When morning crept into afternoon, and then into evening, Aurora was laid in Azriel's arms beneath a mountain of blankets. Her head rested on his chest as she traced the scars along his hand. His legs laid on either side of her, his other hand rested on her bare thigh beneath the blankets.
"How do you feel?" Aurora asked, voice airy and hardly above a whisper. Azriel grazed his lips over the top of her head.
"Less like I want to murder someone," he murmured. Aurora smiled slightly as her fingertip trailed a rather deep indent on the back of his hand.
"You're so beautiful," she purred, bringing his hand to her lips. She felt his chest rise beneath her shoulders then fall in a heavy sigh. Aurora tilted her head to the side until she could see his face; his stunning face. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I don't know how much I can put into words," Azriel responded, dipping his head down to kiss her bare shoulder. Aurora gave him another small smile.
"We will probably be here a while, take your time," she told him. Azriel hummed against her skin. Silence fell again. Aurora brought her knees up and tilted to the side slightly, her cheek on his chest. Now her focus moved from his hand to the Illyrian tattoos that spread across his chest, shoulders, arms, and neck. She traced them with two fingers until they rose up his neck, then she cupped her hand on his jaw and used her thumb to tilt his face to hers. She kissed him slow.
"I'm so glad I found you," Azriel murmured against her lips. Aurora kissed him again as her fingers tangled into his hair.
"Thank you. Thank you, thank you for finding me," she chanted her praise, letting the words tumble from her lips and into his. This, this is what she imagined love to be like: Holding each other and whispering sweet nothings into kisses. Having her heart swell at the scent of him, at the touch of him. Being grateful that they existed in the same centuries and thankful that they'd have more to come.
"Tell me again, what you said that day in the kitchen," Azriel spoke into her mouth. Her heart leaped, she'd been waiting for the chance to say these words again. Aurora smiled as he shifted them so that he now hovered above her and she laid against the pillows. Slow kisses heated the skin of her jaw and neck.
"I love you," Aurora purred as his fingers rose from her thigh to her heat. How easy it was, seeing that they were both still nude from their actions throughout the day. A heavy breath turned to a moan as he massaged her. Wet lips clung to the crook of her neck as Azriel situated himself between her thighs. The tip of his length ran along her arousal. She was incredibly sore from how hard he had gone all day, but something about this time seemed completely different.
It was different in the way his left hand held her face, different in the way he slowly slid into her. They had never come together this way. Azriel didn't spit degrading or praising words, he didn't hold her with a bruising grip. This time, even with her legs wrapped around his hips, he moved slow and rhythmic.
"I love you," Aurora repeated in an exhale, head tilting back into the pillows. Azriel took her lips with his own.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," he chanted between kisses. Heat and pleasure combed through Aurora. It grew from his words and from how he filled her. Her fingers ran over his tensing muscles and rose to his wings, fingertips feathering over the velvety skin. Azriel shuddered, a whimper leaving him as he thrusted into her for the hundredth time.
With his left hand against her cheek, Azriel used his right to explore her body. Each scar, mark, indent, bone, and every muscle. He wanted to feel her, in more ways than just sex. His shadows ghosted over her skin, whispered sweet nothings in her ears.
"I love you," Azriel said again, this time in a moan, while her fingers still danced along his wing. It felt incredibly slow yet still not enough time when they both came. Azriel's forehead rested on Aurora as he slowed his hips. Their moans combined with each other's breath.
"Az," Aurora breathed out his name, lifting her eyes to his. Azriel met her gaze, his thumb stroking over her cheek bone.
"Yes?"
Aurora's words sat in her throat and she decided to kiss him while she tried to pick the words apart in her mind. "I've lived a long life, but I don't think it really began until I met you."
Azriel kissed her again, and she felt the emotions tighten around her like the shadows that clung to him. "I feel the same, Aurora. Who knows if it's just the bond, but I feel as if I woke up when I saw you in that room."
The exchange of words fell into another few minutes of their lips together and hands exploring. Aurora didn't move her hands from his wings, even after he came. She slid her hand between the two, the small strip of skin that morphed into leathery velvet.
"Fuck, I don't know if I have it in me right now, but the way you're touching me is sending me into another spiral," Azriel moaned, his face dropping to her shoulder. Aurora chuckled and brought that hand to his hair.
"Come on, love, we haven't eaten all day. Let's go get some food," Aurora murmured, kissing the messy hair that tickled her face. Azriel grunted but his stomach growled all the same. He pushed off of her and began gathering the trousers that sat on the floor. Aurora climbed from the bed and dug through her trunk to find leggings and a large wool sweater that Feyre had gifted her.
