#azrielfanfic

🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨

🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨🌑🗡️🌑✨🦇✨

Pairing : shy!reader x bf!Azriel

You’ve always been the quiet one. The one who overthinks every text, types and deletes a reply at least five times, and somehow always manages to convince yourself that no one really notices you. But what if the Shadowsinger himself did? ✨

Midnight at Rita’s

A/N: My first attempt at writing smut! Let me know what you think :) Also, sorry it’s a bit late. This scene took on a mind of it’s own & ended up being wayy longer than originally intended. 

I’ve felt his attention on me all night, like a physical touch. Mysterious hazel eyes monitor my every move, from the rotation of my hips to the way I throw my head back in celebration when I laugh. For a while, I pretend not to notice. But he is not the kind of male you ignore. I blame what happens next on a mixture of drinking and dancing, and the encouragement of my friends. Instead of hurriedly looking away and disappearing into the crowd, becoming a wallflower like I usually would, I meet his eyes. The unabashed appreciation there surprises me. That look sends electricity sizzling through my blood, waking my body in a way no one has in a long time. So I decide to dance for him. 

A small smirk plays on his full mouth, dark eyes glinting as I run my hands along my body, through my hair, putting on a show meant only for him. He leans back in his booth, the picture of male satisfaction, and raises an eyebrow appreciatively. Keep going. Heat scorches across my skin at that smirk, and I can’t help but picture his lips in wicked places.

His face is elegant, classically handsome in every way. If it weren’t for the tattoos, scars, and diaphanous shadows swirling around him, I’d even say he was pretty. There’s an enthralling lethalness to him that acts like his own gravitational pull, completely captivating me. I always did love a bad boy. 

I spin and twirl, the silk of my dress flaring in a halo of midnight blue. I move for him until sweat runs down my bare back, and glistens in the hollow of my throat. And he keeps watching me, until the smirks and wandering eyes have me  desperate for more than just his gaze. The rest of the club has melted away, leaving just us. 

I look at him from beneath lowered lashes, a question in my eyes. Are you just going to watch all night, or actually dance with me? He’s outright grinning now, his eyes on my exposed thighs. He shrugs, and relaxes further into his seat. Why rush things? I quite like the view from here. I sigh, wrinkling my nose in frustration and flipping my hair over my shoulder. He smirks again, and twirls his finger. Spin for me. 

I do just that, the pleasure of following his direction like honey in my veins. I don’t even know this male, and yet I can’t help but do what he wishes. He’s the kind of otherworldly gorgeous that's utterly unattainable. Tousled raven hair, bedroom eyes, exceedingly tall, and a body that would make the gods weep. And Cauldron above, those wings. 

I keep turning in place, hips swaying and hands in my hair. I feel the exact moment he glimpses my naked back, covered in sapphire blue tattoos that perfectly match my dress. I found this gown in the palace of thread and jewels, and the shop owner would not let me leave without it. 

I’m endlessly grateful for her sage counsel when I glance over my shoulder to catch the males reaction. He knocks back the rest of his drink and rises to his feet, dark eyes devouring every inch of my bare skin. My breath catches in my throat as he slowly makes his way across the bar, until he’s standing mere inches from me. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an incredible dancer?” 

His voice is startlingly deep, and smooth as velvet. It takes me longer than it should to formulate a coherent response. 

“I- no. No, just you.”  Well, not entirely coherent. 

He smiles anyway, dimples appearing in his cheeks. Gods above, dimples too? The male leans close to whisper in my ear, and his scent hits me. Cedar and moonlight, rain on the pavement. I can’t help but inhale deeply.

“I’m Azriel. May I have this dance?” 

I can only nod, his proximity scattering any intelligent thoughts in my head. He places one scarred hand on my back, the other on my hip, and we begin to sway with the music, our bodies pressed together intimately. My skin smolders beneath his touch, stoking the molten fire he’s awakened in me. 

“I’m Sabine.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sabine.” 

From the intensity of his gaze, I know he can scent every reaction my body has to him. I lock my eyes on his as he trails a finger from my cheek, down my neck, and back again. I gasp when he leans down to press a kiss to the point where my neck and shoulder join, a throbbing starting in my core as he gently bites down. A small, involuntary moan leaves my mouth. Azriel chuckles darkly against my skin.

“Did you like dancing for me, love?” 

He inquires, voice soft as he tightens his arms around me. I let my head fall back, exposing more of my neck for him to explore. He obliges by trailing hot kisses up my throat, and nibbling on the shell of my ear. 

“Y-yes.” I gasp, heat rushing up my neck to fill my cheeks. 

Azriel growls low in his chest, and I can’t help but notice a considerable length pressing against my thigh. 

“I’m going to make you say ‘yes’ just like that, all night long.” 

I shiver in his arms, finally opening my eyes to see his have gone completely black with arousal. There’s a promise in them that has my knees going weak. His reaction to me inspires a sudden boldness. 

“Then take me somewhere I don’t have to be quiet, Azriel.” I murmur, biting my lip and hesitantly stroking a hand down his chest. 

A confident, male smile graces his lips. Without a word, he turns and leads me out the back door.  His hand is rough and calloused on mine as we hurry down the streets of Velaris, a fact that only makes me want him more. I can only imagine how they’d feel between my legs. 

Azriel leads me into a luxury apartment building, and we cross the marble floored lobby to the elevators. The doors take their sweet time closing, and as we wait, he admires me from the far wall. Hands in his pockets and smirk on his face. 

“When we get to my apartment, I want you to undress for me. Can you do that, baby?” He leaves no room for argument as the doors finally close, and he moves slowly towards me. A lion, hunting his prey. 

And I am eager to be caught. 

“Yes.” 

As he stands before me, he tilts my chin up and presses a soft, tender kiss to my lips. A flower of flame blossoms in my chest. 

“Yes, what?” 

I am only confused for a moment. He must see the realization in my eyes, because he hums in approval. 

“Yes, sir.” 

His eyes flash, and then his mouth is hard on mine. He backs me to the wall, pressing his body so firmly to mine that I feel every line and hollow of his muscled chest. I moan into his mouth, pushing myself up on my tiptoes for better access. Sensing my struggle, Azriel cups the back of my thighs and wraps my legs around his waist. For a moment, anxiety shoots through me and I stiffen. I’m not exactly small, with my soft stomach and round thighs. But he lifts me effortlessly, and with finesse. Thank the cauldron for Fae strength. When the action lands me directly on the bulge in his jeans, he releases a delicious groan. 

I smirk into the kiss as I rock my hips over that firmness, and Azriel’s hands tighten their grip on my thighs.

“Don’t tease me, Sabine.” He growls, hands slipping farther beneath the hem of my dress. 

“You may not like the consequences.” This he whispers in my ear as he finds the heat between my legs, and begins to rub slow circles over my clit. 

I gasp and tighten my already shaking legs around him, as he pulls my panties to the side and slowly inserts a finger in my sex. Within moments, I feel myself teetering on the edge of an earth shattering orgasm. Something about Azriel’s touch makes everything feel keenly hypersensitive, bewitching in it’s intensity. Thankfully, the elevator door dings before I can make a fool of myself by cumming before he even has my clothes off. Instead of setting me down, Azriel cloaks us both in shadows and exits the box, still hefting me in his arms as tenants enter the elevator behind us. 

“Azriel!” I hiss, hiding my bright red face in his shoulder. 

“They can’t see you, baby. But soon, they’ll be able to hear you.” 

I vacate my hiding spot so I can meet his eyes, not bothering to hide the overwhelming, all encompassing need burning in them. 

“Promise?”

His eyes are molten obsidian, making his answer obvious. We reach his apartment, and he seals us inside immediately. Azriel wastes no time taking me to his bedroom, and I am so wrapped up in him I don’t even peek at his apartment. Is it a swanky bachelor pad or minimalist studio? I make a mental note to snoop around a little before I leave. 

Azriel’s kisses have grown softer, almost reverent in their slow rhythm. He gently deposits me amongst his grey blankets and pillows. He hovers over me for a moment, a strange, almost confused light in his eye. 

“Az?”I whisper, suddenly self conscious. Has he changed his mind? 

And just like that, his eyes are clear again. He fixes me with a warm, male smile.

“I like when you call me that.” He kisses my throat once more, then skims his lips over the top of my breasts, my nipples peaking in response.

“Didn’t you say something about me undressing for you?” I murmur breathlessly, practically writhing beneath his ministrations. 

He chuckles against the skin of my shoulder before rising from atop me. Azriel crosses the room and settles into a leather armchair by the fireplace, which crackles to life as he approaches.

“How could I forget.” He murmurs, once again observing me from afar with eyes that promise immeasurable pleasure. While he sheds his leather jacket, he motions for me to begin.  

I start by crossing my legs in order to unzip my thigh high boots, before discarding them at the end of the bed. My hands shaking under the weight of his stare, I extend my leg and start to remove my stockings. 

“Keep those on for me. Just those.” 

I look up at his voice, and my mouth goes dry as I notice Azriel adjusting the very apparent tent in his jeans. Gods, a bulge that huge has spine tingling implications for later. My heart skips in my chest, and I’ve become so wet I know I’ll find my underwear a sopping mess. 

“Yes, sir.” I whisper, rolling the lacy garment into place as requested. 

“Good girl.” 

A moan slips past my lips at that, shocking even me. Never, ever did I think that I’d call a male ‘sir’ and get off to following his commands. But here I am. If it was any male other than Azriel, I’d laugh in his face or slap him. 

But it is Azriel, and he’s already awoken a part of me I had no idea existed. It lay dormant inside me until now, waiting for him to show me what I’ve been missing. And we haven’t even fucked yet. I shiver in anticipation. 

“Does someone like that? Being praised?” His voice is the deepest I’ve heard it, slow and commanding. 

“Y-yes, sir.” I’m still seated at the end of his bed, boots discarded and aching with need.

 I look up from beneath thick lashes, heat spreading across my face as Azriel unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, his jacket now draped across the back of his chair. 

“Look at me, love.” 

I obey, of course. The ocean of longing I feel is mirrored in his dark eyes, and I bite my lip to keep from begging him to take me. Take me and never stop. 

“You don’t have to feel nervous with me. You’re safe. I know surrender can be scary, but I promise I’ll cherish the control you’re giving me. I’m honored that you’d give yourself to me like this.” 

