Myra 20

Glassy hazel eyes widened at the sight of you– your chest heaving slightly, your starry, doubtful gaze shooting arrows into his limbs and pinning him to the door that he had just so desperately clawed at the other side of. He tried to put on some kind of guise– as he did any time emotion bloomed– but he could only stare at you. No words filled the void between you, which only seemed to grow vaster as each moment passed. 

You watched as his mouth parted, but nothing came out, his eyes flicking around every inch of you– frantic, nervous– anxious. Anxiety cascaded from the other end of the bond, and you wondered if he could spot the surprise on your features. You had thought all the anxiety you felt this eve was only yours, but it was also nagging him– crushing him, drowning him. 

He was still fumbling, breath turning erratic as he tried to say something– anything– but he didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to approach you when he had left you so shamefully the other morning. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell you. But you were looking at him expectantly, and his body was absolutely roaring at him to engulf your smaller figure, to hold you in his embrace and never stray from you again. All while his mind scrambled to select a route forward, weighing between dousing the fire inside that demanded to feel your skin on his, launching into some magical explanation that would justify his horrid actions, and just plainly falling to his knees in repetent woe before you. 

His body decided for him. He took one step toward you– expression unchanged, unaware he was even moving– and his knees slammed onto the floor. 

The sound of his descent was deafening, and you flinched at the pain that twisted his chiseled face. Somehow you had a feeling it was not from the physical action, rather, the emotional distress he was currently battling. He appeared almost ghostly in the dimly-lit room, skin drained of the usual caramel color that you’d imagined the taste of on many a night. 

“I am sorry,” the shadowsinger finally choked out, his voice gravelly and low. He closed his eyes, lips pursed and wavering, then gaze snapping open and fixing you with such intensity you stopped breathing. “I was weak. I never should have run from you. The thought of your suffering– the cause only mine, my cowardice alone…” he couldn’t look at you anymore, and his visage darkened, shadows coming to swirl around his knees as utter shame enveloped him. “I shall regret it every moment, until I draw my last breath. I am sorry… I’m sorry…” he kept repeating it, quieter each time, fists balled on the tile just inches from your feet.

Tears dribbled down your cheeks and gathered at the point of your chin, lips wobbling as you tried to clutch onto the sheer disappointment, the anger that had governed your emotions for the past few days. But the sight of this male– your male– so laden with contrite, his self-hatred overt in the way he was slumped, eyes downcast, wings drooped behind him on the cold tile before you… 

It was his sob that finally broke your trance. 

The spymaster of the most feared Court in Prythian, perhaps the most feared Illyrian there ever was… he was crying. Fat, salty droplets splashed onto the ground below him, the evidence irrefutable. He was on his knees for you, remorse billowing from his silhouette just as the dark shadows that obeyed him did. You could smell his sorrow, the stench of undiluted regret oozing out of him. 

And you could tell, now, what he was thinking, what he was coming to accept as truth as every second passed and he lay before you, vulnerable and guilt-ridden, and you remained in silence, watching him, unmoving; that he had had his chance– the chance he had written off after so many centuries of solitude, and he had been stupid enough to let it– let you– slip right through his fingers. That you would never accept this, and that you would not want him, not give him another chance. That as you stood and took in his pathetic excuse of an apology, his teary groveling, you would decide to reject him. Forsake him to the true fear that chilled his mind as he fell asleep each night, the solitude that he had become far too familiar with, the loneliness he believed he deserved.

You did not speak. 

You did not breathe as you sank to your knees, joining his deflated form on the ground. 

You did not hesitate as you took his wet jaw in both your hands, closed your eyes, and kissed him. 

Azriel stiffened. Long, tear-clumped lashes fluttered as he realized your lips were on his, not really believing you were actually kissing him, after his disgraceful, meager excuse of an apology. But only a small moment passed before he released a soft moan, scarred hands coming to grip your chin and lean into your caress, eyes closing and broad, dark wings fluttering. Breathing life itself back into him. He did not dare to break your kiss, would rather suffocate than part with your delectable mouth, those soft lips he had dreamed of, yearned for.

As he savored your kiss, it felt like he was drugging you, like ecstasy itself was seeping into your body from where he touched you, where his mouth connected with yours. You shivered, legs clamping together. Your body wanted him, wanted its mate, wanted the sweet and addictive feeling that he was providing you with to never end. 

But you could not forget the manner he had treated you just days ago. You could not move forth without a clean slate, and you intended to get just that. 

He had some explaining to do. 

Azriel gasped as you pulled away from him, leaning far forward enough as he trailed your departure that he nearly fell into your lap. Honeyed eyes fluttered open and he blinked away the moisture remaining there, trying to clear the lustful fog that had begun to infiltrate his skull with just a simple kiss from his mate. He whispered your name, a breathless prayer, perhaps not even realizing it had slid from his parted mouth. 

His gaze followed you like a magnet as you stood, still not uttering a word, and offered him a hand. You helped him up, though he did not use the appendage you offered as physical support… Which was the sole reason you allowed his hand to remain touching yours as you settled facing each other on the velveteen couch, even if the contact made your thoughts considerably harder to direct toward maintaining conversation. 

“So…” you cleared your throat, eyes wandering to the beams of moonlight cast upon the marble floor of the balcony. “You know…”

The shadowsinger sat up, schooling his expression and finding his composure. It would have been perfect, could have fooled even you had you not been able to see how his wings still sagged, feel how his fingers gripped onto yours just a pinch tighter. 

“I know,” he replied evenly. “I can feel the bond now. I can feel your pull… feel you on the other side… my mate.” 

You couldn’t stifle the shudder that went through you when he nearly growled.

Azriel scrutinized you, surely noting how your crossed legs squeezed together underneath the casual linen dress you’d thrown on for dinner. You didn’t trust either of you enough to stay on course when his gaze sizzled into the soft skin of your exposed thighs, so you forced yourself to speak.

“Why did it take you so long?”

You hadn’t meant to say it, at least, not that bluntly. But you’d spoken without thinking, and the first thing off the top of your head had flown out. 

Azriel gave you a pained look, like you’d kicked him square in the chest. “I’m sorry to make you wait,” he murmured, his rough thumb sweeping over your knuckles. “I would never intend to make you wait, I know that waiting can be… arduous. Can feel… eternal.”

It was your turn to squeeze his hand. You’d never know how it felt to be alone, not for as long as he had been at least. He had centuries of seclusion on you— waiting for someone whose existence he had eventually written off. Just two measly weeks had you strung out, you couldn’t imagine how he coped through the years. Not that it was exactly the same, but still, it was worth considering.

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” you assured, scooting closer to the male. His shoulder almost brushed yours now, and if he sighed, his exhale would move your hair to tickle your collar bone. “I only wish you would tell me what you were thinking. The morning after, you barely said anything. Just that it was a mistake.”

He bristled. “I never said that.” Every word spoken that dreadful morning had been seared into his brain, looping a thousand times over since the moment he had slipped out your door.

“That’s how I heard it, though.”

Azriel looked at you like you had just stabbed yourself, his handsome face aghast. “Y/N–”

“Do you…” you almost whimpered at the fear that pulsed through your heart at your own question, “Do you think this is a mistake?” 

It took all but one second for Azriel to scoop you in his arms and press every inch of your torsos together, large hands coming to grip the base of your head at the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“Never,” he hissed, the mere premise making his gaze darken, his shadows lashing out and crackling through your room, swallowing nearly all light. His expression was downright icy, and had he given you such a look for any other reason, you’d be running, tail between your legs. “Though I found the bond just hours ago,” he continued, “not for one second have I thought that. Nor will I ever.” 

Sweet validation trickled into your veins. Coupled with his firm, passionate touch, you were melting in his arms. In his big, strong, tattooed arms. 

He must have scented your interest, because his pupils floated back behind his eyelids and he groaned, gripping you harder. He ducked into your throat and traced your jaw with the tip of his nose. Your delicate skin was calling to him to be nipped, sucked, claimed. He could even see the ghost of his claim from the last time, barely purple at the base of your neck. It made him rock-hard beneath his leathers. 

But he needed to focus, he would not fail you again. His embrace loosened so that you could easily slip back, but you made no move to withdraw from him. 

“You said you wished to know what I was thinking,” he said, finding comfort in the way your soft skin felt against his scarred fingertips. It felt right, even if the sight of his unworthy flesh touching yours nearly made him cringe. “If you’d indulge me… I’d like to give you the full story. My story.”

You nodded, giving him your sweetest, most understanding look. It was a look he had received many times before, a look that had made him spill his guts much more than he was comfortable spilling. But somehow, words would continue to tumble out of him, even when he thought he had nothing left to say. When you would give him your undivided attention, and he felt like you really saw him, through his masks, his hard facade, the enigma behind the shadows… You were the only one to make him feel that way in all his centuries, and it was partly because of that recognition just hours ago that he had realized how precious you were to him. When the bond had snapped into place in the center of his chest, he had hurtled from Windhaven swifter than ever, as fast as he could to get back to you. 

Sweet herbs tickled the male’s nose as he took a deep breath in attempt to regain his bearings, the medicinal plants that flourished from various pots and flower boxes at your balcony and windows lacing the heavy air. But even that, coupled with the smell of pungent salves and dusty encyclopedias could not hold a flame to the lingering allure of your fresh, dulcet scent. How he found the strength to speak, he did not know.

“For a long time–” Azriel’s voice shook and he swallowed, rattled by such strong emotion, fighting his instincts to push it down, fighting to tell you his truth. His chin dropped to face your lap. His wide torso was rigid with each forced breath, wings tucked tight along the ridge of his shoulder blades. You could sense his growing impatience– how he despised the silence that prolonged as he continued to fail with words, loathed how they did not come to him as naturally as they did his brothers.

“It’s alright, take your time,” you soothed, fingers gently trailing up and down his ink-bound bicep– trying to calm his body, even if his head was still playing catch-up. “We’re in no rush… I’m yours.”

The admission was an immediate reprieve. You could feel the tension dissipate, his shoulders sagging and breaths becoming deeper, filling his lungs once again. His stubbled cheek came to rest upon your shoulder, and you could see how exhausted this poor male was. It reminded you of how a small child would slump after a crying fit, tuckered from their own distress. Your heart nearly broke as you considered that this could quite possibly be the first time anyone had ever held your mate like that at all. You squeezed him just a little tighter, your lip quivering as you attempted to send a wave of love down the bond, unsure if you were doing it right. 

Azriel’s body trembled, a shiver going through him as he received your unbridled affection. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he wanted to feel it again. And again, and again. He squeezed you tightly, refusing to look you in the eye, hoping it would make it just a little easier for him to find the courage to say everything he needed to. 

“For a long time now…” he began again, taking another breath before continuing, the words barely audible as he whispered them into your hair. “I’ve been… alone.”

His fingers picked at his nails behind your back, never before saying aloud the words that so often floated through his mind. 

“I started life alone. I won’t get into the details of my childhood, if you could call it that… but, eventually I found my brothers. And for a time, I was happy. It was just the three of us, and we were only committed to each other– we kept each other occupied, content, fulfilled. Then, there were bigger things at hand– Amarantha’s rein, the war on Hybern...” 

You nodded, your arm snaking up along his front so your fingers could wind into his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp. He preened at that, welcoming your touch, wings stretching and fluttering before draping down once again, relaxed. His shadows curled at your lap, beckoning you further into his embrace. The sensation was like no other– a cool caress that somehow elicited warmth.

“Even before that was over, my brothers, they– They found their mates.” Azriel paused, wondering how this was going to come across. “And I was happy for them– truly. I was happy they had found a higher purpose, a new priority. I was happy for our family to expand, content to be on the sidelines. But… naturally… I started to feel… alone again. It wasn’t as bad as before, not nearly, and yet– even though I was happy for them– I was jealous, too. Jealous, and— at the end of each day— alone. And every time I attempted to find someone to kill that loneliness… it never worked.”

You tried not to scowl at the mention of his previous lovers. You hadn’t known him then, and yet, the mere thought of your mate lying with another made something malicious stir in your bones, a bitter tang invading your mouth.

Azriel knew, of course, nuzzling your throat, and effectively extinguishing any ill feelings that had attempted to surface. 

“So I thought that I was destined to be alone. Forever. It made sense, I knew that continuing to hold out hope that I’d find my mate, that I even had one— after everything I’ve done, and… Really, I had just come to accept my sentence of solitude as fact when out of nowhere you walked into our court and everything I had known– everything I had thought I’d known– changed.” 

Your heart throbbed. The memory of your eyes raking over his lean, dark physique for the very first time made your body purr, recalling your immediate approval, cheeks tinged with flush.

“Undoubtedly, I was in denial. At first, I tried to act like there was nothing different about you, tried to treat you as I would any other addition to our little… family. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to act normal around you– and yet– every time you gave me that sweet, pretty smile and your eyes crinkled and you looked at me– really looked at me, looked at me like I was whole, like I was worthy– and there was no fear there, just… unspoken, unearned trust— I… I was falling. I was falling so fast and so hard and I knew it and refused to acknowledge it. Then that night, you walked in looking like a— a goddess— just as you do every time when we go out, but this time… I needed to hide my desire more than ever, so I drank. I had far too many drinks, and then you came to me, you pulled me onto the dance floor. I never– never do that, but with you it didn't feel so wrong, I didn’t feel like I needed to put on that front, that mask, and… and then we were in your room and you were kissing me, I was drunk— drunk on you, and touching you felt like touching pure starlight. I was so desperate to just take it all, take everything you would give me that I–” 

Azriel shifted slightly, trousers becoming tighter with the recollection. Your eyes were suddenly glued to the ceiling, inspecting the crown-molding there, a mirage of modesty. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t what I wanted our first time together to be like, the first time I told you I loved you to be like.”

You flushed–  he remembered. And he’d meant it?

“I had this plan, this… fantasy, I suppose, where I would take you to this meadow by the Sidra and confess, and I would lay you down and worship you, and kiss you ‘til we couldn’t breathe, make love to you ‘til we didn’t know where one started and the other began…”

You crossed your legs again, hoping you were sly. You were making such great progress with the shadowsinger, it would be a shame if your blatant arousal were to distract him from his explanation. You weren’t sure if you would ever hear the rest of it if he stopped now, and you didn’t want to take that risk. Pressing your cheek against his in silent affirmation, your fingertips lightly traced the strong sinews of his back. 

“But the morning came and I was terrified. I didn’t expect for that to happen, and when you asked if I meant it, if I meant what I said then, if I regretted what we did… I was a coward. I let fear take over and I ran from you, ran from the truth with such disgrace.” 

His voice shook with self-loathing, his arms becoming snug around your waist, as if his body wanted to right the wrong he had committed when he ran, when he should’ve held you close to him and told you, showed you, his true feelings. 

It was then that he pulled back, those beautiful hazel eyes peering deep into your gaze. There was so much emotion there, so much pain, and regret, and– and love swimming there. There was so much love in the look he was giving you it took your breath away. 

“I am so sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry for doing that to you, for being so stupid. I am sorry for hurting you when I swear all I wanted to do was love you, all I should have done was love you. I am sorry… sorry that you have such a spineless mate. I… don’t deserve you… I don’t think I ever will.” Azriel’s gaze dropped from yours, shame overtaking his face as his morose gaze found the floor. His whole body deflated, arms falling from you as he seemed to find truth in his words. 

For the first time in your life, Azriel looked small. The 6’5 spymaster, the shadowsinger, perhaps the most powerful Illyrian male there ever was, looked like he had reverted back into the little boy who was left to rot in his cell. Curled into himself and unacquainted with the touch of a gentle hand, his shadows ebbing into the perimeter of his silhouette, his shame and despair near swallowing him. 

You lunged for him, throwing yourself into his lap, legs around his waist, arms around his neck. He let out a low huff at the action, hands stuck in midair as he tried to process what you were doing. 

“Don’t you ever say that,” you said, voice hard as steel. 

Azriel stiffened at your tone, not daring to say another word.

You couldn’t contain the telltale shake of your lungs as you tried to squash your sob, arms wringing tighter around him. “Don’t ever think that,” you cried, wetness hitting the tops of his broad shoulders as tears escaped you. It was impossible to hold it in, the thought of your mate thinking so little of himself upsetting you to the very core. “Please, Az.”

His body finally allowed him to squeeze you back, his embrace anchoring onto you as he realized you wholeheartedly disagreed with his doubts. 

“You deserve so much baby,” you said, and sweet pleasure shot through him at the debut of your first pet name for him. “You deserve so much love and I can’t wait to be the one to give it to you.” 

You kissed him then and tears gathered along the long, dark lashes that fluttered shut on the sharp plain of his cheeks. Your lips felt so right on his, the kiss desperate and rough but it was everything, conveying just how much you wanted to wash away his pain. You were kissing him, you were kissing him after all he had put you through and you were wrapped around him, in his arms, flush against him. His heart was pounding against his ribs, ready to explode. If he died at this moment it wouldn’t be all that bad. 

It was over much too quickly, his mouth trailing after yours when you retreated, your hands coming up to press on the wide, firm pectorals that lay just a layer of leather away. You mirrored each other– panting, tears dripping down both your faces– and he was looking at you like you were the sun, and the moon, and all the stars that glittered in the Night Court sky. 

“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” you said quietly, looking into his gaze to make sure your words hit home. He nodded barely, eyes still wide and starry. His thumbs came to brush away the wetness littering your cheeks. “Especially not for being scared. Az, fear is part of being alive. I… I was scared too.” 

Azriel rushed out another meek apology then, realizing that when you had confronted him that morning, you were probably just as terrified as him. And he had confirmed your fears, he had left you there, breaking and alone. He vowed to himself never to do that to you again. 

You hushed him, drying his tears then, “I know. I know, Az. I forgive you, it’s okay.” You took his chiseled jaw in your hand and he leaned into your caress, eyes full of remorse. “The next time you get scared, though, I want you to tell me. I want you to come to me and tell me because if we are going to be together, we face everything together. I know that might be scary, because you’re used to handling things by yourself, but… I’m your mate, Azriel. We are meant to be together and that means we have to communicate and work together, find resolutions together.”

The inky-haired male nodded, eyes sincere and hands firm on your hips. “I can do that,” he confirmed, thinking of how you held him just moments earlier, allowed him to settle down and find his words, how they just started flowing when he had you in front of him, your comforting touch goading them out. He could talk about his feelings if you were the one listening, if you gave him time and support like you had today. “Does that mean… you’ll give me a chance?” 

You fell quiet, taking in the man bearing himself before you. In all your time of knowing the Illyrian, you had never seen this side of him so clearly. Here he was; beating heart out in the open, gaze full of pure, untainted love and hope, and promise– promise to love you, and cherish you, kneel to you, give you anything, everything, all of him. 

“Of course, Azriel… I love you,” you admitted, watching as a gleaming smile split his lips. He’d never shown you such unbridled joy before— it shook you to your core and you suddenly had the urge to elicit such mirth from the male every chance you could get. “We’re supposed to be together, after all.”

The bond glowed and your chest felt hot at the admission, warmth seeping into your cheeks as scarred hands slid up your sides. His grin faded as his gaze fell to your lips, hunger swirling in those beautiful hazel orbs. “I love you,” he said, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have loved you for so long, now… This is…,” he kissed the other corner, taking a deep breath and admiring the smell of your skin, “You are unreal.”

Your lips silently parted as he dipped lower, warm mouth skimming down the column of your throat. He traced the mark that still lingered from his efforts the other night, inspecting how the purple melted away into your beautiful skin.

You nearly screamed at him when he pulled back, body desperate for his embrace.

He smirked slightly, seemingly back to the quick-witted spymaster you’d fallen for. Perhaps he could tell just how much you wanted him through the bond— even if technically you had not mated yet. He seemed to share your pain, though— you shifted in his lap and felt the thick length of him beneath you, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“As much as I would enjoy ravishing you immediately,” Azriel said with a twinkle in his eye, “I would request your approval for a short intermission… I would like to… prepare a few things for us.”

Your heart swelled at the thought. Your male wanted to make things perfect— to right the wrongs that had been made before. Besides, you had to find something to feed him so you could play your role, anyway. The thought of completely mating with him made you salivate, gaze flickering over his tanned physique. 

“Okay,” you agreed, “just— don’t be long.”

Azriel chuckled and nodded. “Give me twenty minutes, my love.”

He slid you from his lap, your bottom hitting the plush velvet of the sofa once again. The pet name made butterflies unleash in your stomach, and something dark and lustful swirl in your core. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, shadowsinger,” you teased, finger trailing down his jaw. 

“I’ll make it ten,” he growled, nipping at the digit before his shadows gathered around him and he vanished from your room.

–

True to his word, your mate appeared on your balcony ten minutes later. 

Azriel was not at all out of breath, an even calm precisely conjured on his handsome face. His gaze devoured you as you walked over to him, eyeing the small pouch you had slung over your shoulder with intrigue. Little did he know that he would find things much more interesting beneath your linen dress… a disguise of your own. 

Large, warm hands found your hips as you seamlessly slid into his open arms. It felt so cozy being flush against your male’s firm chest, his capable arms fastening you into him as his shadows wrapped around the both of you. You laughed as they stroked your cheeks, playing with the ends of your hair and distracting you as they carried the two of you to wherever your destination may be. 

The shadowsinger smiled fondly at the sight– you, his beautiful, ethereal mate giggling happily, and his shadows, absolutely as infatuated with you as he was himself. 

Just like that, you had arrived. 

The shadows snuck away into the whispering blades of grass that washed your calves, moonlight pouring out into the open field without restraint. Tall, spindly trees dotted the far corners of the meadow, and milky wildflowers dotted every inch of the grass around you, mixing a sweet tinge into the otherwise pleasant summer breeze. The spot you were standing in was on a small summit overlooking the mouth of the Sidra, emptying into the star-sparkled sea. The sight of such gorgeous, natural scenery took your breath away. 

“Gods,” you breathed, attempting to let the glory of it soak in. “This view… it’s… beautiful.”

Azriel stood quietly behind you, observing your wonder as a shadow climbed up his leg and deposited a particularly perfect wildflower into his hand. “Exquisite,” he concurred, admiring the way the moonlight lit your pretty face. 

You turned to him and he smiled, tucking the blossom behind your ear, caressing the corner of your face. You were almost lost in the warm emotion that glowed in his eyes, but flickering lights behind him captured your attention. 

A picnic of sorts laid ready on the grass there, a large, thick duvet covering ample room beneath the sole tree that dared to break the sanctity of the meadow, right at the highest point of the cliff. An array of fluffy throws and plush pillows sat in a pile on one side, candles winking with charmed flame. 

“Oh, Azriel…” you murmured, taking a step around his tall figure and studying what would surely be your mating bed. It was just as you had pictured it, even as brief as his mention of his fantasy had been. “This is…” you glanced back at him, noting the way the male almost appeared bashful at your awe, “... perfect.”

