mar ☆

You had gone four days of battle unscathed. Sure, you had scrapes and scratches here and there, but you had sustained no fatal injuries.

Until the fifth day of battle.

Cassian and Azriel had warned you through gritted teeth not to leave the safety of the battlements. Had pleaded with you to stay and shield Rhysand with them, who was decimating the enemy from behind the battlements, as to not risk both his and Feyre’s lives by entering the battlefield. He would have if you’d let him, but between you, Az, and Cass, he’d have a much worse battle to fight if he so much as set one foot into the warzone.

But you hadn’t listened to your own advice. The reapers that had entered through some portal and currently terrorised the northernmost courts of Prythian could only be killed by bloodbane. And by the time the arrows and harpoons fired from the battlements reached the reapers, the bloodbane slathered on the blades had already worn off.

Weapons without the bloodbane could only maim or injure, but not kill such creatures. You knew the only way to get through a significant number of these demons was through hand to hand combat with a bloodbane tipped sword. Their blood kept the poison wet enough to maintain its lethality. So long as you kept melee killing; one after the other, without so much as giving the bloodbane a second to dry, you were able to make your way through a substantial amount of demons.

You always saw love as an evolutionary fault. As a hindrance to survival. And yet it chased you, no matter how hard you tried to run away. And you had been right. Love would cost you your life.

You loved your friends.

Your last mistake was taking one last look at them.

Hazel eyes met yours and softened briefly, before horror quickly filled them as a poisoned arrow buried itself in your ribcage, and you were plunged into darkness as a sheet was thrown over your head.

Azriel thrashed against Cassian and Lucien’s grips as he watched one of the demons throw a black burlap sac over your limp frame and drag you away with it.

Death, he thought, would have filled him with more ease than wondering whatever the reason they had only wounded you rather than killing you. Whatever the reason was, it would certainly be less pleasant than death.

For a split second, he considered listening to the distant bellows of his High Lord to stand down. Telling him that you made your own choices and you knew the risks.

Yet Azriel knew he would do no such thing. His entire body burned with the urge to go after you; he felt it to his very core. He let his body ease up for a moment, filling Cassian and Lucien with a false sense of security.

The moment they loosened their grips, the Shadowsinger shot into the skies and after the swarm of reaper demons that had scuttled away with you—or whatever was left of you.

The sheer amount of them that encircled you had led them to cover a lot of ground quickly, yet they were no match for the Shadowsinger’s speed and endurance.

Yet with the way your retreating figure seemed to tug his own towards you, he could have made the journey spent and unfit.

He landed deftly onto the ground and rolled stealthily behind the trees closest to where you were being taken. Once he was sure he hadn’t been followed or spotted, he unsheathed twin swords from his back, and spilled bloodbane all over them.

And then the Shadowsinger unleashed hell upon its very descendants.

You couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours. Your eyelids felt heavy, and the pounding in your head that you awoke with had you knowing you’d been sedated. Your hands were limp and heavy as you tried to lift them to push away whatever was covering your eyes.

But suddenly, someone did it for you. And you knew your time had come.

Until you realised, the gaze that met yours wasn’t empty and soulless. It was hazel, and it burned brighter than ever.

“Azriel,” You breathed. “You came.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m offended you believed in an existence where I wouldn’t.” He spoke lowly and slowly.

His breathing began to turn laboured, as though he had ran twenty miles. He began to extract whatever serum had been on the arrow that struck you, and you hissed in pain.

His expression immediately softened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I have to.”

Black dots swarmed your vision, but only a minute later you came to.

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked up at Azriel with relief. You had no pain, and you had regained full control of your limbs.

But the relief slowly slipped out as you looked around you.

No more war cries. No more sounds of swords clashing. No more canons being fired.

“It’s over?”

“Yes.”

“How many did you kill?” You whispered.

“Every last one.” His breathing became laboured.

You felt your face pale. “You didn’t get any of the intel we needed, then.” A statement, not a question.

“No.” Azriel affirmed, his eyes wide and fixated on you as his chest began to heave up and down. His hazel eyes had become burning embers, and something unfamiliar had spread over his face. “You were more important.”

“Azriel.” You murmured softly. “You don’t mean that.”

He gripped my wrist and inhaled sharply. “You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t mean.” He ground out.

You frowned, placing a hand on his forearm. It felt hot to the touch, despite the freezing climate. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, and you rubbed at your chest as an unfamiliar feeling began to spread. Likely from the arrow.

“I think there might be venom left. Or poison. Or whatever it was.” You whispered, rubbing idly at your chest.

His gaze did not leave yours; his breathing did not slow as he said, “There is none left.”

He was panting now, and you stared at him in alarm.