A light, warm sensation spreads through me at his words. The sincerity in his hazel eyes is what does it for me. I rise from the bed, and all of my nerves melt away under the scorching heat of his gaze. All my worries about my body, his expectations, become unremarkable. With my eyes never leaving his, I reach under my dress and hook my fingers around the waistline of my panties. Slowly, I slide the scrap of lace down my legs. He lets out a puff of breath, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair, all sense of smug relaxation gone. 

With a feline smile, I toss them into his lap. He grins back at me, while stuffing the panties into the pocket of his jacket. 

“I’m keeping these.”

I turn towards the bed, and look over my shoulder at his face as I slide the thin straps of my dress down my arms. 

And it falls to the floor in a puddle of silk. 

I am completely bare before him, and I have never felt more beautiful. Azriel looks like a male seeing his first sunrise, after spending an eternity in the dark.

With a growl, he crosses the room in three strides. His hands land on my naked hips, and he pulls me smack against him. I moan at the feeling of his length pressed to my backside, and my body grinds against him without my permission. 

“You have the most perfect ass I have ever seen. I think I may spank you later.”

His lips are at my neck, kissing and biting. He spins me around in his arms, onyx eyes exploring as he runs his hands down the curve of my waist and hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groans, massive hands coming up to cup my breasts. 

I whimper as he begins to pinch and pull gently at my nipples, and he relishes the sound. When he takes one of them into his mouth, I nearly fragment right there. 

I have to feel his skin on mine. I need him in me, immediately. 

“Az, please.” 

With desperate, shaking hands I yank open his fine black dress shirt. Buttons fly and scatter across the ground, but I hardly notice. 

 Azriel’s naked torso is the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen. He is all lean muscle and broad shoulders, a deep V leading beneath his pants. Black swirls of ink cover his chest, and trail down his arms. I curse under my breath and run my hands over every elegant line and ridge of his body, mouth agape. When my hands find the waist of his trousers, his core tightens and a strained chuckle leaves his lips. 

“Gods, love. Keep looking at me like that and you’re never leaving this bed.” For the first time tonight, he sounds just as breathless as me. 

“And if that’s what I want?” I purr, looking up at him from my kneeling position on the bed.  

He gives me the slow, confident smirk that first enraptured me at Rita’s, and unbuttons his pants. In moments, they’re discarded on the floor with my dress. 

I look down. 

Sweet cauldron above. 

Torrid flames lick up and down my body, and I can’t stop myself from touching him. It would take two hands to properly pump him, and who even knows if I could fit him in my throat. 

Soon, I would find out soon. 

Azriel hisses at the contact, hips thrusting into my hands. Next thing I know, his lips are slamming into mine and my back meets the bed. He takes my hands in one of his and forces them above my head as he kisses me, hips slowly thrusting against mine. 

His cock slides between my folds, and we both groan into the kiss. 

“Fucking gods. You’re so wet, baby.” 

His voice is rough with pleasure, and my entire body tenses at the sound of it. I could easily cum to just his voice alone. 

“Oh fuck, Az please, oh gods please.” I cry, rolling my hips against his in an attempt to get the release my body is screaming for. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

My reply is inarticulate, the need and frustration boundless. He chuckles against my mouth, and soon he’s trailing kisses down my body. I gasp and tremble beneath him, squeezing my legs together when I realize where he’s headed. I’ve only ever let serious, long term lovers pleasure me in that way. It feels so intimate, so vulnerable.

“Relax, beautiful. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” 

He murmurs soothingly, massaging my hips with gentle hands. I hesitantly let my legs fall open, and I glance down at the gorgeous male. 

The sight of him between my legs alone nearly has me climaxing. Azriel presses hot kisses all over my thighs, his hands still massaging my hips. I feel myself go limp in his arms, my eyes closing in complete bliss. If I’m going to make an exception for anyone, it's him. Especially since I know that if there was anything I wasn’t comfortable with, he wouldn’t push me. 

“That’s right, love. Relax. I’ve got you.” 

I smile, and reach a hand down to tangle my fingers in his tresses.

And then his mouth is on me, and my back is arching off the bed and I’m gasping his name. Azriel devours me until my legs are shaking and tears are streaming down my face as I cum, his fingers pumping inside me.

And he does it again. And again. 

By my third climax, I’m nearly sobbing and my body is quaking under his hands.  

I open my eyes to see Azriel hovering over me, adoration in his eyes and lips glistening. He leans down, and I crash my lips into his. Kissing him is like… like coming home. 

I’ve had a few one night stands throughout my adult life. Most were drunken and sloppy, with zero emotions involved. Something about this time feels different.

“Azriel.” It comes out as a whine, and if I weren’t completely unraveled, I would be humiliated at how desperate I am for this male.

With a heated look, he grasps my hips and angles them up, settling himself between my legs. He rests his forehead against mine, our panting breaths mingling. When the tip of his cock pricks my entrance, I dig my nails into the scarred skin of his back. I think I even whimper. 

‘I’ll be gentle.” Azriel promises, pressing a torrid kiss to my swollen lips. 

“For now.” 

I open my mouth to comment on that remark, but Azriel buries himself to the hilt inside of me. 

In unison, we let out guttural moans that are loud enough to wake the neighbors. He curses into my shoulder, his breath fanning across the sensitive skin there. 

As he begins to gently thrust, letting me adjust, I realize just what it is to be with a male of his size. I am filled entirely, stretching in new, delicious ways. I  realize now why he was so insistent on pleasuring me so thoroughly. I’m sure he loved teasing me, but it was also to prepare me for him. I wrap my legs around Azriel’s waist, urging him deeper.

He complies, angling his thrust with a low moan. A string of incoherent curses leave my lips as the change strikes me deep, pleasure forking through me like lightning.

“Right there?” The supreme satisfaction in his voice, and the smirk on his full mouth undoes me. 

“Quit teasing me and fuck me like I know you want to.” I snap, glaring up into his eyes. This male has me beyond frustrated, beyond desperate. And he knows it. 

He raises an eyebrow, that cocky grin only growing. But he remains silent as he strokes his thumb across my lips, his attention drawn to where he and I are joined. His face is flushed, muscles tight with restraint. I feel a deep sense of delight when I realize he’s just as affected by me as I am by him.

The grin falls from his face, replaced with absolute primal need, as I take his thumb into my mouth. I can’t help but grin mischievously at the look on his face, and I swirl my tongue around his fingertip. With a growl, he gives me exactly what I’ve been begging for. 

Azriel unleashes himself, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the master suite. His hand wraps around my throat, and he uses this new leverage to pull me onto him each time he thrusts. I cry out, the sudden increase sending my vision into fractures. Azriel’s hips meet mine again and again, our moans combining into a symphony. 

“Bend me over.” I gasp, and I’m surprised when I hear the words leave my mouth. Azriel’s grins down at me, raven hair falling into his eyes. He chuckles darkly. 

“As you wish.”

Suddenly, Azriel is flipping me onto my stomach, and dragging me to the end of the bed by my hips. I squeal in surprise, the sound cut off by a moan as he sheathes himself in me once again. With a strength I’ve only ever seen Illyrian males exhibit, he hauls my hips back to meet each thrust, eliciting screams of absolute pleasure from me. Az tangles his fingers into my hair, and then there’s a sharp sting across my ass. I gasp, though the pain soon turns to pleasure. Azriel leans down, his voice in my ear. 

“Look at you taking all of my cock like a good girl.” 

I whimper and feel myself tighten around him, his voice always my tipping point. He presses his chest to my back, and groans into my shoulder, wings coming down to encircle us. 

“I-I’m close.” My voice is hoarse, and entirely breathless.

Azriel gently turns me until I’m on my back again, his forehead meeting mine. 

“I want to watch you cum.” He gasps, his movements becoming more and more fervent. 

I wrap myself around the shadowsinger, until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. He claims my lips once more, our tongues and teeth clashing in desperation. Heat flares inside my belly, my inner thighs beginning to shake with our rapid, passionate joining. I know I’m about to fall off the edge and I’m desperate to take him with me. 

His massive, silky smooth wings are still curled around me. Guided by an unknown instinct, I press a kiss to the scarred underside of his wing, my tongue stroking softly.

 His eyes shoot open, entire body going rigid and roaring as he spills himself into me. At the sound of my name falling from his lips, my own orgasm plows into me, our climaxes nearly simultaneous. 

My vision goes black, and then bursts into a kaleidoscope of colors, my entire body alight with white-hot pleasure. I shake apart in his arms, and he in mine. 

Then something miraculously unexpected happens.

The mysterious, ethereal link I’d felt enthralling me to him all night explodes into existence; pulling taut and snapping into place with dizzying velocity. 

His eyes are blank with astonishment, face pallid. I blink up at him, feeling as if I’m on the edge of sleep, not entirely awake. 

Azriel sits up abruptly, wings flaring behind him as he pants. I freeze, suddenly feeling very exposed beneath his gaze. I yank the nearest sheet over me, my face blazing red. It's as his eyes are searching my face that I feel it. A questioning, incorporeal tug down the bond. 

The Mate bond. 

Oh gods. Oh gods. I sit up hurriedly, scooting myself to the other side of the bed, even if moving away from this male feels like ripping myself in half. 

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Azriel is - 

OMG I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE SHOWERING LMAO

What if gwyn isn’t ready to interact and mingle with people just yet but she wants to see velaris so she asks azriel to fly her over the city and maybe he even shows her all his favorite spots and a whole new world plays in bg pleasee my heart❤

I mean the parallels are astounding…….

Jasmine was stuck in the palace and had never gone out while gwyn has also confined herself to the library

Aladdin takes her on a carpet ride and Azriel can fly her. Omg their names also start with A.

Azriel's:

Livinia. The shadows that filled the room both seemed to whisper and yell her name. I felt the heat of her cheek pressed firmly against my thigh-as if it were a pillow. Long into the dark hours of the night, I began slowly and deftly stroking her dark hair, carefully pulling the sharp pins that she had remaining in her wild mane. While her hair was usually charged with an entire wattage of lightning-it lay in bountiful, quiet waves as she slept. I couldn't help but run my fingers through her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.

