A Court of Blood & Mercy - Chapter 31 - pinkrasberryfish - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series (2024)

Chapter Text

Elain rubbed her small shoulders, pulling the thick woolen veil closer to her skin as she settled into the stone bench, happily petting Dunya with a free hand as her eyes travelled the stars above the greenhouse.

It was silent and humid in the space, save for her rapidly beating heart, her plants finally reviving somewhat after their week of neglect, apparently forgiving of the attempted-murder and willing to bloom for her again.

She remembered back to the last time she had spent an insomnia-ridden night in her greenhouse, sitting on this same bench when Lucien had come to speak to her… telling her that “the Shadowsinger has come.”

Elian felt a chill go over her arms again as she fought the rush of air in her lungs.

So many moments in her life had severed things into “before” and “after.” The Cauldron, Tamlin bursting into their cottage, the death of her father, the vision of her pregnancy… the bloodied sheets from that second pregnancy.

She wondered now if Lucien would ever realize that he had been speaking a prophetic word over her life: manifesting another precipice on which Elain now saw a “before” and an “after.”

Because nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

After this kiss… the way his scarred hands tangled on her scalp, gripping the roots of her hair as she felt herself release against him. There was no going back: no returning to life before she knew what it was to taste Azriel: to feel him groan and weaken just by her touch.

Of course, as with every other time, Elain had not realized tonight would be life-changing.

She had been standing outside, holding her breath and biting her bottom lip as she paused outside the tall oak door, her hand curled small, ready to knock.

And if her intentions had been completely pure, perhaps she would not have hesitated. Perhaps she would have pushed her way inside, reminded him of dinner and checked for a fever before sweeping out in a flurry of skirts and tasks.

But she was hesitating.

Because, well, she didn’t quite know. She wanted to… she wasn’t sure. Maybe see him?

She almost laughed to herself.

“See him.”

As if things were ever that simple or ever that innocent when it had come to Azriel.

Just the scent trail of him, left behind in the corridor after he had long since retired to his room on the opposite side of the manor… it was as if it was beckoning her to follow, like fairy dust sprinkled on a forest floor, a magical trail from a story: as if trailing his scent would reveal a lifeline to heaven. It was sensual and invigorating, but also stronger than just the physical: like the call of the wild or the magic of the Cauldron. It reminded her of that time she had wandered through to Hybern’s camp… like her body was not her own, completely fallen toward the soul of another as she all but realized she would be willing to lose herself if she could only find… him.

So now, here she was like a fool, waiting outside his door with a thundering heart while earlier she had been sighing into her cup of tea as she watched him repot a shrub, and then later, squeezing her thighs together as she watched him stack wood at a distance.

She had been a fool.

An utter miserable fool to ever allow him to stay here. How could she ever devote Azriel to the category of friend when her body was screaming for so much more? And her heart and soul, and every part of her.

And with her daughter away, her mate long gone, and even her irritating brother-in-law nowhere to be seen, it was becoming more and more difficult to resist the commands swelling in her chest and deep within her hips. Like she had no responsibility of mother or Lady, or any other thing other than… female.

She felt it growing: the sensation, like a deep and empty cavern was whining and pawing at her tissue, squeezing her thighs and feeling like she was completely empty, a space that was becoming increasingly rageful at the lack of attention.

So after knocking and finding him unresponsive, she had crept toward his bed, stepping each pace as if she was walking toward an alter. She was not certain yet, if it was a sacrificial alter, but even if it was, she could not resist.

And then he was waking, looking at her with a strange cast over his eyes, like he wasn’t seeing her clearly. She wondered how she looked to him; if her skin was revealing the flushing urgency or if he could decipher the tense slope of her shoulders. He wasn’t really speaking and she felt her words ramble and twist along with the hands in her lap as she found herself perched on the edge of his bed, her hands all but testing the heat of the fire as she stepped closer and closer to the edge.

Elain swallowed, lifting her eyes to his for only a second before dropping them again, stung into her retinas by the glowing hazel that was smoldering and warming her all over.

She bit her lip as she felt the nervous tension pool between her legs.

She felt herself pause, as if standing on a precipice.

And as she felt the pad of his thumb press on her bottom lip, his other hand still tangled in her curls, Lady Elain Archeron-Vanserra made a decision.

And she kissed him.

He crashed into her at once, the pair of them dropping the pretense and pulling up for air, breathing only one another as she felt him plunge his hand into her hair. He kissed her deep and strong, his mouth on hers and his taste against her tongue as she felt herself moan, the sounds and murmurs unable to be bridled as she felt her leg lift, her thigh dragging up against the outside of his thigh, before she found herself all but climbing on top of him, straddling him in the moonlight. She let out another moan, unable to prevent the groans from releasing as she felt herself buck into his kiss, stretching her leg farther to feel more of the outline of his body against her flesh.

It all happened so quickly.

How was this real?

How was any of this real?

She felt her mind trying to chide her, remind her of her place as Lady Lucien Vanserra… urging her to remember her daughter, her family… the law and the Vanserras.

But it was impossible.
Because with Azriel, it was like she was dancing choreography they had lived in a former life. It was like they already knew where to place their hands or how gentle or firm to hold each other’s jaws and necks… the exact angle his thumb would grace her clavicle or how wide she had to pull her legs to straddle his hips… it was the most natural thing she had perhaps ever done. Even when she bumped his nose or his hand got caught in a tangle of curls at the nape of her neck, they had merely pulled back with a sparkling grin, laughing and forging ahead as if the world they occupied was riddled with nothing but understanding love and acceptance.

