#azzie

Chapter 1: The Shadows in the Room

Isla's POV

I didn’t belong here.

That thought echoed through my mind over and over as I sat at the large, intricately carved wooden table in the Night Court’s expansive dining hall. The room was filled with an air of quiet sophistication, bathed in the soft light of glowing crystals that flickered in hues of violet and gold. It was beautiful, like something out of a dream, and yet all I could feel was out of place.

I was a mortal. A mere human with abilities I still didn’t fully understand, lost in a world of immortals—Fae, gods, and creatures far beyond anything I had ever imagined. They were kind to me, at least outwardly, but the strange feeling of being different, of being a thing that didn’t belong, weighed heavily on my chest. The shimmering elegance of Velaris seemed to mock my smallness, my humanity.

I tried to focus on the conversation happening around me, but it was all noise, all blur. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, was speaking to someone, his voice smooth and calm, but I couldn’t pay attention to the words. My gaze wandered around the room, falling on a lone figure at the far end of the table.

Azriel.

The spymaster. The shadowsinger. The brooding, silent warrior with eyes that could pierce straight through you, as if he could see everything—every flaw, every mistake, every fear. He had always been the most mysterious of the Night Court, and no matter how many times I tried to make sense of him, I always came up short.

He was seated far from me, his posture stiff and rigid, his eyes fixed on something that wasn’t there. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, like he was waiting for something to end.

But even in his detachment, there was something about him that drew me in, a pull I couldn’t quite explain. It was more than just his dark, handsome features or the way his presence seemed to fill the room despite his quiet demeanor. No, it was deeper than that. It was the aura of sadness, of anger, that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

I had only been in Velaris for a few weeks, but I had already sensed the tension between him and Elain, the youngest member of the Inner Circle. They rarely spoke directly to each other, and when they did, it was cold, distant. Sometimes, their exchanges felt like a battle of wills, neither one willing to yield.

Elain was kind, gentle, the kind of person who radiated warmth and light. She was everything Azriel wasn’t, and yet the connection between them was undeniable. But it was also complicated. She had her bond with Lucien, the fiery redhead who always seemed to be in the middle of everything, and Azriel… Azriel had his own battles.

Watching them from a distance, I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. They were tied to each other in ways I couldn’t understand, and I didn’t know where I fit in. As a mortal, I was a guest, a foreigner in their world, and I had no place in their intricate web of relationships.

But despite that, my eyes kept drifting back to Azriel. There was something about him, something that pulled at me even in my confusion and isolation. I couldn’t stop noticing the way his shadows flickered around him like extensions of his very being, like they were alive, whispering secrets to each other.

It was in the way his shadows moved that night that caught my attention.

They weren’t just there. They were… reaching.

As the conversation continued around me, I felt a strange sensation creeping along my skin, like an electric charge in the air. My heart skipped a beat as I realized the shadows that trailed behind Azriel were moving, stretching toward me. They were subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as the night wore on, they became harder to ignore.

My pulse quickened. I was in the middle of a conversation, but my attention had completely shifted. I couldn’t take my eyes off the shadows. I looked up at Azriel, who had yet to notice my gaze, and felt a twinge of unease. Why was I feeling this? Was I imagining things?

“Isla?”

Rhysand’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked rapidly, snapping back to reality. I looked up to find him smiling kindly at me, though there was a glimmer of concern in his violet eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I was… lost in thought.”

Rhysand’s smile deepened, but there was still a touch of curiosity in his gaze. “It’s all right. If you’re not feeling up to this, we can call it a night.”

I shook my head quickly, not wanting to appear weak. “No, I’m fine.”

I forced my attention back to the conversation, but my thoughts remained on Azriel, on the way the shadows that swirled around him seemed to reach out to me. They were drawing closer now, moving like tendrils of smoke, curling and uncurling as if beckoning me.

There was no reason for me to feel this way. Shadows were nothing new to me; I had learned long ago to accept that I had strange abilities, some of which I didn’t fully understand. But this… this was different. These weren’t just shadows. They were alive, and they wanted something from me.

I glanced again at Azriel. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t acknowledged the strange movements of the shadows at all. His face remained impassive, as though he didn’t even notice the way his own shadows responded to me. But I could feel them. They were reaching for me, wrapping around me in a silent embrace.

The moment felt surreal. My skin tingled with an odd warmth, and I felt… comforted. The shadows, cold and dark as they were, seemed to understand me in a way no one else had. I wasn’t sure if they were reaching for me because they recognized something in me or if it was just Azriel’s quiet power influencing them. But I was drawn to them, to the silence they offered, to the unspoken promise they seemed to whisper.

I wanted to pull back, to escape the weight of the moment, but I couldn’t. The shadows surrounded me like a second skin, offering their quiet, silent support.

“Isla?”

This time, it was Azriel’s voice, low and gravelly, and I flinched. My heart raced as I turned to face him. His piercing hazel eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the tension between us seemed to stretch out in a tight, invisible line.

He was watching me closely, studying me with an intensity that made me feel exposed, as if he could see right through me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words failed me. I wasn’t sure what I could say. I didn’t understand what was happening.

