. Better phrases than real harm. I close the notebook and lie on my bed, listening to the house settle.

Outside, the night hums on. Somewhere, a distant car, a neighbor’s dog. I pull the sheet up and try to breathe.

Azrael POV

Echo’s voice carries through the house like a strike. “If you so much as think about taking her by force, I will gut you,” she snaps, each word a blade, even from across the hall.

“I’m not going to force her,” I say. My hands are steady on the railing, but my chest pounds. “I felt her. She’s my mate.”

“You felt a pull — big deal. That does not mean you get to decide her whole life. Take it slow. Learn her. Don’t scare her off,” Echo insists. Her patience has a short fuse tonight.

Lucifer appears at the doorway, calm as ever. “Echo, breathe. He’s been through this — he knows better than to be reckless.”

Echo’s glare could burn a sundial. “Tell him not to be a fool,” she snaps. “Find out who she is before you try to change her world.”

I run a hand through my hair. I don’t want to make enemies of those who could help. I also don’t want another predator finding her because I rushed. Echo is right about that. I am not blind to the risks.

“I’ll approach carefully,” I say. “I’ll watch. I’ll put protections up. I won’t drag her into Olympus unless she wants it. But I won’t leave her unguarded either.”

Lucifer nods. “Wards and watchers, then. Make sure she’s safe without smothering her.”

Echo exhales like a storm breaking. “Fine. Do it the right way. Or don’t at all.”

There’s a kind of truth in that. I will not take a life into my hands thoughtlessly. I learned that lesson with Echo. I learned that people must choose to come with me. If she ever chooses Olympus, it will be because she wants to, not because I insisted.

I head to the eastern garden and lay down plans: wards for the neighborhood, subtle sentinels on the edge of sight, messages left in places only she can stumble upon if she seeks answers. No forcible taking. Only protection, patience, and the hope she will find me when she’s ready.

Tonight I watch from a distance. I do what I must. I breathe. I wait.