Elain was tucked deep into her comforters, but could not stop shivering.
The cotton gown Nuala had pulled over her shoulders was failing to heat her freezing body, and she curled into a ball, images of the river water still flooding her mind. She tossed in the blankets, swearing lightly under her breath, as the door to her rooms opened. Gratitude flooded her senses as she started to sit up, deciding to ask Cerridwen for another blanket when she realized that it was not a wraith who had entered her room, but a Shadowsinger.
Shadows spilled into the room, lunging ahead of the tall male as he closed the distance between them in three strides, his wings contracting and flaring behind him, a noticeable posture of anger billowing from his shoulders. Coming near the edge of the bed, Azriel gazed down at her, his hazel eyes wreathed in concern.
Lifting a hand to her forehead, he rubbed his scarred thumb across her skin. "You're freezing."
She nodded, her voice hoarse from the sobbing. Azriel returned her nod, and without an invitation, he tore off the chained Day Court tunic, revealing his tanned broad chest, abdominal muscles jutting and cut into his core, his long legs exposed in tight undershorts. Her eyes widened as he approached the other side of the bed, lifting the covers and sliding in until he was next to her, his wings tucked behind him as he reached toward her, pulling her head to his chest in a single movement.
Elain felt his scarred fingers rubbing her back as he circled her ribs, pressing the rest of his body into hers, seemingly focused on willing heat into her soul. She shivered, either from the cold or his proximity, and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and drawing closer to his skin, allowing the full power of his presence to soothe her aching heart.
"Thank you." Her hoarse whisper rang through the quiet, the drum beats of the Calanmai celebrations reverberating through the marble walls at a distance.
The Shadowsinger gave no reply, but he continued to hold her, drawing her head toward his mouth, pressing his lips to her hair. "It's beginning to curl again. I missed the curls." His voice was rough, his breath warm on her scalp.
Her mind trailed back to her enchanted straight hair. Her outfit. Her futile attempt at seducing Lucien. Even with her entire body on display for all of Patras to see. Shuddering, she curled into Azriel's warmth.
"I'm a fool." She whispered the thought out loud, closing her eyes to let a tear fall from her lid. "A damn fool."
"It's not foolish to try to gain your mate's affection." His voice was quiet, his breath warm on her curling hair. "Maybe a little foolish to drown yourself in the river over it though."
She laughed, pulling away from him to look at him directly. "I wasn't trying to drown myself." Closing her eyes and tucking herself under his chin, she released a sigh. "It was like the water was calling to me... beckoning me toward it. One moment I had my toes in, and the next I was plunging beneath the water, visions blinding me."
"Visions of what?" His gentle voiced caressed her heart, and though she knew she could tell him, a wave of exhaustion rolled over her, the champagne and lack of oxygen taking their toll.
Shaking her head, Elain saw again the face of the being from the lake, flashing and sneering in the darkness of her mind, clawing toward her, his ancient voice reverberating through her soul. Shuddering, she found herself wishing for a distraction from the darkness.
And as if he read her mind, Azriel laid back, pulling her onto her side, her head on his chest as his arm cradled her back, his hand clutching her waist as his shadows floated quietly above them. She placed a hand on his chest, sighing and listening to his steady heart beat.
"Elain... what's this little tattoo," he whispered, "the one on your pinky?"
Grabbing her hand and raising it above his face, he inspected her littlest finger, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger.
She felt her face flush. "I've always had that."
Lie. And she knew he would know. Because he had watched her hands many a time, weeding in the gardens, pointing out her plans on a landscaping blueprint... reaching for his as she passed him a plate of food around the dinner table at the River Mansion. Pulling her head from his chest and flopping onto her back on the bed beside him, she held her breath.
"No. Elain, you have not always had a small tattoo of a rabbit on your pinky." His voice was steady, calling her out with a slight smile.
Elain didn't respond, covering her eyes with the heels of her hands. This was not happening. A small laugh edged with hysteria rang from her throat, and she shook her head, turning from the Shadowsinger, pressing her face into the pillows, releasing her body from his warmth.
"What is it." Azriel asked again, a playful edge entering his words as she turned to see him raise his head onto his hand, his arm crooked beneath him, an eyebrow raised.
His tanned chest was sticking out from the blankets, wings laying behind him, nearly falling off the bed with the sheer span of them. His wingspan.
Elain felt her breath catch again as she eeked out a small shrieking laugh, closing her eyes and flipping herself over, scrambling to the edge of the bed, her laughter ringing behind her as the Shadowsinger lunged, expertly catching her leg in a single grab, his long arm preventing her struggling exit, dragging her on her stomach back toward him as she shrieked with laughter, clawing at the sheets.