“You’re… staring,” Azriel said, his voice softer now, though it held a faint trace of curiosity.

I didn’t know how to respond. The shadows were still with me, curling around my legs and arms like a gentle caress, and yet, I could feel their weight. Azriel’s shadows. The shadows that followed him wherever he went.

I wanted to ask him about them. I wanted to ask him why they reacted to me, why they seemed to care. But I couldn’t. Something about him—his distance, his silence—kept me at arm’s length.

“I’m sorry,” I managed finally, though the apology felt hollow. “I just… felt something.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further. He merely nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.

I wasn’t sure what happened next. But I knew, deep down, that this moment, this strange connection with the shadows, was only the beginning of something I couldn’t yet comprehend.

As the night wore on, the shadows stayed with me, their presence never fading, and I realized that no matter how much I tried to escape it, I was bound to this world. To Velaris. To Azriel.

Azriel was staring at your lips. Those full sultry lips painted with that same shade of pink Elain loves to wear.

Only, you weren’t Elain.

He tried to convince himself that he could get over it, get over Elain. He could love, praise, and touch another female without thinking about her.

Could he?

“Az?” You whisper, each one of your rapid breaths formed a cloud that filled the small gap between yours and Azriel’s face. His grip on your hips loosened as he snapped back into reality. He gulped down his shame. Shit. Your eyes, so soft, and loving, and pure filled with concern, Azriel’s stomach dropped. “Are you alright?” She stroked his face, his lips. His lips were still swollen from the kiss…

From the kiss that he fantasized about sharing with another woman.

He tried to shake the thought of Elain away, tried to ignore his shadows whispering wrong, wrong, wrong in his ears. He could do it, he knew it. You were kind, very pretty, caring… “Yeah,” He whispered, before attacking your lips once again. The kiss was feral, rough. His lips were crashing hard against yours, teeth clashing, as he tried so desperately to forget about Elain’s softness.

Your heart was beating in sync with the loud, yet distant busy chatting of the crowd at Rita’s, situated not far from the gloomy alley you and Azriel had stumbled out to. The frenzy was too intense for you to wait before touching him, tasting him, smelling him. Your lips parted when the exposed skin, compliments to the deep cut of your dress that barely covered your body, collided with the cool surface. The earthy and vigorous taste of the wine you had imbibed earlier that night filled his own mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

Elain would’ve drank something sweet, or fruity.

He slowly pulled away from you, his thumb grazing the exposed skin on the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine, and your nipples hardened. He stared at you, observed how red your cheeks were, how his lips had smushed your lipstick, how the smell of you changed from your arousal. But the love and adoration that shone into those eyes, your eyes, felt like a stab in his cruel heart.

He couldn’t do this.

“Let me fly you back home,” His voice was raspy. He tried to give you a genuine smile, and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his fingers combing through your now very disheveled hair. “Will you be staying?” He wanted to drown in the cauldron and succumb from his sorrows at the sound of your pleading, hopeful tone.

“Another night, when we’ll both be sober.” He lied. They had talked and danced more than they had to drink, he was far from drunk, and you too. But you just shrugged, offering him a kind and comprehensive smile. “Okay,” Was all that you’ve answered, before he picked you up into his arms and led you through the clear night sky.

He dropped you off, bowed his head, and said “Thank you, for tonight,” before flying away without another word. He didn’t even kiss you goodnight.

—

The sky was clear, and the weather started to warm up in Velaris. You had gone shopping for lighter dresses today, and couldn’t wait to come back home and swirl in them for your Illyrian to see, since he had been too busy to spend the morning with you. There were always piles of paperworks lingering on his desk, you couldn’t blame him.

You turned on yourself in the mirror, admiring the last dress you had to try on. It was the prettiest, the deep blue fabric instantly drew you in. It was the exact same blue of Azriel’s siphons. “So, what do you think!” You beamed, spinning around to look into those pretty shades of hazel dancing in his eyes. Your toes were curling in your shoes, excited to get his reaction on your newest, and now favorite, piece of clothing.

“Mhm,” He hums absent-mindedly. Your face dropped, and your eyes turned a tad more glossy than normal. You lifted your chin up, and instead of exploding with rage, or bursting in tears, you cleared your throat as a last attempt to get his attention.

Desperate, pathetic.

Azriel lifted up his head at last, his eyes quickly scanned you, and he gave you a tiny smirk of approval, accompanied by a small nod of his head. “You look good, baby,” He adds, only for good measure.

Good. Not stunning, not flawless, not delightful, not ravishing… Just good. You noticed how Azriel’s eyes drifted back to whatever paperwork he was doing the second you turned back around to face yourself in the mirror, you noticed how his gaze did not linger on any of your features for one second. The shadowsinger had always been a man of few words, showing his love mostly through actions. But lately… lately he was also a man of few actions.

You gulped down your tears, maybe he was just busier than usual, you thought, and yet… You pinched your arm, mentally scolding yourself for being so selfish. Azriel worked hard, he always bought you anything you’d wish and ask for, even more. He had to work a lot to get you all that. You concluded that you simply needed to be more grateful and understanding.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe you were too clingy. You inhaled, trying to get all of the possibilities of why Azriel was acting this way around you out of your mind, and you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. You repeated the action a few times, and once you were sure that your voice was steady enough to talk to him, you did. “I'm going out to see Elain today,” You said, your eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror, secretly analyzing how his body reacted to the second Archeron sister's name.

