The Whispers of Shadows - Azriel

56

"So I just make my way around them? Glare at them?" Aurora asked. Mor shrugged with her bottom lip on the rim of the glass, her left arm placed beneath her right.

"If you'd like. I get intimidated by them sometimes, so I like to walk around them, give them a smile and wave, let them sense that I am more than just a Night Court whore."

Aurora felt her stomach tighten while observing the crowd. Maybe that is what she should do. Let the onlookers see the scars that were a result of them all standing aside while she was stolen. Let them see what she had become. Aurora cleared her throat, sipping the wine again. Mor sent her a wink and Aurora took it as her cue to begin down the steps. The air felt bitter against the outrageous amount of bare skin as she approached the sea of fae. She felt nude- well, she practically was.

Aurora kept her chin lifted, her arms imitating Mor's stance. She kept the glass of wine lifted, her right elbow resting on her left wrist. Her steps were slow as she lifted a brow and met the eyes of everyone in front of her. Beneath the cold facade, her stomach twisted and throat tightened. She couldn't help but feel small amongst the eyes of the males and females as she entered the crowd. Arms and shoulders brushed against Aurora as she used everything in her power not to shy away from them.

Aurora followed the path that Elain and Nesta made, but still couldn't see them through the people. Whispers filled her ears, words that made bile rise in her throat.

"She's one of those Illyrian's whores."

"I heard Tamlin had his fun with her."

"Cauldron, why wear something that shows those scars?"

"I bet she's great at-."

Aurora couldn't take it. She whirled around on her heels, glare sharpening as she found the male that was speaking. He was tall and broad, much like a warrior but she could tell he had little muscle beneath his clothing. His hair was long, shiny and deep-toned falling over his shoulders. His lips curled into a wicked smile.

"What? Did you want to hear what I was going to say, whore?"

Aurora gritted her teeth, switching the hands that held her wine and letting the right one fall to the hilt of her dagger. "Please, continue," she snarled. The male glanced at the ones beside him before stepping forward and leaning down to mutter in her ear.

"I was going to say: I bet she's great with that mouth of hers if the High Lord keeps her around."

Aurora felt the rage burning her skin as she turned her head slightly, the male's face inches from her own. "My mouth can do terrible things."

A low chuckle left him, and Aurora let the smirk rise on her lips. Whatever was going through his mind was nothing close to what she had in mind.

"Oh? Care to show me? I'm sure the Illyrian bastards wouldn't notice if you stepped away for a moment," he purred, lifting his hand to her jaw. The glass of wine fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of pieces as Aurora caught his wrist and dug her nails into the skin. She grinned wider when he sucked in a sharp breath.

"My mouth can rip your fucking throat out. Would you still like me to show you? Do you want me to leave you in the corridor as nothing but entrails and blood?" Aurora cooed, voice smooth and silky. Mor was right, even though this was surely not what she meant, Aurora felt nothing less than powerful.

"W-what?" He stammered as he tried to tear his arm away, but her nails dug deeper until beads of blood formed around the crescent shapes.

"I am not a whore, nor would I ever bed a male with the likes of you. I hope you don't speak to other females like you just spoke to me, because I can assure you, you'd be nothing but ash by the time I'm finished with you. Now, please, keep your fucking mouth shut and your hands to yourself," Aurora snapped, shoving his arm back to his side. She sent him a sweet smile before stepping over the shattered glass and continuing through the crowd.

Now, there were no whispers about her. The closest fae were silent, the others continuing conversation as normal. Aurora snapped her eyes from person to person as she continued through the crowd. Eventually, she saw Nesta and Elain, the latter with a furious look on her face as she followed her older sister through the crowd. Aurora followed behind them as they circled back towards the front. The slight smirk still rested on her lips as they pushed past the final line of people.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the room they had arrived in, making Aurora look up. A male with golden hair was walking through the threshold but she knew the sounds did not come from him. An iciness filled the room as red siphons appeared from the darker room. Cassian walked into the throne room with a cold expression, his hands rested into fists as he looked over the crowd. He settled beside Mor to the left of the throne, and then Azriel emerged. The iciness turned to stillness as her Shadowsinger strode across the dais. Shadows curled around him, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He stood to the right of the throne. Not a single breath was heard when the High Lord and High Lady walked out.

Feyre seemed to lead Rhysand to the throne. She elegantly sat upon the obsidian seat, her legs crossing as her piercing eyes scanned the room. Rhysand stood beside the throne, shoulder leaning against his as he crossed his arms.

"Continue," he barked the order, the single word echoing across the room. Voices rose as the members began to mingle again. Azriel's eyes fell onto Aurora when Nesta crossed and made her way up to her mate. Aurora's breath was thick when his golden eyes met hers. He was power. The way he stood, the way his eyes seemed to hold an order over the people. He extended one arm. Aurora didn't move her eyes from his as she climbed up to him.

"You look absolutely bewitching," Azriel murmured as his hand looped around her and rested on her hip. She gave him a soft smile, leaning into his side.

"And you. You're quite intimidating up here," Aurora whispered back. Azriel grinned slightly as he leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to her lips.

"That's my job." Aurora felt his voice in her chest, felt the pull of his irresistibility. Azriel turned his head back to the crowd, but Aurora rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his jaw. The smell of him, the utter power emanating from him, the feeling of him. She couldn't get enough. Maybe she was what these fae thought she was: A Night Court whore. They didn't seem to care when it was obvious that she was only a whore for her Shadowsinger.

"I frightened a male tonight," Aurora whispered against his skin. She felt his face pull into another grin.

"Oh?"

"Threatened to tear his throat out with my teeth," she hummed. Azriel's grip on her hip tightened.

"I expect nothing less from my mate."