Pulling her into a bear hug, his arms coiled around her waist, she was stuck. He laughed again, his breath warm on the back of her neck as he nuzzled his nose into her hair. She realized vaguely that she was no longer freezing.
"So it's a secret, huh?" Azriel's voice on her neck caused her skin to prickle before he released her, flipping her so that Elain was facing him as he held her an armslength away by her wrists.
She laughed and struggled, trying and failing to free her wrists from his strong hands as he threw her a smirk before releasing one of her arms in order to reach toward her neck, tickling her throat, and causing her to dissolve into a fit of hysterical laughter, sinking into the covers, writhing and screaming with giggles.
Desperate for relief from his tickling fingers, Elain lunged, reaching toward a loose pillow with her free hand and throwing her leg over his bare stomach, smashing the pillow over his face as she straddled him with her thighs, constricting his face with the down feathers, pinning him beneath her but making sure to leave his mouth free to breathe.
"You'll have to torture me before I'll fess up." She taunted him, beaming a smile as she saw him laugh beneath the pillow, grasping at the edges of the cushion before giving up and clamping his hands around her legs wrapped tight around his waist.
"Are you sure you want to challenge the Spymaster of the Night Court to a session of torture?" His voice had taken a dark edge, and Elain lifted the pillow from his face, her laughter faltering as she stared down at his face in alarm. "Because I know some very unpleasant methods to get you to confess."
She felt her heart rate increase as an unexpected wave of arousal flushed through her entire body, her legs beginning to heat and radiate toward the apex of her thighs. It was as if her body had just caught onto the fact that she was straddling Azriel in her gods-damned bed: the male whom she had been pining for since... well she didn't remember when it all began.
"The tattoo," she began, her voice dropping to a soft whisper as she released the pillow and let her hands fall to his shoulders, supporting her weight as she stared down at him. "Is from a bargain I made with Nesta."
"And what is this bargain?" His voice rumbled up to her ears, a pleasant melody which only served to aggravate the tender bundle of nerves between her legs, his hands caressing the side of her straddled legs, running up her thighs before resting on the flesh at her hips.
Mother save her.
Elain felt another wave of desire wash over her, her underwear surely slick as she felt her breasts heave, her nipples beginning to tingle and throb as she forced herself to swallow.
"Nesta made me promise that I would stop trying to ravish you in Helion's alcoves." Elain's voice had dropped into total whisper, the very breath between them caught in the heavy air as she sensed his scent shift, ever so slightly, his heartbeat pounding in her fae ears.
"And what if you try to ravish me right here in this bed? Does that go against your bargain?" His voice was rough, low and irresistible.
Her breath caught, and Elain stared down at the Shadowsinger, her entire body throbbing with desire, pulsing, radiating into her thighs and up to her stomach as the realization hit her.
She needed him. His mouth on her, his tongue inside her. She needed him thrusting into her, driving her mad with himself. She needed him more than she had ever needed anything.
Leaning toward him, her lips close to his face, a single thought broke through her laughter-induced delirium.
She was mated.
She had a mate.
She should be with him, not Azriel.
But the foggy thoughts failed to douse the arousal building within her, as if she was entirely too far gone, her thoughts and body so wrapped into the Shadowsinger that even the concept of her mate held no ground on her desire.
Because she HAD offered herself to Lucien already tonight.
She had swayed, and danced, pulling him toward her, her body nearly naked with glittering powder, trying to kiss him in front of all of Patras.This could have been Lucien beneath her. It probably WOULD have been him, if he had but returned her kiss on the dance floor. It wasn't Elain's fault that he was not here with her. It was his.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Azriel had died and gone to the heavens.
Surely.
Because how was this real? How was any of this real?
Elain, her perfect, soft, curved body, straddling him in her bed. Her incredible thighs clamped around his waist, her mouth, inches from his as their breath swirled together, chests heaving with what they both knew was about to happen.
Truthfully, Azriel had landed in Patras intent on nursing an Elain-sized wound in his heart with heavy alcohol and maybe the body of a stranger if he was feeling particularly depressed. But now, he was here. By some insane series of events, he was here in her bed, with the most perfect set of fae legs he had ever seen, ever touched, wrapped around him.
His cock strained, pulling against the fabric of his shorts, as it had from the first second he had gotten into this damn bed with her. He fought to keep his breathing steady as he inhaled the sweet honey and jasmine mixing with the smell of her arousal. His eyes were nearly rolling to the back of his head as he breathed her in, his hands still gripping the flesh at her hips.
