Hanging around at taverns isn't a habit of mine.

And yet, since meeting and losing Az I've ended up at Hazel's Vale every night. Slumped in front of a mug of mead, or drowning my feelings in a cocktail.

This is unusual. At most, I'll swing by the tavern once or twice a week for a drink and a sweep of the area. But these past few nights, I've been drawn here. I can't stop myself as I take my seat at the bar-counter, and sigh when Henderson sets an alcoholic beverage in front of me.

I try to convince myself that I'm not coming here because of Az. That I don't stay in the area in case he surfaces again, apologizing for abandoning me.

But no matter what I do, I think of him. Daytime, nighttime; during meals, afternoon walks near the marketplace. I imagine his mouth as I bite into those stupid macarons. My heart flutters whenever I see a tall, large man from afar.

Az, whatever he is, has left Hazelvale. I don't smell him; that richly pungent stench of evil, with its sickeningly sweet edges that mask the danger beneath it.

After eradicating that cheating woman in the alley, I expected my feelings to dissipate. I thought it was a phase, a fluke that I'd feel anything for Az. But the harder I attempt to move on and forget, the more he pops up in my head, haunting me.

It's been three days, and still, I turn to the door whenever it opens, desperate for it to be him.

"He's not coming back," Henderson says, every time I spin back around, dejected.

"Who?" I ask, feigning innocence.

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Dru," says Henderson, sliding a small tumbler of amber liquid towards me.

"I'm not bullshitting," I say, sucking down the liquid, letting it burn my throat. I hope it'll burn my heart, too, because I can't stand it anymore.

It hurts. Constantly. It longs for love, but yearns for revenge. It begs me to hunt Az down and have my way with him, then behead him.

Ditching me like that, without a word...it's unheard of. One-night-stands are always agreed upon, first.

At the same time, my heart craves him. It's desperate for him to appear so I can touch him. So I can absorb all his toxicity and let it drape me in some sinister need for more.

The sexual tension between us was so raw, I can't stop thinking about it. I want to taste him, feel him inside me.

I shudder, and Henderson walks away, muttering to himself as he shakes his head.

I'm not all right. In all my eons of existence, I've never felt like this. Never had such a carnal need to be fucked by someone. And certainly not someone of his kind; a demon.

It's more than lust, too. I long for his voice, his words. A delicate brush of his giant hands over my cheeks, a need to nestle into his big arms and fall asleep with him.

It's so odd. I've seen this play out before: the slow falling for someone else. The heartbeats quickening at their touch, the stupid glowiness in their features. I'm well-versed with witnessing these emotions and events unfolding before me...but they've never happened to me.

I've never experienced lust to this level, but I know how to handle it. I must scratch that itch to make it go away.

But this added layer of sentiments towards Az is more than an itch. It's a wound that won't heal, and I'm not sure whether to keep poking at it or ignore it.

It's such a powerful pull, it transcends physical needs. And it's so forbidden, but I can't help it.

"You need to get laid," says Henderson, his voice shocking me out of my turbulent images of a naked Az.

"Excuse me?" I glare at him. "Don't presume to understand my needs."

"You've been here three nights in a row." Henderson scoffs. "You're still a mystery to me, but that part you can't hide."

I arch an eyebrow. "What part?"

"Your hunger." He juts his chin behind me; the tavern is full tonight, and he's implying I have options to choose from.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you need to get laid," he insists, pointing his rag at those behind me. "And there are many in here who would fold in half for you."

I frown, but my insides heat up.

I'm hot enough to take any of these patrons home.

Az appears in my mind again, and I growl as I slog down half my drink.

Henderson is right. If I can't have Az—and I can't—then I need to satisfy my urges with someone else. Masturbation doesn't help, and I need a real connection to assuage me.

I spin on my stool, gauging the crowd of drinkers.

A few dapper men are grouped around a table in the back, daring each other to drinking contests. I wrinkle my nose; I'd rather someone fairly sober for a better experience.

Other men sit here and there, ogling me, or focused on their beverages, plucking away at bowls of nuts or cheese.

And then, seated on one of the couches in the rear, is her.

The crowd parts to show her. A goddess. Not a real one, but she exudes all the qualities of the type of woman I enjoy having sex with.

Loose, but intelligent. Needy, but generous.

She spreads her legs, though her lengthy dress covers what I'd like to see most. Her hands rest on her thighs, and her gaze is on me.

She noticed me?

She nods. Her message is direct: join me. I can tell, even from across the room, that she's been watching, and she's interested.

I stand, and take a moment to read her heart, to make sure she's not another demon in disguise, or a heart on the verge of going dark. Thankfully, she's pure.

I take one step towards her and see her perking up. She arches her spine, poking her hefty bosom out, inviting me.

Her curves draw the eye. Her oval-shaped face shows warmth, tenderness. Her gown is well-made; a silk-like texture, meaning she's upper-class.

And she's all but waving me over now, adrenaline pumping through her. Oh, she's eager, and she'll do anything I want. This woman is what I need tonight. Docile but playful, and incredibly sexy.

She moves her legs and lightly lifts her gown to show her ankles, her calves. I'm hooked.