“Azriel, what the fuck is the matter with you?” You cried, rubbing more harshly against the weird forming feeling in your chest. As though somebody had tried to sew you back together.

He finally looked at the floor. “I—I can’t.” He rasped, shaking his head.

“You’re not making any s—.”

“You’re my MATE.” He bellowed, and the beads of sweat on his forehead became visible, his flushed cheeks glowed, and suddenly something deep inside of you felt a lot clearer.

The incessant itch on your chest was no itch, but a phantom string. A cord connecting you to another.

“What?” You swallowed hard.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I—I should go.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll call Cass to come fly you back.”

You placed a hand on his thigh. “No.”

His eyes squeezed shut as he faced the sky. “Sweetheart. You don’t know what this bond does to males. You don’t…you don’t understand.” He shook his head, eyes still tightly shut as he braced his fingers behind his head and tilted his head back to face the sky.

You brushed off the dirt from your clothes and slowly rose to your feet.

“I understand.” You said softly.

His eyes flew open in alarm. “What?”

“Azriel.” You stepped closer, and he flinched.

“Don’t do that.” His voice was hoarse now.

“I said,” You hissed. “I understand.”

This time understanding shone in his eyes of what you were saying. What you were offering.

He shook his head slowly. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” His jaw clenched.

You stepped closer, your chests now flush against one another. “Who says you know what you’re getting into.” You trailed your hand up his torso with tantalising slowness. The thread in your chest was unmistakeable now, and despite the fact you’d only just been healed from having an arrow pierce your chest…he was the only thing on your mind.

His eyes darkened and you felt your temperature rise as you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

“I’ll break you.” He shook his head, his voice almost a whimper.

You draped your arms over his shoulders, clasped your fingers behind his neck and inclined your head towards the spot on your chest where the arrow had been as you whispered, “You’re the one who put me back together.”

That was it. That was his undoing. He leaned down and his lips came crashing onto yours. Both of you chapped and scarred and dehydrated from battle, yet neither of you cared.

You couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped your throat when he slid his tongue into your mouth, and he groaned in response. His hands slid down your waist and cupped your backside, before he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“I need you to tell me you want this.” He was breathing hard, and you could hear his heart pounding.

“Of course I fucking want this.” You hissed, desperate for his touch.

“No,” he shook his head. “You need to understand,” He swallowed hard. “That when you say yes to me, it means you say yes to everything. I can’t hold back. I can’t.” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.

Your hand slid from behind his neck to grip his jaw hard, and his eyes flew open in surprise. His lips parted slightly, as if he was holding back a gasp.

“You,” You purred, angling his jaw down to look directly into your eyes. “Have no idea what I can and can’t handle. And I want to show you.”

He didn’t respond, instead he just scooped you into his arms and began to spread his wings. You narrowed your eyes. You didn’t want to wait an extra second.

“Why,” you panted. “We’re hidden here.”

He frowned as if you had offended him, but then his expression eased and he leaned down to let his lips graze your ear.

“Sweetheart,” he began, as if composing himself. “I want you in my bed, exactly how I imagined having you since the start.” He paused, collecting himself. “Hair spilled all over my sheets and pillows. I want your scent in my bed. I want our mated scents in my bed.” He almost growled. “I want you to come for me exactly where I imagined it.” He whispered, putting his forehead against yours.

You felt your legs go weak at his words, even though he was carrying you. “You’ve imagined it?”

He closed his eyes and inhaled hard, an almost reverent expression on his beautiful face. You had an urge to reach out and touch it, just to make sure he was real. “You don’t want to know how many times.”

“Well stop fucking wasting time.” You snarled, and he glared at you in response, before you were engulfed in darkness.

Your stomach lurched, but it was soon over and you found yourselves back in the House of Wind, in a bedroom you had seen many times, yet never in this context.

You could feel Azriel bracing himself, walking slowly and carefully towards his bed, as if you were a china doll he was scared to drop and fracture.

You placed a hand on his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He swallowed.

“Don’t coddle me. Treat me like glass. Have me how you fucking want me.”

He began panting hard, and before you knew it, your back hit the soft bed and he was crawling over you.

His face was so beautiful, so Azriel, and yet not at all. This was a predator staring down at you now, and you were more than elated to become his prey.

You gasped as he kneed your thighs apart hard, and pressed himself up against you. Your eyes almost rolled back in your head at the delicious friction between your hips, feeling how rock fucking solid he was where he wanted you the most. You pushed your hips up and whined; you wanted him there the most too.

“Not yet,” He shook his head and an almost wicked glint shone in his whiskey coloured eyes. “Not for a while.”

