••{RHIANNON'S POV}••
Azrael's hand is cold in mine.
I sit on the edge of his bed, my fingers wrapped around his hand like if I let go, he might slip away from me.
My thumb moves slowly over the back of his hand, back and forth, a mindless motion I can't seem to stop. My other palm rests flat against his chest. I count each rise and fall just to make sure he's still alive.
I breathe only when he does.
The room smells faintly of blood he'd been fed, and the herbs used to treat him. The curtains are drawn, keeping the sun at bay. But I don't need its light to see just how broken he is.
It breaks my heart.
"This is all my fault," I whisper.
My voice sounds too loud in the quiet. The words feel heavy the moment they leave my mouth.
"You wouldn't be lying here if it weren't for me."