Livinia. This time, it was my own thought. Her name made my heart tighten and my mind race. I'd suddenly found a being in this world who might fit everything I'd ever wanted. Of course, I'd find her when an entire clan of killers were hunting her and her court down.

That she was frightened of being alone, without another person to volley her thoughts and emotions-all so fresh-was understandable. I vaguely wondered what I would have done those first few months in the Illyrian camp if Rhys and Cassian hadn't beaten the shit out of me, but more importantly, accepted me into their small family. The shadows still filled the room, keeping my thoughts from completely consuming me.

I felt the even breathing of Livinia, her lungs calmly bringing in breaths of air. I tensed as she moved, and I waited for her slow breathing to return, but when I looked at her face, I noticed her molten gold eyes find mine. She was holding her breath, a mischievous smile curving her full lips, the Cupid's bow in the center of her upper lip stretching until it was no longer there, "Watching me sleep?" She asked, finally releasing her breath with a chirp of a laugh. It was high and musical sounding-a soft lilt to each word that crept from her tender mouth.

"What else is there to do so late?" I asked, my eyes still glued to her face, memorizing the curve of her cheekbones and the small, button nose that made up her magnificent face.

She kept her head firmly in my lap as she turned her body to stare straight up-rather than lay on her side-where her hair spiraled at the sides of her face, "I don't know...maybe sleep," she quipped in that musical voice of hers. I gave her a small grin, keeping my teeth from flashing white in the too dark night.

I commanded the shadows to return to me, to keep the room from being quite so dark, "If I slept, I would not get the opportunity to laugh when you snore," I gave her an even wider grin and that chirp of a laugh filled the room again.

She bit her bottom lip again, and I felt my heart squeeze a bit. I refused to admit that I was already so consumed with her aloud, but since she'd arrived, she'd been in my every thought. Her smile was my favorite smile and her laugh my favorite laugh. I groaned internally at just how infatuated I already was with this dark haired, golden eyed, Day Court High Fae. She sighed before sitting up, running a slim hand through her charged hair.

Her brows furrowed and her hand skimmed over her hair a bit more firmly before she wondered, "Was my hair pinned before I went to bed?" I shook my head, my own flop of dark hair falling into my eyes.

"I removed them while you slept, My Lady," I spoke carefully and used her given title. After all, she would most likely one day inherit an entire court.

She sighed, "Please, if I am to call you Az, would you please call me Liv?" She didn't comment further on the pins that had been diligently plucked from her hair, but as she ran her hands through the dark tresses, I could tell she was appreciative.

"The difference between you and I is an actual title," I reminded her. I was not high born and had never longed to be any more than what I was. She frowned, but her warm fingertips brushed along my jawline, fluttering touches on my skin and the slight scruff that had grown in over the last few days.

Her gentle touch of fingertips became a quiver as both of her hands held my face, leaving me with no choice but to look at her. I wouldn't have chosen a different place to look, either way, but I was so focused on her intensely gilded eyes and long lashes that I didn't notice how close she was getting to me.

"You do not need a title and neither do I. Please, call me Liv and I will call you Az," she spoke in a quiet voice, her whisper as sing song as her speaking voice. I could feel the rushing of her heart, as if it beat simultaneously with mine.

"I suppose I can call you Liv," I barely managed to speak with her so close. With her so close to me, her breath made a few of the whisps of hair shutter and tickle along the plains of my face. Her hands roved the tanned skin of my face, slowly, as if she were trying to remember every angle, every feature. It wasn't long before her hand was brushing back the hair that usually rested along my forehead.

She shifted close once again, "Az?" She said my name-and that was all it took for me to lean forward, placing my parted lips on her soft, plump ones. At first, she must have been stunned, as she didn't kiss back, but something changed quickly. Her hands stilled along the planes of my face, and my hands reached up to cup the back of her neck and hold one side of her face to me. Her fingers still softly played in my hair and her lips gently moved against mine-keeping a slow pace that I was happy to oblige with.

Her lips were paradise. Her skin the perfect temperature against my rough palms. The kiss was not intense or lustful, but gentle and exploring. She was inexperienced and I would give her all the time in the world. I simply basked in the feeling of the reciprocated kiss. Her soft, moist lips brushing against my own, parting only slightly to draw breath or change pace. I absent-mindedly ran my fingers at the base of her neck through the locks of dark hair-working out any tangles, and surprisingly, not getting shocked.

After a blissful few moments, she pulled away, and I let her go. The realization of what we'd just done hit me at full force-the silence of the shadows the second my lips had found hers. Her breathing matched my heavy pace and her pink lips were a bit swollen. She smiled at me, her sensuous lips softly lifted on each side, revealing pearly teeth.

I removed my hair from where it refell on my face, continuing to take her appearance in, "I'm sorry," I muttered, suddenly ashamed that I had not given her a chance to guess my moves. Her hands, which had fallen to her lap after I'd pulled away, now tightened into fists, before unclenching and reaching for my own.

The smile remained ingrained on her face, and she spoke carefully, her index finger following individual scars that clustered my hands, "If you hadn't kiss me, I was bound to kiss you," The genuineness behind her words sent a shiver up my spine. I was utterly surprised to see that look in her eyes-she meant every word she spoke.

The shadows behind me begged to consume me, swallow me entirely so that I may have time to think over and consider every move that I made or would make. However, the light that faintly glowed from her caramel skin was enough for me to force the shadows to stay back, "I really should've waited," I muttered, knowing she could probably feel the emotions rolling off of me. I was usually better about putting a front up and not revealing my hand. Nobody could read me-except for this strangely electric girl.

This time, I was suddenly thrown off as she practically flew into my lap, her lips slamming into mine. Her hair blew whisps of shockwaves around me and her gown from the following night rose slightly higher on her thighs. She practically straddled me-her hands clutched at the sides of my face-in my hair, holding me in place. I could not resist the velvet of her lips and the slow way she kissed, as if she had all the time in the world. The illumination from her skin chased away the shadows that I'd never been free of. I was both terrified and exhilarated by the lack of darkness that I'd known my entire life.

I didn't stay distracted for long-not by the shadows or the way the talons of my wings somewhat caught in the canopy of the bed at this angle-but the way her lips met mine. The straddled position she sat in, the revealing dress moving up her smooth tan thigh. My hands held her hips, lightly helping her balance so she wouldn't fall from my own upper legs.

I brought my lips to hers after parting for only moments, but she dipped her head and my lips met with her smooth cheek. She smiled and I felt a dimple flare in the center of her cheek that I hadn't noticed before. The light sound of her voice instantly held my attention, "Shadowman, the sun is beginning to rise," I only could spare a moment to glance out of the window at the light of the sun, before glancing back to where she sat on me, her glow far more brilliant than the sun's.

I felt my head tilt before I realized that I was doing it at all. I'd always done so when I was truly curious about something, "Shadowman?" I wondered about the name she had used to indicate me more than once.

It seemed to occur to her that she was in an indecent position and quickly crawled back to her original spot on the bed-too far for me to reach her comfortably. The shadows huddled toward me the second she moved away and, for once, I wish they would leave me alone to study everything that Livinia was. I wanted her electrifying light to take over all of my senses. Her presence was the best part about thunderstorms or the mild days of spring.

Livinia placed her feet to the ground, a soft thud followed by carefully placed steps along the off-white tiled floor. She reached the large armoire, pulled out a few items of clothing-something black and red, and half-walked, half-danced to the entrance of the bathroom, Fae lights flickering alive within the once dark room. With her dark blue dress wrinkled from sleeping, her hair coiling with electricity, and a soft fire burning in her eyes, she smiled around the words, "Yes, Shadowman. I would say it fits." She pointed her finger to gesture around me, where the shadows crawled from the center of the room-crawled from me, before lightly latching the bathroom door, shouting, "I am going to change."

I instantly missed the warm presence of her.  I missed the electrified air and the heat of her tanned and glowing skin. I knew that there was only one reason for feeling like this, but I refused to admit that she was my mate-believe that there was something I could get so attached to, someone-who could easily be taken from me. No one could discover something so vulnerable about me, so I tucked that even deeper than before and told myself I wouldn't get any closer to the Heir of the Day Court.

Well...this is something I suppose.

A/N: Part two of Midnight at Rita’s is finally here, everyone! Sorry it took so long, I started a new job and I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. As you can tell, I’ve named this series something different. That’s because Midnight at Rita’s was supposed to be a smut one off, but it has a mind of it’s own and has become an actual fic. This will be part two of a series called “Flame of Autumn”. This fic is going to be quite long, and more elaborate than anything I’ve written here so far. I hope you enjoy!

“Oh, fucking hell.” I curse, clapping a hand over my mouth in shock.

Azriel chuckles sardonically, running a hand through his already sex mussed curls, puffing out a shocked breath. His cheeks are an adorable shade of pink, eyes wide.  

“Well said.”

For a few moments, we just sit and feel the bond thrum between us, like the plucked string of a cello. We’re still flushed and dazed, our panting breaths the only sound in the room as we stare at each other. 

A strange intermingling of emotion overwhelms me. Elation, joy, desire. A desire to take hold of Azriel and never, ever be parted from him. But all of it is entirely eclipsed by a sense of dread. It wraps itself around my throat, my heart, like a noose of ice. 

A mate is just another person to lose, to endanger with my own existence. 

The faces of all those that have suffered to protect me, that I ultimately lost, flash across my vision. A macabre version of a scrapbook. Just as easily as he perceived my earlier insecurities, Azriel notices the rising emotions in me. With the mate bond newly revealed, I wonder if the connection we’d felt all night had been the first clue. That, and his uncanny ability to read me like an open book. 

“Sabine, I don’t expect anything from you. But I- I’d like to explore this. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” 

His face shines with hope as he takes my hand in his, squeezing gently. A hesitant reach down the bond caresses against me. His eyes are open and earnest, a shy smile on his face. The epitome of honest and trustworthy. 

I wonder what he would think if he knew Sabine isn’t my real name. 

A pang of guilt shoots through me, at the dishonesty of it, and it's suddenly hard to breathe. Lying to others has become disturbingly easy over the years I’ve been in hiding. I’m skilled at it now, diversion and distraction like second nature. But the thought of keeping up the ruse with my mate is unbearable. Having to lie every day, and to the person who should know the absolute truth of myself? I can’t do it. I won’t do it. 