Azriel barely reacted, only the slight twitch of his fingers around his pen proved your point. Something about Elain was upsetting him, but what? “Have fun,” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. Azriel tried so damn hard to not think of how Elain’s scent would linger on your clothes for hours, maybe even days when you'll come back from your stupid little play date with her. Tried to ignore the insufferable truth that Elain, even when she belonged to another male, even when himself belonged to another female, to you, still haunted his memories every day, noon, and night.

“I will.” It took every ounce of your self-control to not snap at him. It was getting so hard to ignore that pull, that painful throb in your chest that kept screaming at you more, more, more! But deep down, you knew that Azriel would probably never be able to give you more.

To give you his heart, completely.

—

“How is Azriel?”

Elain's melodic voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your fingers still plucked at some invasive weeds competing with Elain's stunning flowers for the nutrients, sunlight, and water. But you didn't dare lift your eyes to meet hers, knowing she'd see the lies dancing in your eyes. “Good. Busy, but good,” Which was true, in some ways.

He kept telling you he was fine, and it was true that he was busier than usual, but deep down, you knew he wasn't doing “good”. Elain nodded, the chestnut curls that escaped her bun bouncing on her forehead as she did so. She knew better than to press the topic with you.

“You're… pale,” Her stunning doe eyes burned with concern, and you felt so bad for lying to your friend, even if it was only partially a lie. “I'm fine.”

Suddenly, the air shifted, and a cool breeze ran at the back of your neck, leaving a veil of goosebump on your delicate skin. The sound of Elain's gardening tools clashing to the ground made you jolt. You rapidly lifted your gaze, and gasped when you took I'm the sight of her once brown eyes now turned completely white, the wind flowing through her hair. It was as if she commanded the air itself.

“Leave him,”

Her voice didn't sound like her own, it sounded like nails on a blackboard, scrapping your soul. You hissed, covering your ears, your eyes wide with fear. But you could still hear her voice, and her face was so close. Your body was frozen in place, as if you were hypnotized by those cold white orbs, and your mind screamed at you to back off, to call for help. To call for Lucien, Elain’s mate.

“The shadow male is bound to be blinded.”

The shaddow male could only be Azriel. Was he okay? What was happening? You hated riddles. “Blinded by what?!” You pressed, begging for answers and yet begging for the kind Archeron to come back to her usual self.

“The seer… The shadow male is bound to be blinded by the seer.”

“Elain!” You hadn't heard the grass sweeping against Lucien's fancy leather boots. Nor his hurried footsteps, and breathing, as he not so delicately moved Elain away from you. You landed on your butt, but you didn't take Lucien's actions personally. After all, he was only reacting instinctively as a newly mated male. You swiped a hand on your face, your brain reeling from the information.

Rage, jealousy, despair.

“Y/N…” You faintly heard Elain's voice, her real voice, call out for you. You didn't even realize the tears that rolled down your cheeks until you felt her soiled hands brush against your damp skin. “I need to go,” You didn't wait to be granted your leave before you hastened back inside the River House.

You almost tripped on the marbled floors, your shoe soles were now slippery because of the dew that had coated your heels. You shoved them out of your feets, the coldness of the floors not bothering you for one bit as you kept running, and running through the halls.

Rhysand’s office doors slammed open, making the Shadowsinger, and the High Lord startle slightly. You felt your heart being ripped open when you saw his eyes, on you, filled with worry.

It has been years since he last looked at you, truly looked at you.

“What is this about?” Azriel rose from his chair, his steps towards you careful, his shadows swirling around you frantically. “Elain,” He froze in place, and his pupils shook. “Is she alright?” Her. It had always been her. Her safety, her well being, simply her. It would always be her before you.

The shadow man is bound to be blinded by the seer, not you.

“She is,” You gulped, swiping away your own tears, the tears he yet hadn't noticed. He reached his hand to touch you, but you smacked his hand away, and he frowned. “I am not, Azriel. I am not alright. This is not alright,” You gesture between him and you. “I'm done.”

The bond snapped into place only for him to tug on the crumbling thread, watching as you reject the one thing Azriel longed for most in this life. A mate.

He fell to his knees, his hand curled at his chest as he looked up desperately at you. “What have you done…” His voice shook, his face red with anger, shame even. “What have you done!” He screamed, desperately trying to hold onto the hem of your dress, trying to keep you here, with him. He was angry, furious, at himself, at you, at Elain, at the cauldron that kept torturing his fate over and over again.

Rhys ran to Azriel's side, holding him back. You stumbled back, ripping the hem of your dress out of Azriel grip. He sobbed, and screamed as his soul was being ripped in half. Yours was too, but the damage had mostly been done throughout those years of being ignored, unloved and denied. Your soul and heart have been broken for a while now. You winnowed away, far away, and never came back.

Good riddance.