He smiled at your approval, meeting you at the edge of the blanket. “You are perfect,” he said, honesty swimming in his gaze. Warmth crawled through your veins as his hands circled your waist, pulling you against him. You went without a fight, allowing him to hold you up when your legs nearly gave out at his proximity. “You are…” a kiss to your jaw, greedily inhaling your scent, “... pure…” a kiss to your neck, a taste of your skin, “... perfection.”

You fell backwards then, prepared to hit the ground, but your mate would never allow it. With a strong flap of his wings, Azriel cushioned the fall, and you gently met the plushness beneath you, with him braced on top of you, lips nibbling your clavicle. 

His name floated from your mouth, heat once again gathering between your legs. It was unfair how visibly hot he was– ruffled, onyx hair falling into his scorching golden eyes, plush, pouty lip bitten as he examined you beneath him, his hard, wide body so strong, unwavering, as if he could maintain this push-up position without tire, effortlessly. You wondered just what his body was capable of, exactly…

The scent of your curiosity wafted onto him and he smirked, taking a long whiff of it. He looked at you, sin dancing in that amused gaze. “Please tell me you brought something for me to eat,” he said, voice gruff. It seemed he was wearing thin on patience, too. His eyes darted down to the spot between your legs, then back to you with a wicked glint. “Besides that delectable little cunt of yours, I mean.” Yep– definitely low on patience.

Flames nearly danced across your cheeks, shocked at the foul mouth that had suddenly appeared on him. You let your jaw drop for a few seconds, watching the clear amusement in his features before you fumbled for the small bag you had brought with you. 

Honey irises analyzed your hand as it disappeared inside, then locking onto the small confection that your resurfaced palm offered. It was then that his form trembled above you, as if the reality of the situation was just now hitting him. He swallowed, breathing hard. The two of you moved upright in unison, sitting facing each other with your thighs barely touching. His gaze was fire on the tiny treat in your hand, so intense you half expected it to ignite and disintegrate, float away into the wind. 

Stretching your arms out now, you cupped the piece of cake with both palms, pushing it toward your male. Emotion flooded his face then, as he looked between you and your offering, scarred fingers clenched into the leathers covering his strapping thighs. “For you, Azriel,” you whispered, heart beating loudly, battering your ribs. “My body, my heart… They are yours. I give myself to you… my mate.” 

You looked at him and truly felt weightless as he grinned at you, bright teeth showing and syrupy gaze regarding you. Weathered hands enveloped yours, dwarfing them, bringing the comically small cake to his lips. His eyes did not leave yours as he made quick work of the sweet– one, two bites and he swallowed. You watched, entranced as his tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, gathering up the bit of frosting that had escaped there. 

When your gaze finally met his again, you nearly moaned. 

Something savage lurked in his eye now, a hunger that he had not known he could possess overtaking every instinct of his. Gone was the charade of indifference, gone were the measured looks and the disguised longing. Everything was outright now, everything was written right there on his face. He couldn’t pretend any longer, not when you had just professed yourself as his, his mate. Not when you had proclaimed yourself as his, not when you had just accepted your bond. He pounced. 

Within sheer seconds, you were on your back, Azriel’s mouth claiming yours. His lips dominated yours, hands scouring the contours of your curves. The sugary taste of the cake invaded your mouth as his tongue took command of yours, swirling together in a rugged dance, slick with spit and lust. The feeling of his body brushing against yours sent your eyes rolling back, the hardness of his body paired with the hardness along his thigh overwhelming you. 

You wanted him so bad– and knowing the desire was mutual made your insides twist, your heart thrumming. As if he could read your exact thoughts, your mate pushed his erection against the soft spot between your legs, your flimsy dress pushing up to gather around your hips. 

Azriel snarled, lips finally breaking from yours as he caught sight of the navy bit of lace covering your most intimate parts. You gasped, hips bucking up to catch against his clothed cock again, displaying more of the scandalous lingerie to your male. He groaned, throwing his head back, unbelieving you were really his, that you would allow him to do as he pleased to your dreamy body.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he leaned down to kiss you again, scarred hands coming to sink into both your ass cheeks, pulling them apart to swallow more sparkling lace. The cloth felt tight against your slickening pussy, his movement making you clench with trepidation. The aroma of your arousal mixed with his and weighed heavy in the air, intoxicating you with every breath. He smelled musky, woodsy cedar and night-chilled mist turned darker, more potent and alluring– easily your new favorite scent.

The shadowsinger pulled back to catch his breath, gaze raking over your body. Deft fingers moved to undo the buckles and straps across his chest, the leathers falling off to gather on the ground behind him. Your mouth watered as you took in the tanned skin of his broad chest. Tattoos flourished all along his sides, bleeding into the broad planes of muscle on his pecs and shackling his toned biceps and forearms. You reached up and traced a ghostly white scar trailing down his abdomen, following it down to the thin trail that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Your male flexed for you, savoring the blatant approval in your gaze, the tease of your fingernails on his caramel complexion. 

A yelp of surprise sounded from you when he summoned his shadows, a smirk on those pink, full lips that were slightly bruised from your kiss. You could only watch as the murky shadows washed over your dress then, and in their wake, your naked skin was revealed to your mate’s frenzied gaze, his blue siphons glowing with the subtle use of his magic. Your strappy, lacy lingerie set was exposed entirely now, and heat rose to your cheeks as you watched him take in your body, searing the image into his brain. 

Thick fingers landed on your ribs and you flinched as they trailed upwards, his hand cupping one of your breasts through the thin mesh and thumbing over the intricate embroidery there. Mere seconds passed before both your nipples were stiff and aching for his attention. 

“Az,” you cried as he pulled the lace down and your breast spilled out, his tongue immediately greeting the hard bud and sucking it into his mouth. His other hand came to massage the other side of your chest, pinching the nipple between two fingers through the mesh. Small noises of pleasure slithered out of you naturally, broken gasps and whines spilling from your lips without thought. 

Azriel swore, gently biting at you and marveling at how your spine bowed for him. He flattened his tongue against you and kissed your soft skin, tugging the lingerie down to lay across your ribs, exposing your chest to him. He sucked marks into the heavy underside of both your tits, taking his time. One hand came to hold your thighs open and squeeze the plush flesh there, trimmed fingernails digging into you in a delightful ghost of pain. 

Your hand flew out on its own accord, knowing exactly where to go and gripping onto the base of his thick, hard cock. The Illyrian gasped, the sound eliciting a criminal thrill from deep within you. You squeezed him through his leathers, and he bared his teeth at you, scraping them over your chest. 

Even though you had technically already been acquainted with each other’s body, this felt different– new. It was as if… every touch, you could feel the pleasure from both ends of the bond; that much more heightened. 

Abruptly he slid south, leaving you panting, your touch lost from his throbbing length. He did not waste time; immediately placing his mouth on the inside of your thigh and bruising the skin there with ease. He sucked hard, teeth marrying your flesh while you cried for him. He closed his eyes as your fingers wove into his hair, mouthing over the scrap of cloth that covered your weeping cunt, sampling the sweet nectar that leaked from you, just for him. 

Words eluded you, pure pleasure pulsing through every inch of you as he pulled the material to the side and licked through your folds. He groaned, the noise vibrating through your wetness before he dove in, sucking you into his mouth and laving his tongue up and down your slit– up your clit, then back down and twirling your quivering hole, then repeating. 

You whimpered when you took in the sight of your large male, completely worshiping you and enjoying every second of it– he was rutting his leather-bound cock against a pillow he had trapped beneath his hips, dark wings looming over his shoulders as they twitched with excitement. You made eye contact with him and there was primality in his gaze as he consumed you. Your feet hooked over his shoulders, putting your pussy right onto his face and bucking your hips, not caring if you missed his mouth. 

Azriel moaned, loving the provocative spiral you were descending into, loving that he was able to be the one to take you there. He was so focused on working his tongue against you that he didn’t register your feet wandering up to the crest of his wings, not until your toes dragged down the sensitive skin there and he whimpered into your pussy, his entirety trembling. He sat back to softly snarl at you– no one had touched his wings since… ever. It was a boundary he did not know he so desperately wanted you to break, satisfaction leaking deep into his core. 

But he didn’t have a second to spare to question it, because you were throwing your head back and whining, begging, “Please don’t stop, Az.” 

So he didn’t. He put his head down and ate your cunt mercilessly, just like you’d requested, savoring every drop of your essence. You allowed yourself to be lost in the pleasure, head tilting back and exposing your throat to the night sky. You opened your eyes and took in the sight of the upside-down sea, stars twinkling brightly in your entire field of vision, your male relishing your taste as he eagerly worked for your pleasure.

Your body spasmed when two thick fingertips wandered up your thigh and prodded your sopping entrance. One slid in with ease and your eyes widened at the stretch– equal to at least two of your own digits. However, unlike yours, his finger reached deep, curling into a sensitive spot that had you shaking, as if he had a map and could follow directions with immediate mastery. You tried to moan his name but he stole the breath from you, a second finger pushing in and his tongue returning to your swollen clit. His calloused fingertips stroked that spot as he pumped them into you with hard, slow precision, curling as they disappeared all the way inside and making your eyes cross beneath your lids. 

You couldn’t even focus on touching his wings to extract more delicious moans from him, your brain melting and the inferno growing in your belly. Fingers gripped his soft black hair with urgency, the shake of your thighs around his head worsening as you pleaded, moaned, and cried, “Oh Gods– oh, fuck– yes!”

Just as you were teetering the cusp of an orgasm, the shadowsinger pulled back. You screamed a swear, shooting up onto your elbows and sending the male a glare full of betrayal. Your mate only smirked up at you, though he himself was panting, gaze laden with lust. He wiped the bottom of his face from the sheen of slick that blanketed it with the back of his strong forearm, then gave his bronze, inked skin a long lick as he held your gaze. Right when you were about to give him a piece of your– albeit melted– mind, nimble fingers went to undo the clasp of his leathers beneath his toned stomach. 

Words died in your mouth as you followed the revealed lines of his pronounced Adonis belt, his fingers pushing the clothing right down his middle, just over that dark, fine trail that led down, down, down… Until the hard, dark length of him popped out from its confines and you could nearly guarantee your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. You barely noted the shadows that removed the rest of his clothes, looking over your mate in all his naked glory before you. 

Azriel did not shy away from your gawking, enjoying how your eyes roved over every inch of him– examining his body, then his manhood, then somewhere else, but always returning to his sizable cock standing tall and proud before you. In all his centuries, it was the one part of him that he had been able to take undeniable pride in… he loved that he was able to bring that to the table for you. Partly because he knew how good he could make you feel, but also just so that he could garner such a reaction from you. 

You were only able to tear your eyes away from your mate when his shadows came to swirl across your body again, devouring the remaining lace and mesh until you, too, were completely bare before your mate. The thought made you just a bit self-conscious, but the look Azriel was giving you made your insides burn, approval pounding down the bond. The bond that would– in just a matter of minutes– be completely forged. 

Your male moved toward you and you sat up on your elbows, breasts sitting perfectly for him to admire. He came nearer, leaning down onto his hands and knees, his half-lidded gaze scanning your lips before he looked at you again, pure desire in his eyes. 

At this point, your wetness was dripping down your thighs, and you knew that nothing but his cock could alleviate the burning in your core. Reaching a tentative hand forward, you both watched as your fingers clasped around his width, your fingertips and your thumb just touching. You swallowed at the sheer size of him, thumbing over the rosy tip where his precum had begun to leak out of him. 

Azriel let out a harsh breath, his hips stuttering as you jerked him experimentally. The sight of your little hand wrapped around his tan, solid cock had him biting his lip, a soft growl rumbling in the depths of his chest.  You ran a finger down the thick vein spanning the underside of him, and when his length jerked in response, you moaned– imagining how it would feel doing so, while buried balls-deep inside of you.

You tried to wiggle down the satin comforter so you could get a taste of that heavenly cock, but Azriel pinned your body down with his, the sheer size of him dominating your movement effortlessly. Ecstasy shot through you at the amount of golden skin pressing against you, the contact unlike anything you’d experienced before. 

“Dirty girl, trying to suck my cock…,” he crooned, molten gaze like hot molasses on your face. You could feel every inch he studied of your naked skin, the wake of it slow and burning, singing from his inspection and the brazen approval that shot down the bond. 

You huffed indignantly, wanting to quiz why he could taste you, but would not allow you the same pleasure. 

The Illyrian hummed, detecting the fight in your eye, before he skimmed his hand down your front, fingers dipping into the evidence of your desire and swirling against your opening slowly. “If you put your mouth on my cock– Cauldron boil me, I’ll come right down your throat,” he murmured, spreading your slick onto every crevice of your core. “And though I may indulge in that later… right now, ‘m too keen to feel your pretty pussy on me.” 

His admission naturally made your legs spread, his heavy cock resting just inches from your entrance, huge and glistening, calling to you. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully, embarrassment licking your cheeks. Was he going to make you beg for him? You could barely stand the wait, your core pulsing with the need to be taken by him, by your mate. 

“Would you like that, angel? You want to have my cock inside of you? My greedy little mate…” he purred, eyelids heavy with lust. 

You panted, realizing your truest desire then, summoning all your strength to give him your sweetest doe eyes, meekly squeak out, “I’m all yours, please I need it– need your cock stretching my– my pussy out. Need you, need my mate.” 

Hazel caught aflame in the depths of his measured disguise. His chiseled body was still, taut with suspense, and then he snapped as he pinned your wrists to the duvet beside your head. Muscled thighs flicked yours open to land around his waist with ease, your primal, Illyrian male settling into his rightful place between them. Your hips lifted in a feeble attempt to coax him further, figure shaking with need–  your core aching, twitching with it. 

There was something feral about his groan as the warm underside of his tip slipped between your folds. You both watched, his length slicing through the slick dripping from your cunt. The sound of it was so erotic that you nearly came, eyes rolling back as the entirety of him just went on and on.

You couldn’t think– couldn’t bear it anymore as you pleaded, “Please, Azriel, I need you.”

Billowing navy shadows crawled onto the duvet then, and you gaped as the tendrils washed across your hips, twirling around his cock and guiding it perfectly to your entrance. 

Tossing your head back into the satin pillow, you cried, overwhelmed when he sheathed inside of you like a blistering knife through warm butter– effortless. He was so– so big, but it did not hurt, not badly anyway– it was… it was transforming the way your pussy took him like lock and key; an indescribably, irrefutably perfect fit.

Azriel seemed to be sharing the sentiment, panting as he stared at you, his knuckles turned pale around your wrists. “Y/N,” he choked, his whole body shuddering at the bliss that leaked through his bones, emanating from where your body swallowed his, “I love you.”

You shared a shallow gasp when he pulled out, watching with a long moan as he pushed back in, reaching deeper into your core, your soul. You cried, clenching onto him as your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Az, I– I love you, too. I love you, Azriel.”

He didn’t have to think; his body knew exactly what you both needed. Another couple shallow thrusts had you breathless, struggling against his grip as his cock dragged against your fluttering walls. The girth of him was breaking your mind– each time your body involuntarily clenched onto his cock, the most sensitive, deepest part of you rubbed against the very tip of him, sending waves of bliss down your spine.

“Gods–” you managed to gasp out as he dropped down onto an elbow, hands sliding to secure around the back of your neck and your waist. His hips began to find their rhythm, heavy balls slapping flush against your ass. 

Your heart, your pussy, they had both never been so full– almost aglow with the passion and validation they were both being showered with. You felt like you were whole, like there was no room in your body for any anxiety, nor torment, nothing but him. 

Even as the cool summer breeze tickled your skin, everything was warm. Your cheeks, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs– everywhere he had kissed and licked burned with the memory. And he burned, too, his skin ablaze beneath your fingertips that scratched into broad shoulders. The both of you were on fire as your bodies became one, sweat dripping and skin bruising. The shadowsinger held a steady pace, sheathing so deep that the lewd sound of your skins slapping together filled the otherwise sleepy meadow– along with your chorus of moans, of course. 

Tension collected in your core with each powerful thrust, your toes curling into the satin and tears dotting your lashes. His fingers gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and you whined as you met his intense gaze. You didn’t have to speak– the bond was throbbing in both your chests, on the precipice of complete formation– radiating warmth and love and passion into both your systems. He gave you his cock and his heart and you took it, cunt wringing tighter– tighter with every swing of those strong hips against yours, giving every piece of you to him in exchange. 

A muffled noise left you as that telltale feeling in your center heightened, your mate gasping, hips faltering and abs straining, wings flapping. You both tensed, fingers digging into one another, foreheads pressed together as you breathed simultaneously–

“I’m–”

“Coming–” 

And that band in your stomachs snapped, satisfaction imploding and euphoria surging in its wake. The bond rippled through you both and intensified everything, the edges of your minds reaching out and coiling together. 

You felt him, felt Azriel, your mate, there inside your head, your heart. His ecstasy ebbed into yours and you drowned in the expanse of it, milking his cock as though your life depended on it. And he, too, was lost in the throes of your orgasms, his cock shooting ribbon after ribbon of his sweet seed into the depths of your womb, moaning and shaking as he grappled onto you, filling your core to the brim with him. 

It took a long while for the pair of you to cease your uncontrollable trembling, your breathing still ragged and your head cloudy with the haze of lust, bliss, and a new mental connection poking you, inspecting. Azriel slowly moved to lay on his side, allowing the breeze to cool your sweat-slicked skins as he held you flush against him, still inside of you. 

Ink appeared glossy in the starlight on his caramel skin, and you traced the swirls that intertwined on his chest while studying him. You reached out in your mind, a hand waving through the murky darkness, searching, following the guide of the golden, glowing thread– and there was his scarred, rough hand grasping you and sending a dose of affection right into you. You sighed softly, shivering and clutching onto your mate. Azriel made a comparable noise of content, kissing the top of your head and wrapping a massive wing around the pair of you. 

Hi, you tested, thinking the word with utmost concentration.

Your mate chuckled, the low rumble vibrating against your head. Hello, my love, was his lazy reply. Rough fingertips coasted along the knobs of your spine, his foot curling around yours, wanting to be as close as possible.

You nuzzled into his strong neck, admiring how his strong, male scent now was slightly perfumed with yours, knowing that though now it was reeking because of your sex, once you washed, it would remain– mated. You hummed, placing an open-mouth kiss there, eying where you should place your next love bite. The considerable army of them you had already created made you smirk and your cunt clench onto his cock, eyes widening. 

…You’re still hard?

Another chuckle. 

Did you think we were finished?

Heat crept back into your cheeks. You thought about all the mated couples you’d come to know, and how they all blushed and fondly recalled the… frenzy.

I suppose we have a long night ahead of us, shadowsinger…

Azriel pulled back to look at you, many emotions flickering in those honeyed eyes as he appraised you. The love in them was outright, happiness overt, and desire overwhelming. 

You don’t even know, angel. We have a very long night ahead of us… after that, a long, ravenous week, and… after that… Well, let’s just say, I plan to ravish you for as long as you will have me. 

Your smirk melted into a smile, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek, then reaching out and trailing your nails over the sensitive membrane of his wing. Your mate shuddered, cock jolting and stirring your insides. 

You do have some time to make up for, you shot him a sensuous wink, taking him by surprise and rolling him onto his back, perched on his lap. You savored the sight of your devastatingly-handsome mate beneath you, Azriel’s torrid gaze devouring your visage from below. Though I can’t let you have all the fun. 

Heavy hands found your hips and squeezed, that signature smirk coming to rest on his lips once more. You jumped as cool tendrils of shadow flooded your limbs, clasping onto you and dragging you off of him, forcing your body to bend onto your hands and knees, giving him a perfect view of his cum dripping from your pussy and down your soft thigh. The shadows seemed to laugh in your ear as they took hold of you, rendering you immobile before your male. You could only watch as they turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

Azriel grinned, savage gaze glimmering with mischief as the tickle of darkness flicked over your nipples and parted your legs, wandering up in ghostly licks to stroke and tease your exposed cunt. Your jaw dropped as you realized you had no clue of the true extent of your filthy mate’s capabilities, not at all as his shadows snuck inside of you, exploring where his cock had just been. 

Don’t worry, my pretty girl… I know how to share…

The strong, swift beat of wings neared, and suddenly Mor and Nesta appeared above the wall of the balcony, each snug against Cassian’s absurdly broad chest. The two women were already donning their evening attire, jewels sparkling both their decolletages, looking near reminiscent of the stars that you had just been studying. 

Mor set sight on you immediately, skipping out of the war general’s grasp and pouncing on you. Her hair was curled in pretty waves and her lips painted a bright red that complimented the fiery orange dress snug on her hips. “Hello my sweetest,” she greeted, almost planting a kiss on you but you swerved back with a stifled laugh, pointing to her lips. She laughed, sending an air-kiss your way instead.

“Hi Mor. You look beautiful as always,” you said honestly. You’d known the female for quite some time now and it was only once you’d seen her looking worse for wear– the night she had tried to conquer a foreign green alcohol that burned your nose with but a tentative sniff. 

Turning to the other blonde, you did not fail to notice the slight flush in her cheeks as her eyes flitted away from Cassian’s, clearly amused by something her mate had communicated to her. It was only fair, given that the event that had the Inner Circle going out for the evening was their anniversary after all. The Illyrian gave you a friendly wave and shouted hello, which you returned. 

A navy dress hugged his mate’s figure and a long slit ran up her toned leg, gold jewelry spindling around her wrists and pointed ears. “Nesta, the lady of the night,” you acknowledged, “You look incredible.”

She gave a small smile at your appraisal. “Thank you, Y/N. You look nice, too.” 

It wasn’t the most amazing compliment, but you’d take it. Especially seeing as it had come from Nesta, the viper. She had calmed down since mating her male years ago, but the nickname still stuck, and you didn’t doubt that her bite could still be just as wounding as it once was. 

It was then that Mor’s fingers trailed down your forearm, sending a shiver through you and making you turn to look at her. Her gaze was currently running over the ensemble you were sporting, shining with approval at the deep violet gown that delicately draped off your shoulders and the pink sapphire necklace that followed the dip into your exposed cleavage. “Mmm, mmm. Drunk me is going to have a hard time resisting such a snack later. You know I get the drunchies,” she said, a hint of mischief in her tawny orbs. Then adding in a lower voice, “And I doubt I’ll be the only one having a hard time controlling themselves…”

She coughed as your elbow immediately jabbed her ribs. Mor was the only one that you had actually told about your relation to the mysterious spymaster of the Inner Circle. 

Ever since your apprenticeship with the renowned healer Madja had started, the higher-ups of the Night Court who so often required her services had taken keen interest in you. All of them were much friendlier than you had expected– almost more of a surprise to you than the carefree, blossoming city of Velaris. You were not of the Night Court lands, but now they felt like home to you. 