"I can't." Elain's whisper broke through the heady silence, his eyes snapping to hers, her lips only a breath from his. "But I want to."
He gazed into her doe eyes, fighting to control himself, struggling to find the meaning of what she was saying. He felt his need overpower his rationality, the consequences of his actions beginning to shrink in the face of this moment.
Because why shouldn't they? Why shouldn't they ravish each other in this damned bed? Her mate was clearly a piece of shit and Rhysand's orders could go fuck themselves.
Azriel felt the cold logic he typically relied on slipping away as his cock began to throb, nearing the point of pain from the sheer desire of her. And just as it had on Solstice, that single phrase came to the forefront of his mind, pulsing through his body.
He needed her coming on his tongue.
A hundred fantasies played out before him, the years of desiring her, fisting his cock in the dead of the night, desiring her, smelling her, hardening at just a glance from her. They were here, so close, so damn close.
But she had said "I can't."
Slowly, he released his hands from her hips, running them up toward her waist, lifting her off him and resting her on the bed beside him. And it was probably the most difficult maneuver the Shadowsinger had ever performed in his entire life. Harder than scaling Ramiel. Harder than learning to fly at fourteen in Windhaven. Separating himself from her skin had felt like dousing himself in cold fire.
Elain crossed her legs, closing her eyes and threw an arm over her lids, letting out a long breath. "It's just too... complicated."
"Your mate." He answered as a reply, still unable to form a coherent thought, shifting in the bed, trying to shake away the pulsing need, willing his throbbing groin to settle.
"It's more than that. You and I... we can't..." Her voice dropped off into a frustrated hiss as she turned away from him, onto her side, her curls wafting a beautiful scent across the pillows.
Azriel stared up at the ceiling, his brows knitting together, forcing himself to follow the conversation, pushing past his fleshly wants. "Is it because of the Blood Duel?"
Elain's breathing froze, and he heard her voice whisper, a strain of confusion and fear lacing her words. "What is a Blood Duel?"
"It's an Autumn Court tradition." Azriel's voice was quiet and rough, his throbbing only ebbing slightly. "If a male steals another male's mate, then the mated male has the right to challenge the interloper to a Blood Duel. It's a fight to the death."
"That's ridiculous. No one needs to die over me." Elain huffed a breath, turning onto her back, facing the ceiling again. "I don't want Lucien to die."
Azriel drew toward her ever so slightly, his voice a low growl. "So you think I would win?"
Still looking at the ceiling, her voice small. "Yes."
He observed her beautiful profile, unable to stop himself from leaning closer to her again. "So you don't want him to die, and you don't want to reject the mating bond, but you do want to ravish me." He threw his jaw in a nod toward her pinky finger.
She covered her eyes with the heels of her hands as a tiny squeak released from her throat. "Yes."
"Well that's perfect." He growled, raising up and closing the distance between them. "Because I want to ravish you too." Elain gasped as his final words slipped out. "More specifically, I want you to come on my damn tongue."
He heard her gasp again, her hand covering her mouth as a wave of her arousal hit him with a force he could barely tolerate. It took everything within him to not pounce on her that very second, pinning her beneath him and shredding her gown, making the decision for the both of them. Azriel had never felt this way near a female before; so completely out of his mind, not just with the lust of her flesh, but of desire for every single part of her. Her heart. Her very soul. It was unbearable.
"It's so selfish of me." Her voice was quiet, her hands returning to cover her eyes, her scent wafting over him, driving him mad.
"From how I see it, you'd be doing me a favor." He drawled, a smile curing his lips, leaning even closer to her, close enough to...
But then she was suddenly standing up, rising from the bed and heading toward the exterior archway, pacing the length of the room, her steps illuminated by mild moonlight. She paced and paced, wringing her hands, closing and opening her eyes, before stopping and turning to face Azriel, still laying on the bed, watching her indecision with a patient expression.
"I can't stop courting Lucien." She took a step closer to the bed as she saw Azriel nod. "And we can't do this ever again." He nodded as a wave of sadness overtook him.
Turning away from her, he began to pull the blanket away, intent on leaving her in peace, when her quiet voice broke through his pain, lighting his senses on fire.
"But I also cannot live the rest of my immortal life without knowing... without trying just a little... it's just so selfish of me..."
And in an instant, the Shadowsinger had thrown off the covers and crossed the distance of the room, his shadows dissipating, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate his perfect body as his hazel eyes bore into hers.