I’m opening my mouth to admit things I haven’t in years, when my mothers face flashes through my mind. She was the first to implore me to hide my abilities, and the first to die because of them. 

“You threaten his crown. He will destroy everything you love to keep you quiet, my girl. You cannot give him more ammunition. You get close to no one. You keep moving. Don’t ever come back here.” 

Her words ring in my ears like I’m hearing them for the first time. I shut my mouth with a snap. I can’t tell Azriel anything, for fear of bringing the wrath of my father down on him. Can I even stay in Velaris? 

When I first heard of the hidden city of the Night Court, heavily guarded by the most powerful High Lord, I rejoiced. Isolated and with a varied population, it made the perfect hiding place. Not to mention that Velaris is far outside the reach of my fathers court. I’ve felt almost safe here, and the thought of leaving this city, of leaving Azriel, has my heart sinking into my stomach. Azriel slowly places a hand on my cheek, breaking me free of my internal struggle. Concern shapes his features, hazel eyes heartbreakingly gentle. He is too perceptive to not see the indecision and fear in me, bond or not. Without meaning to, I speak. 

“Okay.” 

A relieved grin graces his lips. I feel the apprehension fading from him, being replaced with soft joy. It makes my decision for me. Azriel is an Illyrian, not exactly an easy target. We’re in the safest place there is for me. If I guard my secret well enough, I can stay. Stay, and see where this newfound bond leads us. I pray to the Cauldron that I’m not making a stupid, selfish mistake. 

“Are you sure?” His brow furrows, intent on my response.

In that moment, I know that no matter how strongly he feels, Azriel will let me walk away. If I decide he’s not what I want, he would honor my choice no questions asked. It only makes me more certain of my decision. I’ve never been one to tolerate a controlling male.

“Absolutely. Are you?” I ask, inching closer to him, still clutching the sheets against myself.

His eyes flicker down to my chest, and back to my eyes. When a faint blush paints his cheeks, I nearly drop the bedding in shock. So the confident male can get flustered. I file the information away for later, barely containing a smirk. 

“Of course I am, I’ve waited almost six hundred years for you.” His voice is low, each syllable more sure than the last. 

My heart soars inside my chest at his words. Depthless hazel eyes bore into mine, and his shadows brush against my bare skin. They send shivers all along my body, and I edge even closer to him. He meets me in the middle of the bed, his forehead touching mine as his gaze roves over me like I’m a precious, once lost jewel. I do the same, drinking in the sight of the magnificent shadowsinger before me. My mate. 

Long ago, some inexplicable force decided that he belonged to me, and I him. I wonder what makes us so compatible, and I find I’m excited to discover every reason for myself. I want to know all the simple, small details of him like the back of my hand. I want to memorize the planes of his face, every color in his eyes.

If my mother could meet him, I imagine she’d remark on the beautiful grandchildren we’d make her. It's that thought, and the sudden realization that we are both very naked, that has a fierce blush coloring my face. 

“Maybe we should get dressed.” I whisper, only slightly breathless. 

Azriel’s eyes run along my sheet-clad form once more, before he pins me with  that now familiar alluring smile. 

“As you wish.” 

He says again, only making me more flushed at the memory. Without an ounce of shame, the Illyrian rises to his feet and walks to the dresser at the other end of the room. He begins digging through the drawers, before selecting some grey sweatpants and a long sleeve black shirt for himself. I’m still wrapped in his sheets, attempting to not gawk at the unobstructed view of his ass, when Azriel looks over his shoulder at me. He smirks at my obvious observation of his body.

“Do you want something other than your dress? Something more comfortable?”

I look down at the rumpled silk garment on the floor and grimace. He’s right, the thought of shimmying myself into it right now is about as appealing as a cold bath in the middle of winter.

“Yes please. Preferably something a bit warmer.” 

He nods, and picks a few items from his dresser. He places them on the bed before me and fixes me with a sweet, slightly shy grin. 

“Are you hungry? I have pastries from the bakery down the street. I could make coffee?” 

My ears perk at the mention of food, and my stomach grumbles in agreement. I like that instead of pushing me to continue our conversation about our future, he’s making sure I’m fed and comfortable. That warm, light sensation flutters in my belly again.  

“I never turn down coffee or carbs.” I manage to get out, smiling coyly. 

“Noted.” Azriel smiles again, a quiet amusement in his eyes. 

He leaves me to change, heading towards the kitchen to start the coffee. I put on the sweatshirt and black briefs left for me. Both are too big, but they’re warm and soft against my skin. Worlds better than the dress. I pull the collar of the sweatshirt up to my nose and inhale his scent of cedar and moonlight and rain. Gods, what does he bathe in that makes him smell so good?

For the first time all night, I’m able to observe Azriel’s bedroom. My eyes widen as I take in the beautiful A frame ceiling with exposed wooden beams. The soft patter of rain on glass draws my eyes to the east wall, which is made entirely of paneled windows. Silver rivulets of water run down their surface, reflecting flickering beams of moonlight into the room. The floors are a dark oak, the walls a calming sage.

Candles burn on Azriel’s overflowing bookcase, and the fireplace crackles merrily on the opposite wall. I reach out hesitantly with my ability, and feel the heat of each flame flicker inside my awareness. For a moment, I watch the candle flames dance and twist under my will. It's rare that I ever have the chance to explore my gift, the small flames too often exploding into an uncontrolled inferno that attracts attention. But I can’t help playing just a little.   

The sound of a kettle whistling startles me from my reverie, and a few tea lights extinguish entirely. I wince, and quickly light them again before following Azriel into the kitchen. 

He’s at the counter, adding hot water to a french press. The earthy scent of coffee tickles my nose as he presses the grounds down, the muscles of his arm flexing deliciously.

“How do you take your coffee?” He asks, gesturing towards a pale box of pastries for me to choose from. 

“Cream and sugar. Lots of cream.” 

“You like your coffee sweet.” He smiles to himself as he pours extra cream and sugar into my cup, as if adding the observance to a mental list.

 I pad closer and peer at the box of pastries over his broad shoulder. On the front it reads ‘Diana’s Bakery and Coffeehouse’ in elegant script. I bite my lip to keep from laughing as I open the familiar box, and take a bagel from inside. 

He notices me smiling at the pastries and raises a thick eyebrow at me, the corner of his lip quirking up.

“What is it?”

“Nothing it's just - well I work at Diana’s.” I laugh, taking a bite of the magically warmed bagel after liberally smearing it with cream cheese. 

“You do? But I’ve been in there everyday this week, I haven’t seen you.” 

He passes my mug to me, filled to the brim with creamy coffee, and I take a careful sip. He leans against the marble counter, hazel eyes looking me up and down, that small smirk making an appearance once again. What is it about males liking us in their clothes? Not that I’m complaining. 

“Well, you wouldn’t. I work in the back with Diana as her baking apprentice. I even baked those cinnamon rolls.”

 I know they’re mine by the slightly imperfect glazing. Diana is meticulous and every single treat she bakes is always flawless.

He points to the icing covered cinnamon rolls inside the box, mouth gaping in shock. 

“These cinnamon rolls? They’re the best I’ve ever had. I’ve been buying you guys out everyday.” Azriel exclaims, eyes wide and alight with surprise. 

“Oh, so you’re the reason I’ve had to make twice as many recently?” I chuckle, pink staining my cheeks. The fact that Azriel loves my baking brings me way too much delight to be proper. 

“I’m sorry, but Cassian and I can’t get enough of them. What do you do to them? They’re like biting into a cloud!”

“I can’t tell you that! It's a secret recipe!” I wink, a goofy grin on my face.

Azriel rolls his eyes and smiles, grumbling about how secretive bakers are as he deposits a large mound of cinnamon rolls onto a plate. A truly genuine smile breaks across my face at the sight. He collects his own mug and leads me to a comfy couch, where we both plop down and tuck into our midnight snacks. 

I can’t help but watch him, completely mystified. This sexy, adorable male is my mate? I’ve never felt lucky a day in my life, but as Azriel finishes his third cinnamon roll, I can’t help but feel like the fates smiled on this one aspect of my life. Having finished my bagel, I sip on my coffee and relax into the couch. I’ve been running for a long time, keeping everyone at arm's length, never staying in one place for more than a few years. But maybe I can stay hidden in Velaris and keep Azriel a lot closer. Maybe I don’t have to be alone. I want that future so badly it becomes hard to breath.

“So you bake. You dance at Rita’s. What else?” 

Azriel’s voice brings me back to the present, and I glance up from my coffee cup. Silent laughter dances in the hazel depths of his eyes, his plate of pastries discarded on the coffee table. Suddenly self conscious under his intent gaze,  I reach a hand up to feel the tangled masses of my dark hair. I grimace when I realize what a mess it’s become. It will probably need to be dyed again as well.

“I play music. Mostly the piano. I write sometimes. And you?”

The admissions, however small, make my throat tight with anxiety. I haven’t told anyone anything true about myself in years, and I haven’t touched a piano in just as long. The feeling is nerve wracking, and I can’t help but feel exposed. My eyes follow the upward curve of his lips as he smiles at me, one arm draped over the back of the couch. 

 “I can see you playing piano. You have the hands for it.”

I blush at his statement, my gaze falling to my entirely ordinary hands. What does that even mean?

“I’m something of a homebody. If I’m not with my brothers, I’m probably here with a book. I train, I work, I come home."

That explains the mountains of novels all over his room. And the incredible body. He reaches over and runs a hand through my slightly curling hair, the hours I’d spent straightening it made useless. He curls one of the ringlets around his finger, giving it a slight tug, before he tucks it behind my ear. Every single nervous thought evaporates at his touch.

“I like your hair like this, especially since I’m the one who made it this messy.” 

He murmurs, a sudden heat in his eyes. I feel my body warm in response to that look, and I have to divert my gaze down at my lap to keep from jumping him right there. Again.

“You’re a shameless flirt, shadowsinger.” I mutter, playing with the silver ring of leaves on my finger, noticing that his thigh is now pressed against mine. When had he moved so close?

“Not usually, trust me. My brothers would be astonished.” He laughs, running a hand through his own messy hair. 

“Not usually?” I trace a finger along the back of his hand, fascinated by the combination of scarring and complex veins. 