The Morrigan was the fastest friend you made, her honest nature pacifying the wariness that clung to you upon your arrival. Rhysand had attempted to befriend you first, but the sheer promise of power rippling off of him had you shrinking at the sight of him, so he allowed his friends to win you over first. Cassian was crucial in showing you that the High Lord was no threat to you, his chipper outlook wearing down the half-hearted walls you had built around yourself. Feyre also helped, who you grew closer with when you were sent to shadow her pregnancy check-ups with Madja. Many hours filled with warm vulnerability melted your frosty facade, and you bonded over the knowledge that you both had scars from your trauma, even if that acknowledgement was unspoken between the pair of you. She had even offered you a permanent position in the city, if you so desired it after your learnings with the sage healer were at a close. Once you were comfortable with her, Rhysand made your good list– if he was her mate, and if he treated her so lovingly, then surely he was not to be feared after all. Amren was… still a bit scary to you, but she was never malicious or meaning ill-will. Just unsettling. 

Last was Azriel. 

He was not present when you first arrived, and remained away during the first week of the Inner Circle’s efforts to woo you. But when he did finally arrive… you nearly swooned at first sight of him; the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes upon. It only got better when he opened his mouth, and his gentle, kind welcome pushed you off the cliff- falling, you began falling for him then. After that, he continued to treat you with such respect, and quiet thoughtfulness, that before you knew it, he was the one you began choosing to spend your free time with. One on one, he was still just as sweet, but he also showed you that he could tease, and jest, and he could be downright hilarious when he wanted to be.

It was only two weeks ago that your newest discovery had occurred. 

You had been walking through the gardens with him, a common occurrence for the two of you when he was home and off-duty, when he had flown up to the top of your favorite magnolia tree, and plucked the fattest, most beautiful blossom from the highest branch. He landed gracefully in front of you, leaning down and wordlessly offering it to you, a soft smile gracing his lips, eyes warm, and maybe even the tiniest bit of pink tinging his cheeks. It was then that the bond snapped into place. 

For you, anyway.

While you had nearly fallen on your ass in shock, disbelief– elation– he merely caught you and looked at you with concern. You hadn’t been able to form words to explain what had just happened to you, wide eyes taking in the male before you– the strong, observant, mild-mannered protector of the court– your male. Your male, with Illyrian tight leathers flush against his firm body, scarred hands holding you so softly, yet you knew his grip would never falter if he believed you not well enough to stand on your own. He would take care of you, he would treat you so well, he would…. He would, once he knew of the bond. Once the bond presented it to himself, then you’d see. Because, there was no way you were going to tell him what had just happened to you, not really. Not when he had become your closest friend, and all your hopes and dreams were suddenly pinned to him. That was just too much to put on him, not then… So you waited. Told yourself you would tell him soon, just not yet… And suddenly two weeks had gone by, and you still had yet to breach the subject.

Mor looked at you with a gentler gaze, sensing your frayed emotions and swiftly connecting the dots. Obviously you were conflicted on the subject, and she chose to dismiss it instead of prying. “Sorry,” she apologized, whispering almost. “First drink on me, okay?” 

Immediately you shut out the thoughts of your bond, nodding and putting a smile on. “It’s okay. But I will definitely take you up on that.” You winked at her and she grinned, taking your arm and leading you from the balcony into the common area.

Cassian and Nesta had already meandered inside, now standing by the grand table in the center of the space. The sconces were lit, the glimmer of magic filling the warm space and inviting you inside further. A fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of a meat-pie that must have been dinner lingering in the air, laden with foreign spices that made your nose tingle. 

“Glad you ladies could join us,” Cassian said, brows high as he gestured to the tray in the middle of the dining table. There were five shot glasses there, two empty already. The other three were filled to the brim with a clear liquid which you could only guess would surely taste terrible on your sober tongue. Beside it, a crystal container filled with more, ready for refills. 

You glanced around as Mor strode forth, unnerved. Nesta had an uncharacteristically amused smile on her pretty lips, her face relaxed as she took a sip from the half-empty glass she held. Amren was nowhere to be seen, and Rhys and Feyre were absent as well– nothing uncommon these days since they did have a small child after all, and another on the way. 

But it was always him, the subdued spymaster who now rose from his seat beside the hearth, who you were hoping to see. Azriel looked especially mouth-watering tonight, his dark hair freshly cut and kissing the tops of his ears, dark navy shirt tight across his firm chest, tattoos peeking from the collar and the sleeves rolled halfway up his strong forearms. You tried to look away, feeling like you had become engulfed by the flames licking the iron gate at the edge of the hearth as his hazel eyes raked up and down, and then back up your visage. 

The only clue to his approval was a slight twitch of the long, sleek wings behind him, and that could’ve meant anything. Though you had thought you looked good, so obviously he had to like the sight… right?

He walked toward you and smiled just a little, head bowing slightly. His shadows slowly curled toward you in greeting as well, a dark train behind him. “Hello Y/N,” he stated, then nodding to Mor. “Mor.” Deft fingers latched onto one of the remaining shots and he threw it back with ease, not even wincing as the alcohol was instantly drained. 

Cassian eyed him with some sort of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher before it was gone. Then he was refilling his and Azriel’s cup. “And what are you two waiting for, then?” He barked, amusement abundant in his strong voice. 

Mor and your eyes met, she rolled hers to the heavens, and then shrugged, grabbing her shot as well. You sighed, wondering why these ancient relics always had to go straight for the liquor, not even a chaser present for your poor taste buds. This night would surely be anything but dull.

⸻

There had been multiple rounds of shots before your small party of five left the House of Wind, and though the two men had definitely had more, you, Mor, and Nesta had all sufficiently been toasty as you made your way through the threshold of the bar. 

Rita’s was, once again, the place to be on a weekend evening in Velaris. 

Mor was already flirting with the bartender within two minutes of entry, getting that drink she had promised you as you wandered through the throng of partiers, toward the elevated side of the venue where the reserved tables stood. Rhys had long ago reserved a table for his Inner Circle on any given day of the week, and the bouncer nodded at the four of you as you made your way to it. Azriel kept a subtle arm out, ghosting behind your waist as club-goers pressed just a bit too close for his liking. 

Cassian slid into a wide stool on the other side of the booth first, allowing you and Nesta to take the booth. Azriel contemplated fitting into the booth, but ultimately chose to sit beside his brother in favor of not crushing his wings. Just as the usual containers of various juices and little water bottles appeared in the center of the table, Mor slid into the booth beside you and shoved a top-heavy glass into your hand. She gave a taller, wider glass filled with a sparkling dark red concoction to Nesta who thanked her, keeping the other glass of fizzy yellow to herself.

“None for us?” Cassian hit the table, the ice in the bucket rattling. 

Azriel frowned, waving a hand over the space before him and summoning more shot glasses, another pitcher of liquor appearing adjacent to it. Nimble hands made quick work of the shots, passing one to his brother before that striking gaze met yours and he clinked his glass against the one in your hand. He sent it back, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his sharp jaw pronounced in the flashing colored lights of the club. 

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling borderline drunk. Whatever was in the swirling purple cocktail Mor had handed you was packing a punch– either that or the four shots you downed before the flight over here were settling in. You drained the rest of your glass. A drop escaped the corner of your lip and ran down your chin, splattering onto the soft swell of your breast, a torrid hazel gaze following the movement with scrutiny. Catching the look, your body moved on its own volition, and you stood abruptly, the tops of your thighs skimming the edge of the table.

All eyes shot to you as you proclaimed, “So who wants to dance?”

You couldn't manage to look at Azriel again, so you turned to Mor instead, who was looking up at you with nothing but pure amusement. But it was actually Nesta, on your other side, who piped up that she would love to. If your decree had been a surprise, Nesta’s was the shock of the century. But you wouldn’t let it go to waste, and Mor was on the same page as you, the three of you hurrying off to find a spot on the dancefloor. 

The club-goers parted as they welcomed you– parting for the three beautiful women entering the center of the room as the bass blasted and upbeat melodies thrummed through your bones. You swore you could feel its return, his hot gaze slinking all around your body, but you forced him out of your mind, not wanting to dampen your mood with the premise of your upcoming responsibilities nor your potential delusions. The shadowsinger could have absolutely anyone he wanted in Velaris– actually, it had been hinted he had already had quite a few in the city, though he’d looked outright deadly at the mention of that from his brothers’ lips. So why were you fated for him? There was surely some other person who could better suit him. The notion irked you and you let out a snarl that turned more into a war-cry for your dancing. 

Mor was flipping her hair and moving her arms around herself sensually beside you. Nesta had actually gone so far as to throw her hips into circles right before yours, almost grinding onto your lap. You took it upon yourself to sway and let your fingers run through your hair, showing off your smooth skin and letting your head fall back as you felt the music call to you. 

It was quite a show the three of you were putting on, song after song your trio swirled and traded places with each other, staving off any males who attempted approach.

Cassian was not disturbed by the number of lustful gazes his mate was collecting, eyes gleaming with pride and possession as he studied Nesta’s body from afar. But Azriel was quietly fuming beside him, his shadows screeching with fury as a fae male eventually managed to reach your side, sliding a hand around your waist. His gaze was daggers on the suitor, who seemed unphased by the brooding Illyrian in the distance. Nesta moved over to Mor then, observantly giving him space to slide into when you didn’t immediately reject him. 

Without taking his glare off the male, Azriel messily poured another shot for himself, threw it back, and then immediately filled another. Finally his brother’s attention snuck over to him, warily monitoring as the shadowsinger tossed back yet another drink. He eyed the shadows, which were bunching and flicking with displeasure around the perimeter of him, then warned, “Az, maybe you should slow down.”

Azriel grimaced, ice cold as he watched you press a palm to the male’s chest, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. “Why ever should I, brother? Does your mating not call for celebration?” His grip was so tight he nearly shattered the glass, but then your suitor’s eyes widened comically, and he scampered away into the crowd, leaving you alone. He felt like he could breathe again, and he sat back slightly, ruffling his wings as if shaking off the tension that saddled them just moments ago. 

Cassian watched his brother, noted the gaze that was zeroed in on you, on your every move. He had an inkling for a while before now, but it was hard for him to watch Azriel pretend like he didn’t want to be anything more with you when you looked at him the same way. Before he could impart any words of advice, you were slinking up to the table, glazed eyes magnetized on the spymaster. Cassian wondered if you even knew he was sitting there as well.

“Az, will you dance with me?” you asked, hands behind your back, it made your curves look absolutely irresistible in that violet number. 

Cassian was shocked, sure his mouth had fallen on the floor, interest piqued. This was one of the best anniversary presents he ever could’ve asked for, second only to Nesta’s gown strewn on the floor of their room in just a few hours. On one hand, his brother never danced. Maybe only a handful of times had he witnessed such a sight, and that had only been bits and pieces, from nights he barely remembered. On the other, he was sure that you had an absolute hold on the spymaster– if you so much as batted your eyelashes and asked for him to fetch the stars for you, he certainly would.

He had to reign in his scream of glee when Azriel responded, “Of course.” 

Even drunk, the shadowsinger was adept. He weaved through the crowd, following you and pointedly ignoring the lingering glances of the crowd, glances that wandered from your elegant radiance onto him– at the powerful aura and ominous shadows rolling off his broad shoulders, his stunning face, or the daunting wings that loomed behind him. 

When you found a spot with ample space, your hips started moving on their own accord, and Azriel’s followed suit. Not touching, the two of you filled the space and watched each other, eyes wandering around each other’s bodies unabashedly. Azriel couldn’t help but puff his chest up at the desire that swirled in your glossy orbs, the approval shining from you as you took in the way his body moved before you, his cool cedar scent luring you closer. The alcohol that coursed in his blood allowed him to be bold, and he carefully placed a hand at the bottom of your spine, pulling you into him. The action was welcomed and he tried not to be too excited about your proximity, how the sweet smell of you twirled into his nose and made his brain become a puddle around his feet. 

He had never been so close to you– not like this– and never with his guard so low, nearing absent. Never had the marred skin of his palms held your hips, the curve of your ass brushed his thigh, never had you given him that sultry gaze beneath kohl-coated lashes, never had he been so damn hard in a public space like this. 

“You look so beautiful tonight.” It slipped out of him like he was possessed, unaware the words had even left him along with the husky whisper of your name. 

But that made you smile at him, near bashful at his compliment, your heart slamming in your chest, begging, aching for more of his praise. 

It was as if he could hear what your body so desperately desired, for Azriel then murmured, “You are beautiful every night. Every day… agonizingly so.” 

His grasp on you was gentle, and suddenly it was all you could feel– he was all you could feel, the music and the crowd blurring around you. He was looking at you with such intensity that your body was singing, your lips parted but no words able to leave you. All you wanted to do in that moment was bridge the gap between his mouth and yours. It took all the willpower in your being to stop yourself from doing so, your mate’s gaze piercing you to the dancefloor while the two of you stood still, just looking at each other. 

“Thank you, Azriel.”

Those meager words were all you could get out, too paralyzed to come up with anything better. Honestly, you were surprised you even said anything at all, for fear of confessing your love and your bond right here to him and everyone in the room, drunk and breathless in the middle of Rita’s. 

Azriel seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in at the sound of his name on your tongue, blinking and grip loosening on you. His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink before his shadows came to cover him, and he coughed awkwardly. “I, um…” he mumbled, stepping back from you and the obvious shock painted on your face, “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

Just like that, he was gone, and the crowd surrounding you seemed to come back into your awareness. You noticed the gazes of Cassian and Nesta settled on you from across the room then, one of befuddlement and the other displeasure. But you didn’t even have a second for the mortification to wash over you, as Mor materialized before you instantly, grabbing your hand and leading you deeper in the crowd. She gave you an inquisitive look once the pair of you had found shelter behind the masses, but didn’t push it, noting the confusion that settled your features even as your body moved to the rhythm once more. 

⸻

For the next hour or so, you danced with Mor, and Nesta and Cassian came to join you at some point as well. The Illyrian looked like he wanted to say something to you, but was rendered unable both from the noise of the club and also his mate who had positioned herself between you two. You knew Azriel was stationed at the table, but couldn’t bring yourself to look over at him, even though you were becoming thirstier by the minute and knew he had a drink awaiting you. At some point Mor had wandered back over to the bartender, now with her full rack resting atop the bar and in deep, seemingly-seductive conversation by the way she was looking at them. And even if the couple beside you were well-intentioned, you refused to burden them with your loneliness, finally wishing them congratulations on their anniversary and excusing yourself.

The shadowsinger sat up slightly as you came closer, the evidence of his drinking overt; two crystal carafes stood empty beside a third that was half-full, tiny pools glistening on the tabletop where they missed his glass. 

“Is that for me?” you asked as you slid into the seat opposite of him, nodding to the bright cocktail that stood alone at the booth side of the table.

He nodded in return, fingertip tracing the edge of his tiny cup, silky hair slightly disheveled and his eyes not quite as critical as usual. You thanked him quietly, taking a sip before a modest smile bloomed on your lips in unspoken appreciation at the familiar flavor of your favorite drink. The club was slightly spinning by the time the glass was drained, a drunken giggle escaping you at the light feeling that filled you. 

Azriel smiled at you, your eyes closed and slowly swaying like grass in sweet summer wind. He did not regret his admission on the dancefloor, for it had been the truth. He just wished he was brave enough to tell you that without taking twenty shots– or however many he’d had– he’d stopped counting after twelve. Even though he was not at all sober himself, he could sense that it was time to get you home. It wasn’t unusual for him to bring you back to the House of Wind; night outings like this usually did end up the two of you as everyone else paired off. Yet for some reason, it felt different tonight. He couldn’t wait to scoop you in his arms and zip through the sky. 

“Would you like to go home?” he said, watching amusedly when you opened your eyes and sent him a dazzling grin. 

You agreed, “You always read my mind, Az.” 

The tall male led you out to the front of Rita’s, catching his brother’s eye and nodding in farewell. A few other drunkards sat on the curb and passed something smoky between them, their low cackles echoing down the otherwise-quiet stone alleyway. The cool crisp smell of the night air washed over the pair of you, the stars still dangling high in the indigo sky. You inhaled deeply, Azriel doing the same as he walked you into the center of the street, wings growing and stretching. You watched as those wings shook the sleep from themselves, swelling the street with silky shadows as they unfurled, as if he had been keeping those at bay just as much. It was a gorgeous sight as he unfastened the top button of his shirt, another ring of tattoos peeking out at the middle of his chest. You could stare at him for ages. 

Azriel reached out for you, his wings flapping a couple times to warm up. His gaze was bright, as if the incident inside hadn’t even occurred. But you were eager to feel his touch on you once more, so you skipped over to him instantly, practically jumping in his arms. You’d once worried that you were too heavy to do such things, but after flying with the Illyrian so many times now, you knew you were nowhere near his carrying capacity. He was absurdly strong, just like his brothers– seven siphons adorning his body and channeling the brunt of his power. For him, bringing you to the House of Wind was probably akin to the amount of energy you’d expend skipping a small rock across a placid stream, the whole ordeal over in three seconds.

Little did you know he planned to take the scenic route, if not just to feel you clutching onto him for a few moments longer.

The ground sucked out from underneath you as he sprang up into the night, and you stifled the excitable scream that always tried to escape. He only laughed as he found his place in the sky, the powerful beat of his wings seamlessly blending with the low moan of the wind. Once you had a better grip on him, and his arms secured around you tighter, you adjusted and laughed too– excitement coursing through you. It was such a rare sight, seeing the reticent shadowsinger smile at you unrestrained like that, carefree. All you could do was mirror him before he dove the two of you into the night. 

Stars whipped past as he danced through the skies; black, fuschia, violet, and navy all swirling together above you. His shadows tickled at you gently, leaving a cool wake where they touched. Cerulean and cyan gleamed from the siphons on the backs of the hands that clutched onto you, and you catapulted forward suddenly. All you could do was latch onto the hard muscles that secured you as Azriel took you for a roller coaster ride. 

He dove and looped and held onto you, relishing the feeling of your skin touching his, the smell of your hair that whipped around him– the feeling of you gripping him so hard– hard enough that maybe it would be enough for him to leave you alone once you arrived at the house instead of pressing you up into the balcony pillars and pleasuring you until you passed out, like he so deeply wanted to do. 

The joyride could only go on for so long before it had to end; the two of you were still considerably drunk and only able to handle a few loop-de-loops on the journey. Azriel had managed to sneak in an extra minute or two of air-time, not wanting to risk your suspicion nor take advantage of you. The liquor was beginning to really hit him at full effect now, stumbling a bit as he landed on your balcony. It was only two extra steps, nothing major. But Azriel always flew with such precision that you knew you weren’t the only one feeling the alcohol.

Now that you were looking at him again, you found yourself mesmerized by his ethereal beauty. Long lashes pointed down to you as he continued to hold you, despite him now standing firmly in the middle of your balcony. Hazel eyes flicked over your face and he smiled just a little for you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you never really could– but he definitely had a great many thoughts flickering behind his gentle gaze. 

You peeped as your back touched something, and you realized he had walked over to the chaise-lounge perched under the bow of your balcony– trying to set you down. You looked back at the chair and then at him. Dark brows knitted beneath his tousled hair as he loosened his grip, but you remained clinging to him. 

Azriel murmured your name when he tried to deposit you there and you refused, again. 

“Can you…” you whispered, reluctant to leave his embrace. It felt so good to have him touching you, and your inhibitions were at an all time low as your mate held you so dearly, his eyes filled with concern. “Can you put me on my bed, Az?” 

The Illyrian blinked, wings ruffling before quickly tucking in. He pulled you up again and carried you inside your room, princess-style. It was how he always held you during flight, but somehow when his feet were on the ground it felt completely different… not quite as innocent. 

Your room was lit with beams of moonlight pouring through the arched windows and sheer curtains, yet the male’s shadows flicked over the tips of the candles by your bed and they lit as he willed them to. It was spacious enough inside that your medicinal books and tomes spread out all over the area, along with your trinkets and clothes. The strong smell of you clung to the walls, the sofa, the bed. He had never been this deep into your room for this long before, and he was sure the alcohol wasn’t the only substance he was drunk on. 

You savored the sight of him while he wandered toward your bed. You allowed yourself to dream of the day your male would know just what you were to him, and imagined he was about to ravage you instead of dump you and leave you in your big bed all alone. Your hips moved slightly against his front, and you closed your eyes in embarrassment as heat began to rush in between your legs. It wasn’t really wrong of you to be turned on by your mate, especially after drinking so much and dancing with him the way you had. But the bond was still your secret, and you didn’t know if Azriel even felt anything slightly like how you felt for him; if he had any inkling that you were made to be together. 

You chanced one more look at him as he set you atop the soft duvet, fluffy pillows plush against your back. His inky hair fell between his eyes as he leaned forward and laid you down fully, sitting on the very edge of the bed and turning to draw the blanket at your feet up and over you before he left. His back muscles rippled through his shirt, pumped after flying for just a few minutes. Another tattoo teased you from the side of his neck, and at the muscled sight of him, you wondered if he knew that he was the sexiest male to ever exist. 

He turned to you, leaving the fuzzy throw halfway up your exposed legs, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he looked at you incredulously. You blinked at him, not comprehending that you had just said that last thought aloud. He looked so incredibly flustered that it only took you a moment to realize your mistake, a hand slapping over your mouth as if that would somehow make him unhear your profession.

“I– I meant,” you gasped as you sat up on your elbows, breasts bouncing and sitting heavily on your chest at the sudden movement. Azriel glanced down at the action, the emotion wiping off his face and instantly an interested mask of cool was in its place. “I…” you stopped breathing as he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your neck and his shadows curling around your ankles. 

Azriel’s eyes were searing into you, burning the shape of your body into the covers you laid upon. The alcohol was giving him too much confidence, your praise soaking his bones with white-hot desire as he appraised your figure that was pressed between his hard body and the soft mattress. “Is that really what you think of me?” he inquired, the words tight, restrained. Are you sure, his eyes seemed to ask.

“Yes,” you answered immediately, the word rushing out of you before you could think to lie. Maybe that was how the victims of his spymaster tactics felt, too, under the scrutiny in his never-ending hazel gaze. But you couldn’t think about that now– couldn’t think about anyone else, because then Azriel was kissing you. 

He crawled over you, caging your body under his large frame as his lips conquered yours. You were in too much shock, and too much bliss to refuse– moaning as his tongue wandered into your mouth, a rough hand gripping your waist as the other gripped onto the bend of your headboard, hard. 

This was wrong.

Both of you knew it, deep down, but neither wanted to stop, and neither of you cared now. Your bodies were strung out, needing to be connected so terribly after spending so much time together with not so much as a single kiss. Now that you had had just a tiny taste of it, you couldn't control yourself any more. And Azriel wanted you, the evidence of it pressing into you through his pants and your dress. 

On the same page, he groaned as he sat up, pulling you with him and his hands squeezing the plush of your thighs, shoving your dress up over your hips. You frantically unbuttoned his top, and he ripped the cloth off of him in impatience, cupping your ass and lifting you in one arm as he got rid of his pants with his free hand. You slipped forward so that your hips slotted over his, your slick panties rubbing against the thick, exposed length of him. The both of you gasped at the contact, and he quickly unzipped your gown and threw it over your shoulders into the darkness of your room. 

