I had many vices: Murder, torture, indulging in violent pleasure. I thought those would be the worst of my sins, but lying had become the most painful. Each time I had to tell Rhysand or Odessa that there was no hint of Freyja, it blackened another piece of my shadowed mind. It got more difficult with each day.
Rhysand had finally stayed in the House for more than an hour. Throughout the past week, he had been flying over every stretch of the Night Court, trying to connect with Freyja's mind. Cassian had been at the camps, questioning any seasoned warrior and sending them out over Illyria. I'd been sending my shadows out in a fruitless attempt to listen for any word. Mor had been marching every street of Velaris and nearly tearing down every door.
There had been no word from Alcaeus, but I had my suspicions that he was forming his own searches. I hadn't been back to Freyja in a week, but if he had found her, an announcement would've been made. I was afraid to see what she had become in that time. It didn't miss me that she'd already spiraled so far in one night in Velaris. I kept telling myself that I had no responsibility past ensuring she is hidden, but I continuously had an urge to just check on her.
I hadn't slept each night. I was fucking delusional. Instead of laying in bed and feeling the churning in my stomach, I unleashed myself upon whichever male chose to make a mistake in Windhaven. I'd spent more time coated in blood than in Velaris. I needed a distraction from the agonizing gnawing at my stomach and head.
It was late, the moon and stars laying their light across the village. I stumbled from the small house I'd heard screaming from. The female was long gone, the two males were in pieces beside the bed. I couldn't even remember what they'd looked like before they met my blade. I'd succumbed to the damning desire to forget yet another night, snatching a bottle of whiskey from
the dining table. I'd stood there and appraised my work until the bottle was half gone.
Now, I didn't want to return to Velaris and the sickening sorrows of the House of Wind. Mor had been sent back to the Hewn City, so Cassian and Rhysand were drinking themselves stupid. I shakily lowered myself to my knees in the front of the property, shoving the whiskey into the snow and gathering handfuls to wash the blood from my leathers and knife.
It took far too long to finally stand again. By the time the bottle was back in my hand, I'd spread my wings and shot off towards the moon. I wanted to fly until I was swallowed by her light and became a silent star, but life was my torture. I'd done enough to deserve this agony, I just wanted to breathe. I hovered above the trees of the Illyrian woods, taking swig from the whiskey.
I could fly until the sun rose, tire myself out and drink until my body failed me. Or, I could take the chance to visit Freyja. My pulse quickened as my eyes snapped in the direction of the cabin. Two mountains over, Freyja sat in a week long solitude. I wet my lips before bringing the bottle back to my mouth. A drunken mistake, perhaps, but who was I not to check on the female I'd stowed away?
I shot in the direction, letting the bottle hang from my fingertips as my wings brought me closer to her. I didn't know what it was about her turmoil that intrigued me so much. Just knowing that she was falling apart just beyond the range, I wanted to be there to watch. I wanted to see it, hear it, taste her tears. A drunken mistake definitely.
I kept my composure as my boots crunched the snow in front of the dark cabin. I wasn't a messy drunk, but the whiskey and the adrenaline from my last kill had my lips twitching as I shoved the door open. The cabin was silent. The chairs empty. My hazy eyes moved to the corridor. As I silently stepped, I sent my shadows to the rooms. Freyja was still here, in the biggest room.
I pushed the door open in time to hear a gasp and the swish of liquid against glass. I smelled the whiskey immediately, an older and more pungent type than the one I'd drained. I smelled the jasmine and lilacs beneath it, the sweet scent of her. Freyja was on my mind more often than Mor, these days. Her scent was far more addicting.
"You're still alive," I observed, stepping to the edge of the bed. In the moonlight, Freyja was curled in furs against the headboard, one bare arm hung over her knees with a bottle of whiskey hanging from her fingertips.
"I am," she responded in a whisper. I licked my lips as though I could taste her words. There was something about the way I'd slaughtered those males and finished that whiskey that had me making mistakes I never would have. If I hadn't been drunk on blood and alcohol, I wouldn't have climbed onto the bed and sat beside her. I wouldn't have taken the bottle from her small fingers and brought it to my lips.
"Why are you here?" Freyja asked after a long moment. My head leaned back against the wooden headboard as I turned to look at her. Her now short hair was messy around her face, eyes hooded with intoxication. What kind of mistakes would I make with her?
"I haven't been here to check in on you," I rasped, handing her back the bottle. I watched her tongue dart out over her lips before she drank again.
"You smell like blood."
I kept my eyes on her. "Does that scare you?"
She kept the bottle pressed to her lips for a long moment. My heart was pounding. My fingers twitched. "No."
"How much have you had to drink?" I asked, forcing my eyes to the window. Whatever impulses I was getting were not meant for her.