He shivers slightly, and I smile in satisfaction. He’s not the only one who can play that game. 

“I make exceptions for my mate.” He whispers, taking my hand from his and pressing a kiss to my palm, lips soft and warm. 

“I was supposed to have drinks with my brothers. They must think I decided to stay in.”  He laughs against my skin, kissing his way to the pulse point of my wrist.

“Little do they know, huh?” I gasp, made breathless by his ministrations and the thought of exactly why he’d ditched his brothers tonight.

“Little do they know. When you’re ready, I - uh. I know they’d love to meet you.” He looks up at me, cheeks filling with color as he straightens. 

My stomach drops, and a bit of reality comes crashing down. A mate is one thing, but letting his family into my life? They’d be two more people to lie to, two more people in danger because of me. I avoid any straight answers, and decide to divert his attention elsewhere.

“Tell me about them?” I drink from my mug, using it as an excuse to break eye contact. I can’t shake the feeling that he can see down to the very truth of me when our gazes meet. 

“Their names are Cassian and Rhys. Complete idiots. But those two have saved my life in so many ways.” His eyes glow with a warm, far away look, a goofy smile on his face. 

“It sounds like you love them very much.” I speak softly, not wanting that radiant look to ever leave his face.

“I do. Do you have any siblings?” His eyes flicker back to me, the distance clearing from them. 

“An older brother. Micah.” I try not to let my voice break on his name, the longing slamming into my chest like a horse at a full sprint. 

I curse myself for using my brother's real name, a slip up I wouldn’t have made with anyone else. Azriel’s mere presence is enough to disarm me, and it's a struggle to focus with him this close. I haven’t seen Micah since the day our mother was murdered by my fathers sentries, and we both fled for our lives. In opposite directions. The day that started my life on the run. 

“Are you two close?” Azriel’s shadows curl around me as he squeezes my hand in silent support, like he already knows the answer. 

“We used to be, when we were young. Not so much anymore.” 

I tense, hoping that he doesn’t push the subject. I can’t exactly tell him the truth of our forced estrangement. At least not yet.

“Where are you from?” 

 His tone is light, and I am endlessly grateful for the change in conversation. He doesn’t seem to miss a thing when it comes to me. The thought is a constant inkling of worry in the back of my head. 

“Not Velaris.” I reply quickly.

It technically isn’t a lie, but the evasion feels even worse.

“I could’ve guessed that, love. I’ve lived here for hundreds of years, if you lived in Velaris I would’ve found you sooner. Are you from the Night Court?” 

He chuckles, taking up another strand of my hair to play with. For a moment, I forget that he’s waiting on a response. 

“No, Summer Court. Adriata. Did you grow up in Illyria?” 

 I attempt to change the subject, the subterfuge like spoiled milk in my stomach. I wish I could tell him all about my little cottage on the outskirts of the Autumn Court, about my mothers smile, and Micah’s penchant for getting me into trouble. Instead, I have to wriggle my way out of letting him get to know me. This is going to be harder than I thought. 

“Unfortunately, I did.” Shadows rise from deep within his eyes, blotting out almost all the light in them. 

I’ve heard many stories about the brutality of Illyria. Their perilous winters and sprawling mountains, the discipline that they ingrain into their children, how they throw themselves into the path of war. I wonder who put the scars on his hands, his wings, and I feel sick for an entirely different reason.

I search his eyes for answers, glimpsing an age old sadness there. I feel him trying to shove it down deep, but he can’t hide from me anymore than I can from him. A burning rage seethes in my chest at that sadness. It makes me want to grow claws and rip and tear, scorch those responsible with my flames.

He closes his eyes and rests his head where my shoulder and collarbone meet, a deep sigh leaving him. From the tension in his body, I know he wants me to let the topic drop. So instead of asking the questions on the tip of my tongue, I kiss the top of his head and stroke his back softly. He practically purrs, pressing closer, telling me to continue. I smile softly, trailing my fingers down his spine in slow circles. His back is deliciously firm, and rippling with muscles from his often used wings. Heat scorches across my face as I remember how I brought him over the edge just by kissing them, the absolute unleashing of it. 

“I- I didn’t realize. That, well um- your wings. That they were so-“ I stutter pitifully, the blush spreading down my neck. 

Azriel leans back to meet my eyes, a slight smile beginning on his face, previous troubles forgotten. 

“You didn’t know?” He asks, disbelief in his tone and a glint of amusement in his eye. 

“No, they just looked very kissable.”

He throws his head back and gives a loud, full belly laugh. I beam at the musical sound, satisfaction flowing through me. I want to make him laugh like that again and again.

“An Illyrian males wings are the most sensitive part of their body. If touched in the perfect spot, we can finish from that alone. As you saw. But they are also our greatest weapon, and we protect them accordingly. For that reason, I usually keep them far away from any - partners.” He explains after sobering from his laughter, voice soft and a slight blush painting his elegant cheekbones.

“But you make exceptions for your mate?” I ask, eyes downcast as I play with the cuff of his long sleeve shirt.

“I do. Only for you.” He takes my hands from his sleeve, and presses them to his lips once again.

I glance up at him, to find his eyes already on me. The warmth and tenderness I find there has my heart flying in my chest, and tears pricking my eyes. I blink them away hurriedly, looking to his wings instead of the intense emotion he’s showing me. For some reason, the adoration I see there has a small burst of fear running through me. 

“I’m glad you let me touch them. They’re beautiful.” I whisper reverently as l behold the incredible expanse of his wings. 

Vibrant plum and lavender, veined with maroon and the silver of scar tissue. I can’t even think of these beautiful, majestic wings being mutilated like that. My hands ache to touch them again, feel their silky warmth. 

“You definitely showed your appreciation for them.” He leans closer, his breath fanning across my cheek as he whispers in my ear. 

It sends shivers deep into my core, and I have to squeeze my thighs together and hope he doesn’t catch my scent. The confident, seductive Azriel of earlier tonight is back. 

“Not yet I haven’t.” I murmur, emboldened by my renewed need for him. 

The need comes quickly, overwhelmingly. Especially now that I know what being with him is like. Entirely world shattering. He may have ruined every other male for me. Again, not that I’m complaining. A low rumble comes from deep in his chest, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me onto his lap with ease. 

“Is that so?” There’s a sultry promise in his voice, and I feel him stir against my thigh. 

The room is filled with our mingled arousal as he inhales against my neck. 

“I still can’t believe I found you.” He groans, pressing kisses against my throat. 

I let my eyes fall closed, shocked anew at how easily he reduces me to a gasping mess. His hands begin to roam over my hips and waist, his touch worshipping and disbelieving. When I begin to slowly move myself over his growing arousal, I feel a shift in him. His hands halt their exploration, and he tenses beneath me. I open my eyes to find his face veiled with worry, his brow creasing. 

“You don’t have to, Sabine.” He cups my face in his hands, dark eyes gleaming with concern. 

I try not to flinch at the false name, and I wonder what his voice would sound like saying the name my mother gave me.  

Shoving those thoughts away, I shake my head, a small grin forming on my lips. Does he not see how infatuated I am already? Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. 

“Az, you idiot.”

And with that, I plant my lips on his. He doesn’t need further convincing. His body responds to mine eagerly, a low growl building in his chest. My back meets the leather couch as Azriel maneuvers himself above me, his hands sliding under the hem of my sweatshirt. He is somehow gentle and commanding all at once, his skin burning hot against mine. I sigh into the kiss as I give myself to him, entirely content to do so this time. 

“You are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He whispers against my lips, that reverent tone back in full force. My eyes prick as my chest fills with equal parts warmth and fear. I can see how easy it would be to love my mate. To fall fast and completely. And the part of me that’s been running scared from those I once loved is terrified.  

“I’m scared.” I murmur back, surprised at my own honesty.

I feel his frown against my lips, and he only holds me tighter. 

“I’m scared too, love. But I won’t ever hurt you. You’re - You are everything.” His eyes, soft and dark and endlessly kind, convince me. 

I smile sheepishly at him, holding out my left pinky. 

“Promise?”

Without hesitation, he wraps his finger around mine. 

“I promise.” 

The next morning, sunlight streaming in through the expansive windows wakes me. A sleepy contentment keeps me drowsy and warm, and I stretch like a cat after a particularly restful nap. 

“Good morning.” 

Cauldron, his morning voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I blink my eyes open, the blurry image of a very amused Azriel coming into focus. His black hair is tousled and falling onto his forehead, and pillow marks color his cheeks. 

Delicious.

I cuddle closer to him instead of replying, not ready to start the day yet. He wraps both arms around me as I bury my head in his very bare chest. Memories of last night rise to the surface, and I feel my cheeks warm. After his pinky promise, Azriel made love to me. That's the only way to describe the beautiful, tender way he touched me. He made sure every ounce of doubt was replaced with complete trust. It was the most intimate I had ever been with anyone in my entire life. 

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” He asks, a teasing grin curling his full lips.

I can’t help but remember those lips on my body in the living room. And the bedroom. And the bathtub. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep until dawn.

“W-What did I say?” I can only imagine the mortifying things my sleep self has to say to this male.

“Just my name. Over and over again.” His voice deepens, eyes darkening.

“Shut up! I did not!” I hiss, giving his shoulder a shove. 

He only chuckles and waggles a brow at me, before placing a kiss to my forehead. He smells even better in the morning, his cedar scent more potent. How is that even possible?

“How did you sleep?” 

He brushes my hair over my shoulder, peppering even more kisses across my collarbone. I shiver under his attention, my eyes falling closed again.

“Better than I have in a long time.” I admit, my voice still raspy with sleep. 

“So did I.” 

He runs gentle hands through my hair, our legs still entwined intimately. I haven’t felt this safe and content in someone’s arms since I was a girl, when my mom would hold me after I woke from nightmares about monsters under my bed. Azriel already feels like home, and the thought doesn’t scare me as badly as it did last night. Thoughts of my father seem distant and insignificant now, chased away by the bright morning light and warmth of my mate’s presence. 

“I wish I could stay here with you all day, baby.” He groans, a deep sigh leaving him. I can feel his reluctance in how firmly he presses me to him, strong arms locking me against his chest. 

“Then stay.” I grumble moodily, a frown curling my lips downwards. I know we can’t stay sequestered in his apartment forever, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. 