Your tits spilled out against his broad, inked chest and he growled, hips bucking against yours and sliding his hard cock against your core. Your head tossed back and his mouth was instantly claiming the skin of your neck, licking there and teeth sinking in just hard enough for you to cry out. The liquor only made everything more intense, your skin exploding wherever he touched, kissed, sucked. 

“Please Az,” you pleaded, desperate for more of him. He kissed you again, laying you back onto the pillows once more before he sunk down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Your body writhed in his arms, pleasure shooting through you. His other hand wandered up the inside of your thigh, trailing closer to where you needed him. 

He let out a delectable sound when the heel of his palm pushed into your clit through your panties, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass cheeks. He snarled as your wetness soaked his hand, your body ready for him to take you and claim you as his. Before you could beg again, his fingers slipped under the lace and he ripped the garment into shreds, exposing your dripping pussy to his greedy stare. All you could do was moan and arch your back, nipples stiff and body flushed, bare before your male. 

Azriel dragged you to the bottom of the mattress, then sinking to his knees before you. He spread you before his face, inspecting the most intimate part of you that glistened just for him. The way he was looking at you made a new wave of embarrassment wash over you, but before you could complain, he was leaning into you.

“So perfect,” he said sincerely, not seeming to care as he took a deep breath of your arousal, eyes filled with a wicked glint. Tattooed arms slithered up under your thighs and scarred hands cupped your hips as his tongue roved over your pussy. 

You were moaning unashamedly as he licked at you, kissing your clit and closing his eyes to savor the taste of you, recording each spot that had you crying out and giving them extra attention. Your body was shaking in his grasp, and you keened when his rough fingertips prodded your sopping hole. They slipped in, thrusting a few times before you were cumming, squirming and eyes rolling back. Those fingers retreated and rubbed the fresh slick along your slit, ensuring everything was nice and wet.

He stood then, cock tall and thick at the dip of the V between his hips. You tried to sit up to get a better look at it, eyes widening at the size of him and then realizing his wings had spread out behind him. Maybe that thing they said about wingspan was true after all.

“Come here,” he ordered and you shuffled down to the edge of the bed to meet him. 

You got onto your hands and knees before him, and he raised a brow as he watched your hand wrap around him. His hips thrust forward and he sucked in a breath as you took him into your mouth. He was too big to fit all the way so you went down as far as you could, tongue caressing behind your lips as you pushed him in and out of your throat. Once enough saliva had gathered in your mouth you spat into your hands and twirled them around the base of him, ample length for them to jerk over. Syncing the churn of your hands with your mouth, Azriel began panting, hands tucking your hair back so he could watch your pretty lips slide over him. He only allowed you a minute before he tore you off of him, refusing to finish without feeling the heaven your sweet cunt had promised him as he tasted it earlier. 

Desire pulsed through you as he tossed you onto your back and grasped your ankles, pulling you down so your core rested at the end of the bed, just inches away from his cock. He grabbed himself at the base, pointing the tip onto your hole and sliding the underside of it up and down your slit. Your body was tensing, twitching and trying to pull him inside you, where he was meant to be. “Az… Azriel I need you,” you sobbed, delirious. 

Azriel complied with your wishes, pushing the tip of himself inside your wet pussy before gently thrusting in. Each measured swing of his hips buried him deeper inside of you and you were thrust into another dimension as he hit those sacred, secret spots deep within you. You began clawing at his back as your legs folded on either side of him, submissive to the onslaught of pleasure he was showering you in. You couldn’t think, could barely breathe as he pumped into you, your walls hugging tight around him, begging he never leave, trying to convince him to stay here forever. He was moaning into your clavicle, wings fluttering as he fucked you deep, sweat beginning to dribble down the black designs carved into his firm torso. 

You couldn’t stop calling his name out, panting in his ear as your core took the shape of him. He was shuddering in pleasure, one hand cupping both your tits together and the other coming to curl around your back, hand supporting the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him. His tongue wrestled with yours again, thrusts becoming deeper, harder. Inked hips slapped against yours, the sound of your skin smacking mingling with both your ragged moans. You were close again, the passion in his gaze and his body’s pure intent surging with every thrust. 

Suddenly his shadows joined, slithering onto the bed around you and securing your limbs to the blankets. They flicked over every inch of your skin, tasting you, as if committing the sight and the feel of you to memory. They swirled over your hips, the promise of pleasure whispering in your ears as they crawled toward your nipples and your clit. You cried when they stimulated you, Azriel’s gaze bright as he watched them ravish you, just as he’d always imagined. They intensified everything, and it only took a few more pumps of his throbbing cock inside of you to make you unravel. Your cunt squeezed him ruthlessly, crying as your orgasm surged through your body. 

Azriel took in the sight of you, riding the ecstasy he had provided you with, and his own release came closer. He kept pushing into your slippery core, deep and hard now as his body begged him to finish inside you, for him to fill you up with his seed. He toed over the cusp of his climax, pressing his lips to yours as he uttered, “I love you,” and shot his load as deep as he could into you. His wings flapped a few times as he came, taut body shaking with euphoria.

Your heart swelled at his confession and you smiled, reaching for him to join you on the bed. He took you into his arms, holding you tightly against himself as he picked you up. His shadows brought forth a small, soft cloth and he held it underneath you as he pulled out of you, his essence dribbling out. You whimpered at the sensation, not wanting him to leave you just yet. But he set you back against the pillows once more, tucking your naked form under the covers and joining you there. He scooped your back into his chest, taking a deep breath of your scent from behind your ear. His wings hung off the side of your mattress slightly, his shadows forming a ring around the bed to guard your resting figures. 

He fell asleep quickly, the scarred fingers trailing along your forearm falling slack as his breaths deepened. You savored every second you could, fighting your exhaustion until you had no strength left and peaceful slumber took hold of you. 

“I love you too, Az…”

⸻

The chirp of sparrows on the balcony awoke you the next morning. Your head was pounding, your mouth parched and eyes bleary. Sun shone brightly into your room from the open curtains at the balcony, and you groaned, wondering if your magic could shoot the damn birds just so they’d shut up. Your stomach did not feel good either, an acidic burn at the bottom of your throat. You shifted, a hand coming to press at your forehead. Only you couldn’t– your arm was tucked under something warm and heavy. 

Your eyes flew open. 

Beside you was your mate, his naked chest on display as he laid asleep in your bed. His mouth was open just a crack, and his silky black hair was messy, his arm secure around you. Your heart shot into your mouth and you almost threw up in astonishment. You had spent the night together? 

Oh god. 

You had spent the night together.

Heat blazed your cheeks as you recalled last night’s events, recognizing the dull ache between your legs. Light bruises littered your curves, fingers wandering over a particularly tender spot in the dip between your neck and shoulder. The ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and it took you a moment to realize his shadows had come to say good morning to you, caressing your skin. 

You glanced over at him, but he was still asleep. It was only once a shadow trailed off your arm onto his neck and up to his ear that he opened his eyes, gaze meeting yours instantly. 

You pulled the sheet up over your cleavage a little better, wondering if there was any decency left for you to hide from him. “Good morning,” you blurted out, not sure what to say.

Azriel sat up swiftly, groaning as a hand flew to his forehead and he cradled it, obviously hungover just as you were. His wings stretched behind him and he dragged his palms down his face, swearing quietly.

You tried to calm down, your heart beating faster as the moment neared. You would have to talk about it now, right? Now that you had mated, didn’t he feel the bond in place? You didn’t remember what exactly had transpired last night, but surely he had to have discovered your bond. How could he fuck you and not have it snap into place for him?

“How do you feel?” you asked, watchful as you gripped the sheets with clammy hands. 

The shadowsinger sighed, one of his shadows running up his palm and over his shoulders. “Like shit, to be honest,” he replied, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your eyes. He looked at you then, eyes dropping to your chest and then the sheet you were holding, then to his own body. He picked up the sheet and looked at his lap, eyes going wide as he glanced over at you again. “Y/N, we…” 

You nodded slowly, watching his every move to figure out what he was feeling exactly.

Pink dusted his high cheekbones, gaze becoming apologetic. “I’m so sorry Y/N,” he started.

Suddenly your headache didn’t hurt so bad, and the nausea in your stomach heightened. “Why are you sorry?” You whispered, begging for him to be joking. He couldn't still not know… 

Azriel frowned at your emotional gaze. “I… I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he continued, and it felt like he had just stabbed your heart. “I never should have touched you last night. We were drunk, it wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” 

Rejection. 

It was excruciating, as if Truth-Teller was carving your insides out. 

“I see.” Your words were hollow now, but you couldn’t stop the words from falling from your lips. “Do you regret it?” You hated that it had slipped out, because you knew his reply would only hurt you even more. 

The shadows around your hips dragged at you, crying as they were pulled away from you, their master slipping from the sheets, pulling on his pants. Azriel couldn’t look at you, avoiding your gaze as he fumbled around for his shirt. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked quietly, so quiet Azriel almost didn’t hear it. You didn’t know if he knew what you were referring to, if he knew you were asking him if he loved you. 

It didn’t matter, because he chose not to reply, slipping out of your door and leaving you to drown in melancholy. You had your answer.

𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱. 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 8𝘬 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘙𝘌. 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 & 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥~ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!!^^

Azriel’s mouth fell shut, a flicker of surprise, and then guilt, crossing his face.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “I know about those. I know you are the one that told Rhys I couldn’t handle it. But this time, Rhys came to me, and I said yes. You don’t get to decide this time.” It wasn’t entirely truthful, but you wanted your words to stick. You wanted him to feel guilty, to regret keeping you from the field. 

You had been training for a year, and while you had started later than the others, you would like to think you had proved yourself. You had proved yourself. Azriel wouldn’t have agreed to train you as a spy if you hadn’t, but now he wanted to be difficult, to delay your transition into the field without any real explanation, and you were tired of it.

“It’s too dangerous,” he tried again, voice quieter but still hard with anger.

“Everything we do is dangerous,” you said, exasperation making your voice heavy. “It’s our job. It’s what I signed up for. You made sure I knew that on day one.”

“It’s an Illyrian rebel camp, and you are going in alone—”

“I’m not going inside the camp,” you cut him off. “I’m spying. The whole point is to stay undetected, like you trained me.”

“You are just a priestess.”

His words made your heart drop, a buried insecurity once again unearthed. “Right,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because that’s all I’ll ever be to you, isn’t it? The broken and bloody priestess you carried out of Cesere.”

The regret was clear on his face as he said softly, “I didn’t mean that.”

An ache spread from your core to your bones as his words rang through your head. The two of you had grown undeniably close over the last year. You knew that your feelings were morphing into much more complicated ones for the shadowsinger, and you had convinced yourself that he might see you in the same way—or, at the very least, he respected you as a friend and as a spy. 

Everytime he touched you, or even spoke to you, a swarm of butterflies erupted inside you. Now, those butterflies were dead, and lying heavy in your stomach.

Something akin to desperation pulled taught in your chest, making your breath falter, but you ignored the strange feeling and you swallowed your hurt. “You did,” you said quietly. It had been a long time since you worried that Azriel still saw you as the pitiful priestess in distress, but now those worries were back ten-fold, they were confirmed, and you felt sick.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you bit out. “I’m going on this mission.”

~ ~ ~

You lost track of how many drops of water had dripped against the stone beneath you. You were fighting to stay awake, but you couldn’t remember when you stopped counting. The steady dripping was like a sword against stone at this point, after spending endless hours tied up in this cave, with the drops and the skittering of rodents the only sounds to keep you company.

You tried to refocus on the dripping again, but the light echoing of every drop was like an anvil against your head. The rhythm of the drops seemed to be off too, as if they were competing with one another to fall. You dragged your gaze up to your wrist hung over your head, rough rope rubbing the skin raw, and a trail of blood trickling down your arm, onto your shoulder, and likely onto the stone below. The competing drops, most likely.

Azriel was right. You were just a priestess, who decided she wanted to play spy, and ran headfirst into danger to impress her High Lord. Rhys had tried to dissuade you from the mission, too, which you failed to share with Azriel. Rhys had asked you a research question, and when you probed him for more information, you pushed him to send you on this mission until he acquiesced. Convinced him that your knowledge of Illyrian culture and folklore (an embarrassing and inexplicable research obsession you garnered after Azriel rescued you) made you the best person to go on this mission, next to an actual Illyrian. You were tiny, and would be able to slip in and out of places with ease, and you would be able to recognize any abnormal practices in the camp. You would know where to hide, when to move, how to stay hidden and collect the intel Rhys needed.

You weren’t sure how they found you. You had barely stepped a foot inside their territory, only just finding your first scouting position, when a male plowed into you from your perch in a pine tree, knocking you flat on your back into the snow. Two more males had materialized from the shadows, and dragged you through the bitter cold snow until you reached this cave, deep in the Illyrian Steppes. 

You were freezing by the time you reached the cave, and your body was shivering relentlessly from the damp and cold clothes plastered to your body. What you would do for those clothes now, as you hung from your arms, your chest and legs bare, save for the scrap of underwear they had left intact. You hoped you died before they removed it.

You were certain your leg was broken—shattered, most likely. You had lost feeling in it awhile ago, but you had no way of truly knowing how much time had passed. Your head was pounding, and it felt like sand was sloshing around inside it with every movement you made. Your body was painted with dried and fresh blood, thanks to the fresh cuts they added every so often.

This was the longest they had left you alone. Every second that passed by filled you with more trepidation. You kept waiting for them to cross another line, to finally finish you off, to realize you weren’t going to tell them anything and to just get rid of you.

Your body was so heavy. You had long ago given up on holding yourself up, to try to alleviate the pressure of the ropes on your wrists. Your ankles were bound too, and your toes barely grazed the stone beneath you as you slowly swayed back and forth. 

You flinched as something brushed against your ankle, a chill instantly going up your spine. Mother only knew what was in these caves, what was waiting to feast on your carcass.

Your vision started to swim again, the rocks before you tilting as consciousness finally abandoned you.

~ ~ ~

You awoke in a panic, your body all too aware that someone was there, and they were touching you. Adrenaline took over your body as you thrashed and screamed, refusing to just lie there and make it easy for them.

Hands cupped your cheeks, and your eyes snapped shut as their fingers slipped through the mixture of tears and blood on your skin. “Sweetheart,” the male said, and the breath whooshed from your lungs. You knew that voice.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s Azriel.”

“No,” you sobbed, refusing to give into whatever cruel hallucination your mind had cooked up. They must have drugged you while you were unconscious, pumped you full of Mother only knew what.

He brushed the hair from your face, and your mind was screaming at you to give in, to let yourself have this final moment of peace, with the male you loved and would never get to see again. Your fear was too powerful, though, your last shred of hope that you could survive this too potent.

Another set of hands were at your wrist, their touch like acid in your wounds. You screamed as they pulled at you, the rope rubbing against your raw wrists. You were so desperate, desperate to do anything to make them leave you alone. Your screams turned to sobs, and suddenly your body was falling forward, and your arm fell to your side. The male caught you before you could hit the ground, your body going limp against his. He smelled like cedar, and salt, and for a moment you found yourself relaxing in the comforting scent.

Your other arm soon fell to your side too, and your hands burned as the blood rushed back into your fingers. “Y/N,” he murmured, brushing your hair back gently. “Open your eyes. Please.”

A comforting warmth flooded your chest, and your eyes slowly fluttered open. A blurry Azriel was holding you up, his face mere inches from yours. A heavy fabric was draped over your shoulders, making you flinch away from whoever stood behind you, but that only pushed you further into the other male’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he cooed. “It's just Cassian. You’re freezing, love.”

You hadn’t noticed the shivers racking your body until then. Black wisps brushed your face and neck, and their familiar touch made you crumple.

“Azriel?” you sobbed, body limp in his arms as you looked up at him.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes. It’s me. You’re safe now, I promise.”

He pulled the cape Cassian had draped over you around your shoulders, effectively covering your bare body.

A million things were rushing through your head, a million things you wanted to tell him, but all that you could get out was a sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice firm.

“I should have listened—”

Azriel shushed you, his finger gently stroking your face. “Stop. This wasn’t your fault,” he repeated softly.

Panic seized you as you realized you were just sitting here, waiting for those males to come back. “Those males—”

“Rhys has them,” Cassian answered, his voice dangerously low. “We’ll take care of them.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened. “Take her home,” he told Cassian, voice dipped in lethal rage. You immediately tensed. “Madja is waiting.”

“No,” Cassian said, and relief flooded you. As much you trusted Cassian, you couldn’t fathom another male touching you, carrying you all the way back to Velaris. Azriel was…He was the exception. His touch made you feel whole, and safe. He was your anchor. But the thought of anyone else made bile rise in your throat.

“Excuse me?” Azriel growled, his chest rumbling beneath where your head had lolled.

“No,” Cassian repeated. His voice was a little warped, and your head was growing heavy. “You take her home. Rhys and I will handle those males.”

“They deserve—“

“I know,” Cassian placated. “I know they do.” His voice was so far away now. Adrenaline had abandoned you, and you were in Azriel’s warm arms, and your exhaustion was slowly stealing you away.

“You need to take her home,” you thought he said, but it was so difficult to focus, to be certain that your reality was not meshing with your dreams. “Go home, and take care of your mate.” A dream, then.

~ ~ ~

You were certain your skin was melting from your bones when you awoke. Your scream that filled the room sent a chill through your core, a direct contrast with the scalding of your skin. You couldn’t understand where you were, who was touching you. Everything was mush, and pain, and terror. Your brain had tricked you, fooled you into a false sense of relief by showing you Azriel, and then yanked him away. You were still in that cave, still a captive to those sadistic males.

Except the hand on your forehead was far too small and delicate to belong to one of those brutes. Their skin was soft and cool against your own, and gently forced your head to lay back, cold porcelain meeting your neck. “You’re in Velaris. In the House of Wind,” a delicate voice murmured. Female. The voice was female. “You are safe,” she cooed, and your terror slowly abated, dulling into a sickening anxiety that left you trembling.

You slowly realized you were in a bath, the water a murky green color that continuously flooded the wounds littered across your body.o Every movement you made sent the water sloshing against your skin, and you forced yourself to stay still as you met the female’s eyes. Madja.

Your eyes stung as you stared at the familiar healer, whose ministrations and focus did not falter. “Madja?” you croaked, your throat raw and sore.

“Yes, dear,” she affirmed gently, lifting your arm from the water to probe at your inflamed and oozing wrist.

“Where is Azriel?” you practically whimpered.

“He’s just outside.”

“I need him.”

She glanced at you. “You are not dressed, love. He did not want—”

“Please,” you begged. “I need him. Please get Azriel.” Your volume rose steadily as you yelled desperately, another flare of pain searing through you, “I want Azriel!”

“I’m right here.”

Your eyes darted behind Madja, Azriel standing there in the doorway. His eyes were pained as he took you in, and your body went limp as soon as you saw him. A sob broke free from your mouth, your body shuddering uncontrollably.

He immediately rounded to the other side of the tub, crouching down next to you.

“Shadowsinger,” Madja warned.

“Can I touch her?” he asked, voice cracking. You whimpered through your sobs as she pressed a balm against the wounds circling your wrist.

“Just her face,” she relented.

Azriel’s hand immediately cupped your cheek, and you leaned heavily against him. “It hurts,” you whimpered, eyes falling shut.

“I know,” he murmured. “It will be better soon.”

You sniffed, hesitantly meeting his eyes again. His normally bright hazel eyes seemed muted, exhaustion and worry dulling them. “Is this real?” you whispered, voice so small and vulnerable. You wanted to curl up in a ball, and hide away forever. You wanted to erase these last few days from your memory, or however long you were strung up in that cave. You wanted to go back and listen to Azriel, to not let your pride and anger push you into something so rash.

“Yes,” he assured, his voice soft and gentle. He brushed some hair behind your ear, the strands damp and clinging to your face. He glanced at Madja, then picked up a cloth hanging over the side of the tub. He dunked it in the water then ringed it out, before gently bringing it up to your face. “This will sting a bit,” he warned softly, then dragged the cloth across your forehead.

It did sting, but the discomfort was drowned out by the excruciating burns that consumed the rest of your body fully submerged in the water. You sucked in a breath as he brushed over a tender part of your forehead, and he murmured soft apologies as he continued cleaning it. You could only imagine how you looked at that moment, how disheveled and broken you must have been. Just like that horrid night in Cesere.

“I’m sorry you had to save me again.”

Azriel froze, his eyes wide as they met yours. “Why–” he spluttered, then shook his head. “I will always come for you,” he promised, his voice a bit desperate. “Why would you think—”

“I should have listened to you,” you rasped, chest heavy with guilt and shame.

“Shadowsinger,” Madja cut in, preventing Azriel from answering you. “Keep her calm,” she scolded. “And hold her hand now. This is going to be painful.”

Your stomach lurched, and you looked at Azriel in panic. He dropped the cloth in the water, then gently picked up your hand, wrapping it in both of his. “It’s going to be fine,” he murmured, squeezing lightly. “I’m right here, okay?”

Madja coaxed you to sit forward, the water falling from around you as your shoulders broke through the surface. She held you up with one hand on your collarbone, and Azriel went rigid as he stared at your bare back.

“What is it?” you asked quietly, fear running through you. His eyes snapped toward yours, immediately softening.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the top of your hand, careful to avoid your injured wrist. “Madja is going to take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Madja held a purple vial in her free hand, and she gave no warning before pouring its contents over your back. Your body fell into Azriel as you screamed, the liquid like lava as it seeped into your wounds. Madja dropped the vial, and she let Azriel hold you up as her hands fell over your back, the heat of her magic exacerbating the scalding across your skin.

You were sobbing into Azriel, and one of his hands moved to cradle your head against his chest. “Make it stop,” you begged.

“I can’t,” Azriel choked out. “She has to do this, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Just another minute,” Madja murmured, her voice apologetic.

You were shaking by the time she was finished, and you felt near delirious from the agony still flaring across your back, every throb agitating the wounds that must have gone farther than you realized. Azriel was pale as he watched you, his face stricken.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, and you couldn’t understand why he was apologizing. You couldn’t think about much beyond the pain you were drowning in.

Madja gently coaxed your head from Azriel’s chest, pressing another vial to your lips. “This one won’t hurt,” she promised, slowly pouring the fruity liquid in your mouth. You swallowed hard, watching her in a haze.

You glanced at Azriel again, who looked a bit blurry, his face becoming distorted. “What—”

He shushed you gently, brushing your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just get some rest. I won’t leave you.”

You didn’t want to sleep. You didn’t want to leave him again, to be left vulnerable, but before your panic could sink its claws in too deep, darkness blanketed over you. It was soft, and cool, and comforting, and you thought maybe you could stay there, just for a little while.

~ ~ ~

“It’s my fault.”

“Az–”

“It is. You didn’t see her back, Rhys.”