I can't wait to play out all my fantasies with her, and get my mind off of—

The door whips open, and on instinct, I twist towards it.

A familiar burly silhouette stands there. I recognize his features. The dark eyes, the defined nose and jawline, the subtle hint of a sneaky smile over his juicy lips.

Az?

I rub my eyes. Am I hallucinating? Days of wishing for him to come back, and all of a sudden he's here?

It's too good to be true.

"Dru," he says, spotting me frozen in the middle of the busy room.

My jaw drops.

He walks up to me. The entire tavern is frozen, gawking at this abrupt arrival, this hunk of a man none of them recognize.

He thunders over; not menacingly, but because that's the only way he can approach me with such muscular legs, such huge feet.

He stops before me, and my arm shifts up; not to slap him, as I'd hoped to, but so he can steal my hand and place a kiss on my knuckles.

Chills race down my spine. "Az," I say. "You're back."

I want to pinch myself, to make sure it's real.

The poor lady I'd been about to proposition is nowhere to be found as I break from my trance and gape about the room. I scowl at a few lingering gazes, urging them to look away.

Az doesn't let go of my hand. "I had somewhere to be."

I turn my scowl on him. "Somewhere to be?" I yank free from his grasp. "You're lucky I don't stab you," I add, under my breath, my cheeks heating up.

And yet the notion of physically harming him does something weird in my belly. It compresses my heart.

Az sets his hands on his waist, offering me a cocky expression. He knows I'm only holding my ground out of impatience. He knows I still want him.

"Is there anything else you'd like to do to me? We have witnesses, I don't mind." Something glints in his eye, and it takes all my might not to smack him.

He's an asshole, but by the goddesses...that tension is still there. That nagging lust that demands that I fall into his arms and let him disrobe me, explore my body with his deft fingers.

I get on my tiptoes to reach his ear. "There are numerous things I'd like to do to you, so I'm glad you reappeared."

He pulls away, blushing as he adjusts his cloak. "I'm sorry it took so long."

I guide him to my seat at the counter; there's an empty stool beside mine. We sit, and Henderson brings him a beer.

"On the house," he says, jutting his chin at me, "because for some stupid reason, she likes you."

I'm tempted to reach over the counter and strangle him. How dare he? I'm supposed to be playing the game, acting inaccessible. Henderson is ruining my moves.

"It's an exaggeration," I say, once Henderson has moved on. "I don't like you. You just...left an impression."

I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. Why is my heart still thumping up a storm in my ribcage? Why are goosebumps popping up on my arms?

Why am I so jittery, so nervous? I got what I wanted: Az is back.

"An impression?" He tips his glass at me and swigs down half of it. "I'm intrigued."

I flip to my drink, not wanting him to see my face drain of color. "You left at quite a troublesome time."

"Ah?" Az takes hold of my chin and gently turns me to him. "Troublesome? Why?"

His gaze is burning. It shoots through me, sending jolts to my heart, my core, the tips of my breasts. It's a surge of powerful desire, something so intense I forget how to breathe for a moment.

There's no mistaking that kind of energy that's gushing from his aura, and how it seeps into mine.

Against my internal screams to leave it alone, I dig into his heart. It's still colorless, yet I can tell it's thrumming. It's humming. And it tells me he's interested.

He yearns for me, but needs a little push.

"Yes, troublesome," I say, regaining control of my body as I lean into him. "Because I was soaking wet with no one to help me fix it."

He doesn't jerk away, but I sense him shiver. "Wet," he repeats, licking his lips. His eyebrows quirk up, playfulness in his expression. "Which is an issue only something hard can fix, yes?"

"Hard," I murmur into his ear, to inject the passion right into him. "Hard inside the wet...and we've got a solution."

He slides his hand over my thigh, his fingers climbing up so high, they nearly graze between my legs. My dress is thick, but his touch is so fervent, it's as if I'm naked. He's scorching.

I gulp.

"I'd appreciate a solution." He slings back the rest of his drink and stands up. "Where? When?"

I sneak my hand into Az's. "Upstairs. There's a room ready for us. Now."

To his credit, Az doesn't hesitate as he heads away from the counter, heeding my directions to the stairs behind the curtain.

Upstairs are a few rooms Henderson rents out from time to time, but I have a permanent one. The suite. It's not much, but I've decorated it with opulent touches—plants, paintings, sculptures, draperies, fine silk blankets.

I use it when I'm in no mood or condition to return to the temple. And tonight is one such opportunity.

I'm in the mood to fuck, and I can't do that with the goddesses spying.

As I close the door behind us, Az falls onto the plush bed with a sigh. "Had you told me about this the other day, I would have..."

I unfasten my dress, pushing down the fabric covering me up. There's nothing underneath, and I'm eager for him to discover that. "You would have...what?"

He eyes me up and down, chewing on his lower lip. "I would have ripped your clothes off without delay."

I let my gown fall down my body, landing around my feet. He sits upright, gaze fixed on my exposed breasts, my curvaceous hips.

There I stand, completely naked, swelling with urgent need.

I keep at a distance as he starts to pat at the growing bulge between his legs. I bite back the urge to straddle him at once. "Aren't you mad at yourself for leaving before you got a piece of this?"

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