I was enraged, beyond furious— I could barely get control of myself if it weren't for Cassian beside me, distracting me by talking my ear off.

Rita's was packed tonight, so when Azriel offered to go get me a drink I didn't deny it, he knew I wouldn't want to get into that mess of a crowd at the bar so he went by himself. Cassian and I stayed behind but that damned blonde couldn't keep her hands to herself and it was going to drive me mad.

"And they acted like I took down an entire city— it was one building!" Cassian groaned and I nodded along to whatever he was saying, my mind entirely too focused on the shadow singer located at the other side of the pleasure hall. "So I'm not allowed at the Summer Court anymore," Cassian sighed, scratching his jaw with a defeated expression and I dipped my head absentmindedly. "Are you alright? You haven't said anything since Az left," He prods my shoulder and I blink, my eyes refocusing on the large male in front of me instead of the one across the room.

"Uh, yeah just was thinking it'd be nice to visit Adriatta, I've never been," I shrug, my quick lie making him narrow his eyes on me.

"You sure?" He leans closer and I mirror it with a step back. My gaze flicks to Azriel for a fraction of a second before going right back to Cassian. He was still talking to that girl— or she was talking to him, he was just listening. "Oh, I see what this is about," Cassian smiles broadly, staring right at the duo I was trying so hard not to gain the attention of.

"Cass," I grumble, pulling him away from the two at the bar and facing the other side of the hall, backs turned toward the shadow singer.

"You're jealous," He croons and I avoid his gaze, knowing if I looked at him he'd be able to read me like an open book. So instead I looked down at my ankles where Azriel's shadows twined.

"I don't get jealous," I scoff, crossing my arms. He chuckles mischievously.

"Envious then?" He surmises and I playfully punch him in the shoulder before muttering, "There's nothing to be jealous over, Azriel can do whatever he wants."

"Even if he wants a particular blonde?"

"Well don't make it worse!" I whine and he only laughs at my reaction, making me groan in exasperation.

"He's made it clear enough that he doesn't want me," I murmur, shadows slipping up to my thighs and the Illyrian beside me bumps his shoulder with mine reassuringly.

"Az tells me the same shit about you," He claims and I look up at him with narrowed brows.

"Last time you intervened on me and Az's friendship, he and I didn't talk for a week," I remind and Cassian smiles proudly.

"And now you're stronger than ever, seems like you should take my advice more often," He crosses his arms over his chest defensively. I turn my head slightly to look at the blonde, this time I catch a glimpse of her face. I swore I'd seen her before, but I couldn't quite place where from.

"Does it make you mad he's talking to her?" Cassian taunts from beside my ear. "Letting her touch him?" He sings and I push the Lord of Bloodshed away in frustration as he cackles, his raucous laughter slowly fading as I march my way through the crowd, which divided in sight of Azriel's silky shadows swirling from my arms as if they were mine to control.

I pushed my way past grinding bodies until I managed to land right beside the Spymaster. His hazel eyes met my own and a soft smile spread over his lips. I joined his side and his arm came around my waist as if it were meant to fit there, slotting perfectly in place. I met the face of the blonde girl and it clicked that face, I knew her.

"Y/n!" The girl squealed and I blinked in slight surprise.

"Misha?" My brows raise a fraction.

"My gods, I haven't seen you since the healing camps, how have you been?" She gasped and I looked up at Azriel who was staring at the both of us confused.

"Oh my gods, are you two like a thing?" Misha asks excitedly.

"Oh, we're—" Azriel starts.

"Engaged," I finished for him, the lie coming so easily it shocked us both. Her jaw drops. Misha had always been better than me, at everything. When we were training to become healers she always had to be one step ahead, always had to go above and beyond while I was struggling to meet my deadlines. She was pretty and fun, and for once, I just wanted to be above her, to feel that power she must feel at a constant— and if that meant lying about my relationship status with one of the hottest men on the continent, so be it.

"Let me see the ring!" She squealed, happy for me. I hated that. She didn't seem to have an envious bone in her body, and why would she? She was the ideal emulation of perfection. For her, there was nothing to be jealous of.

"Oh I don't have it on me, Az here loves his secrets being spymaster and all so I don't wear it out," I pat his abdomen with a feigned smile, and he flexes under my touch.

"Giving her a ring is like putting a target on her back," Azriel plays along, I hadn't expected him to, honestly I was hoping he'd just stand there and nod and not say anything but this was so much better.

"Awe isn't that just precious," She smiles, a natural blush coming to her pale cheeks. "I'm still waiting to find the one," She sighs. "You're lucky you came over or I would've tried to swoop him up!" She giggled light-heartedly and I matched it, but it was fake, gods I wanted to claw her face off.

"No, no he's all mine," I sigh contentedly, leaning into his side while his grip on my waist tightened.

"When'd you know she was the one?" She directs at Azriel and I swallow thickly. The Shadow Singer was a good liar, but would he lie if only to play this game with me?