“I have to do some work for my brother today, but you’re more than welcome to stay in my bed. In fact, I hope you do.” Azriel chuckles, untangling his limbs from mine and kneeling before me. He drops a tender, lingering kiss on my lips  before standing.

My cheeks warm as my blood sings in my veins, and my breath catches in my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way his touch affects me. I hope I never do. 

“Oh? What kind of work do you do for him? Does he have his own shop or something?” I yawn my way through the question, cuddling myself into his vacated warm spot. 

Azriel smiles over his shoulder at me, while sliding into Illyrian fighting leathers. My mouth goes dry at how the skin tight garment outlines his muscular thighs and powerful chest, accentuating the golden tones of his skin. Hubba Hubba.

“Actually, Rhysand is High Lord of the Night Court. I’m his Spymaster. I have spying to do.” His lips twitch as if he’s trying to not let the easy smile fall from his face as he continues dressing. He watches for my reaction intently.

The blood in my veins turns to ice, freezing my heart in place as my eyes shoot open in shock. 

Azriel’s brother Rhys is... Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. All sleep leaves my body, and I have to fight to stay still. Every instinct is screaming at me to run, run far and fast. 

Because Rhysand knows my father, seeing as he’s High Lord of the Autumn Court.

In fact, I know Beron has met Rhysand many times. He often spoke about the half breed bastard who challenged his authority at meetings.

I met Rhysand at Beron’s court once, when I was barely fifteen. It's been decades, but he could easily recognize me as Beron’s bastard daughter. And he could tell my father where I am, maybe even deliver me to him. 

Even if he doesn’t recognize me, grown and changed as I am, Rhysand is a Daemati. He could rip the truth from my own mind with hardly a thought. And the High Lord of the Night Court has a reputation for finding pleasure in that sort of thing. The thought has me shivering despite the warm blankets tucked around me. 

“Oh. You didn’t mention that last night.” I rasp, trying not to look like I’m about to throw up. My stomach roils, and my palms dampen with cold sweat. 

“I forget that he's High Lord sometimes. He’s just Rhys to me.” Azriel shrugs, with his back now turned to me as he readies himself for the day. I thank the Cauldron for it. 

I can only imagine the stark horror in my expression, and I take a few extra moments to reign my emotions in. Gods, no wonder Azriel can read me so effortlessly. It's not only because of the bond, he’s a spymaster. Reading people is his job. A job he performs for a mind stealing, murdering monster of a High Lord. Bile rises in my throat, and I feel my heart crack in my chest. 

Azriel is not who I thought he was. The trustworthy, gentle male I spent the night with could just be another mask he wears. A tremble begins deep within me.

“When will you be back?” I try to sound eager, like I can’t wait for his return. 

In reality, I’m trying to find out how far away I can get before he even realizes I’m gone. 

“Tonight. I just need to visit some - colleagues in another court.” He says, while lacing his sturdy looking boots into place. 

What court is he ‘visiting’? Will he be spying on other High Lords for Rhysand? Despite the new revelations about his dangerous brother, I feel a stab of fear for my mate. Any High Lord would slaughter him in a moment if they caught him spying on the Daemati’s behalf. 

“Will you be safe?” I hear the worry in my own voice, and Azriel either hears it as well or can feel it from me. Damn mate bond. 

The male perches on the bed next to me, a reassuring smile on his striking face. The two versions of him that exist in my head clash terribly; the vulnerable, kind Azriel of last night and the formidable Spymaster I’ve heard grave stories about. My gaze falls to the dark dagger strapped to his leg. Truth Teller. I try not to shiver as the light glints lethally off its razored edge. I wonder how many truths he’s tortured out of his enemies using it. 

“Of course. Always, but especially now.” Azriel strokes stray curls out of my face, his eyes brimming with unabashed tenderness. He kisses me soundly, a promise to return. 

My stomach flips and suddenly my heart is no longer racing out of fear. For a moment, I almost forget the hidden lethalness and only see Az. But that’s foolish. I can’t shiver at the sight of his famed blade and crave his touch at the same time. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask, mentally calculating how long I have to leave Velaris. I go through the well rehearsed steps of my escape plan, focusing on mundane details to keep the fear and longing from rendering me completely useless.

“Of course.” Shadows of worry cloud his eyes, and I can almost see the sharp, spy's mind calculating behind them.

Azriel kisses me once more, his lips hesitant for the very first time.

His mouth tastes like sorrow, and I feel a flicker of something down the bond. It's gone too quickly for me to decipher it. I curse internally, hoping he only thinks I’m intimidated by his brother’s position. Between the bond and his spymaster abilities, who knows what he can decipher from my reaction alone.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He stands, tucking his wings in close and letting his shoulders droop slightly. 

He searches my face, lips slightly turned down at the corners, brow furrowed. 

“I’ll be here.” The lie burns my throat like acid, and I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

Instead, I pretend to settle deeper into the bed, closing my eyes as I bring the blankets up to my chin. I don’t want to see the confusion and worry in his gaze. And I can’t watch him leave, knowing that I may never see him again. Azriel squeezes my thigh softly, whispering another farewell as he leaves the room with a sigh. 

I wait until I no longer feel the thrumming current that is Azriel’s presence,  when I know he’s well and truly gone. Then I spring into action. I burst from the bed, and head straight for Azriel’s dresser. I yank a pair of sweats from the drawer and pull them on hurriedly, shaking so hard it takes me three tries to get my legs through the correct hole.  I practically run through the living room, propelled forwards by thoughts of obliterated minds and the dank cells beneath the Autumn Court. 

I glimpse the forgotten mugs and pastry box from last night on the coffee table. Tears prick my eyes at the memory of the hope I felt during that meal. I told Azriel, my mate, more than I’ve shared with anyone in years. He let me see some of the anguish he carries with him, buried so deep it's become a part of him. I gave my body to him. And he felt like home. Can I really run from that?

Yes, I can. I have to. I was a fool to think that I could ever be outside my father’s reach.

On impulse, I hunt down a pen from the kitchen cabinets and scrawl a quick, cowardly note on a scrap of paper. Shame coats my tongue so thoroughly I think I may choke on it.

I’m sorry. - S 

  With the note finished, I raise the hood to conceal my face and tear down the stairs, avoiding the elevator Azriel first kissed me in. Soon enough, my bare feet are slapping against the rain slick pavement, my heart cracking with every step. I don’t stop to notice the people that watch me fly by, or the sun shining over the Sidra. I let the fear cloud every guilty thought, until all I know is adrenaline. 

Once I reach my apartment, I change into clothes more appropriate for an escape attempt, and collect my emergency bag from beneath some loose floorboards. Not the most creative hiding spot, but it’s better than my underwear drawer. 

Less than an hour later, I’m standing on the rickety, wooden deck of a foreign boat, sailing away from Velaris. Tradesmen man their vessel, hardly paying attention to me as I stare out over the water from their starboard side. I can imagine the mystery I pose. A lone, cloaked female, begging to stow away on their watercraft.

The money I slipped to their captain keeps the curious glances to a minimum, and I hope it keeps their mouths shut in the future. Either way, I won’t be settling where I first disembark. I’m not entirely sure where I’ll go yet, but maybe that’s for the best. If I’m entirely impulsive, my actions will be harder to predict.

I’ve run scared so many times over the years that I’ve lost count, but I’ve never been so conflicted. Every mile I put between me and the shore of the Sidra is another knife shoved up under my ribs, and it becomes harder and harder to breath. Eventually, the vibrant colors of the Rainbow fade from view and the citrus scent of the river becomes the salty brine of the ocean. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall. The hood of my cloak covers my face anyway. 

Synopsis: Azriel and Alora broke up six months ago. Alora still isn’t sure exactly why Azriel shut her out, and she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. With Nesta’s help, Alora has been avoiding Azriel at group events since the breakup. Inspired by “Into You” by Julia Michaels. 

 “So he’s gonna be there then?” I whisper into the phone, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

“Actually, the asshole’s already here. I’m sorry, Alora. He was supposed to be away for work until next week.” 

Nesta’s voice is hushed, her irritation obvious. I sigh, my breath creating a cloud of ice in the air around me. I stop walking and turn on my heel, heading back the way I’d come. I had been walking to Feyre and Rhysand’s baby shower, gift for their little one in hand. But Azriel, my ex-fiancee, has decided to make an unscheduled appearance. I scowl to myself and shove the wrapped parcel into my coat pocket. Rhys and Feyre are some of my dearest friends, and I was really looking forward to being there today. 

“It’s okay, Nesta. I’ll just give Feyre her gift later. Can you tell them I’m sorry, something just… came up?”.” 

I sigh again, hating that I have to miss their big day and even worse, lie to them about it. Though I’m sure they see right through it, since Feyre knows every dirty detail about the breakup. 

Nesta has been acting as my personal Azriel detector since he and I broke up six months ago. I’m beyond grateful for her help, but I know the responsibility of it is starting to wear on her patience. 

“You know you’ll have to be in the same room as him eventually, right?  You guys have a lot of friends in common.” Nesta says frankly. I flinch slightly, but I know better than to take her words personally. Nesta is nothing if not painfully forthright. 

“I know. I just can’t be in the same room as him and Mor right now. I can’t see how he looks at her.” I pause to shudder, flashing back to the night I’d found them dancing at Rita’s,  a mere six weeks after Azriel and I ended. She was all over him, and he was grinning like a fool. I hadn’t seen him smile like that for quite awhile. I suppose I should be happy he found his smile again, even if it wasn’t with me. 

“I’ve been thinking of moving back home to San Diego.” I blurt, as if getting it out faster will make it easier. Nesta is one of my best friends, but she still scares the shit out of me. I know she’ll like the idea of me leaving about as much as a bull loves the color red. 

For a few beats, Nesta is entirely silent. I chew my lip nervously, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for my turn to use the crosswalk. I’ve lived in Chicago for three years now, since I moved here to pursue a career in publishing. I met Nesta and her sisters almost immediately. Soon after, they introduced me to their friends, and we’ve all been inseparable ever since.

“You’re not actually fucking serious, are you? You can’t just run away because that idiot broke your heart. This is your home.”  Nesta growls, and I hear a door shut from her end of the line. Oh shit, she really has something to say if she felt the need to find a more private venue. Nesta isn’t one to hide her outbursts. Seeing as I’m not in the mood to get my ass chewed and spit back out, I retreat. Strategically, of course. 

