Silver eyes focused on him. Her head tilted slightly to the side. In the distance, a train rumbled above their heads and shook loose a chunk of ceiling. Water dripped into a puddle. Azazel continued to wait.
Then Char took a tentative step toward him. A few more steps and she stood right in front of him. He held out his hand. She took it, and he released a long held breath. With relief he tugged her to him and her arms wound around his waist. Careful to avoid her injury, he slid his arms around her, hands finding their natural resting place at the small of her back. Their foreheads touched and they held each other in a silence full of meaning. He didn’t dare speak. What could he say? Hundreds of languages on the tip of his tongue and no words could express how it felt to hold her after all these years. Some things couldn’t be spoken.