"I've always known, the moment I met her my Shadows practically mummified her, so I suppose they were the ones to tell me," Azriel says, his story reigned true, I can still remember how embarrassed he was, repeatedly swearing that they had never done that before when the Dark clung to me without resistance. Those same shadows now pooled at my feet. "And it was kind of hard to not fall from there," He adds and I look up at him, only to see him already staring down at me. Gods he was good at this role, he slipped so easily into it— if I didn't know any better I'd think we were actually engaged.

"You guys are adorable, I can only dream of having a male like you," She sighs and I grit my teeth. Was she seriously hitting on him after I just told her were to be married?

The bartender places a lone fruity drink down in front of the three of us and Misha takes it with a bright smile. "It was nice catching up with you, we should totally hang out sometime," She offered and I pinch my lower lip between my teeth.

"I'm kind of busy with all this wedding stuff, maybe after," I shrug, giving her the hint that I wanted nothing to do with her beyond this interaction.

"Right, keep me updated," She flashes a smile and leaves with a wink toward Azriel as she leaves.

"What was that?" Azriel murmured as soon as she was out of earshot. I unraveled my arm from his torso and he did the same with my waist. I shrugged.

"She doesn't deserve you," I mumbled, leaning against the bar.

"She seemed nice enough for a night," Azriel hummed and I rolled my eyes.

"I know Misha, you don't want a girl like her," I shake my head. The bartender places two glasses in front of me. I take the one on the left, the drink I always ordered.

"You really hate her huh?" He leans closer, taking his drink.

"She fucked my boyfriend while we were still dating," I grumbled. "Seemed like she wanted to fuck you too after I told her we were engaged, she hasn't changed," I huff and his brows rise a fraction.

"It's kind of fun playing the role of your fiancé," He says, his chin propping up onto my head as his hands snake around my waist. I smile.

"What's your ex-boyfriend's name, just for reference?" He said and I giggled.

"You're not killing him," I warn, turning around to face him, my back to the bar and my chest to his.

"A light torture," He shrugs.

"Your version of light torture is another males hell," I reason.

"So why'd you lie? About us being together?" He asks, head tilting. I twist my lips to the side.

"She's always been ahead of me, I wanted to win for once," I grumble, sounding pitiful aloud.

"Ahead of you how?" He questions and I frown, not wanting to say it.

"I don't know, she's prettier than me," I grumble.

"Lies, you're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world," He reasons and I scoff, shaking my head with a small smile.

"You don't have to do that," I excuse. "Do what?"

"Lie in order to make me feel better, it's fine, really," I argue with him but I swear it went in one ear and out the other.

"I'm not lying," He denies.

"But you are making me feel better?" I question.

"You tell me." He smiles and I don't reply, because he was, and I didn't want to give him that ego boost. "So you think she's prettier— which she's not, what else?" He arches a brow and tilts his head. I shrug, avoiding his gaze.

"Cass says I'm jealous," I exhale, crossing my arms over my chest and looking up at him with a pout.

"Of what?" His hand comes to my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw as if of was a casual movement.

"The way she looked at you, how you let her touch you," I explain and his gaze softened.

"I'm the one touching you now, right?" He surmises, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as I continue to scowl up at him.

"It was different Az, you were flirting with her. I could see it," I rolled my eyes and he only smiled.

"And what are we doing now?" He questioned. If he was waiting for me to admit to whatever this was between us, I wasn't going to.

"A friendly conversation," I shrug and he leans down, closer to me. I press back into the counter behind me.

"I think pinning you to the bar is anything but friendly," He concludes. "That's normal for us."

"Why do you think that is?"

I don't answer. He's trapped me into recognizing what I refused to so I don't say anything at all. It was devastatingly obvious that I wanted him, did he have to rub salt in the wound? "You want to get out of here?" He asks after a moment of silence. I swallow thickly and settle over the fact that this is my chance, and perhaps my only one if I don't take it. So I nod, and he takes my hand.

The walk home was silent, Azriel offered to fly us back but I preferred to walk along the Sidra, it was quiet enough at this time of night to be able to hear the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. It was peaceful, and the night breeze always patched up whatever had been broken in the past few weeks. It was refreshing and peaceful and everything I needed.

The steps to my apartment were in sight when I finally got the courage to speak.

"Cassian was right, I was jealous," I confess and his brows raise a fraction, his gaze sliding to me with curious eyes. "I just, I want you to look at me the way you looked at her," My confession knocks me off balance, if he had a reaction I didn't notice.

"I don't," He says curtly and I blink, slightly taken aback. "I looked at her like that because she was a stranger, I never want you to be unfamiliar," He explains and my heart pounds against my ribs so hard I thought they might break.

I stop at the first step of my apartment, freezing in place due to his confession. "Are you blushing?" He teased when I turned to face him and even with my advantage of the first step, he still stood a few inches taller than me.

"Shut up," I grumble, pressing my hands to my face to hide myself from his piercing stare.

"Are you going to make me?" He grabs my wrists and takes my hands from my face, revealing that he has leaned so much closer. "Hm? Fiancée?" He jeers and my blush deepens in color.

"You're never letting that go, are you?" I sigh, slinging my arms around his neck, still trying to grasp the fact that he was so close, that he was willing to be so close.

