A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 70

Shrill cries rang out, echoing right through the stones and into his very bones. This is precisely what he'd dreaded. Holy gods, those fucking screams. Beron's taunting laughter, basking in each one that tore from her ravished throat.

No. No.

Thud! Thud! Fists slammed into the iron. Thud! Thud! Over and over. Until the flesh throbbed and split wide. He patted down his body, over his shoulder. No weapons. Not a single one.

But he still had his...

Where the hell were his Siphons? Shit. Shit. If he had to, he'd rip open that godsdamn cell door with his bare hands.

She wasn't supposed to be in there. Not her. "Gwyn!"

Thud! Thud! His wrists and knuckles crunched with each desperate blow. No matter how hard he fought, pleaded, and pounded, he couldn't fucking get to her.

Not real, Shadowsinger. Not real.

"Azriel." A jostling nudge had him surfacing, gasping for air. For Gwyn—and he found her. Rolled on her side, facing him, hand still clamped on his shoulder. Dampness glazed her freckled cheeks, those bleary teal eyes. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyelids, willing his startled heartbeat to slow.

Delicate fingertips swept back the strands clinging to the terror dotting his brow. Her voice trembled against his skin. "Only a nightmare. A bad dream, Azriel."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," He murmured, leaning into her touch now on his right cheek.

"You didn't. I woke up at the same time. From the same thing."

Azriel wondered whose demon had torn her from sleep—his or hers. Had the horrors of what happened replayed in hers like a Symphonia? Was hers as warped as his?

Soft lips kissed his chin, the corner of his mouth. "We made it. This is real, Shadowsinger." Another to the opposite edge. "Real." Again, this one kissed his lips fully and with terrible gentleness. The gesture made his chest ache. But it was not long before those kisses turned insistent, demanding more.

More of this. Of him.

Mother knew Azriel would never, could never, deny her if that's what Gwyn truly wished. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her. Bury himself deep within her, allaying all the lingering fear. Nothing but intense, endless bliss.

But before he could, his shadows stirred, veering between them, urging him to, Look.

Azriel pulled back with what had to be the strength of the Great Powers, holding her flushed face in his hands. Thumbs rubbed her freckled cheekbone, snagging her attention. He studied those brilliant sea-blue eyes, her pretty features, as he would any report that came across his desk, seeing what the shadows did. For there was no hint of the lust that had flared in them earlier. Only panic, staggered and quiet, remained.

He closed the distance between them, his lips caressing hers tenderly, reverently. Then he kissed her right cheek, the left. Set one upon her bunched brow, softening everything as she shivered against him.

"Come here." He gathered her close, cradling her against his chest, staying true to his promise two Summer solstices ago. "I've got you, love."

Giving him a hearty squeeze for emphasis, she said, "Perhaps it is I who has you, Azriel." The shadows wriggled around them, tittering. "And I know. I know."

Feet tucked between her calves, fronts smashed together. Chest to chest, heart to heart. Gwyn finally settled in, calming, as his fingertips dragged up and down her spine.