“I’ll let you get back to the baby shower. I have to go anyway.” 

Nesta snorts, and I can hear the scowl in her voice. 

“Okay, coward. We’ll talk tomorrow, I’m coming over.” 

I roll my eyes and pocket my cell phone. If there was ever a way to describe Nesta, its ‘Tough love’. I walk the three blocks to my apartment in a huff, trudging through ankle deep snow all the while. I take my frustration out on fluffy piles of snow, kicking at them as I walk. By the time I’m locking the door behind me, my socks are soaked and I’m shivering despite my massive winter coat. You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl. 

I take a burning hot shower, dress in my warmest pajamas, and I’m curled up in bed in no time. I’m halfway through White Christmas when a text pings on my phone. 

Azriel: Nesta says you’re moving back to SD. Can we talk? 

Instantly, I’m cold as death beneath my plethora of fluffy Christmas blankets. That all too familiar pang in my chest returns in full force, so insistent that I can’t seem to catch my breath. Without meaning to, I’d read the text in his voice. I haven’t heard his voice in months, but it haunts me, a ghost I can never exorcise. I hear it in my dreams, in crowded rooms, in the harmony of some of our favorite songs. A second text pops up. 

Azriel: Please, Alora. I know that you’re seeing this. You can’t keep shutting me out. I’m sorry, okay?

I scoff indignantly, my vision going red. I can’t shut him out? Him? I spent months trying to get him to talk to me, to tell me what was so obviously eating him up inside. Instead of letting me in, he pushed me as far from him as possible.  And then, there was The Mor Incident. I knew he’d had a massive crush on her in college, but I thought it was long over. How naive of me. 

For weeks after I moved out, Azriel tried to contact me everyday. He would text and call constantly, and ask our friends to get me to talk to him. At first, I was too hurt to respond.I needed my own time and space for a while. And when I saw him with Mor, I decided he’d never get a response from me. I knew what I needed to know.  If anyone deserves to be iced out, it's the man who proposed to me and changed his mind about it like he was changing his order at starbucks. 

Azriel: Talk to me. What can I do? 

I grind my teeth and explode up out of my bed, too angry to even sit still. I pace my bedroom, my stomps probably heard by my downstairs neighbor. What can he do? For shit’s sake, if only he’d asked himself that question six months ago. A deluge of memories flood through my mind, dragging me beneath their frigid depths. Our one sided battles, where I begged and pleaded for him to let me in, and he refused. The nights he slept on the couch, or at Cassian’s. But the one that hurts the most, is the last one.

“Jesus christ, just talk to me! Please, Az. I just need you to talk to me.” I plead, tears running freely down my cheeks. 

Azriel keeps his back to me as he hurls clothes into a duffel bag, the muscles of his shoulders tensed to the point of breaking. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lora.”

His voice, that deep, melodic voice I love so much, is empty. Devoid of all feeling, all the love that used to shine through in every word he spoke to me. My chest feels like he’s cracked it open, and scraped me empty. Stolen all the warmth, all the joy. The fireplace crackles nearby, and yet I don’t feel a lick of its flame.

“There’s everything to talk about! I don’t even know why you’re leaving. You’ve been in  pain, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t let me help.” I’m yelling now, but he still hasn’t so much as looked my way. A dark, heartrending thought creeps in.

“ Are-are you leaving me?” The question comes out in a broken whisper. I can hear the heartbreak in my own voice, and he curses under his breath. 

Finally, he turns to face me. His face is nearly as empty as his voice, save for the deep purple circles beneath his eyes. Those gorgeous, hazel eyes that are filled with a nameless agony he refuses to share with me. His hair is more tousled than usual, his shirt wrinkled, shoulders slumped. He looks like a man defeated. 

“Fuck baby, of course I’m not leaving you. I just- I need some time. To clear my head.” 

His eyes finally meet mine for a second, and he reaches for me. His fingers barely brush my cheek before he yanks them away, fisting them at his side.

I’m close on his heels as he storms into the living room, towards the front door. 

“But you are, Az. You’re choosing to leave instead of talk to me. We’re supposed to be partners, remember? We're getting married, Az .” I’m desperate now, my voice climbing an octave for every step he takes away from me. 

He stops with his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at me. But he refuses to meet my gaze again. Like he can’t bear to look at me. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” 

His words hit me like a punch to the stomach, and all the breath leaves my body. A trembling begins in my hands. I feel untethered, like a boat abandoned at sea. 

“You don’t want to get married?” I rasp, hugging my arms around myself. Cold is seeping into my bones, my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. 

Azriel struggles for words a few moments longer, a battle raging in the eyes I love most. He turns to me again and I see the tears building in them. I search his face for an explanation, silently begging him. Stay. Please stay. His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks. 

“We can talk about it later. I’m gonna stay with Cassian tonight.” 

He turns towards the door once more, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question that's been buzzing in my head for weeks. 

“Is that really where you’re going, Az?”My voice is clipped, cold to my own ears. He pauses, confusion clear on his face. 

“Are you sure there’s not someone else you’re seeing when you ‘go to Cassian’s’ ?” I demand, placing a hand on the dining table to my right.

 If he gives me the answer I’m expecting, I may well need the support. Azriel’s face goes blank with shock, and he leans back against the door, not able to stand on his own. 

“Jesus, Lor. I’m not fucking cheating on you.” He spits out, as he hoists the duffel bag over his shoulder. 

My relief is short lived.

He wrenches the front door open, and the ancient thing groans like it might very well come off its hinges. In that moment, something snaps inside me. 

“If you walk out that door, you might as well be leaving me. If you walk out right now, we’re done.” 

I expect the words to finally wake him up, to reach where he’s hidden himself away, and bring my Azriel back. The Azriel that planned a picnic for our first date, or ran through the ER with me in his arms when my appendix burst. The Azriel that asked me to marry him, then made love to me under the stars. 

But wherever that Az is, he’s far, far away.  

“I need to go. I’m sorry, Lor” 

After a moment of hesitation, he walks out the door. The sound of it closing like that of the lid of a coffin, sealing me inside.  Alone.

 I stay up all night, waiting for him to come back. Praying that he comes back. I lay alone in our bed, the sheets suddenly frigid and too abundant. All the extra leg room is a slap in the face. I watch the flames in the fireplace dying as the sun rises. Until all that’s left of that once roaring fire are embers. I watch until those too burn out, and go cold. 

I blink, the sound of another message breaking me free of the torturous cycle of  memories. I wipe traitorous tears from my cheeks and retrieve my phone from where I discarded it. 

Nesta: Hey, I might’ve let slip to Elain that you were thinking of moving home. And of course she told Lucien, who told Azriel. Apparently, he wasn’t pleased. I’m sorry, Lor. 

I sigh, type a quick reply and check the time. 9:58pm. Jesus, today has felt like a lifetime. I look around my apartment, at how dark and empty it's become as night has fallen. When I moved in, a week after Az left, I couldn't bring myself to decorate it. Because that would mean that this is home now, and not the house Azriel and I bought together. It would mean that the beautiful victorian in the suburbs was as gone as the life we could’ve lived in it. So, six months later, boxes sit in the corners. The walls are bare, the fireplace unlit even on the coldest of nights. And every night since has been glacial. Suddenly, the loneliness is nearly suffocating. I can’t spend another night just staring at the solitary wasteland my life has become.

All of my friends are together already, and he’s there. So going out alone it is. 

I blast music as I get ready in a rush, effectively drowning out every unwanted thought. I go a little heavy on the eyeliner, hopefully concealing any evidence of tears. I slip into my newest dress, gifted to me by Feyre on my birthday. It's the perfect balance of elegant and sexy. A lovely slip of wine colored silk, skin tight and just the right amount of revealing. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile for the first time all night. 

Half an hour later, I’m shooting whiskey at Rita’s, scouring the dance floor for my next conquest. Probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but I digress. The vast room is dark, the only lights being flashing rainbows of color timed to the music. Thick smoke snakes around the dancers, thanks to a mixture of incense and hidden fog machines. The scent of patchouli, sweat, and alcohol tickles my nose. Peculiarly enough, it's not a bad combination. 

As I’m scanning the crowd, nursing a glass of scotch, a pair of unusual green eyes catch my gaze. He’s easily six feet tall, dark haired, and moderately handsome. He’s sitting with his friends, but no longer paying attention to the conversation. Instead, his eyes are shamelessly undressing me, lingering on my exposed legs. When he eventually meets my eyes again, I give him a slow, inviting smile. It only takes him a few moments to cross the bar, and sit on the stool beside mine. 

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone on a saturday night?” 

I barely restrain an eye roll at his creative opening line. Instead, I lean closer and give him an obvious lookover. He’s definitely fit, his tight black shirt revealing a broad chest and toned abdomen. But I can’t help but note the lack of tattoos and scars. Once I’m done comparing him to Azriel, I meet his eager eyes again. 

“I’m not exactly alone now, am I?” 

The man smirks, and places a hand on my thigh. 

The next morning, I hurry my house guest out the door as soon as he wakes up. He tries to get my number, but I carefully maneuver my way out of that one. The sex was good, but not that good. 

I shower and dress, then scarf down a quick breakfast. As I’m drinking my second cup of coffee, I finally look around at my sad excuse of an apartment. It's not that the actual space isn’t nice. The hardwood floors are new and shiny looking, the walls a neutral gray, the countertops a gleaming marble. But like last night, it's overwhelmingly empty. 

I take a deep breath and decide today is the day. Hesitantly, I walk to the closest box and start cutting away the packing tape. Each stroke of the scissors is like another nail in the coffin of my old life. I ignore the tears that burn in my eyes and keep cutting. With my heart racing and eyes closed, I reach my hand in and grab the first object I touch. I take three deep breaths in an effort to center myself, and look down at what’s in my hand. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” I exclaim, my heart squeezing painfully. 

The cellophane wrapped bundle of blank wedding invitations glimmers in the morning sunlight, like the fangs of a poisonous snake. Beautiful, but deadly. With a cry, I hurl the invitations across the room. They land with a satisfying thunk against the far wall. I plop down next to the box, letting my head fall into my hands. The wound in my chest is raw and throbbing, an ever present pain. 