"Not ever," He shakes his head, his eyes flicking down from my eyes to my lips, then right back to my eyes so fast I would've missed it if I blinked. My breath catches in my throat but neither of us makes a move to pull away, just remain inches away, wondering if the other will do what we've been dancing around all this time.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but I beat him to it, walking up another step and away from his very tempting lips.

"I better get to bed, it's been a long day," I excuse as I stumble up the stairs but before I can get far he grabs my hand and pulls me right back down. I stumble right into his chest and he smiles down at me, his other hand coming to my waist.

"You really thought I wasn't going to kiss you?" He hums and I'm nothing but stunned.

"A little, yeah," I murmur.

"You're ridiculous," He mumbles as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I melt into him, my arms coming around the back of his neck as I revel in this moment, gods it was just how I had imagined.

His lips were soft and his movements were skilled, his hands on my hips distracting me entirely as he gripped them tight, pulling me impossibly closer like he couldn't get enough. My hands go into his hair, pushing his mouth onto mine with a restless intent. There was a burning fire inside of me and he seemed to be the only thing that defused it, yet still, I couldn't get enough.

He pulled away first and I reluctantly followed his actions. "Do you want to come up?" I offer and he smirks, then it falters and he shakes his head no. My smile morphs into a frown. Did he think it was a mistake? He hasn't moved away, he didn't seem repulsed.

"We should go slow, I want to do this right," He explains and my smile returns, much to his satisfaction.

"Then why don't you come up for a glass of wine? We don't have to do anything," I say, desperate at this point for anything he'd give me.

"You know if I go up there we won't just be kissing," He reasons and I shrug mischievously.

"There's nothing wrong with that," I grin, my arms around the back of his neck tightening.

"I'm doing it the right way, I'm taking you out tomorrow, be ready by dawn," He flashes me a grin, his touch lingering on my hips as he slowly pulls away.

"Dawn?!" I gasp a little too loudly for my quiet street.

"We're going to be doing stuff all day," He smiles. "Be ready," He demands and I groan, wishing I could have him in my arms again. "I'll see you at dawn, my love," He waves from over his shoulder.

My love, he said. I could feel my heart swelling and before I could forget how to walk I quickly made my way up the stairs and into my apartment with a wide grin over my features.

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“You look so good in red.”

You offered him a wicked grin as you pressed your palms flat against his chest, pushing him back to your shared bed. With a light shove, he sat.

“Am I convincing you to expand your wardrobe?” You smiled, standing between his spread legs, his hands running up the backs of your thighs, giving an appreciative squeeze to your ass.

He chuckled, “I think I’ll need a little more convincing before I start wearing Cassian’s colour.” You snorted, hands splaying across his broad shoulders, “he can find another colour,” you whispered, leaning down to capture his mouth with yours. “Gonna only think of me when you see this shade.” You pressed your red painted lips against his one more time before you moved to your vanity table, lifting the lipstick to your mouth before smoothly reapplying it, basking in the interested look he was giving you.

You popped your lips together when you were done, swiping your index finger over the corners, keeping your eyes trained on his. Slowly, you set the reddener down, moving back over to him, swinging your hips. “Only touch me when I tell you,” you ordered softly, making him look up at you, hunger and anticipation mixing in his adoring gaze.

Slowly, you trailed your hands over his chest, gliding to his legs as you gracefully lowered yourself to a kneel, pushing his thighs slightly apart so you could undo his belt. You took no small amount of pleasure, seeing how his were already fisted in the bedsheets.

“Enjoying yourself, soldier?” Your thumb brushed in soothing strokes, meeting his heated gaze, a flush of colour at the crests of his cheeks. You could tell he wanted to touch you, but you hadn’t given him permission. “You’re not going to convince me just by kneeling, pretty thing,” he drawled, not yet willing to yield his control, “set that mouth to work.”

Arousal gathered between your legs but you pushed it aside. This was about him. “It’s no fun if you don’t let the pleasure build, Azriel.” You dipped forward slowly, keeping your gaze on his as you pressed your mouth between his legs, a thin impression of your lips being printed on the dark fabric of his leathers. “Any ideas?” You whispered, feeling him twitch under your mouth, the edges lifting into a smirk.

He feigned disinterest, leaning back on his hands casually, “you look so good down there.” One of his long legs hooked over your shoulder, pressing your face into his crotch, laughing darkly, “like it’s where you belong.”

You pulled away and he waited for your rebuttal, but all you did was smile, “you want to hurry me along?” Your tongue swiped leisurely over your bottom lip, wetting the pigment. “I think I’ll go slower,” you drawled, fingers unlatching his belt, dropping the the ties of his leathers, “and I won’t speed things up.” His eyes darkened lustfully. “Even when you beg me to.”

Heat flushed his cheeks as you pushed the material aside, your hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock, thumb tracing over the hot skin. He inhaled sharply at the contact, fingers digging into the sheets. “Excited, Azriel?” You murmured, aware your mouth was mere inches from where he wanted it.

He gritted his teeth, “you know you can’t swallow all of me. Too much for your tight, little, throat, hmm?” It was true. You got pretty close, more than anyone else could, for sure. You knew it kind of turned him on, though. How he could stuff you full. Spill over the edges.