A beat of silence, then, “Can I—”

“No,” Azriel growled. You felt guilty for listening to their conversation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes yet, lethargy still weighing them down. “There are two gashes down her back, right where wings would be. You know what that means. It was intentional. They knew she was important to me.”

“Or,” Cassian said gently, “They knew she belonged to Rhys’s circle.”

“They could smell me on her, Cassian! I should have known better—”

“Az,” Rhys cut him off quietly. You held your breath as the room went silent, your heart rate picking up.

The bed dipped at the edge, and the touch of familiar scarred knuckles lightly brushed across your cheek. “Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice far more gentle than it was seconds ago. You guiltily fluttered your eyes open, the light of the room making you squint. “You’re awake?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you rasped, your voice a mere whisper.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand settling on your hip that was covered by the duvet. A black duvet, that was definitely not your purple one. You slowly took in the room you were in, lavishly big with books and weapons adorning the walls. The bed you were in was far too large for your frame, but it smelled like cedar, and you knew exactly who this room belonged to, even if you had only ever caught glimpses of it before.

Your eyes fell back on Azriel, and he looked more than worse for wear. He looked like he was hanging on by a thread, his eyes limned with exhaustion and his face taught with anxiety. You slowly pulled a shaky hand out from the covers, reaching for his hand beside you. You weakly squeezed his hand, smiling faintly. “It hurts,” you admitted, voice still a weak rasp, “but it’s better.”

Azriel didn’t smile, but he squeezed your hand back, and it made your heart clench.

“Y/N,” Rhys said from the foot of your bed, startling you from your bubble with Azriel. Embarrassment and shame flooded you as you met the eyes of your High Lord, and your eyes quickly started to sting. An apology was about to spill from your mouth, but before you could, Rhys said, “I’m so sorry.” He sounded anguished, and guilty, and you couldn’t fathom why.

You shook your head lightly, a frown pulling at your lips. “Why?”

“I never should have sent you on that mission. It was too dangerous, with too many unknowns, clearly, and I’m sorry.”

“But, I’m the one—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Azriel cut you off, voice hard. “They had an aerial patrol unit we didn’t know about. So while you were focused on avoiding anyone on the ground, they likely spotted you from above within minutes of stepping foot in their forest.”

Your face burned with even more shame. “I didn’t even think about—”

“Neither did we,” Cassian said, stepping up beside Rhys. “We should have, but we underestimated the camp’s efforts, their numbers.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “There’s a lot more of them than we anticipated, but they were anticipating us. They knew Rhys was suspicious of them. It wasn’t your fault, it was ours.”

You took in his words, struggling to accept them. You looked at Azriel, fighting back the tears still threatening to break free. “But you warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

“I was just being selfish,” he murmured softly. “I didn’t want you anywhere near Illyria, but had I known, had I received tangible intel that this was waiting for you, I would have warned you. I would have gone with you.”

He brushed away a tear that fell down your cheek, murmuring softly, “It wasn’t your fault, love.”

Then why did it feel like it was your fault? No one ever knew what you would find on a mission, what you would run into. It wasn’t anyone’s responsibility but your own to anticipate an attack, to map your enemies’ moves, and you failed.

The door creaked open, and Madja’s kind and gentle face appeared in the doorway. She smiled at you, granting you a reprieve you were quickly growing desperate for. “We should change your dressings,” she said, moving toward your bedside, completely unfazed by the three males hovering over you. You, however, only just realized that you were laying there bare, aside from the gauzy white fabric bound around your chest and torso. You wished this bed would just swallow you whole.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Rhys said softly, then guided Cassian out the door.

Azriel lingered though, hesitating to leave your side. He glanced at Madja, and your face went hot as you thought about your bath earlier, about how you screamed and cried for him to help you. “I’ll be fine, Az,” you said quietly. His eyes darted back to yours, clearly not believing you. 

“When was the last time you ate, Shadowsinger?” Madja hummed as she aligned vials and balms on your bedside.

Azriel didn’t say anything, and alarm flitted through you. “You haven’t eaten?” you asked him, shuffling a bit. “Azriel—”

“I’m fine,” he assured, glaring at Madja.

She scoffed. “You haven’t left her side since you brought her to me last night.”

“Az,” you chided softly, guilt flooding you. “Please, go eat something. I’ll be fine with Madja.”

His shadows pulsed haphazardly around him, his eyes clearly conflicted. Eventually he sighed, and stood up from your bed. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” he promised softly. Madja gently shooed him out of the room, and you felt empty and conflicted once he disappeared. 

Your mind was swimming. You could barely piece together a general timeline of the last few days, let alone come to terms with whatever complicated feelings you had toward Azriel. It didn’t matter, though. None of it mattered. You were just a broken priestess that would never be worthy of an Illyrian warrior. 

As if your heart wasn’t bruised and battered enough, Madja rubbed salt in your wounds by humming, “That boy loves you.”

Her words hurt. They were meant to comfort, to soothe, to tease—to distract you from whatever pain you were in as she slowly sat you up in bed—but instead, they only prodded at your already tender heart. She stuck another knife in your chest as she said, “I shooed him out because you seemed a bit suffocated, but you need to lean on him.”

“Respectfully,” you said quietly, voice lacking any true bite, “it’s not your place.”

She started to gently undo your bandages, the cool air on your raw and mangled skin making you hiss. She didn’t seem the least bit offended by your words, and simply hummed with a far too knowing voice, “Love heals.”

~ ~ ~

A few days passed, and you had effectively isolated yourself from everyone. At least, as much as you could. Your friends still brought you food, checking in every so often, and reluctantly leaving after you promised you were fine and you just wanted to rest. Azriel never returned, though. He was never one who brought you meals. You couldn’t deny the ache in your soul that throbbed everytime one of your other friends’ faces appeared in your doorway. If you weren’t surrounded by the scent of him from being bundled in his bed, the ache would likely be unbearable. You didn’t know where he was staying while you took over his room.

An oily anxiety was slowly accumulating in your stomach, trickling into your veins to spread throughout your body. Madja took you off the sleep tonics yesterday, and sleep had evaded you the entire night. Every time you closed your eyes, you were back in that cave. Every little sound made you flinch, made you grit your teeth and brace yourself for those males to return, to finish what they started.

“You look like shit,” Nesta drawled as she shut your bedroom door behind her, making you jump. You sat up slowly, resting your back on the mountain of pillows that had accumulated along the headboard. Rhys continued to ply you with gifts, flowers and blankets and pillows now littering Azriel’s room. You could probably move to your own room now, but you selfishly didn’t want to leave.

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

She sat your food tray on the bedside table, a bowl of steaming soup and buttered bread sitting neatly on the wood. She assessed you with cool and calculating eyes, her brow furrowed into a hard line. “Before you kick me out,” she began, “Madja said your bandages need changed, but she can’t come by tonight.” She started pulling gauzes and balms out of the drawer. “So you’re stuck with me.”

“No,” you said quickly. Nesta stilled, side-eyeing you. “That’s not—I can do it myself.”

You didn’t want her to see. You didn’t want anyone to see. It was bad enough Azriel had seen you thrashing and screaming in that bath, had seen the wounds across your back—you couldn’t handle anyone else seeing the remnants of your failure.

“Y/N—” she started to say, voice unusually gentle, and it made you recoil.

“I’m fine, Nesta,” you said. You were fairly certain you would never be returning to training with the Valkyries, that you would be resigning to your life as a researcher in the library, but showing her your wounds, your weakness—it felt like the final nail in your coffin. You weren’t ready for that.

Her eyes narrowed, and she shut the bedside drawer with more force than necessary. “Fine,” she said, voice clipped. “That’s utter bullshit, but fine. As you wish.” She turned her back to you, heading toward the door. “Tell the House if you change your mind.”

The harsh slam of the door made you jump. Guilt mixed with the anxiety in your veins, a muddy mixture that would likely cement inside your heart. 

~ ~ ~

Searing pain jolted you from sleep, lava running down your back. A sudden hand on your shoulder made you scream, undiluted terror mixing with your pain, and defeat took over you as you were yanked back to that cave. You had never left. None of it was real. You were still there, they still had you tied up, and were—

“Y/N,” Azriel’s voice pulled you from your spiral, splashing ice cold water on your terror, blurring the memory you were trapped inside. “You’re safe,” he cooed. “You’re with me.”

Your eyes slowly focused on his figure, his wings flared out a bit and shadows pulsing with tension. His eyes were wild and frantic, and he slowly sank down on the bed beside you as he realized you finally recognized him. 

Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t control the sobs that broke free. Azriel shifted closer, his hands shakily cupping your face to wipe away your tears. “It’s okay,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over your hair as you cried, his shadows nuzzling against your neck. 

The ache in your soul dulled under his touch, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you leaned into him, desperate to cling to the male you had been longing for the last few days. Despite the shame and mortification you felt every time you thought about him having to save you again, him having to hold you together while Madja treated you, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t cut the tether you felt binding you to him.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured gently, concern evident in his eyes.

“What?” you rasped. You sucked in sharp breath as another bout of pain washed over your back, and you remembered why you awoke in the first place.

Azriel’s hand shifted to your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your side. His breath faltered at whatever he saw, making your heart race. “Sweetheart,” he choked out. “Your bandages are falling down.”

You face heated in embarrassment, and you wished your stupid pride had just let Nesta help you earlier, and Azriel didn’t have to see you as a fucking mess again. “Why didn’t Nesta make them tighter?” he said, voice growing angry. “And there’s no balm—”

“I did them,” you cut him off, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” he asked, voice going soft. 

“I told her I could do them,” you said. “How did you even know she—”

“Why wouldn’t you let her help you?” he asked.

You bit your lip, your eyes burning with fresh tears. “I didn’t want her to see,” you whispered.

Azriel paused. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said quietly.

Your hackles instantly raised, and you sat up to meet his gaze, the covers falling around your waist and your back barking in protest. “Really?” you asked, voice incredulous. “I was captured within an hour on my first field mission alone. Rhys didn’t even want to send me on that mission, but I convinced him. I should have known that they would have an aerial patrol—me. That was on me. I should have anticipated—”

“Stop,” he ground out. His eyes were pained and angry as he met your gaze, making you swallow whatever words you had left. “It was not your fault. Maybe there were things that could have been done better, maybe you did make some mistakes, but ultimately, I failed you by keeping you from the field, and by failing to realize—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, and then said, “No one blames you. Missions go wrong, and sometimes it will be your fault. It’s inevitable that you will make mistakes, but this one is not on you.”

You wished you could believe him. You wished that his words could erase your fears and insecurities, but you would be a fool to ignore the mound of evidence staring you in the face, that littered your skin.

Azriel sighed, as if he realized he wouldn’t be changing your mind tonight. “Let’s get you some clean sheets and clean clothes,” he said. “I’ll get Nesta or Feyre to help with your bandages.”

“No,” you rushed out, making Azriel freeze. “Please, don’t get them. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he argued. “Your wounds aren’t covered which is why you woke up in pain.”

That made you falter. “How did you know that?”

Azriel blinked, hesitation flickering in his eyes before they shuttered again. “My shadows.”

Your chest went tight. “They’ve been watching me?” you squeaked out.

Azriel looked slightly guilty when he answered, “I just left a few with you, in case you needed something. That’s all, I promise.”

Well, you certainly hoped they didn’t tell him about the tears you shed throughout the day, or the sleepless night you had beforehand, or the pitiful attempt you made at putting the damned bandages around your torso. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Come on,” he coaxed, helping you up from the bed by your arms. You were immensely grateful Madja had helped you bathe yesterday. He helped you into the bathroom, letting you sit gently on the stool beside the bath. He crouched down in front you, making himself eye level with you. “Your back needs to be cleaned and properly bandaged,” he said quietly. 

Your lip trembled as you thought about anyone else touching you, seeing you so vulnerable. It made you nauseous. “Can’t you do it?” you asked, voice embarrassingly small.

His eyes widened a bit, and his hand fell to your knee. “Of course, I can,” he said softly. “But do you want me to?”

“Please,” you begged. “I can’t—I don’t want anyone else to—”

His thumb brushed your knee, making your words die off. “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s fine, love. I have no problem helping you.”

“Then why did you disappear?” you asked, immediately regretting the words.

His eyes snapped to yours. “I didn’t—” he fumbled, shaking his head softly. “I didn’t think you wanted to see anyone.”

“That didn’t stop everyone else,” you grumbled.

“You had to eat.”

“Then why didn’t you bring me meals?”

Azriel stared at you, his throat bobbing. “I didn’t know how to face you—but I’ve always been here. I haven’t left the House.”

“Face me?” you asked.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, his wings rustling slightly as he stood up. He moved toward the sink, wetting a cloth before returning to you. “Those gashes on your back have meaning,” he said softly, eyes swimming with guilt. “They are exactly where wings would be, exactly the kind of wound that would be left behind if wings were removed. They obviously knew you were…” He hesitated, and you couldn’t fathom why. “You were important to an Illyrian.”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You didn’t understand why he felt he was personally responsible for those wounds, why he would be the reason for them. You also didn’t know how they would have known that, unless they guessed you were a part of Rhys’s court. You still found yourself saying, “I don’t blame you.”

He averted his eyes, squeezing the cloth tighter. “And I don’t blame you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing neither of you would believe the other. He moved behind you, then tugged at the hem of your camisole. “Can I take this off?” he asked gently.

Your heart started racing, and your mind was yanked back to that cave, where you were strung up with your chest bare to those wicked males, and—

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his face in front of yours again. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch featherlight. Your hands were trembling in your lap, and embarrassment made your throat tight.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped.

“No,” Azriel said. “Do not apologize.”

You sniffed. “Just take it off and get this over with please.”

“Y/N,” he said softly. “That’s not how this works.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to let me see it again.”

A tear escaped from your eye, and you felt so defeated as you looked at him. “I don’t want anyone but you to touch me right now.”

Azriel’s face was a mixture of pain and reverence, and you didn’t know where to go from here. “You know I would never hurt you,” he finally said, voice quiet.

You nodded quickly. “Yes,” you whispered. “I do. I trust you, Azriel. That’s why I want your help. I just, I don’t know why—”

“Let’s try this,” he murmured. “You take off your shirt, and my shadows will cover you, and I can clean your back.”

Relief flooded you. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Yeah?” he hummed. He moved behind you again, and you worried your lip between your teeth. “I won’t look until you tell me to.”

You sucked in a breath, toying with the silk hem. You removed the fabric from your body with a little difficulty, your shoulders and back screaming at you as you stretched the raw wounds across your skin, but you managed to get the material over your head and toss it on the floor. As promised, his shadows clouded over your chest, effectively covering your skin. “You can look,” you mumbled. 

You heard him shuffle behind you, and goosebumps skittered across your skin when he brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Ready?” he asked softly.

You nodded, and the warm cloth pressed to your skin. Azriel didn’t linger in any one area, cleaning your bloodied skin quickly and expertly. He then reached for a tin on the counter, and you heard him unscrew the lid. “This is the healing balm,” he told you quietly. His fingers gently lathered the balm along the edges of your wounds, his touch as light as possible to avoid inflicting any pain. His touch was soothing, and the balm quickly eased the pain radiating up and down your back. Your chest was flooded with the most comforting warmth, and you caught yourself leaning into him as the tension eased away.

He swapped the tin for the roll of gauze. He handed you the end of the roll, the cotton material soft between your fingers. “Hold this in place for me,” he murmured.

You did as he asked, pressing the gauze firmly against your chest. Azriel wound the gauze around your chest and torso with quick precision, never touching anywhere he shouldn’t. The material was snug against your skin, and you knew it wasn’t going anywhere. He smoothed the end of it out, securing it in place, before gently squeezing your hip. “Done,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you whispered, heart near bursting. 

He pulled a clean shirt over your head, it smelling like cedar and salt. It was clearly one of his, and you didn’t know when he had time to grab one for you, but you practically melted into the soft fabric.

His shadows dissipated, and he smiled at you softly as he rounded the stool. He offered you his hand to help you up, then shifted to brace your lower back as you walked back to your bed. The sheets were swapped for fresh and clean silk ones, and you were sure you had the House to thank for the courtesy. Azriel pulled the covers up and over your shoulders once you laid down, his hands lingering briefly over your shoulders before he pulled them back to his sides.

The moonlight filtered in through the drapes, streaks illuminating the bed and bits of his skin that weren’t covered by his sweats and tee, a reminder of how late it was. “I’m sorry for waking you,” you mumbled, sleep quickly creeping back in.

“Don’t be,” he hummed. “Get some sleep.”

He took a step back, a small smile briefly pulling at his lips before he turned around. Panic sunk claws into your chest, and you blurted out, “Azriel.”

He immediately froze, and turned back to look at you. “Please stay with me,” you begged, voice wobbling.

“Of course,” he agreed easily, moving toward the sofa under the window.

“Lay with me?” you blurted, face burning from your request but something inside of you just needed him close. You needed to feel him next to you. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t comprehend why you so desperately wanted to cling to him, but you were too exhausted to fight it.

He looked almost boyish as he stared at you with wide eyes. “Are—are you sure?” he stumbled out.

“If—if you don’t mind.”

Azriel’s response was to quickly slip under the covers next to you, turning so that he faced you and his wings draped over the edge of the bed. His warm arm brushed against yours as he shifted around, and you realized this bed was barely big enough to share with an Illyrian warrior. He didn’t complain, though, and you selfishly didn’t want to risk him leaving you, so you kept your mouth shut.

You were facing each other, heads resting on separate pillows but only inches separated you. He was so warm, and he smelled so good. You had caught yourself indulging in his scent far too many times at training, your friends had even caught you once or twice, but this time it brought you a comfort you had never felt before. It made you feel safe. You felt like you were home when you were wrapped in his scent. It’s why you were still holed up in his room after days of him avoiding you.

“Can you tell me a secret?” you asked, voice low.

Azriel hummed softly. “A secret?”

You bit your lip, focusing on the collar of his shirt where his tattoos poked out. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You’ve seen me at my worst, twice. It’s mortifying, actually.” A sad huff of a laugh escaped you. “You’re too perfect in comparison.”

Azriel let out a surprised, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not perfect. Not in the slightest.” He glanced at his hands, whether it was intentional or subconscious, you didn’t know. It killed you that he saw the evidence of him surviving the cruelty of others as his flaw.

“You don’t need to be self-conscious, though,” he continued, his breath lightly fanning your face as you shifted closer. “I know what I said the night you left, and I am so sorry.” His voice was low and thick as he continued, “I’ve never doubted you. I only said that, because I was desperate to keep you here. I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, before you could question him or accept or reject his apology, he shifted back to your question. “I’ll tell you a secret, though,” he hummed. “I’m scared that one day, the mating bond will snap, and my mate won’t want me.”

It was like a red-hot knife was stuck in the center of your chest, hearing him talk about his future mate. You swallowed your jealousy, your pain and longing, and rasped, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Azriel studied you for a moment, and you fought back the acid burning at your throat. You wished you could go back and never have asked him the stupid question. “What if I’ve kept it from them?” he asked, voice sounding fragile.

His question only twisted the knife. This was an entirely new form of agony. “You’ve met them?”

Azriel’s eyes were soft as he said, “Yes, love.”

Your stomach churned. You pushed yourself back, sitting up frantically. “I shouldn’t be making you share a bed with me then. Gods, Azriel—”

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you gently to lay back down. “Please,” he murmured, “Just listen.”

You closed your eyes a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat before returning your gaze to him, hoping he didn’t keep ripping at your bleeding heart. This was not how you saw the rest of this night going. “What if me keeping this bond from her, nearly got her killed?” he asked, voice weak. “What if the scent of her bond to me, painted a target on her back, that she was completely unaware of as she walked into enemy territory?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you pieced together the meaning of his words, as you pieced together fragments of your rescue and healing that you had dismissed as hallucinations. “No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “This isn’t funny. This is not funny, Azriel!”

You pulled your wrist from his grip, mind swimming and heart racing. His eyes flashed with hurt, and you realized you were reacting exactly how he feared. You were playing out his worst fear he had just confided in you with—but it’s not that you didn’t want him. You didn’t deserve him.

“It’s not possible,” you choked out, voice thick with your tears. “I cannot be your mate. This is a cruel trick. I am just a broken and battered priestess, and you—”

Realization dawned on Azriel’s face, and your words died in your throat as he pulled you to his chest. “You are so much more,” he murmured into your hair. “I have known for a while, been suspicious even longer—since we met really.” Someone had stolen the breath from your lungs. “And while I have doubted that I was worthy of you, I have never doubted you. I’ve spent this year of our training questioning the Mother, asking why she would stick you with me as your mate, but I’ve never considered myself anything less than blessed.”

You pulled back from him, and you took in this male who—who was apparently your mate. The male you had longed for and had stifled away your feelings for as some silly crush, when in reality, they were anything but. His hazel eyes were bright in the darkness of your room, shining with vulnerability and a hesitant hope. One of his hands still rested gently on your hip, and the touch felt like a stream of electricity connecting the two of you together.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes fell away from yours, a shaky breath leaving his lips. “I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t—I wasn’t even certain until a few months ago. At that point, you trusted me. I couldn’t—” Azriel was stumbling over his words, and it made your heart clench when you noticed his cheeks were dusted with pink as he shifted into a beam of moonlight. 

“I couldn’t take advantage of that trust. I didn’t want to ruin it, but I still did. I—I was too overprotective. I kept denying missions that Rhys offered, because I was scared, and he told me I couldn’t let the bond control me—control you—but I was terrified of something happening to you. It made me ill to think of someone hurting you, or worse, and then that’s exactly what happened anyway. If I had kept myself in check—”

“Azriel,” you interrupted him gently, and his mouth fell shut. “I understand.”

His thumb brushed your cheek gently, and your eyes fluttered shut. “This was probably the worst time to tell you,” he murmured guiltily.

You caught his wrist, fingers gently wrapping around the scarred skin. “It’s not,” you whispered. “It actually makes me feel a little less insane for how much I want to cling to you.”

He chuckled lightly, brushing some hair out of your face. “You have no idea. I’ve been sitting in the hall for days, just in case you needed me.”

You shuffled closer, your heart practically glowing. “Really?”

“Yes,” he murmured. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell to his lips, and you didn’t really think before you pressed your own against his. He kissed you back immediately, his soft lips melding gently with yours. You arched closer to him, desperate to be closer to him, but the movement pulled at your back, aggravating the healing muscles, and you sucked in a sharp breath that made you break away.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked frantically.

You nodded, embarrassed. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.” You moved to keep kissing him, but he gently held you back.

“We can wait, love,” he said softly.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against his chest. “We probably should.”

He smoothed a hand over the back of your head. “Madja is already angry with me for leaving your bedside. I don’t need to make it worse by tearing open your wounds.”

You smiled softly, then said, “She told me love heals.” You looked up at him. “Did she know?”

“Probably,” he hummed. “I was a mess when I brought you to her. It wouldn’t have been hard to guess.”