On wobbly legs, Aurora left the room and went to the bathing chamber that was just as wooden and warm as the rest of the cabin. She cleaned herself after nearly an entire day of sex and got dressed. When she emerged from the room, Azriel was walking into the hallway. She smiled at him as he adjusted the hem of the sweater that laid atop his torso. Azriel returned the grin and led her to the kitchen.
Aurora sat on a chair and watched as Azriel somehow made soup and bread appear. She wondered if the magic in this cabin was similar to the House. They didn't need to speak. Comforting quiet held them like the warmth from the fireplace.
After a short while, Azriel had two bowls of soup with a spoon and slice of bread in each. Aurora stood and followed him to the couch. He sat, holding the bowls above him. Aurora grinned as she sat and leaned into his side. Azriel's arm came down on the other side of her and she took the bowl of soup. They ate slowly as they watched the flames lick the stone above the hearth.
When Aurora's bowl was empty and her belly sat full, she sat her dish upon the center table and laid into Az. His arm looped around her and rested over her stomach while he finished the bites of bread.
"Do you want to talk about it yet?" Aurora asked, looking up at him. Azriel didn't look at her but instead leaned them both forward to sit his empty bowl beside hers.
"Well, I guess I can say I'm pissed at Rhys. I understand that I'm uncontrollable right now, but I've never been told to leave Velaris before. I know that I have places to go, like this cabin, and Elain doesn't know much of Prythian. She wouldn't be able to get banned from the city," Azriel spoke. His eyes looked distant from where Aurora saw them.
"And? How about the anger you feel, do you think it's just the bond?" Azriel shrugged beneath her head.
"I have centuries of rage. I've never let myself act upon it, except when I'm called for torture. I think that's why I enjoy it so much, I get to let out the frustration I always feel. I'm just pissed. I'm pissed at my father, step-mother, and half-brothers, I'm pissed at the pieces of shit that are below us in that camp, I'm pissed at Rhys, at Tamlin, at Beron, Eris. I'm just fucking angry," Azriel snapped. Aurora decided it would be best to sit forward and listen silently. She didn't want to urge him to continue, and she felt like he was going to rant anyway.
"I've never forgiven the Illyrians for anything they've done. Not my father, not my brothers. Rhys's mother was the first gentle female who cared to take me in. I wasn't raised to be one of them, not until I met Rhys and Cass. I still don't see myself to be like them, I don't embrace my heritage. Did you know they were the ones to teach me to fly?" His dark eyes lifted to Aurora. She shook her head softly. His lips thinned to a line before he continued.
"Well, anyway, I hate the Illyrians, I hate the way they see things and the way they treat people. You should've known Cass back then, I wanted to tear apart the camp lords for the way he was treated." He paused to take a breath, "I think Cass and Rhys were always closer than I was with either of them. Not because they didn't like me, but because they were both so loud and destructive. I started to get like that, but since I never spoke as a child, I never really want to be loud. I've grown used to the silence."
Aurora furrowed her brows, pain for him thumping at her heart. He reached down and grabbed her legs, tugging them onto his lap. Her back rested against the arm of the couch, arms crossed.
"If I can ask, why did you not speak as a child?" Azriel swallowed, his thumb running over her clothed shin.
"I'm, uh, bastard born. My father's an Illyrian lord and I don't really know my mother. I was raised with my step-mother and two older half-brothers. They hated me, and I guess I was just a burden. The first decade of my life, I lived in a cell; no light, no windows. I came out an hour everyday for some socialization, a few of those hours I got to see my mom. I haven't seen her since I was brought to the camp. They liked me there, though. The lords liked that I'm a Shadowsinger, so they trained me."
Aurora felt her heart shatter as wetness filled both of their eyes. His hand gripped her leg as if it was holding him together. He had been raised similar to her, in a way. He had lived in darkness.
"The scars on your hands, did they come from your time in the cell?" Aurora asked slowly, hesitating at the question. Azriel studied the silvery-pink indents, a finger tracing over one of them.
"Yeah. During one of my hours out of the room, my brothers held me down and poured oil on my hands. They lit them on fire. Apparently it hurt me too quickly for my healing to work, so when my father stopped them, I was already marked. They healed after a long while, but never quite right," Azriel murmured. Aurora leaned forward, taking one of his hands into hers. The scars were beautiful, honestly. For the age they were, they still sat pronounced on his tan skin. She brought them to her lips.
"There's irony in our pasts," she gave him a small grin. Azriel rose a brow. "We, as mates, both suffered time in seclusion and darkness. Both bastard born, both treated terribly by the 'family' we had left. I gained fire magic, and you've been marked by flame."