He slowly grazed your stomach with his fingers as he began to lift the hem of your tunic. He leaned his head down, pressing soft kisses against your rigid, battle hardened abdomen. “My warrior.” He whispered, like a prayer as he moved further up with the hem of your shirt. His fingers hovered at the bandaged material you had bound your breasts with for easier mobility while fighting. His eyes flicked up to yours in silent ask.

“None of that.” You whispered. “I’m fucking yours.”

His eyes almost rolled back and his lashes fluttered. “Say that again.” He whimpered.

“I’m your mate, and I belong to you.” You breathed.

He reached up, and pinned both your hands either side of your head.

“You, my darling, do not belong to anyone.” He breathed against your ribcage. “But tonight, so help me Gods, I’ll be the master of your fate.”

He bit into the bandage with his teeth and pulled it off. The friction of it coming undone so fast almost burned you, and yet you didn’t feel a thing.

He didn’t bother pulling your tunic above your head, no, he ripped it into two pieces and threw it behind him along with your chest bindings. He then groaned as he leaned down and put his hot, beautiful mouth around your nipple and sucked. Your back bowed off the bed and you mewled quietly.

“Oh,” Azriel breathed shakily. “So responsive for me, and I haven’t even been inside you yet. What pretty sounds will you make for me when I touch you in places you’ve never even seen yourself?” His tantalisingly hot breath fanned your breasts.

“Azriel.” You moaned, not from pleasure but from the need to have him in you. The mating bond was behaving in full effect now, and it was as if there was a whole being, a whole entity glowing between you, binding you together. You wanted to scream and cry and moan and feel fucking everything at the sensation.

“Sweetheart,” He rasped. “Don’t say my name like that, unless you want me to come undone while I still have my clothes on.”

“So what if you do?” You gave him a wicked smile, and his jaw clenched.

He moved further up, abandoning your breasts and kissing the column of your throat. “I wish to save myself. All of it, for you.”

You groaned in response and wrenched your wrist free from his hold beside your head to slide into his hair and tug. The further up he’d come, the more you felt his bulge rub against your thighs.

“Take off my leathers.” You groaned. “Or at least take off your shirt.”

He withdrew from your throat at that, and gave you a cunning smile. “So needy for me.” But he pulled off his own shirt without further word.

“You’re my mate.” You breathed hard. “I can’t take it anymore.”

He shook his head almost sympathetically. “Unfortunately for you, I always pictured taking my sweet time with you.”

“Please.” You whined, and you lifted your legs to wrap around his still clothed hips.

“Fuck,” he ground out, and he couldn’t help himself as he rolled his hips against yours.

The friction was fucking delicious, and both of you knew it.

“Fuck this,” Azriel spat, moving further down the bed and hooking his fingers into your leathers. “Fuck you. Always fucking up my plans.”

In one swift movement that should have been impossible for such tight leather pants, he yanked them down your thighs and pulled them off completely. He began to kiss down the expanse of your stomach once more, stopping before the waist band of your underwear. His eyes flicked up to you to see how you were reacting, but he couldn’t. Your head was thrown back against the bed, and all he could see was your chest heaving.

He dragged a finger down your still clothed centre, and he watched the way your knees shook while you groaned loudly.

“Please,” You rasped. “Please.”

He inhaled sharply, unable to process all of this at once. “Oh, how divine you sound when you beg for me, Princess.”

“Please,” you said once more, your voice barely a whisper.

But he has shown you enough mercy tonight.

He continued his slow, torturous ministrations up and down for half a minute more, before you finally felt him slide your panties to the side. Expecting his callused hands, you gasped when you felt him press a soft kiss against your core. And another. And another.

“Fuck this.” He swore, before ripping them off entirely and claiming the most intimate part of you with his mouth.

You mewled as your back arched, as he began to worship you with his mouth. A low groan vibrated against the bed from his chest as he feasted.

“Gods, you taste so fucking good.” He moaned loudly.

“Even after sweating and getting dirty in battle?” You somehow managed to impertinently grind out, and he growled loudly in response.

“Shut your mouth.” He snarled. “Now’s not the time.”

You were silenced, but not by his words, but by the graze of his teeth against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your core; the most sensitive part of you.

He bit gently, and you wailed as you had never felt anything like it. “Gods,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“They can’t save you from me.” He growled back, flattening his tongue against your slit before dragging it back up and circling the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue.

“No,” You moaned. “They can’t.” You slid your fingers back into his hair and tugged, your knees clenching involuntarily around his head. The tip of your toe accidentally grazed the soft membrane of his right wing, and his entire body shuddered.

“Oh, you cruel, dirty playing thing.” He looked up from you with a snarl etched onto his face, before sliding two curled fingers inside you.

Your back arched off the bed and the sounds escaping your throat were far from voluntary. His lips closed around your clit once more as his fingers worked you in tandem, and you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take.