Of course it had to be the wedding invitations. It couldn’t be something easy, like a throw pillow or a bunch of CD’s. 

I lean my head back against the wall, and let my eyes fall closed. Would this ever stop hurting? Would there come a day where I wake up, and I don’t reach for him? 

 I’m staring at the box like the dangerous, wicked thing it is when a knock at the door rescues me from my own pity party. 

“Thank fuck.” I mutter to myself, eagerly jumping to my feet and practically running to the door. Nesta had said she’d be coming over today, and I thank my lucky stars at her timing. At least this way, I won’t have to unpack my old life alone. Nesta will help me. I’ll cry, she’ll make me laugh, and we’ll get drunk. Very drunk, knowing us. Maybe we’ll call Elain and Feyre. They’ll spend the night, and tomorrow will be easier. I’ll start looking at apartments in San Diego. As I’m opening the door, I take my first easy breath in days. 

“Thank god, Nes I need-” 

But it isn’t Nesta on the other side of the door. It's Azriel. 

Part two should be up by Friday or Saturday, I have a bunch of editing to do but I won’t have time until then because of work.

To hold everyone over until Friday/Saturday, I’m posting another Azriel fic tonight! It’s ✨complete smut✨but has the possibility of a part two? Let me know if you guys are interested :) In case you haven’t noticed, I mainly write about Azriel but I’m definitely coming up with some Cassian/Nessian content.

Livinia's:

I gripped the edges of the enormous tub leaving dirt streaks along the lip. The warm water covered my filthy body up to my neck, the lavender soap Azriel had instructed Nuala or Cerridwen (I hadn't yet figured out which was which), made the entire room smell florally and clean-and reminded me of the lavender fields I adored at home. I sunk until my head was completely covered in water, my thick, dark hair floating around my face, neck, and upper torso. I only came up for air when it was absolutely necessary, strangled breaths tore from my throat.

It took me a few moments before I caught my breath and began scrubbing the lingering dirt from my thin body and hair-working at the knots and yanking small twigs and old leaves from the mass. A knock at the door and the cooling water indicated that I'd been in the bathroom much longer than I realized. I reluctantly stood from the once clean-now grimy-water. There were two stairs heading down from the slightly raised bathtub and clean white towels were folded neatly on the counter beside the sink. I carefully walked across the stone floor, trying not to drip water or slip.

I reached for a towel and got an unflattering glimpse of my starved and boyish looking frame. Before I'd left the Day Court, I'd had round, supple curves.  I wished for the comfort of the afternoon's blazing sun warming my skin. I missed being poolside during the day and the long hours of training at night. The night sky was glorious here, but I only wanted it as an experience, not a temporary stay that could be years.

The knock sounded again and before I could say or do anything, the quiet twins forced the door open and then shut it quickly behind them. I gripped the thick, fleecy towel tighter around my fragile form as they softly grabbed each of my arms and pulled me to a matte black vanity with dozens of drawers and an oversized mirror. One set to work on brushing and pinning strands of hair into an intricate design that flowed gently into the thick waves of hair already grazing my back and shoulders. The other diligently scrubbed the grime from under my fingernails before setting to work on delicate, more lively looking makeup.

"The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court shall return sometime tonight," the twin lining my eyes in kohl said in a cold, quiet tone. Her concentration never left her work as she spoke-her hand never shook.

After I had had soft makeup applied (much more than it looked like to make the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes prominent) and my hair was as good as it was going to get; the twin who finished my hair left the room before quickly returning with an elegant, sapphire blue gown. They helped slip the silky material over my boney body, and I breathed in the Jasmine scent that seemed to take over the entire city of Valaris. The dress itself stopped midthigh, but long lengths of gauzy fabric fell to the floor and blew gently in the breeze coming through the window. This was definitely a Night Court style.

After Nuala and Cerridwen made sure everything was how it was supposed to be, they opened the door to the connecting room-large, quiet, and set in black and cobalt blue. It wasn't the room that held my attention, but the cool, isolating feeling of darkness and the male that exuded it from the center of the room, at the foot of the expansive bed. His wings rested gently against his back, the talons atop each wing sharper than most blades. I distantly remembered the feeling of his cool touch, his scar covered hands, and the jolt of electricity that certainly didn't come from my reservoir of power. His stare only lasted a few seconds, until he too, seemed to remember, and at last, peeled his eyes from mine.

"You look lovely," I knew he meant it, even with the sharp angles of my bones protruding in the skin tight, dark blue dress. The shift of airy fabric that formed the dress's lower half billowed on a gust of wind from the open window. His hands sat atop his legs, and I could tell he wanted to add a comment or begin his interrogation. Instead, he stood from his seated position at the end of the bed, and held his arm in a bent angle out toward me.

I took a deep breath before gingerly entwining my thin arm with his muscular one. The shadows that had been bouncing around the room-around him-seemed to slightly dissipate as soon as our arms linked together. I vaguely wondered if he did so as to not freak me out. After taking a bath, being waited on, and dressed, I was feeling a bit more normal-not so animalistic. Azriel led me from the isolated room, to the dining area, where he pulled a chair out and waited patiently for me to sit before sliding it back in. He took a seat next to who I assumed was the High Lord, Rhysand. On Rhysand's right was a woman with golden-brown hair, kind eyes, and a delicate hand resting atop the High Lord's massive one.

Another male strided into the room and I recognized him instantly from the few times he'd come to see our father over the last few years. His russet and metal eye scanned me and before I knew what was happening, I was on my feet and his arms were wrapped completely around me. I could feel the eyes of the others, but I clung to my brother's massive form, "Livinia," he muttered against my styled hair. I felt some tension uncoil from his body before he let me out of his arms.

"Where's Elain?" I wondered aloud on the whereabouts of the second eldest Archeron sister and my brother's mate. Lucien and Elain were the reason I was instructed to go to the Night Court-both for safety and comfort-and they were the only ones that I had ever had any real conversations with.

Lucien jerked his chin in the direction of the living room, and when I peaked inside, I saw her sitting on the floor, next to the coffee table, gently caressing the petals of flowers in the large glass vase. I barely smiled before returning to my seat-my brother sitting on the side that Azriel wasn't. No one seemed to have anything to say for a moment-all eyes assessed both Lucien and I- searching for the similarities I looked for every time I was in his presence.

Feyre cleared her throat after a few awkward moments of silent staring, "So, Livinia, what made Helion send you now?" She removed her hand from Rhysand's, crossing her arms in front of her. I lifted my chin a little and carefully dug my nails into the wood that made up the table.

I took a deep, calming breath before meeting her gray-blue gaze, "I'm surprised you weren't informed when he sent word that I was coming. The Day Court is being threatened by someone within."

Each person at the long table seemed to pause and turn over all of the words I said. Lucien watched my features for any sign of emotion, but I sat with my hands firmly pressed against the cool wood of the long table. Azriel's shadows writhed around him-I watched as a tendril of darkness wrapped around his ear. I knew instantly that they must be talking to him some how or another. Feyre and Rhysand held hands as they stared at each other, probably communicating in whatever way the mating bond allowed. I wasn't sure if they were going to say anything else, but Azriel suddenly looked up, his green-brown eyes meeting mine before he inquired, "How can you be certain that the threat is within?"

I should have looked away. A jolt seemed to flow through my body and the world seemed to single the shadowman out. I no longer saw the concerned faces of the Night Court's High Lord or Lady-or even my brother. I knew that the room was waiting for my response and I had been silent much longer than necessary. I sighed before responding, "A lesser Fae from our Court was delivered to our residence piece by piece-each with a note that read the same thing: 'The end of the Day Court nears'."

They each assessed what I told them and I saw Rhysand squeeze Feyre's hand comfortingly. Instead of asking any further questions about the notes Azriel cut in with, "And what happened to your guards?" I tried to keep my hands from noticeably shaking-tried to keep every bit of composure I managed to have. The image, vividly red and brutal, replayed in my mind. The death of so many people-many I'd grown up with and treasured like family.

I took a shaky breath before responding, "It happened in the night. It was an attack of some sort and my men were able to kill a few, however, they were much too powerful. My men were slaughtered by Fae that we're unrecognizable to me. Strong and fast, able to Winnow. They killed them and left me," and I couldn't help the few tears I felt well in my eyes and slide down my face.

Rhysand's eyebrows furrowed, "Why wouldn't they kill you? You're easily one of the most valuable targets in Prythian." I shrugged my shoulders, more tears slid from my eyelashes as I met his odd colored, purplish eyes. I only stared for a moment before I felt a callused, scarred hand gently brush their pinkie finger against my own, sending a comforting warm that spread throughout my body.

I looked at our hands, the tingly feeling spreading through my body, my hair lifting slightly-as if static were in every corner of the room. The warmth of my power fizzed warmly in my veins, my lungs seemed to both catch and speed up, "A guard, Lord Shall, was gifted with powers to hide people and objects. I believe he hid me until his last breath. I ran when I understood that there was nothing I could do...that everyone was either dead or dying.

I took a few calming deep breaths, while tiny droplets of fresh tears slid from my eyes and down my face, "I should have stayed and died with them. Like a real heir would have-but instead, I ran here." I finished on a shaky breath, my eyes cast toward the only feeling in the world that wasn't sadness-Azriel's finger wrapped snuggly around mine. I could feel his unreadable eyes on my face, and the race my heart seemed to rush into when he brushed all of his fingers gently along each of my knuckles.

The High Lady looked to her husband for a few moments, a silent conversation most definitely flowing through their bond before her light colored eyes met mine, "We have an extra room. You're welcome to it and most of this house. We will keep you under our care unless your father requests something different."

I gave her a small, thankful smile before quietly standing from the table, "Is there anyway that I could be directed to my room, if this meeting is over? I haven't gotten much sleep in the last few weeks." Before I could finish the words, Azriel was already up from his seat, the shadows not missing a beat. I wasn't sure what made his footsteps silent, whether it was the shadows or the many centuries he had had to hone such a skill, but either way I followed a few feet behind the silence of the Shadowsinger.

***so, it's been a minute since I've written as I wanted to read ACOFAS before continuing... I've decided to keep it in the same time frame as I already had set up in the first chapter... Just bear with me... Anyways, I hope it's enjoyable