A Court of Golden Shadow || Elain x Azriel

Chapter 9 - A Bargain

ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ

How in Mother's name did Rhysand expect Azriel to keep his distance??

Here he was, crammed up in this tiny alcove, Elain practically on top of him, breasts heavy and peaking on his chest, her scent of arousal so beautiful and overwhelming that he felt like was going insane. Somewhere in his mind, he knew Elain was drunk. And he knew that HE was stone-fucking cold sober. He knew her mate was somewhere nearby, Rhys too, and and he knew that they were here in Patras, throwing this gods-damned party in honor of Elain and her fucking mate.

Azriel knew all these details, yes.

But he also knew that he wanted her.

Gods... he wanted her.

Right here, right now.

His pants strained against his cock as she leaned into him, honey and jasmine, her soft creamy skin beckoning, and through the wisp of fabric she was using for a gown, he could feel the heat growing below her navel.

It was unbearable.

And Azriel knew that if he stayed in this fucking alcove with her for even a second longer, he would either combust into flames or do something he would regret. Well, maybe not regret. But something that would definitely begin a war with Autumn, the humans, and quite possibly the Spring Court as well.

He needed to end this.

Now.

Swallowing, Azriel turned his face and body away from her, creating space. "And has your mate had the pleasure of tasting?" He drawled, donning a mask of indifference.

It was a low blow.

And it killed him. It absolutely killed him to push her away. But he had to do it because it was right. And as he waited for her reaction, Azriel's mind flashed back to the gardens in Velaris, suddenly worried that she would winnow away again after facing his rejection. But to his great surprise, drunk Day Court Elain didn't seem to give two shits about being rejected.

Instead, she chuckled softly, leaning back against the cool marble, nipples still peaked through her dress, and narrowed her eyes, surveying him under thick lashes.

"I've always had a mate Azriel."

Folding her arms in front of her and pulling up her foot to rest on the wall behind, she leaned at a jaunted angle, her hip cocked, and a long tanned leg slipping out of the slit in her gown. Her shoulders back, bangles and necklaces glittering in the torchlight, she was a goddess of seduction. The very movement of drawing away from him, his name on her lips.... He felt himself involuntarily draw closer again.

"Grayson... Lucien... I've always been spoken for." She drawled, her voice raspy and the wine slurring her words. "It never stopped us in the past."

"You're here to court Lucien." He growled, feeling frustrated, and taking another step closer.

Her doe eyes penetrated his, her gaze unmoving as she raised an arched brow. "Lucien... Mor... why does it matter."

That gods-damned necklace.

He gleaned away from her toward the ground. "I just couldn't keep the necklace... it was... I didn't actually give it to Mor.. I gave it to Gwyn, and then..."

"Gwynneth? Really Azriel? Another female in this depressing tale of the traveling necklace, and you're lecturing me about respecting my bond with Lucien?" She rolled her eyes, pushing off the wall, making for the edge of the alcove. "Fine. Maybe I'm one of many females to you. Whatever."