His pace quickened, and he looked up once more without stopping any of his ministrations. He delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure, the sounds that fell from your beautiful mouth; all because of him. He thought he might actually come from just the sound of you enjoying yourself at his mercy.

You began bucking your hips up, chasing the high from his face as much as he was desperate to give it to you. He flattened his palm against your hip bone, holding you torturously in place.

“Fuck,” You whimpered. “I’m actually close.”

He chose to ignore whatever you meant by actually, as he continued to feast on you and pump his fingers inside you, deep but not too deep. Quick, but not tactlessly.

A few moments later a beautiful, wailing song fell from your lips as you climaxed, the shudders and convulsions spreading through your legs up your spine as his name escaped your mouth again and again.

“Please, Azriel,” You were panting from your high. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

“You will. What did you mean by “actually close”?” He glared up at you, and you cringed as you saw how much his mouth glistened from your arousal. He caught your stare, and licked his lips slowly.

“I just didn’t..think it would happen so f—.”

“Grave, grave mistake.” He cut you off with a whisper, as he began to climb up over you. His hips settled in between his legs and he rolled them against yours a few times. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“There is nothing, sweetheart,” he breathed, wiping soaked strands of hair from your dripping forehead. “That I can’t give you; that won’t be the best you’ve ever felt.”

You sneered. “Arrogant bastard.”

His hand flew to your throat and closed around it in response. “I don’t take kindly to name calling from my mate after I just made her see stars.”

“Yet you couldn’t be more of an arrogant bastard, I mean ‘see stars’ really?” You rolled your eyes, but he pushed his hips, his throbbing hardness against your core and you clamped your mouth shut.

“I’ve half a mind,” He began with a snarl. “To bind and gag you for your insolence.”

“Why don’t you?” A wicked glint shone in your eyes this time.

“Because you need to be able to talk. Because you’re going to beg this ‘arrogant bastard’ to fuck you.” He hissed, leaning down to press a long, hard kiss under your jaw. When you mewled in response, he sucked hard and let his teeth graze your neck, and you couldn’t help the way your back arched.

“Azriel.” You whimpered. “Please.”

“Beg.” He snarled.

“What the fuck else am I doing?” You propped yourself up on your elbows and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eye. Your demeanour instantly changed. “No, I won’t beg.” You shook your head. “You need to fuck me. You need to fuck me so bad I think you’ll die if you don’t. I don’t need to beg.”

“Shut your pretty little mouth before I put it to a lot better use.” Azriel pushed you back down, hovering over you once more.

You watched his face suddenly soften, as he took in your features. Watched the way your chest rose and fell. Watched the way your cheeks were sprinkled with crimson at his ministrations, and he knew exactly what he felt in his chest.

“Beautiful.” He murmured.

You were taken aback at the sudden change in demeanour, yet your heart melted. The invisible string between you didn’t seem so invisible anymore, and you could have sworn there was a real glow between you.

“Mate.” You said softly.

“Mate.” He agreed quietly, before taking a deep breath and moving off you and standing to pull off his leathers.

You admired his chiseled torso. Next time, you vowed to put your mouth all over it. Oh, you were going to get him back. But not now. Now it was your turn to sit back.

And then, he was completely bare before you. You licked your lips as you watched him pump himself a few times, his bottom lip between his teeth as he came to move over you once more.

He watched you with a softness in his eyes, as his hand found yours and interlaced your fingers beside your head. His other hand rested on your hip, his thumb stroking your stomach softly.

“My mate,” He purred, lining himself up with your entrance.

You gasped softly as you felt him drag the tip up and down the slickness a few times, closing your eyes in silent prayer. “Please,” You whispered.

And this time, Azriel obeyed.

He slid into you slowly, and you groaned as you felt yourself adjust around him. You opened your eyes to look into his, and placed your free hand on his jaw.

“You,” you whispered, biting back a gasp as he slowly slid further in, “Are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

An expression you didn’t recognise was etched on his face, as he stared down at you with a rawness you couldn’t name.

He couldn’t respond, so he responded by gripping your hip slightly harder and sliding back out. And then slowly pushing in.

“Please.” You begged quietly once more. You would not beg again. “Give me all of you.”

That was enough for him. He began moving his hips at a faster pace, rolling them with every thrust, making sure he reached the deepest parts of you.

Tears of white hot pleasure pricked your eyes as your back bowed off the bed involuntarily, and this angle made him rub against that innermost rough patch inside of you that made you scream.

“Fuck, Azriel.” You panted. “I never knew it could—I didn’t know..”

“Shhh.” He kissed the tears from your face, biting back his own whimpers. “I know.” He rasped, letting his forehead rest against yours as he moved inside you with a reverent grace. “I know.”