You arched a brow, abruptly tightening you hold on him, making him hiss. “I thought you wanted my tight, little, throat?” You scraped the edge of your nail beneath the head of his cock, making his teeth grit, a strained groan coming from his glorious mouth. You smirked, “that’s what I thought. Now why don’t you shut that mouth, and let me get on with using mine, yeah?” His lip curled, but he remained silent.

You smirked, “good, Shadowsinger.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, making arousal flare in the pit of your belly. “Look at you, following my commands like an obedient soldier.” You slowed the movement of your hand, “how perfect you are.”

You leant forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, leaving the dark red print of your lips stamped around the slit in the head. You pulled away, tipping your gaze to Azriel’s as you raised your hand so your thumb could press against the tip, rubbing softly. “How pretty,” you drawled, making his ears warm. His breaths had shallowed, soft pants already flowing from his plush lips.

At your words, a small rush of humiliation coursed through him, the kind only you could make feel good. Deserved. He swallowed, fisting his hands tighter in the sheets. How badly he wanted to tangle his them in your hair and shove you down on his cock. Make you drool. Choke.

Fuck.

You noticed as his breaths increased, excitement flowing in your blood. “You’re being so good for me,” you murmured, making him twitch as your breaths ghosted over him. “Just a little longer,” you spoke softly. Not saying until what. Let him work himself up wondering.

Without warning, you leant forward, using the flat of your tongue to go from root to tip, his breath catching, a quiet moan tumbling helplessly from his mouth. “There you go,” you whispered, “let me hear those lovely little sounds.” You pressed another kiss to the base of his cock, printing a second set of deep rouge marks onto him, moving upwards steadily as you went higher, until it no longer stained.

You hummed disapprovingly to yourself, eyes flicking up to his. “Your cock’s taking all the pigment away.” You tipped your head to the side, using only a featherlight touch as you glided your hand over him. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Teasing.

His eyes flickered, restraint waring.

“Greedy,” you continued, “just like you.” His brow narrowed, wanting you to give him more pleasure. Demanding it with his gaze. “Taking too much, too excessively.” You pulled back to look at him, making a muscle feather in his jaw. “Stay put.”

Then you stood, releasing him as you went to your vanity table. Collecting the dark crimson stick, you returned to him, “you’re going to make me use all of this if you don’t get your gluttony under control.” You smiled, wickedly, gesturing for him to take the lipstick. “Go on,” you taunted, pushing it into his hand.

He took in a breath, raising it to your lips, about to press down. “Make sure you don’t smudge it,” you added, making him scowl.

“Shut your mouth and we won’t have any problems,” he snapped back.

It was what you’d been waiting for.

You took advantage of his raised concentration on the task you’d given him, hands landing on his shoulders as you shoved him down onto the bed, his eyes widening marginally in surprise. Your mouth landed on his soon after, prowling up his body, hands greedily sliding beneath his shirt as you settled your hips over his, pressing yourself against him. A startled moan flew from his mouth into yours, and gods if it’s wasn’t the most arousing sound you’d ever heard.

Still, you pushed his shirt over his head, breaking contact for barely a moment before you were crushing your mouth against his, completely overpowering him. And he let it happen. Quite happily if his cock was any indication.

It was hot. Wet. Moans passing so intimately between you, saliva spilling as you began to loose yourselves. Your hands traced up his chest, thumbs grazing his nipples making him jolt. You hummed into the mouth-watering kiss, “like that?” You did it again, pinching lightly and you felt him twitch against you. “Now you know what it feels like when you use those damned shadows on me.” You ground your hips down on him, making him groan, eyes rolling back slightly.

You trailed down him, sucking hard on the hot skin of his neck. Marking him. Bruising him.

You bit down. An open-mouthed moan flew out into the darkness, making him quickly silence himself, biting his lip. You tutted, “bad.” You lifted your hips away from his, halting the pleasure you’d been drowning him in. Sweat was coating his body as he involuntarily bucked his hips after you, instincts beginning to take control. All he wanted was to fuck you into the bed. Pound into you so hard you’d babble. Cry.

“Come on, pretty thing. Let me hear you sing,” you drawled, a smirk curling your deliciously tinted lips. Through his haze, he managed a small snarl, “cocky.”

Your hand gripped his jaw, tight. Nails piercing his skin as he jerked away. Again, his hips bucked. “Open,” you snarled, leaving no room for argument. He opened, blindly following your order.

When you spat in his mouth, his eyes widened marginally, cock twitching. “Swallow it,” you demanded.

He did.

You watched the roll of his throat. A devious grin played on your mouth, “there you go, just needed to be set straight, didn’t you?” You crooned, settling your hips down. He was somehow larger than before and you were almost certain he would be able to feel how wet you were through your clothes.

You kissed down his chest, teeth nipping at the sweat-slicked muscle. Once you reached his nipples, you brought out your canines, showing him everything he’d done to you on countless nights. To your utter arousal, his back arched, fingers tightening in the mattress. It was arousing.

He was arousing.

It was instinct at this point.

“You can touch me.”