Your smile widened, and you burrowed against his chest, your cheek pressed against the soft fabric covering his heart. “I think she was right,” you said into him. “Having you here—it’s the best I’ve felt since before everything happened.”

That familiar warmth bloomed in your chest, and you reached inside to sink your fingers in it, letting the love and adoration weave through your fingertips. Now that you finally could recognize it for what it was, now that you knew the source of that warmth, you sent your own love back down the glowing thread that reached from you to the male next to you.

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, his body going rigid before relaxing again. “Was that you?” he asked breathlessly.

You nodded shyly, your face still buried against his chest. “You’ve been making me feel that for a while—I just didn’t know it was you.”

His arm squeezed you to him, his hold firm and comforting. “I love you,” he breathed.

Contents -

༄ One | Recognition | 2k words

༄ Two | Tangled Together | 2.6k words

༄ Three | Sugary Sweet | 2.4k words

༄ Four | A Place to Fall | 2.3k words

༄ Five | Echoes in the Dark | 2.2k words

༄ Six | Devotion | 2.9k words

༄ Seven | The Beauty of Choice | 2.9k words

༄ Eight | Threads of You | 2.9k words

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

This story was actually sparked by a fun little comment on "Eclipsed" about how cool the idea of another Shadowsinger was... and well, my brain ran with it. So here we are—second Shadowsinger but for Azriel!

I've had so much fun imagining what it would be like if there was someone else like Azriel and what would happen when their shadows met for the first time. I mean... fate, right?

I hope you enjoy the chaos, fluff, tension, and shadowy nonsense as much as I do :)

"...and then he – Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Feyre waved a hand in front of your face to win back your attention.

"What? I mean sure I am". You were perched on a bank, observing your mates sparring. Shirtless. You had no idea who was winning. The only thing you noticed was the way your mate's biceps flexed and how the sun hit his perfectly sculpted chest –

"Hey! You're practically mind-fucking him. What's going on with you? This is so unlike you". A blush crept over your face. But the wetness in your panties only intensified when a breeze hit your nostrils that carried the shadowsinger's scent. And a strange heat settled in your abdomen.

You were already half out of your seat before you realized you had stood up in hopes of clawing the pants off Azriel right there. "Oh Gods, of course", Feyre laughed, "I think you're ovulating". Azriel's head whipped around to you so fast he should've broken his neck. He stared at you, wide eyed and whatever he saw in you had his eyes darkening and a blush appearing at his neck. A moment of weakness Rhys used to hit him square in the face.

The hiss you shot at Rhysand was inhumane, animalistic almost and maybe you would've tried to tackle him, if your mate hadn't immediately stood up again and walked towards you with a grin on his bloody lips and looked so sexy you contemplated having a wagon-load of winged babies.

"Did he hurt you?". You brought your hand up to his face, your fingertips lightly grazing the small wound. Your mate shook his head no and, for some reason, Rhys was chuckling somewhere behind you. Your finger stilled at his upper lip. You took him in now, close up. His dishevelled hair, the sweat mixing with dirt and blood made him so masculine, so attractive your knees nearly buckled.

"You looked so hot fighting like this", you breathed. Rhys wheezed before laughing out loudly. But your mate drew you into a hug and whispered into your ear: "I could smell you all across the training ring". Your hands grasped his arms to stabilize yourself. Your heart hammered inside your chest and the burning desire between your thighs got unbearable.

Azriel turned his head towards the others. "Did you tell her what it would be like? Does she know? I don't want to take advantage of her like this". As if on cue, you moved your hand down his front, down the delicious muscles and to his pants that hid his manhood. And then you brushed over his half-hard length firmly, fumbling to open his pants. Azriel's scarred hands clutched your waist tightly and a small gasp left his lips.

"She does", Feyre was nearly crying from laughing, "besides I think it's her who's taking advantage of you, not the other way around".

"Azzie", you begged, unable to open his pants while he held you so close, "I need you. I love you so much. You're so sexy. And it... it hurts".

Concern etched on his face. "My love, where does it hurt?". Deep inside you, straight at your core.

"I can show you". Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were screaming at yourself to get it together, but it was like all your senses were attuned to him. Like every filter had been removed, when you grabbed his hand and tried to shove it down your own pants while simultaneously tracing the whirls of the tattoo on his chest with your tongue.

"Get a room, for Cauldron's sake", Rhys bellowed and your mate grimaced at your antics.

Azriel grabbed you by your arm, the world turned dark around you and all of a sudden you were in your bedroom, hanging onto Az.

"My mate is so strong and powerful", you grinned. "And so hot and so big". He choked on plain air when you palmed him through his pants again. You whimpered. He was fully hard now, straining against his confines. "So big", you repeated and stroked him through his pants. A growl left Azriel's lips and his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss. Your blood was boiling, clothes too tight on your body and his naked skin drove you insane. Every thought left your brain as you touched every inch of his body you could reach and pulled him to the bed, on top of you without breaking the kiss. You were starving and the only remedy were his lips and his tongue that were just as desperate as your own. Only when you were gasping for air, did Azriel move his kisses down to your neck.

"It hurts, Az"

"I know, baby. I'll take care of you. But you've been a bad girl, my love. Very bad". He panted. Dark tendrils of shadows slipped around your waists and ankles, binding them to the bed.

"First, you smell so delicious you make me lose against Rhys". He pressed a hot kiss to your neck, flicking the delicate skin with his tongue. A loud moan escaped you and you thrashed against the shadows holding you in place. "Then you try to get me to fuck you right in front of my brother". He took truth-teller and cut across your shirt and bra before throwing the knife away and latching onto your now freed hard nipple. It took everything within you to not come undone then and there. "And then you touch me and almost make me cum in my pants even though you want it so much, don't you?" He rolled his hips against yours once, against the powerful bundle of nerves.

"I can't help it", you replied breathlessly, "I – fuck – I need you".

His tongue circled your nipple. "Hmm... use your words. Where do you need me? I'll make you feel better" The shadows snaked up your legs now and smoothly pulled off your pants, leaving only your panties that were so wet the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Azriel kissed all over your breasts. "Here?" You shook your head. His kisses wandered further down, stopping near your bellybutton. "Here?". Vehemently, you shook your head again. "Hmm... where else?", he teased. You wanted to grab him and lead him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Azriel chuckled softly and his mouth moved down again, agonizingly slowly towards where you needed him most. Your body was ablaze, writhing against the shadows that bound you. At the seam of your panties he stopped, breathing you in. "Gods, you smell divine". A hungry expression grazed his eyes. His nose pressed into your clothed crotch and he inhaled deeply, groaning. Azriel pressed a kiss right there, making you keen. "Do you need me here?".

A shadow caressed your cheek lightly. "Yes, right there". A wicked gleam showed in his eyes. He pressed a kiss to your still clothed sex that had you chasing his touch. You could only see his dark hair when he kissed your thighs, higher and higher, until he reached delicate skin next to your panties, soaked with arousal. By now, you were reduced to a whining mess, the only word leaving your mouth his name. You couldn't see what he was doing, your view obscured by his big wings, but the next moment, air hit your cunt and he had a ripped piece of fabric hanging from his grinning lips. Your heart skipped a beat and you moaned out in delight. Azriel had ripped your panties off with his teeth.

Azriel pressed light kisses to your folds, and then licked through them up to your clit in one slow motion.

"So wet for me". And then he ate you like you were his last meal. With deliberate strokes of his tongue, he gathered your moisture and greedily swallowed it all. His tongue dove into your waiting hole, a hand moved up to grasp your breast and with every lick, your mate's nose hit your clit at just the right angle. He was thrusting against the mattress now, you realized wirh a shudder. It was too much.

"Come on my tongue. Let go for me", he panted between licks. He thrust his tongue deeply inside and you came hard, screaming out his name and fell limp to the mattress. He helped you ride out your orgasm, drinking up every drop of moisture. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, but the pain in your womb hadn't receded. If anything the searing ache had only intensified.

"You're so pretty when you cum". Azriel kissed you softly on your lips and this small affection had you arching up against him again.

"Fuck, Az. I need more of you"

Calloused fingers ghosted against your clit and then slipped downwards, circling your entrance.

"My pretty girl can take another one, can't you? For making a fool out of me infront of Rhys". But he didn't look angry at all with his wide smile and blown out pupils as two fingers slipped inside you and curled against your walls.

The stretch and the textured feeling of his scarred fingers was oh so welcome and you greedily leaned into him, but it just wasn't enough. It just wasn't his rock-hard cock that lay against your thigh now, promising pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt.

You stroked lightly against the shadows binding you to the bed. They purred at your touch, turned soft and pliant. Enough so that they allowed you to move. Without wasting precious time, your hand shot out and stroked his wing, found the big vein right next to the main bone. Azriel shuddered above you and dropped his head onto your chest, his hand stilled within you. Slowly, you traced the vein and then the strong tendons next to it. His wing was limp in your hands, dropping half-opened to the bed and Azriel collapsed on top of you. He groaned deeply into your neck, making your toes curl and you nearly came from the sound alone. He humped against your leg, his cock now so hard it was throbbing through his pants, desperate for any friction. Another light touch of your fingertips against the delicate membrane and he bit your neck softly, growling.

Cold air whipped over your arm and ripped it off his wing, bringing it back to its original position. Azriel shot up and knelt over you and you couldn't help the whine that escaped you at the loss of contact.

"You can play later. For as long as you want", his chest was moving rapidly with his strained breaths, "but not yet"

"I can't help it. I need to feel you and touch you. I need your cock inside me and –"

He ripped his pants off, freeing his hard length that slapped against his abdomen. Its head was an angry shade of red, leaking precum all over. His veins stood out prominently against the soft skin and you swore it pulsed harder the more you looked at it. The ache inside you intensified, saliva pooled in your mouth and you were sure if you didn't get him inside you right now you'd die.

"I wanted to prepare you for me". He was shaking, restraining himself from taking you right then and there. His eyes wandered down to your waiting cunt, clenching and dripping around nothing, and the look on his face became predatory. "Do you think you're ready for me?" It was laughable, the way you thrashed against his shadows, your arousal so evident in the wetness pooling between your thighs and the hunger for his cock. You felt painfully empty, an ache deep inside you that you knew only he could cure.

"Please. Fuck me already. I need you, please", you whined. And the last sliver of your sanity went flying out of the window at your begging.

He was above you again so fast you didn't even see his movement. His hot tip slid through your folds, nudging against your clit in a deliciously devastating way that had you seeing stars. Azriel coated himself in your wetness and then stopped, his tip right at your entrance. You bucked your hips forward in annoyance, but he held you in place firmly.

There was little restraint left in his voice when he asked: "How do you want it?". The big wings at his back were trembling.

What a stupid fucking question. "Hard"

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a fast movement, he entered you and pushed all the way inside in one hard thrust. Azriel's eyes rolled back and you cried out in ecstasy. The way he filled you so completely, stretching you with a delicious burn around his hard length made the need for him even worse.

"So wet and ready for me. You take me so well", he whispered and thrust hard once. You tugged at the shadows again, but they wouldn't budge this time. "Such a needy little princess". Another thrust, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "I love the way you feel around me. Always so perfect". His eyes darkened as he looked down upon your naked body. "Hold on tight". He grabbed one of your legs and spread you wider, allowing him to settle even deeper inside you, taking your breath away. And then he fucked you roughly into the mattress. He set a rough and punishing pace, his hands wrapped so tight around your waist they would leave bruises. His cock hit all the right spots inside you and every thought except for him left your mind.

The moans that escaped you were beyond shameless. Again and again, you tried to arch up into him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Your eyes met his and the love he put into this look was enough to send you ober the edge, crying out his name.

He stopped inside you without pulling out. "Do you feel better?". All you could register was the hard length still buried inside you up to his balls, throbbing and twitching. You shook your head.

"No? What more does my princess need?". Azriel's mouth latched back onto your breast, sucking and kissing the hardened nub and you felt yourself getting impossibly wetter by the second. "I need – fuck – I need – your – cum", you gasped with each flick of his tongue.

A deep groan sounded from him and it was music in your ears.

"Want me to come inside you? Fill you up with my seed?". He pressed a hand to your abdomen, right were he was nestled inside you and you bucked your hips against him.

"Yes. Please – don't pull out"

Azriel dropped down on you again with almost all his weight. It was pure torture having him so close and not being able to touch him.

"Breed me, Az"

Something inside him snapped at your words. He started moving again, thrusting harder and faster than before. Moans escaped his lips, mingling with your own.

The shadows relaxed their pull around you. You flung your legs around his waist, allowing him to go in even deeper. And your hands shot up straight to his bag, fingers clawing at his hard muscles. Azriel growled deeply into your ear.

"Want me to breed you?"

"Yes", you moaned, nodding frantically. He was almost there, his thrusts grew sloppy and impatient. The throbbing of his cock against your cervix the most beautiful thing you had ever felt.

"See how deep I am?" The fingers of his hand pressed to your abdomen flexed right where a bulge formed with every thrust. All you could do was nod weakly, your eyes rolling back. "Feels so good"

"This cock is yours". Your hands threaded into his hair and pulled him down to your lips. Shadows flew down to your clit and started nipping at it. "My seed is yours", he whispered against your lips.

With a strong twitch, he came inside you, hot ropes of his thick cum spurted out of him, right where you needed it the most. There was a lot of it, warmth spreading deep inside you. He kept moving, his cum squelching obscenely and the feeling of him and his seed right against your womb, the shadows working your clit perfectly, had you convulsing around him in a hard climax.

Azriel buried his face in the crook of your neck. The mating bond between you glowed in a familiar light and you felt the love radiating off him.

"Did I hurt you, baby?", he asked breathlessly.

"No. I loved it". You shuddered. There was semen dripping out of you now and you hated every drop that was wasted.

"Do you feel better?"

He tried to withdraw, but you kept him from escaping by pulling him further in with your legs around his hips.

"Not enough", you complained, out of breath, "need more of you". The burning inside your womb had died down by a fraction, but you weren't satisfied yet. Your body needed more of him, even though you could already feel him softening inside you.

"You're insatiable. Like a desperate little slut, begging for my cock to fill you up".

Azriel's lips found your neck, licking, kissing and biting until you were reduced to a whining mess below him again.

"Wait a bit, I'm not ready to go again"

But you couldn't wait. He let you roll him over onto his back with you sitting astride him. Azriel's hands gripped your hips and there was nothing but love in his gaze. Cum ran out of your cunt and dripped into his short pubic hair, onto his thighs and the sheets. Your pussy pulsed at the sight.

You dipped your fingers into his cum and brought it to your mouth to taste him. The slightly salty aroma made you moan on your fingers. And Gods, he was so sexy below you, his chest still glistening with sweat, the illyrian tattoo and his toned abs, the absolutely fucked-out look on his face. You knew exactly what to do.

Both of your hands found his neatly folded wings. You stroked all over the membranes, unfolded the wings to reach the better hidden spots that he loved the most. And he just let you.

He grew harder inside you by the second. Not long, and you were circling your hips, sliding slowly up and down his cock, slick with arousal and cum.

You got off on the sight of him, completely at your mercy. With each deliberate touch of yours, his wings trembled under your fingertips and his cock throbbed inside you.

"You're so hot like this", you gasped as you rode him slowly, "I want to fuck you until your balls are empty and I'm full of you".

You brushed against the main veins of his wings. A full-body shudder went through him, his gaze turned clear, and the next moment, he had you face down, ass up in the air and entered you from behind, making you scream.

"Fuck, that's better", he groaned, "Didn't I say it's time for wings later?". You only mewled, the new angle bringing a foreign stretch and deep penetration.

You were close to orgasm again

"But my girl needs more of my seed, right? You need to milk me dry?". He underlined his words with a deep roll of his hips and then stilled, his hands at your hips to keep you from bucking your hips back at him.

The words tumbled from your lips like a prayer. "Fuck yes. Please, Az"

With one sharp movement, he started pistoning in and out of you again, his balls slapping rhythmically against your clit.

"You're perfect like this, taking me so well".

His pace was relentless, each thrust shoving you deeper into the pillows.

"Come for me again, love". Azriel's fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your climax ripped through you with a force that had you screaming his name. You clenched around him trembling.

One more thrust, until he was buried deeply inside you, his tip nestled directly against your cervix, and he found his release with a roar that had the bed shaking. Warmth spread inside you once again, straight to were you needed it.

He pressed a kiss to your back and pulled out of you. A small river of his cum trickled down your thighs. Your pussy felt sore, but the ache was gone and so was the fog in your mind.

Azriel pulled you tightly against him, laying down.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Is it better now?".

A blush crept over your cheeks at the thought of how wanton you had been only minutes ago. The things you had said, for Cauldron's sake. You hoped Rhys and Feyre had at least left the house before you started. There was no way you'd be able to look anyone into the eye again if they'd heard that. Not to mention the embarrassment you felt towards your mate. The way you had begged for his cum.

"Yes. Is it over now?"

A grin settled on his face. "If you're lucky, it'll be over in a few days".

You hid your face in your hands. "A few days? Oh Gods, I'm so sorry for how I behaved. For what I said. That was so –" Embarrassing? Humiliating? Shameful?

"That was really hot", he said softly and took your hands off your face, "that was probably the best sex I've ever had and, judging by the sounds you made –" you wanted to die on the spot "– and how you begged for more, I think you liked it too. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's instinct, you can't control it". A peck on your nose had you smiling again.

A childish, foolish part of you had always thought that Azriel might be the one—that he might one day be yours. That one day the Mother might finally lift the veil between you, that she might finally pull an invisible string between your souls taut and end your insufferable pining. It did not matter that you had lived centuries beside the male, that you had endured centuries of yearning for the boy you met as a mere child. It did not matter that every day that passed your soul grew a little more weary. There would always be a part of you that burned for Azriel.

It was pathetic. 

It was inevitable.

You had accepted it decades ago, maybe even longer. 

You were okay with loving him from a distance for eternity, as long as you had him. As long as there was still a possibility. A seed of hope to kindle your fantasies, to make them feel just a little real.

“Yes.”

The solid, quiet answer rang through the room, an arrow that ricocheted off the walls and the ceiling only to lodge directly in the center of your chest. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

Rhys and Cassian were unsurprised by his answer, but their mates appeared to be suppressing their shock and confusion at the revelation. Mor looked…indifferent. Intrigued, maybe. You weren’t sure if she knew. You could not tell if her narrowed eyes gazing over the rim of her wine glass were from confusion, or disapproval—if she might know more than you.

Then her eyes cut from Azriel to you, her lips pursed in a way that made your skin prickle, and you really didn’t want to know what her thoughts were on whatever she believed was happening at this table.

The female—Soleil, was her name—hummed, her glass setting on the tablecloth with a soft thud. “Interesting,” she said, the word drawn out just enough to know she cared only for her own self-interest. Her brows raised a bit, glancing around the table pointedly as everyone else watched her with bated breath. “Where is she then?”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, and his grip tightened around his fork. And because you loved him, briefly, your heart ached for him.

Because you loved him, you noticed the nearly imperceptible twitch of his wings. You noticed the slight stagger in his breath as he looked away from Soleil. You noticed the way his body, adorned in dark leathers, blurred just a bit at the edges, and the how the planes of his face grew just a little more shadowed.

You almost stretched your leg out beneath the table, almost toed his boot with your own from where you sat across from him.

“The private lives of my court are of no concern to yours.” Rhys’s voice was sharp and finite, his words yanking you back to the present, forcing you to remember yourself.

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed, but his gaze was impassive as he looked from Soleil to his brother. Soleil’s lips were pursed, the shine of amusement in her eyes dulled. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rhysand,” she answered, with far more gall than she should. “There are political advantages to be considered, potential alliances—”

“Azriel has a mate,” Rhys cut her off, his words scalding your chest as they slid down to your stomach. “He is spoken for—and even if he was not, the members of my court are not pawns for you to play with.”

Azriel has a mate.

He is spoken for.

A mate.

Simple facts that you had managed to leave as blurry half-truths revealed from booze loosened lips in a dark alley in Velaris for nearly two months in the back of your mind. Now they were real. Now everyone else knew too.

You stood up, your chair scraping along the hardwood floor. Everyone’s eyes cut to you, but the only ones you could focus on were the ones that left you feeling so raw and exposed you ached all over.

You could only hold his eyes for a brief moment, immediately looking down at your feet when you felt a tendril of shadow curl around your ankle. You could hardly breathe. “Excuse me,” you muttered, then fought for every ounce of dignity and composure you could muster as you walked out of the dining room, your pace quickening once you were in the hall.  

You didn’t start running until you were out the front door and the moonlight hit your cheeks and outstretched wings, and even if you heard the door open and close behind you as you took off into the sky, you didn’t look back.

~ ~ ~

“Have you met the new boy?”

You blinked owlishly at your mother, your heart racing in your chest. “Who?”

She cast a glare over her shoulder, her peeling of the potatoes over the sink growing more aggressive. “The new boy in your cohort. They say he is a shadowsinger.”

There was no new boy in your cohort. There were no boys at all in your cohort, not since they separated the girls and boys after they turned ten—and you turned ten last month. Your mother knew this.

Instead of reminding her—correcting her—you asked, “What’s a shadowsinger?”

She huffed, the peeler and potato hitting the edge of the sink. “Do you know nothing?” she snapped.

Somehow, you always made her mad. You never said the right thing.

“Pay attention tomorrow,” She told you. You nodded when she looked at you again, but you avoided her eyes. “A shadow boy would be hard to miss.”

If there was a boy made of shadows, you imagined he would be hard to miss—even if you only saw the boys in the eating hall—but there was no “shadow boy”, and there were no new faces that stuck out as you made your way to your table.

The other girls at your table were all older, and none of them were particularly nice, but at least they had let you sit with them. It was better than sitting with the girls in your age group. These girls left you alone, and they always had stories to share.

The stories were generally trivial and petty. Sometimes they talked about boys. You tried not to listen too closely during those conversations.

“Have you seen him yet?” one of the girls, Freya, asked.

Across the table, Lara furrowed her brows. “Who?”

“The new boy,” Freya answered eagerly. “I’ve heard he’s cute.”

A third girl, one you had forgotten the name of, scrunched up her face. “He talks to shadows, Freya.”

Freya waved away the comment as if it was entirely inconsequential and not the strangest thing you had heard in your life—also, she said he talked to shadows, not that he was made of them.

Lara looked even more disturbed. “He’s also eleven.”

At that, Freya looked more discouraged. “I didn’t know that,” she groaned. “I don’t know why I listen to anything that comes out of Elsie’s mouth.”

Their conversation pivoted, moving on quickly from the new boy who allegedly talked to shadows. You looked around the dining hall again, no longer looking for someone made of shadow, but anyone that seemed unfamiliar.

You knew all these faces, though, whether you wanted to or not. There were only so many children in the camp, let alone ones that were eleven. Your eyes snagged on a boy that was in your age group across the hall, his hair wild and eyes fiery as he climbed up on the table, his voice carrying throughout the entire hall.