"When? I found some bottles the first day here," she said. My mouth was dry. I reached for the bottle, my body tensing when our fingers brushed. I wondered what she felt like without my gloves on. I needed to see Flora.
"Tonight," I responded hoarsely. The whiskey had stopped burning long ago.
"Just this bit. I'm running out, I wanted to savor the last few bottles."
I swished the liquid between my teeth as I handed her back the bottle. I heard the soft clink of her setting it on the table. At this rate, I'd be asleep soon. She was safe, I could sleep.
My eyes started to feel too heavy as silence stretched between us. Mindlessly, I kicked my boots off and turned onto my side. Gods, I was comfortable. Freyja smelled so good, the pillow smelled like her.
"Azriel?" Her small whisper filled my ears. I hummed. "Are you alright?"
I had no answer for that. No, I wasn't- yes, I was in that moment. I just wanted to fucking sleep. I couldn't sleep with the suffocation of Rhysand's agony or Alcaeus's threats, and Cassian was beyond irritating. He always tried to calm tense situations with humor, but lately, I'd been wanted to crush his fucking teeth in. He didn't deserve that. I couldn't go back until I slept.
My heavy body felt light for just a moment, my shadows so silent I'd thought they'd left me. The soft fur beneath me shifted and I swore I laid upon the soft belly of a large mountain cat. And then I felt her fingers. My eyes snapped open at the sensation of my hair being brushed back. I caught her wrist in too tight of a hold. Freyja yelped, tugging against me. My heart pounded at the way her pulse jumped under my fingertips.
"I don't like to be touched," I whispered, loosening my hold. Freyja jerked her hand back, turning her head away.
"I'm sorry." I didn't like to hear that from her. She had nothing to apologize for. She'd never known, and now that I didn't feel her touch on me, it felt almost wrong. The logic in the back of my mind knew I'd hate myself when the sun rose and the whiskey fled my blood, but I acted anyway. My hand shot out, looping around the curve of her waist. Freyja gasped as I hauled her body to me.
She smelled so good, so much better than the blood that stained me. I buried my face into her messy hair, inhaling and unable to stop my groan. Her back was pressed to my front, my leg slipping between hers and hooking her to me. The blanket had been forgotten, but she was warm enough. Freyja was so tense, her breathing stuttered as though she tried to hold it in an attempt to calm the force of it. I felt her turn her head, my nose brushing against her ear. I had enough restraint not to take it between my teeth.
My fingers splayed across her stomach, anchoring her to my body. She fit so perfectly against me, I nearly forgot she'd never been so close to a male- as far as I knew. I was sure of it when she shifted her hips, grazing her perky rear against my cock. I tightened my hold on her, sucking in a breath as I felt myself pressed against the perfect spot.
"Stop moving unless you want to lose your chance at marriage," I ground out. Freyja stilled, her breath catching. I grinned into her hair at the sweet scent of arousal. Little Frey liked that. Her stomach tensed under my gloves, her back arching. Oh, she really liked that.
"Azriel." She whispered my name with a sense of desperation. I wanted to drink that desperation. I'd thought she'd been falling apart alone in this cabin. I expected to find her red-faced and teary-eyed, but now she wanted to fall apart in a whole different sense. I shifted my own hips, pressing into her as best I could with these damned leathers on. Her breath hitched, my cock twitched. I was hard enough, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep.
"I didn't come here to get you off, Little Frey. Go to sleep, we are both drunk." I wanted to vomit after speaking those words. I didn't know what I came here for, but I needed to sleep. I couldn't touch her like that, I couldn't be the one to send her to certain death. I may be drunk and delusional, but I knew better than to fuck the one female I was forbidden to touch.
"Azriel," Freyja whispered again. I sighed, burrowing into her hair. The scent of her arousal was damning. I wanted to badly to succumb to her needs. It would be a fitful sleep, but I needed it more than I needed to fuck her. She didn't deserve what I'd give her. Freyja deserved love and gentle caresses. I'd make her bleed.
It took a long while of ignoring her pleas, but Freyja seemed to finally understand I wouldn't touch her more than this. I was comfortable, too comfortable. I knew I'd hate myself when reality kicked in, but for now, I savored the sensation of her body against mine. I let myself burrow into her warmth and dance on that shaking line of oblivion and consciousness. Her breathing evened under my palm, her head shifting back forward.
When I let myself fall head first into the sweet darkness, I knew I'd never feel this at peace. It was almost a shame to fall asleep, I'd miss so much of these hours. I couldn't fight it anymore, though. Surrounded in the scent of jasmine and lilacs, listening to her soft breathing and feeling the thrum of her pulse below her ribcage, I succumbed to sweet oblivion.