And so your bodies danced together, the eternal thread between you glowing radiantly as you moved against one another. You clenched around him gently, and yet even this small gesture drew a ferocious groan from a deep part inside him.

“Baby,” he rasped. “I won’t last long inside you.”

You nodded frantically, biting back your own panting and whimpering. “Don’t try to. Just feel it.”

“I just feel you.” His hand left your hip to stroke the side of your face, and the tenderness made you almost fall apart inside. His thumb stroked your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him in in every sense of the phrase. He was inside you, in more way than one. He was part of you. Forever.

Your name fell from his lips as he came hard, his hips jutting and spasming as he spilled everything he had into you.

A mere minute later, his head was back between your legs, and it wasn’t long before his name was the only thing you could remember. The only thing that mattered.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The sound of water droplets dripping through the cracks in the mossy stone ceiling of your cell echoed through the empty passageway.

You had only been here for a few hours, knocked out and kidnapped from one of Hybern, your king’s, war camps. But those hours had felt like days. Your stomach rumbled, perhaps the only thing besides the few droplets of tepid water making any noise.

You wondered why you weren’t already dead. You should be dead. And the fact you weren’t, was a lot more alarming than death itself.

It meant they knew what you had. The intel you had on the King’s whereabouts. Where he was planning to strike from. And no doubt they would stick their claws into you until they had it.

Another few minutes passed, but you jolted to attention when stealthy footsteps—that would have gone unnoticed by someone with untrained ears—crept closer and closer from the passageway leading up to the bars of your dungeon cell.

A shadowy figure came into view. You inhaled sharply as you noticed the winged creature to not be another form of noble High Fae, or a servant like you had expected to come play.

No, this creature was far more sinister.

The shadows eased slightly, and the dark figure came more clearly into view. A relatively young looking male, but the scars on his body and the near silent steps gave away the centuries of experience he undoubtedly had.

You held your chin up high and stared up at him from your position on the floor, hands and feet chained to the stone.

“How may I assist you?” You said in your kindest, meekest voice, and watched his expression soften as he deemed this an invitation to come closer.

Once he was close up against the bars, you spat emphatically onto his boots.

His disarmed expression turned into one of a predator within seconds. “Oh, you’re a vicious little thing, aren’t you?” He murmured, reaching into his pocket to produce a key. He slid it into the padlock on your cell door.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I purred.

He stepped into the cell, and unsheathed a thin, gleaming blade with an obsidian pommel from his leathers.

“Careful,” he whispered. “I don’t take kindly to threats.” He flipped the blade in the palm of his hand and stepped closer.

Once again, you tried to shake the gorsian shackles from your wrists and ankles—but it was obviously no use. He simply smirked.

“Go fuck yourself.” You hissed.

“No point in wasting your energy,” The shadowy male said, before crouching down to be eye level with you. “I think you’re going to need all the energy you can get.” He crooned, before ever so gently tilting your chin upright with his blade. “You have something we want.”

You clamped your mouth shut and simply stared at him point blank. You wouldn’t budge.

“Now, sweetheart. I don’t think silence is such a smart idea.” He tutted, shaking his head.

Once again, you didn’t say a word.

“Perhaps we’re not well enough acquainted for you and I to have a chat,” he feigned a tired inhale. “I’m Azriel, nice to meet you.” He held his hand out, and then made a scene of noticing the shackles around yours. “Oh. How unobservant of me.” He smirked.

You wasted no time, spitting straight at him once again, this time at his face. His head jerked in surprise on impact, and then he slowly, slowly turned it back to face you.

“Oh, that wasn’t very smart now was it?” Azriel purred, before wrapping his hand around your throat.

He leaned forwards, his lips centimetres away from your ear. “Tell me where your King is.” He snarled.

“I’m not telling you shit.” You hissed. “Mother fucking burn you and your family.” You then winced, as you felt his thumb press down hard on your windpipe.

“Such colourful language, and yet so responsive…you sure about that, sweetheart?” He pushed down harder and you coughed, shaking your head.

“There’s nothing—” You spluttered, and he eased up, clearly thinking you were going to start talking. “You could do that I wasn’t prepared to face to protect what I know.” You sneered, despite his hand, despite the shade of purple your face was close to turning.

“In a few minutes,” He returned his thumb to the front of your throat. Harder, this time. “Your pretty little face will turn blue. But I won’t make it quick. I’ll press slowly, and slowly until you feel like somebody is actively ripping apart your lungs. You’ll cleave and fight for breaths that won’t come. Still want to keep your mouth shut?”

He didn’t expect what you did next. You smiled—a wide, sinister, open mouthed smile.

“There’s. Nothing. You could—” You were cut off by him closing his large fist around your throat hard, and then letting go and snarling in frustration.