It was barely a breath but his hands were desperately grabbing at your hips, pulling you tight against him. He was panting, eyes lidded as his head tipped back into the bed, basking in the feeling of the delicious friction.

You pressed your palms firmly against his stomach, pushing yourself up so you could slowly drag your hips over his, allowing his hands to guide you. Only for a bit. Reprieve.

Then you were shifting down his body, returning to your original position as he pushed up on his elbows so he could watch. You made a show of wetting your lips, as if you were about to consume the most exquisite meal. His breaths were laboured as he spread his legs wider. So desperate.

You lips quirked up at the sides, “whore.” The world alone made his eyes flutter, a soft moan slipping from his mouth, a hand pleadingly cupping your cheek. You leaned into his hand, turning your head to kiss him on the palm, just to let him know you didn’t mean it. That you were lovers. Your canines nipped at him before you returned your attention to his cock that was throbbing needily.

“Want my mouth, Azriel?” Your lips grazed the head, his hand tangling in your hair, softly pushing you toward him. You didn’t budge. You were rewarded with a sound almost like a whine, heat flaring over your cheeks at the inherent sexuality of it. His hand gripped a little tighter, pushing a little harder. A satisfied grin played on your mouth.

“Come on,” you murmured, lips brushing over his cock, “I want to know how you sound when you beg.” His cheeks were stained red, chest rising and falling rapidly, lips plump and wet. Divine. You mentally captured the scene, taking in the lighting, his soft noises, and his scent.

You groaned as his arousal filled your lungs, like some kind of aphrodisiac. He smelled so good. So mouth-wateringly good.

His lower lip was tugged between his teeth, as his breath hitched at your command. After a moment of hesitation, he fell before you completely, “please.” It was hardly a whisper. Not even a breath. And instantly you wanted more. “Again,” you ordered, voice strained with the need to hear him again.

His eyes flickered away from yours - he was nervous.

You laced your hand with the one in your hair, brining it to your mouth as you pressed a kiss to the centre of his palm, nosing along the knuckles of his scarred fingers. “You can do it,” you whispered, pressing another kiss to the heel of his palm. “Come on, Az,” you murmured tenderly.

It felt so good, hearing him moan for you. But begging? Pleading?

Fucking Cauldron.

His eyes returned to yours, uncharacteristically uncertain but very turned on. “Please,” he whispered, the sounds softly popping against your ears, “give me relief.” You nodded encouragingly, arousal already melting your resolve to withhold his pleasure.

“What do you want me to say?” His words were breaking, lilting in volume. This was apparently new territory for him. You pressed one final kiss to his palm, reminding him he was safe to yield this to you. To, for once, let down his guard completely, leave himself vulnerable.

“Tell me what you want. Everything you want me to do to you,” you requested, squeezing his hand, “every thought you’re having.” Another squeeze, “I want to know all of it.” Your eyes settled on his, calm and steady, “and I want to know your mind like I know my own.”

He swallowed, nervously. He was so unaccustomed to being like this, even by himself. Let alone someone else. When was the last time he’d be win so open with another? Had there ever been a last time?

In the end, he crumbled, melting for you. “Take me past the edge,” he requested, softly, “I want to cross it with you.” He squeezed your hand.

You guided his hand back to your hair, moving up so he could lie back; use both his hands. He barely even thought about it, hands tangling mercilessly with the plentiful stands, guiding your mouth to his cock. Pushing you down. Bucking up.

You moaned onto him, making him suck in a sharp breath, fingers scraping over your scalp. He guided you, moving you how he wanted, following his innate rhythm as you swallowed as much of him as you could. He tasted divine. So distinctly like himself.

His breath hitched as he neared that edge, your palms splaying against his thighs as you rubbed soft patterns onto his thighs. They were already trembling. A small, slightly high-pitched sound fell from his mouth as your tongue dragged along the underside of him, gliding to the dip beneath his head. You squeezed his thigh to reassure him. He squeezed back.

He twitched in your mouth, hips bucking a little erratically as he was flown closer, and closer to the peak. A soft, unprepared moan flew from his mouth as he came, hips jerking as he spilled into you, tongue swirling around his tip as you felt the hot, thick liquid hit the roof of your mouth, settling on your tongue.

Your eyes rolled as you tasted him, feeling how he coated your tongue, how perfect it felt to have him in your mouth. You swallowed, guiding him through the aftershocks. Only pulling away when his hands were guiding you to.

His breathing was shallow, eyes still heated, if a little tired.

You delivered a tentative lick to the tip of his cock, making his hands tremble as he gently tugged at your hair. Carefully, you crawled up his body, attaching your mouth to his when he pulled you closer. He moaned softly when he tasted himself on you, beginning to push upwards to have more of you but you pressed your hand against his chest. “Stay there, Az,” you whispered against his mouth, “let me look after you.” You bumped your nose against his as he melted beneath you, allowing you to kiss him slowly. Deep.

“Want a hot soak?” You murmured, hand cupping his jaw as a thumb swiped beneath his flushed mouth. He swallowed, unfamiliar with being on the receiving end of this treatment, “I’m fine.” You have him a look, “come on, Azzie,” you smiled, “you know the protocol.”