It sounded like the beginning of a challenge—Mother only knew what for. Cassian had always been wild and a little unpredictable. He was never mean to you like some of the other boys, though, so you tried to ignore his antics. Still—if you were new and at your dining table sat Cassian, you might hide away too.

So you stood up, pocketing your apple and tossing the rest of your lunch in the bin, the girls at your table not even batting an eye as you slipped outside the dining hall. Fresh snow was falling in big flakes from the sky, a fresh layer sticking to the stone path. You weren’t supposed to be outside, but you still had ten minutes until the end of lunch, and you wanted to find this boy.

Maybe it was foolish to seek out an Illyrian boy on your own—a boy that spoke to shadows, no less—but there was a coil inside your chest rapidly growing tighter the longer you thought about him. Every step you took along the wall of the mess hall pushed a little more air out of your lungs, and you needed to find him.

A black inky tendril darted in front of your face, just barely grazing your nose as you rounded the back corner of the building. You reared back, your feet slipping from beneath you on the freshly fallen snow. You had never been the most graceful child—an embarrassment, according to your mother—so it was no surprise when you fell down into the cold, wet snow instead of regaining your balance.

There would be no hiding where you had wandered off to during lunch now.

“I’m so sorry!”

Your head snapped up to find a wide-eyed boy standing over you. His hair was dark and unkempt, the strands so long it was starting to curl around his ears. His face was flushed a light shade of red, and his eyes were a bright hazel that shined with embarrassment. He held his hand out to you, his wings twitching behind him as he waited for you to take it.

You slipped your hand into his, the skin rough and jagged in a way that made your breath hitch—then the coil that was tight in the center of your chest sprung free, and you could finally take a full breath again. You stared at him as he pulled you to your feet, his skin warm despite standing in the dreadful cold. Your skin tingled, and your entire body felt shimmery—like fresh snow beneath rays of sunlight—yet you somehow felt overwhelmingly warm where your heart beat hard in your chest.

He was very tall. Taller than most of the boys in your year—maybe even taller than Cassian, who was the tallest of them all, and very proud of that fact. Standing in front of you, you barely rose past his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy said again, his voice much softer. He let your hand drop, then tucked his hands behind his back.

Your eyes flit down to your cold and limp hand, thinking about the way his skin looked like it had been gnawed on by a beast in the forest. You almost made a comment, almost asked one of your many questions that your mother reprimanded you for time and time again—then you saw them. Dark yet translucent tendrils of…something, creeping out from behind his back, some slithering over his shoulder like a territorial pet.

Shadows.

They were shadows.

Your ogling must have been obvious, because the boy looked down at his shoulder, then back at you, somehow even more embarrassed. “They won’t hurt you,” he promised, his voice quiet and a little desperate.

It was strange. Strange for a boy to tell you he was not a threat, strange that he cared. Strange, because most of the boys in this camp seemed to relish in doing the exact opposite. Most of them saw your separation in year ten as a reminder of who was better, stronger, smarter—and it was certainly not the females.

“You’re the new boy,” you said, voice trembling a bit from the cold.

The boy blinked.

You wiped your hands on your pants, drying them of the melted snow before tucking them beneath your arms. “They say you talk to shadows.”

His face scrunched up at that, just a little, just enough to make your lips quirk up at the side. Then his shoulders fell. “I guess,” he muttered, then took a step back.

“That seems cool,” you hurried out, stepping a little too close to him, but he didn’t move away. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. It was likely the cold. “I was looking for you, actually.”

He eyed you warily, and suddenly you felt like the strange one—which, maybe you were, in his defense. You stepped back, your chest aching as his warmth vanished. You reached into your coat, pulling out the apple you had smuggled outside. You thrust it toward him, the movement awkward and hasty. The boy just stared at it.

Your face suddenly felt warm.

You shook the apple in front of him. “For you.”

He glanced between your eyes and your outstretched hand, seconds stretching between you before he finally took the apple. “Thank you?”

“Y/N,” you offered, though you weren’t sure if he was really asking. You shrugged, taking another step back. “Maybe don’t skip lunch anymore,” you said. “The girls at my table have already noticed, at least.”

He held the apple with both hands, nearly covering it. He looked down, avoiding your gaze.

You bit your lip, knowing your time was running out and he probably wanted you to leave him be, and yet— “I know Cassian is loud—like, really loud.” The boy’s eyes snapped back to you. “But he’s sort of nice? In a weird way. He won’t do anything too bad.”

He frowned. “He stole my gloves.”

You winced. “He…does that.” You scrunched up your nose, gesturing to the hall. “He’s better than the rest of them.” The wind was starting to whip at the damp legs of your pants, and you were beginning to tremble. “I should go.” You waved, regretting it immediately, then turned around.

“Azriel,” he said.

You turned on your heel, eyes wide. “What?”

He blinked once, then said, “I’m Azriel.”

You grinned, your eyes crinkling up at the edges and your mouth stretched wide. “Bye, Azriel.”

~ ~ ~

“Are we going to talk about it?”

The thud of your fist against the leather bag was answer enough.

Nesta appeared at the other side of the bag, bracing it as it started to swing. You met her eyes briefly, her gaze cold and impatient. You hit the bag again, a huff falling from her as she replanted her feet. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why must you all be so dramatic?” You hit the bag again, this time the angle off, and pain raced through your hand. “Y/N,” she said, her voice firm. You glared at her, holding your hand against your chest. “Did you know?”

You considered playing coy, acting aloof, but it would only get you so far with Nesta. You started to unwrap the leather wound around your hands, admitting softly, “Yes.”

She blinked, her shock evident. “I thought—” She shook her head. “You left so suddenly.”

“A headache overcame me.” You inspected the redness of your knuckles, your joints aching as you flexed your hand. It had been over two hours since you came up here, the sun only just now creeping up over the horizon.

“A headache,” she deadpanned.

You shrugged, walking over to your pile of things on the floor. You sat down, dropping the leathers beside you as you drank from your water.

“And Azriel—did he help you with this headache?”

Your head snapped to her. “What?”

She rolled her eyes again. “He left dinner not even a minute after you, then never returned. Do you think us so dense—”

“Azriel did not follow me,” you told her, making your confusion clear in your tone. The sound of a door opening and closing behind you as you took to the sky echoed in your mind. “Why would he?”

Nesta, for once, was at a loss for words.

Why would he not check on his friend?

Why would he follow you home from dinner, a female who was not his mate?

It was a back and forth you could spin in circles for an eternity if you let her, and you had no energy for her interrogations.

Your breath caught in your throat as a dark tendril gently slid down your arm, curling around your wrist as you lowered your water. Nesta watched the shadow silently, the two of you holding your breath as Azriel walked through the doorway, then froze.

He glanced at Nesta, then his eyes fell on you. “Good morning,” he said softly, hesitantly. You needed to get out of here.

You waved the shadow away, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Good morning,” you said back, gathering your things in your arms before standing. “I was just leaving, so I’ll leave you be.”

Azriel blinked, but he didn’t say another word, even as you felt his gaze follow you all the way to the corridor, and you were finally free of his attention.

~ ~ ~

“Hi.”

Azriel flinched so violently that he stumbled back into the tree behind him, a dusting of snow falling down around him. His head whipped to you, where you were standing sheepishly at his side.

“Sorry,” you said, but still took a step forward. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Which was true, but you also had enough sense to realize that he was lost in his own world, given he was standing still in the middle of the forest alone.

His face was flushed as his bewildered eyes sharpened into a glare. He brushed the snow from his shoulders as he stood up straight, and his shadows wiggled around his feet as if they too had been startled. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

You raised your brows, a bit of indignation crawling up your spine. He was the one loitering on the edge of your clearing. At least, you considered it yours. No one else had ever stumbled upon you here when you managed to slip away from your mother for the evening. “What are you doing here?” you threw back.

His face somehow turned redder.  “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

You looked him up and down, noticing the thick flying leathers that looked slightly too small for his body. The boys always got a new set of leathers when they turned ten, but never the girls.

Azriel must have been given a poorly sized spare when he arrived in camp.

You watched the shadows slinking up his body, blurring the edges of him into darkness, as if they might engulf him to save him from your prying gaze. You took another step closer, barely a foot between you now, and Azriel eyed you warily as you stuck your palm out.

A tendril of shadow immediately broke away from his side, skittering closer to you to wrap around your wrist and weave in between your fingers. You giggled at the cool and silken touch that was unlike anything you had ever felt. They were sort of cute.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel rasped, dragging your attention back to him. “I’m getting better at controlling them.” His shadows pulsed once, as if disgruntled by that, and Azriel grimaced. “They won’t hurt you.”

He had said the same thing the first time you met him, and again when you bumped into him once on your way home. “I know,” you said simply, rather than remind him of his past assurances.

You dropped your hand, content to let the shadow brush over your skin as it pleased. “I heard Cassian talking to Rhys a few days ago,” you said, curiosity seeping from your voice. You met Azriel’s eyes again, who already looked like he was dreading whatever might follow your sentence. “They said something about flying lessons?”

Azriel looked away, and the shadow around your hand darted back to him. “They’re teaching me,” he murmured.

“Teaching you?”

Azriel looked pained. “Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back.

“I don’t know how.”

“To fly?” you asked, incredulity clear in your voice.

Azriel nodded slowly, the movement forced and stiff.

“Oh.”

You had your suspicions that Rhys and Cassian were talking about Azriel. The three had formed an unexpected trio since Azriel arrived a few weeks ago, though you weren’t sure they were friends. Rhys and Cassian seemed to be antagonizing Azriel at every turn, yet they seemed to close ranks around him when others tested him.

You had also heard from some girls at lunch that Azriel was apparently living with them.

Azriel rubbed at his nose, and only then did you realize that his hands were covered by black leather gloves that looked nicer than the rest of his garments. “Cassian and Rhysand don’t know how to keep their mouths shut,” he grumbled.

You winced. “Are they good teachers?” you asked, trying and probably failing to hide your skepticism. 

He gave you a dubious look. “No.”

You pursed your lips. “Well I could teach you.”

Azriel's face flushed red again, and he started shaking his head. “No—no. I don’t need anyone’s help—”

“I was coming out here to fly anyway,” you interrupted him. You shrugged when he finally met your eyes. “I always come here—or, there—” You pointed to the clearing through the trees where there was a small cliff you liked to jump from. Azriel turned to look. “To fly by myself. I wouldn’t mind a friend.”

Azriel’s head snapped toward you again. Your face warmed. “I would like that,” he said softly.

You smiled, then grabbed his hand, your chest feeling warm with excitement. “Let’s go.”

You dragged him through the trees at an awkwardly fast pace that was on the verge of becoming a run, and when you tripped over a branch sticking out of the snow, Azriel caught you before you could fall. The two of you giggled as he pulled you upright, and you kept moving toward the clearing.

The sun was bright once you were free from the canopy of the woods, a few rare beams breaking through the overcast sky and making the snow shimmer. You dragged Azriel up the hill that led to a cliff—if you could really call it that. It would certainly hurt if you fell, but you wouldn’t die. You thought.

You dropped Azriel’s hand as you neared the ledge, looking down at the snow covered ground. You turned to smile at him, but looked less than thrilled as he looked out over edge. “Please do not shove me off this ledge—”

“What?” you exclaimed. “Who said anything about shoving you off a cliff?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you remember who my teachers are?”

You huffed. “Well we’re not doing that.” You reached for his hand again, pulling him closer so that he toed the edge with you. His muscles were tight with tension, so you gave his hand a squeeze as you smiled at him. “We’re going to jump.”

Azriel tried to jerk away, but you kept your grip firm on his hand. “How is that any different—”

You shook your joined hands. “I won’t let go, for one.”

He immediately shook his head. “I’m bigger than you. I’ll just pull you down and then we’ll both get hurt.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” you argued. “I can manage a soft landing for both of us just fine.” Maybe not soft, but you could cushion the fall if you had to probably. “But it doesn’t matter because you’re going to glide, not fall.”

His throat bobbed, but he didn’t argue. “How?”

“Spread your wings.” You did just that, your wings stretching out a little wider than necessary, but you wanted to make a point.

Azriel seemed to chew the inside of his cheek before nodding, then he took in a deep breath and stretched his wings wide behind him. His wings were larger than yours, a deeper shade of purple than your more rustic hue. They caught a ray of sunlight, and the delicate membrane shimmered. He squeezed your hand, and you had to think before you could remember what to say next.

“Good,” you said, and you leaned forward a bit, your wing brushing with his.

Azriel sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry—”

You waved him off, not minding at all if his wings brushed against yours. He was your friend. You trusted him. He wasn’t mean or loud or aggressive like the other boys in the camp. “It’s fine, Azriel.”

He nodded, and he didn’t let go of your hand.

“We’re going to jump, and we’re going to leave our wings out like this. They will catch the wind, if we fall forward a bit, and then we just glide. There is plenty of space. That’s it.”

“Okay,” he agreed, his voice slightly shaky. He nodded, then said again, “Okay, I can do that.”

You grinned, nodding excitedly. “Ready?” you asked, dragging him even closer to the edge, the toes of your boots hanging over. 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“Now!” you yelled, and the two of you jumped, and your bodies both instinctively leveled out with the ground, the wind whipping around your face as you grew closer to the Earth.

Then your body jerked, and the wind was pushing against the membrane of your wings, and you were soaring across the clearing.

Azriel laughed beside you, a smile stretching across his face as the two of you flew over the wide expanse of the mountain clearing. “This is amazing!” he yelled.

“I told you it would be fine!”

He squeezed your hand, closing his eyes as the wind washed over his face, and it was the most joy you had seen on his face since you found him behind the mess hall weeks ago.

Unfortunately, you were paying far too much attention to the boy beside you and not to your surroundings, and the rapidly nearing tree line in your peripheral made you jerk upright, stealing any of the momentum the two of you had found.

Azriel’s eyes flew open as you flapped your wings haphazardly, trying to right the two of you unsuccessfully, and then you were just trying to soften the inevitable fall. The two of you landed in a plume of snow, tumbling over one another with the force of your fall. You eventually came to a stop, Azriel’s body covering your own.

Your body ached, and you knew it would hurt tomorrow, but you seemed to be fine otherwise. Azriel’s shoulders were shaking, his face hidden from your view, and your stomach dropped. “Azriel, I’m so sorry. Cauldron, are you okay? I should—”

Azriel was laughing. He pushed himself up, still hovering over you as he finally met your eyes. He looked fine. He looked more than fine.

He rolled off of you, laying next to you in the snow as he gave into his uncontrollable laughter. You started laughing too, even if moments ago you were terrified he was hurt or that he might hate you now.

“That was amazing,” he said around his laughter. “Thank you.”

Your laughter slowed, small chuckles still escaping from your lips as you turned to meet his sparkling eyes. “What are friends for?”

~ ~ ~

“You’re avoiding me.”

The spoon in your hand clanked against your mug, some of the tea sloshing over the side. You took in a sharp breath, then reached for a towel to wipe it up.

“It’s the middle of the night, Azriel.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” He walked closer, his hip leaning against the counter only a few feet away from you. “Have I done something?” he asked, a bit quieter.

You finally looked at him, your hand still clutching the towel as you leaned on the counter. You hated the way your chest ached every time you saw him. Before, your heart had ached from feeling so overwhelmingly full—a tightness caused by feeling so much and with desperate hope to one day give it all to him. Now, your chest ached from an emptiness that had hollowed you out, your heart and soul dark and weathered and still soaked with love, but a love that now faced the agonizing reality of never being seen.

“No,” you said, quietly, after too many beats had passed. You looked down at the towel in your hand, clutching the fabric tight as you forced yourself to take just one full breath. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Azriel.”

Your breath caught in your throat when his hand grabbed yours resting on the counter, gently pulling the towel from your grasp. His thumb brushed over the back of your knuckles, the two of you staring at your hands on the counter. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

His voice made your heart ache. The way he softened the syllables as if they might not pierce the fragile cloak of night around you. The way his questions were always gentle, genuine, and entirely sincere—spoken in tones that always made your defenses disintegrate.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” you answered quietly, finally daring to meet his eyes. You shrugged, as if that might knock the guilt of the half-truth off your shoulders. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because you have broken my heart. Because you have truly done nothing wrong and still I am left poorly gluing shredded pieces of myself back together that fall apart every time I’m near you.

“It’s nothing. Really, I’ll be fine.”

Azriel looks like he does not believe you. He doesn’t believe you, not a word that has come out of your mouth. You are admittedly a terrible liar—although you have mastered the art of evasion and half-truths over centuries of secret pining—and Azriel knows this. He knows you.

He’s also the Spymaster of the Night Court, of course.

He seems to take pity on you, for whatever reason. He blows a puff of air out of his nose as he looks away, slowly pulling his hand from yours to rest it on the counter. The inches between you now feel like an endless chasm.

“I am visiting my mother tomorrow,” he tells you quietly.

You frown. “Tomorrow?” you repeat. “Why didn’t you tell—”

Your words die in your throat when you meet his gaze, a pointed look staring back at you that makes a tendril of shame curl low in your stomach. You swallow hard, looking away. “She’ll enjoy that,” you say softly.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Your heart stutters. His eyes are wide and pleading, begging you for an answer you cannot fathom why he wants.

“I would like it if you came with me,” he adds softly. His shadows slowly slink out from behind him, curling around your ankles and moving up your calves.

Their touch is light and silken, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It’s meant to be a soothing touch, a comfort you had taken from them for centuries. You had never feared Azriel’s shadows, not even when they knocked you on your ass that first day you met.

Their familiar strokes now left your heart racing, a coil of panic unfurling in your chest as you thought of what he was asking, as you thought of all you stood to lose in a handful of time that was quickly slipping through your fingers.

He had found his mate.

Moments like these, intimate conversations in the dark between shared breaths, were now fleeting. Tendrils of shadows that had felt like an extra limb were no longer yours. You were a fixture in his life that was fading, your presence now blurry and confusing and ephemeral.

He was a pillar in your life that was cracking, bits and pieces crumbling as time pressed in. It was inevitable that the bond would snap for her. It was inevitable that Azriel would devote himself to his mate. It was only a matter of time.

You swallowed hard, acid burning the back of your throat. You reached clumsily for your tea, your fingers bumping harshly against the handle, sending more liquid sloshing over the sides. You cursed, grabbing for the towel again at the same time Azriel did.

His fingers covered yours, and you yanked your hand away within a second.

He blinked, a flash of hurt passing through his eyes for the briefest of moments.

You stepped back, eyes darting between the spilled tea, Azriel’s hand on the towel, and Azriel’s soft and confused eyes. You shook your head once, a motion you barely realized you were making before you choked out, “I can’t.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, batting away a shadow that had come up to stroke your cheek. “I can’t,” you said again.

“Y/N—”

Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, willing your voice not to tremble, you plastered on a forced and painful smile as you said, “I can’t go with you, I mean. I’m sorry.” You glanced once more at the spilled tea, slowly spreading across the granite countertop. “Send your mother my love.”

Azriel looked like he wanted to argue, to ask again, but you could not bear to hear another invitation. You could not bear to see misplaced disappointment on his face when you declined again.

So you walked away, your sock clad feet slipping once on the stone floor in your haste, Azriel’s arm shooting out to catch you. You sniffed once, your skin flushed and cheeks searing, moving out of his hold and disappearing down the dimly lit hallway.

Sleep evaded you the rest of the night, the image of spilled tea and drooping wings and glistening hazel irises haunting your every thought.

~ ~ ~

a/n: I will try to do a taglist for this series! let me know if you want to be added :)

Azriel shoots them both death glares before turning the look to me. I think for a second that he might kill me just so that he doesn’t have to bring me along, but instead, he just stands and walks to the door.

“You better be ready by dawn; that’s when we leave,” he growls over my shoulder before finishing his route to the door and storming out. I can still feel his hot breath on my neck; it sends shivers down my spine.

“That went better than I thought it would,” Rhys sighs, relaxing into his chair.

“He hardly ever acts so dramatic,” Cassian says, “what is it about you, Y/N, that makes him act out?”

Everyone’s attention suddenly turns to me-it’s unnerving. “Uhhh, I don’t know,” I offer helpfully with a shrug.

Their attention quickly fades and turns to less important matters, allowing me to slip out undetected and prepare for the mission to come.

*

I wake an hour before dawn to clean up and finish packing; knowing I may not be able to shower for a while has me scrubbing extra clean. I leave my room a quarter before dawn, my pack slung over my shoulder, and walk toward the dining room, excited for the mission-even if it’s with Azriel.

“You’re late,” Azriel growls from a corner near the balcony when I arrive five minutes later.

“No- no, I’m not,” I say nervously as he steps out from the wall and turns to the open doors.

“Let’s go,” he barks-an order.

I swallow back the lump in my throat and follow him onto the balcony. I allow him to stiffly pick me up and shoot into the air. Usually, I don’t mind silence, but with him holding me so close, I can’t help but stiffen and feel uncomfortable.

We don’t land for hours. We’re barely inside the night court now and land at a pub for lunch, which is also uncomfortable until we start talking about the mission. I don’t bother offering many ideas, knowing if I do it’ll just make him angrier. Even when I tried tweaking one small part of it, he huffed in frustration and glared at me. I held my ground, though, and he reluctantly agreed to add my idea.

In the afternoon, we make it to the coast and set up a small camp for a short break.

“Why’d we have to fly all the way here?” I ask.

“Because I have to winnow us across the ocean. I need to preserve my power.”

“I can winnow,” he freezes at that. Maybe he hadn’t thought of that, I wonder giddily.

But a second later, he’s in motion again, “have you ever been to Vallahan?”

“I-” I cut myself off, “no,” I finish, lowering my head and continuing my job of collecting water.

*

The mission continues smoothly after that. We get to Vallahan and camp on the outskirts, in the woods, for a couple of weeks. I mostly just wait as Azriel collects information. It’s not time for my job yet. When the time finally does come, though, I can’t help but smile. Azriel and I formulate our plan: brother and sister, come from our small village for the festival and to visit the king.

It doesn’t take long to infiltrate the city and get settled into an inn. I make friends with as many people as possible, attempting to gain their trust, but Azriel is quick to pull me back to him. He scowls at practically everyone, which unnerves me. He could blow our mission if anyone gets suspicious.

“What are you doing?” he growls when we get to our room the first night.

“What are you doing?” I snap back, “we need these people to like us if this plan is going to play out.”

He looks away from me. He’s angry, I can tell, but when he turns back to the door to unlock it, it’s clear he agrees. The door swings open, and I storm in to drop my pack but freeze when I only see one bed.

Azriel freezes next to me, the door shut at our backs. “I requested two beds,” he says, simply, “The male said this was their last room available, though.”

I huff a breath but shrug, pretending not to care as I sit on the bed, “you can sleep on the floor then,” I try to offer, but he just laughs darkly.

“Like hell, I’m sleeping on the floor, sweetheart. If you’ve got a problem sleeping next to me, sleep on the floor yourself,” he says, plopping down on the bed beside me.