“Very well,” he seemed to regain his composure, before a shadow crept over his shoulder and slithered towards you, wrapping around your wrist. To your utter surprise, the shackles on your left hand came free, and you immediately went to wrench your hand back. But the shadow was locked around your wrist. Unrelenting. How on earth could something so sheer and wispy wield such strength?

The shadow pulled your wrist upwards, until your hand hung limply between the two of you.

The male—Azriel, took your hand into his and examined it, before pulling up his dagger and delicately dragging it across your palm.

“Tell me, soldier.” He crooned, looking up and holding your gaze. “Which one of your fingers would you like to lose first? I’ll let you choose.”

Your heart began to thunder in your chest—but you didn’t display it on your face, no. You were too good for that. By the time you breathed your heart rate into submission, you could only hope he hadn’t heard it slamming against your ribcage.

“Or maybe,” He dragged his thumb across your lower lip. “I’ll cut out that perilous little tongue of yours. You wouldn’t be able to hurl such vicious, unladylike insults, or spit at me then, would you?” He tilted your chin up.

You didn’t let fear get to you this time, though. Because at the end of the day you knew one true thing about males. They were all the same.

You blinked up at him slowly through your lashes, and something darkened in his eyes. “But perhaps,” he whispered. “That would be a waste of such a wicked tongue. A wicked mouth.”

As if on cue, your tongue darted out and wetted your lips, oh-so-accidentally catching the pad of his thumb in the crossfire.

You watched as he swallowed hard. He gripped your jaw this time, wrenching your head back to stare down at you. “Don’t fucking do that.” He hissed. But you didn’t miss the way his thumb stroked subtly over your chin. Almost…reverently.

“Do what?” You whispered huskily, tilting your head to the side.

He closed his eyes tightly, leaning his head back and exhaling. And then he held his blade up, and my wrist in the other.

“Where is Hybern, or lose a finger.” He hissed. “No—your hand.”

“Azriel…” You pouted, and he paled at the mention of his name, seemingly forgetting he’d just introduced himself. “But I’m so good with my hands.”

He suddenly pushed the blade against your throat. “Shut your fucking mouth, or I swear to the Cauldron I’ll put it to better use.”

The realisation of what he had said dawned on you, and your lips thinned into a wide grin. “You promise?”

“You’re sick in the head,” Azriel shook his head in disbelief.

“I have a sneaky feeling,” You whispered, leaning your head even closer to his. “That makes two of us.”

Something in his expression changed, and his hand flew to wrap around your throat once more.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he tilted his head back to face the ceiling, as if praying to some higher being for mercy.

“You’re in here with me to save your people,” You said in a low voice. “But perhaps it is you that needs saving.”

His eyes flew back open and his gaze seared right through you. “You don’t know shit about me.” The hand holding the blade pushed it ever so slightly against the soft spot under your jawline, and you felt the warm trickle of blood down the column of your throat. With his other hand, he smeared it slightly with the pad of his thumb. “You even bleed pretty,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your punctured throat back and forth.

You licked your lips and contemplated telling him you tasted pretty too; picturing him bringing his thumb to his mouth and tasting your blood. The expression on his face when he saw your tongue dart out was priceless.

“You like that?” He stared down at you in disbelief. “You like it when I cut you?”

You didn’t refuse nor deny.

“Such a good girl for Hybern.” He muttered, shaking his head in chastisement. “Yet such a bad girl for me.”

You rolled your eyes in response. “Is this how you’re trying to disarm me now? By calling me such?”

He did not smile. “Do you feel disarmed?”

“No.”

“Then no. I have multiple other ways I could disarm you.” He rose to his feet, sheathing his blade with his other hand still cradling your jaw. You were on your knees before him, peering up.

“Do you do this with all your prisoners?” You tilted your head to the side.

“I’ve never been tasked with interrogating such a beautiful woman with such a filthy mouth.”

“Something tells me you’re wondering if there’s other benefits you may reap from my ‘filthy mouth’.” You deadpanned, staring him straight in the eye.

He stepped closer, towering over where you knelt. “And if I was?”

You refused to balk from his stare, jutting your chin outwards and up. “Then I’d say you’re certainly violating whatever clauses came with your job.”

The thumb that stroked your lower lip pushed into your mouth. “Good thing I never gave a fuck about the rules.” He ground out, craning his neck to watch how you reacted.

You closed your mouth around his thumb and sucked, not breaking eye contact as you watched his breath hitch.

“Dirty little thing,” He gasped, and shadows twisted and coiled around the hand that gripped you and twined into your hair. It almost sounded as if they were hissing, or purring, or whispering to you as their own separate entity.

You suddenly let your lips go limp, and his expression cooled at the loss of pressure.

