Azriel reappeared as I hung up, his fierce expression suggesting things had not gone well.
"You didn't find the shooter?"
"I did. He was stationed on top of the stadium roof, but by the time I got there, he'd thrown himself off it."
"He killed himself?"
"Yes." He glanced behind us. "People are approaching. We should leave before we are seen."
"Azriel, I'm a witness. I have to—"
"Have you forgotten the councillors' edict?"
I had. I closed my eyes, breathed deep, then glanced at my watch. It was close to twelve. Shit. "I need to change," I said wearily. "I'm not going to that place dressed like this."
He didn't answer, just stepped close, took me in his arms, and whisked us both out of there. But the minute we were back in the hotel room, he stepped back. It didn't stop the awareness that trembled across my skin, nor did it ease the heat of desire shimmering between us. I might be angry with him, but that didn't stop me from wanting him.
"Azriel—"
"Get changed," he said curtly. "Or we'll be late—and I suspect that would not be wise."
"There's lots of things that wouldn't be wise," I muttered as I headed for the bathroom. "But I suspect that's not going to stop them from happening."
"Some things are destined and can never be changed," he agreed flatly. "No matter how much we might wish otherwise."
I changed quickly into my jeans and sweater. "And here I was thinking destiny was a fluid thing."
"Destiny is fluid," he said. "And sometimes so is death. Logan was not destined to die this night, so his soul will roam."