*

We sleep next to one another for only one night before I decide to sleep on the floor. Azriel takes up so much of the small bed that I rolled out in the middle of the night and woke to the feeling of falling. I could have sworn I heard him chuckling too, but I just grabbed my pillow and curled up on the wooden floor.

Other than that,  we continue to successfully gather the information we need. Whenever we encounter someone that does not speak our tongue, I do the talking. It is absolutely wonderful to see Azriel so helpless, but it only makes him angry at me later.

It’s a week before we get invited to the large party at the castle and formulate the rest of our plan to successfully steal the king’s staph-which Azriel refuses to tell me the use of.

And when we conduct the plan and walk into the stone castle, everything is still going more than smoothly. It was when I was running through the woods in a tattered ball gown and heels that things went especially wrong.

Only ten minutes prior everything was fine, but then as Azriel and I were sneaking away from the palace-out a servant’s door- we were caught red handed. It didn’t take more than two minutes for the warning bells to sound, but Azriel and I were already in the forest. We didn’t need these people’s trust anymore anyways. We just needed to get away, so it wasn’t that bad. What ruined the mission, though, is when a witch stepped into our path.

I know nothing of witches, and therefore, nothing of how it happened, but one second I was running with Azriel by my side, and the next, we were stopped before a female, and my right wrist was burning. Azriel dropped the staph from his left hand, and before the witch could grab it for herself, I caught the staph and swung with my left hand, smacking her in the face with it.

I gripped the item as tightly as possible in my hand and ran with Azriel at my side still. As soon as we reached the edge of the forest, though, he grabbed my wrist and winnowed us away.

*

When we land in the Night Court we’re on a dark beach attached to the east coast. Here we are practically at the border to the Day Court, and just a hundred yards south, I can see where the black sand turns white.

It’s night here too, but earlier, and the stars are brighter. Besides me, in the sand, Azriel pants furiously. His breaths are shallow, and I only notice a few fragments of sentences ‘my hands’ ‘…fire’ ‘everything burns…’

I realize suddenly that my right hand is still burning, and I’m unsure why. It must have been the sorceress from the woods. Did he feel it too? Why is Azriel so frantic?

“Azriel, it’s okay.” I try to comfort and lift my right hand, but it feels heavier. Then I hear Azriel gasp, and his gaze locks on my wrist. His wrist. Bound together by a vicious glowing red rope. I tug at my wrist and try to pull it from the magical bind, but I am stuck. Stuck to Azriel.

I look up at Azriel to see what we should make of this situation, but he is just staring at his hands. I peer at his face, and for a second, I think I see tears in his eyes, but then he whips his head to the side, and I can only see the tousled mess of dark hair.

“I’ve sent word to Rhys of our predicament. I can’t winnow anymore, and I think I injured my wing. You shouldn’t winnow either since you’ve used so much magic already, so someone will come to get us.

Less than five minutes later, Mor appears on the beach. I don’t notice her at first because she’s several paces behind us, but she quickly winnows a second time and lands in front of us.

“Hello,” she says with a bright grin. She runs her gaze over both of us-assessing for injuries but finds nothing and halts when she sees our bound wrist. The glow of the rope is dimmer now but still red. She kneels beside us and attempts to grab our hands to see it, but Azriel finally snaps.

“Will you just take us home, Morrigan. Your curiosity isn’t doing anyone any good.”

Mor flinches back at his furious tone and looks hurt but quickly replaces the expression with another smile. She grabs each of us by our unbound hands and quickly winnows away.

We land again, but this time on a hard surface: the marble floor of the river house. Rhys and Cassian are already waiting on the floor, and I notice both of their faces turned to Azriel, and somehow they grow more worried. Is something wrong?

Feyre and Amren walk through the door, and I look over Azriel at them, but then my view is blocked by Cassian kneeling before Azriel. The first male whispers something into the latter’s ear, but I can’t hear it, even at my proximity.

Cassian runs a soothing hand down Azriel’s back and continues whispering something to him. I can’t help but notice the way Azriel relaxes. I hadn’t even realized how tense he had become. Worry floods through me suddenly, but when Azriel turns to meet my eyes with a glare, and I realize I have been staring, worry is replaced by shame, and my cheeks heat with a blush.

A moment later, Amren is kneeling before our bound hands, analyzing the magic.

“Can you undo it?” Rhys’ deep voice sounds from over her shoulder.

“I’ll need to do a bit more research, but I should be able to fix it. Feyre, I’ll need your help too; the magic you inherited from Helion will be a great help,” Amren replies as she raises to face the High Lord and Lady.

“Can’t we just ask Helion to fix it himself?” I raise my pleading face to them, dreading having to be attached to this male and his glares any longer.

The look Rhys gives me is a sad one: as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking and feels bad. “I’ve asked Helion for enough recently. If we can prevent it, I wouldn’t like to request anything else. Or give anyone reason to believe we were in Valehann and are now vulnerable.”

I nod, understanding, and make to stand, but my hand touches Azriel’s, and he rips it toward him, knocking me down and pulling me toward him in the process.

He attempts to shove me away, but it’s difficult when we are bound so closely, so various body parts start to hurt. My head hurts from knocking it against the ground, and my shoulder aches from Azriel pulling me so suddenly toward him. The pain there only gets worse when Azriel suddenly rises, and I’m left in a painful position on the floor.

“Ow,” I whimper, tears pricking my eyes while I struggle to stand.

“Azriel.” Feyres’s voice cuts through the room like ice. I finish standing and look up suddenly to see everyone’s pitying and cringed looks on us. Cassian starts saying something to Azriel, attempting to calm him. He doesn’t stay to listen, though, and starts climbing the stairs.

He moves quickly, but slow enough that he is not entirely dragging me with him. I can only assume it is to barely evade Feyre scolding him again. Which makes me smile widely; Feyre scolding this male like a child makes me want to giggle. And I do. We’re in his bedroom now, and he’s pacing a few feet while I am practically forced to walk in circles around him because of our bound hands.

“What are you laughing at?” Azriel’s tone is dangerous enough to stop my laugh immediately.

“I just had a funny thought, is all,” I explain. “Will you stop pacing? My wrist is beginning to hurt, and I wish to sit.”

Azriel ceases his pacing, so I walk to his bed placed in the middle of the wall. He does not sit beside me but rather remains standing at the end of the bed. So I look around the room and try to figure out what he likes. The walls are dark and so is all the furniture. Almost everything is black or blue, the only other hint of color coming from the many bookshelves lining the walls and the few paintings-obviously done by the High Lady herself.

“Stop that,” Azriel’s gruff voice cuts through my thoughts.

“What?” I ask, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Analyzing me with your devious little brain. Stop.” He says with a new glare, so I look at my hands instead, not wanting to cause trouble.

I think instead about why he is so upset, but come up with nothing. Then a moment later, Madja knocks gently on the door and walks in. The healer only spends a short time in the room: quickly wrapping Azriel’s wing and looking over my now bruised shoulder. Azriel pulled one of my muscles.

After another look over Madja packs her things and prepares to leave, but not before offering Azriel a small scowl. “You need to be gentler with her, that shoulder of hers shouldn’t be strained anymore. And I doubt I need to tell you to keep off the wing?” She phrases the last part as a question but they both know the answer so she leaves.

“I’m tired…” I say, drawing his stoney expression to me, “can we just sleep?”

His expression changes at that. He looks upset, distressed, then nervous, and suddenly his expression is stone again and he’s scowling. “You’re a mess. We both are. We are not going to make my sheets reek of this filth.”

I realize suddenly he’s implying a bath, and my eyes widen with shock as he starts moving toward the bathing chamber.

“No,” I say sternly, stopping him in his tracks. “I am not-I’m not going to… with you.”

His brow furrows. “I wasn’t implying we get in the tub together.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“One of us will bathe at a time while the other waits at the edge of the tub.” He says it like it’s obvious, but I’m still uncomfortable. Then, we are in the small room, and Azriel is cutting his shirt sleeve so he can remove it from the arm bound to mine.

“Do you wish to go first, or shall I?” he asks the question plainly, peeling the mud-caked shirt from his hard abdomen.

“No. No,” I say roughly, turning my gaze to the tiled floor. “I am not bathing in front of you.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says, leaning to turn the water on.

“Excuse me?” I practically shout and look up as he starts removing his belt.

“I mean- not you specifically. I’ve seen plenty of female bodies. It’s not that big of a deal.”

I fight back the urge to yell at him and say that it is a big deal- to me. Instead, I turn away from him as much as I can and attempt to hold back the frustrated tears while he attempts to pull his pants down with only one hand.

Eventually, the task becomes too difficult, and Azriel pulls our bound hands to his hips to assist himself. I squeak as my knuckles graze the leather covering his body and clench my hand into a fist, angling it closer to myself.

I can feel him watching me but ignore it as best I can while Azriel pulls his pants down and climbs into the large tub. I move to sit on the tub, our arms resting on the edge, and turn my head to look away from the bubbling water. It proves a more difficult task than I wish it were. My curiosity nearly gets the best of me multiple times, but I refuse to look at Azriel’s body. It would only make things worse.

Azriel finishes washing quickly, and I follow suit once he’s wrapped in a towel and the tub is filled with clean water. I refuse to take too long and keep my eyes glued to Azriel's back as he stares at the wall.

*

When we finally step out of the bathroom, both wrapped up in fluffy towels, Azriel takes no time to drop his towel. Unprepared, I quickly turn away but not before glimpsing his butt. It was kind of adorable, honestly.

My shoulder hurts from the quick move, and I take a shaky breath in, but I can’t escape Azriel. He turns toward me in nothing but underwear and gently grabs my shoulder.

“You need to be more careful,” he murmurs, then quickly drops my arm and looks down at me covered in the towel.

Self-conscious, I raise my left arm to hold my towel up more and turn toward the door, tugging Azriel with me.

“Where are we going?”

“To my room. So I can get some pajamas.”

“Right,” is all he says, still not looking me in the eyes.

We arrive in my bedroom, and I quickly grab clothes from the drawers and plop down on the edge of my bed to attempt putting them on. Making Azriel turn away, I struggle for a minute to pull on underwear and shorts. Then, with a t-shirt in hand, I sit still and try to figure out how to put it on.

“Unless you cut a sleeve, you’re not going to get into that shirt,” Azriel's voice, dark and smooth, draws me back to the room.

I grumble something in return and go back to my dresser and pull out a lacey nightgown instead. It’s the only comfortable pajamas I own that’s also strapless. So, quickly, I take off the shorts and shimmy into the silky shift that clings to curves I never wanted Azriel to see.

“Okay,” I say, my voice coming out squeakily as I stand and move toward the door. The sooner we get back to Azriel’s room and under the covers, the sooner I can start pretending he never saw me in this dress. What I didn’t realize, however, is moving in front of Az gives him a view of my barely covered ass.

A choking sound leaves his mouth, and when I turn back, Azriel is staring at the ceiling, muttering something under his breath that even I can’t hear. So I start walking instead, and we leave my room behind.

Our rooms just happen to be across the house from one another, so it’s a bit of a walk, and when we pass the stairs a shout comes from below.

“Damn Az, nice outfit, Brother.” Cassian.

Azriel just growls in response, and I keep walking and don’t stop when I get to Azriel’s room. I climb onto the right side of his bed and lay down on my back under the covers so that he can lay to my right.

I’m staring at the ceiling, unsuccessfully pretending Azriel isn’t there. “Um…” his voice comes hesitantly. He’s kneeling on the bed, not yet laying down. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but can we switch?”

“What?” I grumble, confused.

“My wings…” he trails off, “I like to sleep on my stomach because of the wings. It’s more comfortable. So…”

He still isn’t looking at me, and I can’t figure out why so I stop my scowl pretty quick and just move over to the other side of the bed and turn onto my front. Azriel crawls into bed right where I was and turns his head away from me. So I do the same. We face away from one another, our bound hands on the mattress between us.

*

The next day passes in a blur. We spend most of it trying to work side by side, but it’s a struggle since I can’t exactly write with his left hand tied to me.

Feyre and Amren haven’t made any progress on the spell to undo the binding, and things with Azriel are only getting tenser. When we’re alone again the next night and have just slipped into our pajamas, I move toward the bathroom. I grab the brush I had left there this morning and start combing through my hair. I can feel Azriel watching but don’t say anything. Then, suddenly, he whips his head away.

“Fuck,” I can just barely hear him mumble under his breath.

“What?” I question.

“Nothing,” he growls, pulling us to the bed. After five minutes of staring at the back of his head, though, I’ve had enough.

“Why do you hate me?” I say it loud enough for him to hear, but he doesn’t respond. That only makes me angrier. “Hey! I asked you a question.” I’m almost yelling now, and I take our bound hands and hit him in the head.

“Don’t hit me,” he growls, whipping his head back to return my glare.

“I didn’t. You hit yourself.” His eyes glow with fury at my response.

“Really? You’re going to act like a child?” is his reply, edged with anger.

“You’re the one that ignored my question. Why do you hate me so much?”

He stares at me for a moment, stony expression completely emotionless. And it remains that way while he says, “I don’t,” and lays back down, looking away from me.

“What?” I raise my voice slightly.

“Will you be quiet? There is no reason to shout; I can hear you perfectly well without it,” he says, turning back onto his side to face me.

“Well, then stop ignoring me. And don’t lie.”

“I wasn’t lying. I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you certainly like to act like it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You’re upset right now.”

“You’re interrupting my rest.” That only fuels my anger, and I turn onto my side, lifting onto my forearm to face him better.

“You got upset in the bathroom. Why?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Stop with all the denying. Why are you upset?” I growl.

“I’m not,” he growls right back.

“You keep lying! It’s pissing me off!” I’m nearly shouting again and shove him with our bound hands.

In only a second, I’m flipped onto my back, and my hand is being held above my head. “I told you to stop touching me,” he growls, but I’m too focused on what’s pressing into my thigh to respond.

Realization hits the both of us at the same moment; my eyes widen, and my mouth gapes as Azriel pulls himself up to his knees.

“You’re- Why are you hard?” I whisper, shout as if someone is listening.

“I can’t always control it,” he whispers back, turning his face away from me, his cheeks reddening.

“500 years, and you haven't figured out how to control your own dick?”

His face goes red with embarrassment at my words, “shut up!” he grumbles quietly.

“No. Explain yourself.”

“Explain myself?” he’s shouting, now, “I think this is enough explanation.” He looks down at me in my silky lace shift.

I blush darkly under his gaze. “So you can’t control yourself when there’s a girl in a nightgown in your bed?”

“Can’t control myself?” he growls, moving forward to lean over me again. “I haven’t touched you. Do you have any idea how much control that takes?” His eyes are dark now, and my tummy is doing flips at him being this close. Fuck!

“Azriel,” I murmur breathlessly, lifting my free hand slightly, but in a flash I can barely register, he moves my hand above my head to rest with the other. I try to pull it away, but his grip is firm.

“I am controlling myself! So why do you have to push me? Why do you have to tempt me? Touch me?” His words trail off, and he pushes closer to me, pressing his hips into mine. His bulge is even more obvious now.

“Azriel,” I murmur again, and this time he lifts his head to look into my eyes, blown wide with lust.

*******************************

One second Azriel is above me, and the next: we’re connected, more than just at the wrist. His lips press to mine roughly, and his tongue dips into my mouth taking every ounce of control away.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Touched like this. Azriel’s free hand begins roaming my body. Over my hip and up to my breasts, he feels my hard nipples through the fabric before quickly pulling it down and pulling his mouth away from mine to latch onto one of my hard nipples.

With his left hand holding both of mine hostage above my head his right continued moving across my body and his mouth never left me for long. His lips moved from one breast to another, back to my mouth, then to my neck. My jaw. The valley between my breasts.

I arch against him, pleading silently with my body for more. Only barely obliging, he ruts his hips against mine and nips at my ear. He doesn't say anything, breathing heavily, and for a second I have a moment of clarity. Should we really be doing this, I think?

But then his teeth are gently biting my collarbone again, and his right hand is traveling past my hips. I gasp when he rubs me once through my panties and growls at the wetness pooled there. After that, he doesn’t waste any more time. Yanking his underwear down so that his cock has enough room to spring free, he moves his hand back to my panties and looping a finger into my panties right where they cover my clit, he lets a knuckle graze the bundle of sensitive nerves and pulls the fabric to the side, giving his cock enough room to nudge at my soaking folds.

He thrust into me slow and steady the first time, stretching me wide and seating himself comfortably to give me a chance to adjust. After I catch my breath, though, and motion to him to continue, he’s no longer gentle.

Pulling out to the tip, he thrusts back in roughly, sending the entire bed lurching forward slightly so that the headboard hits the wall. A loud gasp leaves my mouth combined with a dark moan. Azriel continues brutally thrusting in, pulling out, and thrusting back in again. He hits the spot I need him to every time, and within a minute, I’m clenching around him and moaning with the need to cum.

He chuckles softly from above, drawing my gaze, and our eyes finally meet again. “Going to cum already?” he asks in that dark sultry voice of his, his lips nearly touching my own.

My only response is a moan, and with his next thrust, a scream erupts from my lips the same second the headboard slams back into the wall. I cum all over his cock, drenching him with my cream, but he’s not done yet. Not even close.

Flipping me over so that my left hand is trapped underneath me, Azriel gently pulls my bound hand to rest across my back, where he presses it firmly with his. His cock is back at my dripping pussy as soon as we’re settled, and he immediately starts nudging and rubbing his tip up and down the slit of me. When he roughly pushes his tip against my clit I can’t help but start shaking.

“Oh, do you like that, baby?” he purrs into my ear, continuing to nudge his cock to my clit. He rubs and thrusts along my folds, torturing my clit until I’m clenching around nothing, nearly about to cum. That’s when he pulls away.

I grumble at the lost friction but stop complaining when Azriel pulls back slightly, lowering his face to my ass, his left arm stretching to stay with mine against my lower back.

He lays down on the bed between my legs, and a second later, his nose is nudging my wetness. Then his tongue is darting out, and he’s collecting me on his tongue, licking up my cum and swallowing it. He presses his face closer until I’m pushed forward slightly. His face is buried in my pussy, and he just licks and sucks and bites, bringing me closer to an orgasm.

He doesn’t stop when my legs start shaking. Or when my hand starts clawing at his. Or when I start screaming and moaning. He just buries his face deeper and moves his tongue so expertly against my clit that I cum harder than I ever have before, squirting my release onto his face and panting into the pillow beneath me.

Azriel doesn’t come up for several more minutes, and I’d think he may have drowned if it weren’t for the feeling of his tongue lapping up my juices and depositing them into his mouth.

When he does rise from the sheets, it’s only barely. His wet face drags up my ass as he presses kisses and licks there, moving up ever so slowly. He begins sucking and kissing his way up my spine next, surely leaving bruises. When he reached my neck, he nudges my face to one side, and his cock nudges at my folds, seeking the hole it so desperately wanted to return to.

When his tip started pushing into me, he let his tongue lick one long lick along the bottom of my neck where it meets my shoulder. Then, without warning, his cock shoves into me to the hilt, and simultaneously Az bites down on the spot he licked. He bites hard enough to draw blood and make me groan from the little bit of pain.

He doesn’t release his mouth, his teeth stay buried in me, and his cock wastes no time in moving in and out, seeking endless pleasure. He drives in and in, pushing limits no one has pushed before and bringing me to pleasures I’ve never seen.

Again and again, in and out, and in seconds I’m releasing a screaming moan from my throat, my legs trembling and pushing together squeezing Azriel’s cock which stays buried in me, not moving as my pussy clenches it too.

Finally, his mouth releases my neck. And his tongue licks up the little bit of blood from his rough bite. Nothing but the sounds of our breath echo in the room, mine far more labored than Azriel’s. Then I realize he hasn’t cum yet.

“Azriel,” I say as he starts to pull out of my aching core, thinking he’s leaving. But then his hand tightens on my wrist, and his other pushes me back toward the bed as I had tried to sit up. In a quick motion, he begins thrusting in. He’s moving fast, almost too fast for me to notice as he doesn’t push in enough to hit that spot inside of me. Only grazing it.

I’m whimpering beneath him as he huffs and groans loudly, his pace beginning to falter. Then, pulling out to the tip, he shoves back in harder than before and hits my spot so hard I'm cumming again as he fills me with his own hot cream.

************************************

We stay like that, again, for many minutes before Azriel pulls out and sits up, gently flipping me back onto my back in the process. Moving as far from me as possible, he picks something up off the floor-some sort of fabric. I watch as he wipes himself off and then moves the fabric-his underwear- to my pussy and starts cleaning off the cum that's already spilling out.

A smirk crosses his face while he stares at me. “What?” I ask, confused by his expression while he looks at my core.

“Nothing,” he continues smirking and glances up at me, “I just like watching my cum spill out of you.”

My cheeks heat, turning a dark shade of red and I turn my head away, but a second later Azriel’s lips are there, pressing gentle kisses all over my face. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up with him. I don’t notice where we’re going until I hear the water of the tub turn on in the dark room. A second later a small light fills the room, barely lighting anything, but allowing for a relaxing environment without leaving us in complete darkness.

When the tub is full Azriel slowly steps in and lowers us into the large basin, still nuzzling into my neck while I straddle his lap.

“Az,” I murmur, but he shushes me quietly.

“Let's not talk about it yet. I just wanna sit here with you.”

cause and effect pt.1, pt.2

death and his reaper

i've been waiting for you

skyfall

gone

set in stone

reborn

threads of hazel

and so, the stars aligned

what we make of what we're made

a bat in a flower store

calypso pt.1, pt.2

starcrossed

azriel with a short mate

beneath a veil of shadows

cassian: the annoying brother

blood tether

shut out

ocean eyes

lonesome pt.1, pt.2

poison

the tormented & the unforgiven

lighting in a bottle - masterlist

looked to the sky - sequel to lightning in a bottle

compliments to the line cook

wings universe

a locket through time

cauldron-born pt.1, pt.2

and i wouldn't marry me, either

next to you

love in the limelight

it's a love story

stars all aligned

the ties that bind

holy ground

my hero

breakaway pt.1, pt.2

the tunnels

i didn't as for this pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.8.5, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, pt.12

how we survive

false confessions

birds of a feather

where flowers go to die

did you see the sparks fly?

the night we met

butterfly

straight to you

undead

trust for me

life breather pt.1, pt.2

your side

the honesty extended universe

pretty like the wind

the softest place to fall

constellations

burn the world for you

the bond that breaks

shadows of a crown unseen

shadows and fire

teeth and talons

it was always her, not you

azriel's shadows being obsessed with you

kythron's blessings pt.1, pt.2

the shadow's light

a gift from autumn

douleur

made to wait

hidden signals

azriel really loves his nephew

the hundredth dawn

clad in honor, built on lies

mine to hate, mine to love

spy!reader

devil's angel

lost and found

at last

the art of treason