“No.” He growled, forcing his thumb and forefinger in this time. You smiled up at him, before opening wide and clamping down.

But before you could bite two thirds of his hand off, multiple shadows forced their way into your mouth and held it open.

“Oh sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, beginning to stroke your jaw again. “Rookie mistake. Now they’ll keep your mouth open as long as I tell them to.”

You simply shrugged. However depraved he might think he is, you were most certainly worse. And he was a beautiful creature of a male. There was no reality where you wouldn’t enjoy what he would do to you.

The thought of it brought heat in the aching spot between your legs, and you bit your lip, hoping he wouldn’t scent the phenomenon.

But no such luck. His eyes widened as your scent wafted up to him.

“You actually like this?” He whispered in disbelief, and you only swallowed in response. But a new wave of morbid composure washed over him as he straightened his spine. “You like being on your knees for me?”

You nodded.

“You like being on your knees and having your mouth wide open for me?” He was almost panting now, his hand somewhat shaking against your jaw in what was either disbelief, or a lessening of composure.

Your jaw felt cold as his hand slid from it to the buckles of his leathers. He pulled his belt free, letting it slide to the floor.

“You have one opportunity to say no.” He said quietly, his restraint fading by the second.

Of course you didn’t. Of course you’d go through with it to delay your execution further. Until someone could come and rescue you and get you out back to Hybern’s camps. That was why you wanted this. Right?

You swallowed and licked your lips, and you did not say no.

His demeanour instantly turned predatory as he unbuttoned his leathers and pulled himself free from his waistband.

He was already hard and dripping, as he positioned himself right next to your mouth, held open by the shadows. Until they slipped back out, and you closed your mouth.

“I’ll give you the opportunity to open it back up yourself.” He snarled, eyes scanning your face. “But something tells me you like being a little fucking brat.”

You simply smirked in response, and that was his undoing.

His hand gripped your jaw, and forced your mouth open with several of his fingers, and didn’t give you a chance to take a breath before he thrust himself into your mouth.

He groaned loudly as he slowly filled your mouth, then your throat, and tears pricked your eyes at the size of him. But you fucking loved it, and the dampening spot between your thighs only proved that further.

He gripped your jaw hard. “Are you going to move or shall I?” He snarled. “And I won’t be gentle, sweetheart.”

You glared at him, before gradually starting to move your head back and forth. Your hands were out of the question; bound tightly behind your back. You hollowed out your cheeks and pressed your lips tighter together around him, and he groaned softly this time in response.

“Fuck—.” He gritted out. “Fuck you and your wicked mouth.” He continued, as he began to slowly move against you in accompaniment to your own ministrations. “I was wrong. I was so wrong.” He panted. “You are a good girl for me.”

You flattened your tongue hard against his tip and he whimpered, eyes squeezed shut before looking back down at you with a sort of reverence in his eyes. “Such a good girl.” he whispered, as if you had knocked all the capability of producing sound from his body.

You suddenly let your lower teeth graze softly against the veins that wrapped around him, and his hips jerked in response. You took this as your opportunity to let him slide out of your mouth, and licked a straight path down to his sack, sucking it gently into your mouth and then much harder.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m not going to last very long.” He moaned, bracing a fist against the cold stone wall above your head. You smiled as you noticed his knees shaking slightly. He noticed, and his eyes widened. “You’re a sick little thing.” He rasped. “Enjoying me coming undone for you.” He shook his head. “Such a clever girl, disarming me with that perfect little mouth. I was supposed to kill you, but I think I’d sooner die than to never feel this mouth again.” He exhaled sharply, his chest heaving as his hips began to jerk and convulse around your mouth when you took his full length once again. His eyes then widened as he finished speaking; as though he was bewildered by the content of his own monologue.

Then he unsheathed his blade once again, holding it against your throat. Your eyes widened and you halted, blinking up at him.

“Did I say stop?” He spat.

You hastened your pace, watching upwards as his entire face contorted in a mix of pleasure and self-disgust as he gripped the knife. You knew he hated himself for enjoying this. For enjoying you, his prisoner. Yet that turned you on all the more, and you wrapped your lips tighter.

It was only a mere two or three seconds before he was spilling into your throat with a roar, his one hand grasping at the mossy stone for purchase he couldn’t find, and his other still holding the knife against your throat. He bit his lip to try to stifle the groan, but it was no use.

You panted as he withdrew from your mouth, before wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb and pushing it back inside.

“You won’t waste a drop.” He crooned. “Not of me.” He pressed the blade slightly harder into your jaw this time. “Or you know what will happen.” He said softly.

Then his hand wrapped around your throat, and pulled you to your feet. You steadied yourself in surprise, looking up at him in bewilderment.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You had never seen snow before.

