"And what would you call this?"
"This," he said softly, his gaze holding mine, burning with an intensity I didn't quite understand, "is everything that matters, and I intend to enjoy every second of it while it lasts."
Just for a moment, that silver curtain parted, and I knew exactly what he was thinking—that it wouldn't last beyond this day. Because he was determined to control the uncontrollable. "Azriel—"
"Don't," he said.
So I didn't. I just enjoyed.
The sharp ringing of the phone woke me many hours later. I groaned and groped the bedside table blindly, but couldn't find the damn phone.
It said a lot about both my mental state and my overall tiredness that it took me several more minutes to remember I'd left it in the bathroom.
"Here," Azriel said.
I opened one eye and looked at him, my vision rather bleary. He seemed disgustingly refreshed. "It's totally unfair that you look like you can go another six rounds and I feel exhausted."
"It's one of the benefits of being a reaper rather than a humanoid." His face was back to being its usual unreadable self, and while I'd expected it, I still hated it. He held out the phone. "Do you wish to answer this?"
"Who is it?"
He glanced down at the phone. "Jak."
I groaned, but raised a hand, made a "give me" motion, then hit the RECEIVE button and said, "You'd better have a good reason for ringing me at this hour, otherwise I will have to kill you."
His laugh was soft and teasing, but my hormones were too sated to react. "And here I was thinking I was the only one who woke up with a hangover."
Hangover? I glanced at Azriel and he shrugged. I guess it was one way of getting around the whole memory problem—you simply gave them a reason not to remember every little detail.