You had read about it, sure. You had been told about it, numerous times, but the thought of flakes falling from the sky sounded completely and utterly ridiculous. You grew up fastening mesh curtains against the windows to stop the dust storms from spreading into your quarters. You seldom left the house without a sunhat, for the unforgiving temperatures of the desert left a mark even on those with bronzed Day Court complexions, like yourself.

Yet all of that was about to change. The High Lord of the Night Court had always had good relations with your uncle. It was not foreign for them to exchange favours over the centuries, especially given the amount of escapades they enjoyed together in their youths.

But the members of the Night Court had began to settle down. Such escapades ceased to exist, and Helion found his relations with the Night Court becoming more and more one sided. They often needed his help ensuring a safer future for the families they were beginning to create, but what did Helion have to gain when all he had was himself?

And of course, you. His sister’s only child, sired by a late Day Court nobleman.

Thus, your uncle had spent copious amounts of time pondering how to strengthen that relationship, let it return to its manner of benefitting both sides, even when his old companions had no time for him in their new lives.

And you had wanted a change.

You wanted to step outside and feel the snow land on the tip of your nose. Have your cheeks turn red from the slicing cold, and not from overheating in the desert sun. You wanted to have to layer up and wear more, instead of feeling like you wanted to claw off your skin every time you stepped outside into the blistering heat of the Day Court.

And now, you stood before several members of the Night Court, your uncle and few of his sentries; your betrothed standing across from you before the altar and the lone priestess who was preparing to officiate your marriage.

The Spymaster of the Night Court. Your betrothed.

You were taller than most females in your court, and yet here, before the altar, he stood a good nine inches taller than you. His hazel eyes refused to find yours, seemingly fixated on a different face in the crowd. His true lover, perhaps, you thought. Or maybe he just didn’t want to look at you.

You had wondered what he’d be leaving behind since you found out who you were to wed. You knew next to nothing about this male, other than the fact he was the High Lord of Night’s most trusted soldier. Spy. Assassin.

Did he want this marriage?

It was too late to want otherwise now, you supposed. But you didn’t have to enter into this arrangement completely oblivious. So you cleared your throat as quietly as possible.

“Hi.” You whispered, peering up into his hazel eyes.

The male blinked at you, taken aback by your quiet interruption of the priestess’s recital. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and inclined his head towards the priestess, as if to say ‘Be quiet and listen.’

The members of this court were as ice cold as the temperature, then, you thought. You simply rolled your eyes, not interested in formalities. This was a move for freedom, and you would not let your personality be shoved into another box. Never again.

But something unexpected happened—instead of the chastising or distaste you had expected in response to an insolent little gesture like rolling your eyes—the male laughed.

It was your turn to blink up at him now, and he shook his head softly.

“Not one for…detailed ceremonies?” He whispered back.

“If by detailed you mean boring, then no. No I am not.” You sighed quietly.

The male—the Spymaster—chuckled this time. “Your uncle isn’t one to follow etiquette, either. And an even lesser fan of tedium.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You know him?”

The Spymaster’s ears were very suddenly tipped with crimson. “In how much detail would you like me to answer—”

“SILENCE.”

You felt your heart drop as the deep, male tenor filled your mind, echoing through to your marrow. You glanced up at the Spymaster in alarm, and he nodded subtly towards the pews, with his eyes closed as if in either reassurance or regret.

You glanced over your shoulder at the rows of pews, only to find the High Lord of the Night Court glaring in your direction from the front row. Message received.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

A desert rose indeed.

As he’d first lined up before the altar, Azriel managed to tear his gaze away from you and focus on the increasingly interesting patterns on the temple floor, instead.

He had never seen eyes, skin, or hair like it. Like yours. The Day Court was full of riches, but Azriel had never considered that the females native to the deserts would be so captivating.

He had seen countless beautiful women. Of course he had. He had loved and bedded beautiful women. He had interrogated and slaughtered them in the wars, too.

Azriel was desensitised, to say the least.

But you? He had never seen anything like you.

The first thing he’d noticed was your hair—he wanted nothing more than to thread his fingers through it, pin a stray strand behind your ear, perhaps tug on it at the nape of your neck to see how you’d react.

Your eyes, next. He couldn’t stand to look into them for longer than a few seconds, but he certainly wanted to. If eyes were the windows to one’s soul, there was no way yours wasn’t decadent—and intimidating.

He couldn’t for the life of himself figure out why no males had tripped over their feet to marry you first.

And then you opened your mouth. And spoke to him. Right in the middle of a sacred ceremony. And then you rolled your eyes. He was taken aback. This seemingly innocent, unaccounted-for female, had irritated Rhysand enough to bellow into both of your minds.