There was no awkwardness… no tension… no debts or pressure.

Just want. Need. Desire.

Which was why it felt like drowning when he had made them come up for air.

Azriel had placed his index finger to her lips, pulling back as they heaved, their gasping lungs panting as she felt his finger tremble and shake against her lips, his blood and heart pumping furiously as he blinked, opening and closing his eyes as if he was trying to regain consciousness.

He was so… unrelentingly gorgeous. His short hair ruffled and sticking up at the back from her hands… his lips swollen and red from kissing her as his eyes tried and failed to focus, like a discombobulated puppy. She had waited for him to speak, her own breath steadying as she gazed at him, her eyes memorizing every black long lash curled up to his brow bone as he peered up at her, letting out another breath through his nose as his shoulders fell.

Elain hiked the wool veil up her shoulders a bit as the memory of the kiss and their conversation settled around her thumping heart, her face breaking into a smile as her eyes fell to the greenhouse floor. She would never forget the look in his eyes, asking if it was a dream— the fear and stress he had upon his shoulders when she had tried to leave. The way they had agreed to just try to be happy.

She wasn’t sure how they were really able to stop at all to even speak of such things like the Octavo or the future, but then they were back in each other’s arms. After pausing their frenzy, Azriel had breathed again, taking her gently to his mouth in a chaste kiss, their mouths joined slowly as she felt his hands fall from the nape of her neck to her shoulders and then down to her arms, trailing her skin to her wrists until he held her small hands in his.

Elain had always loved holding his hands, her fingers begging for the time to study and memorize his scars, wishing to know the graves of his wounds like she knew the back of her own hand. Only there was never enough time.

Until now.

They were beautiful.

He was beautiful.

And she suddenly felt desperate for him to know it.

“You’re beautiful Azriel.” 

Elain’s words fell out in a choked whisper, caught between her teeth as she gazed at him smiling, shaking her head as she watched the rose in his cheeks torrent toward red, the blush pluming against the planes of his skin as he closed his eyes, fighting a grin and shaking his head in protest.

“Come here.” He finally spoke, the command falling from his lips in a way that made her want to drop to her knees.

He pulled her forward, lifting her so she was pulled onto his lap, nested to his body in a way that was becoming familiar, after all his cradling of her he had done as of late. He began rocking her slowly, and she felt his heart thump against her fae ear, loud like an earthquake, shaking and vibrating his bones and lungs as she smiled to herself, turning her face into his chest to nuzzle against his skin.

He smelled divine.

Not foreign or strange or unfamiliar. Cedar. Mist. A faint hint of soap and blood. It made her smile.

She wanted to know what he was thinking.

She lifted her face, blinking up at him as she realized he was smiling to, softly, as if he was remembering something warm. And maybe he felt her watching him, because soon Azriel opened his eyes and looked down at Elain and his smile grew wider, squeezing her tighter to him as she let out a small giggle.

“What are you thinking about?” Elain asked quietly, craning her face up to his.

He paused, considering her question for a moment before he swallowed. “Just that I would give anything to never leave this moment.”

She felt her own throat dry a bit as she gazed at him. “I feel the same way.”

He smiled, his mouth closed as she watched his brow furrow. “This doesn’t feel real.”

She let out a small giggle again.

“What?” He asked.

“I was going to say I feel the same way. But I think I already said that.” Elain looked down at her lap, resting her cheek against his chest as she felt a small sigh escape her lips. “It’s like I’m in a fantasy.”

“Then let’s play pretend for a bit longer.” Azriel had said, leaning to the side and placing her gently beside him on top of the covers, turning and propping his head up on his hand, his arm folded into a V as she mirrored his posture, unable to stop the smile from peering from her face.

“My sisters and I used to do this at the cottage we grew up in: lay on the covers with our heads propped up, just talking. Discussing the latest ribbon selection in town or the gossip from the farm down the road.” Elain said, reaching a hand out to run across the silk-embroidered quilt beneath her. “You know… the things young naive girls do when they’re trying to ignore the fact that they’re starving and bereft of hope.”

Azriel nodded warmly, latching onto the positive parts of her story. “It sounds cozy to share a bed with your siblings.”

“I think they both hated it, but I actually liked the company. And the closeness. I don’t like to sleep alone. Thank the Mother you saved Dunya or I’d truly be sleeping alone forever.” Elain spoke without thinking, her mind wandering as her hand traced the comforter.

A second of silence passed before Elain felt Azriel’s gaze turn somber, a look of pity or maybe sympathy cresting his eyes as he watched her. She wondered if he was thinking the obvious— did she ever share a bed with her mate? Would she continue to do so after he returned?

And the problem was that she didn’t know.

And she couldn’t answer.

So she simply closed her eyes, shaking her head a little.

“I don’t imagine you bunk up with a pet.” She whispered, “or anyone else?”

She began stroking his hand as she peered up at him, feeling rotten and selfish for even wondering, poking at the question she suddenly felt desperate t know: if there were others. If there was someone back there, waiting.

Maybe it was because her mate seemed to have a hoard of females wilting at his touch, waiting for months just to host him again in their tents along the seaside or cottages in the mountains, so taken they were with her magnificent Lucky Clover, with his shining hair and exotic mechanical eye; drooling over the way he carried himself and the youth in his bones.

She knew there were probably many females, perhaps some that she even knew personally, who would be all over Azriel if they had the chance. His beauty rivaled the gods of legends, it was so unlike any male she had seen before.

He had seemed to flinch at her question, certainly curious as to why she was bothering with such a painful line of questioning, but it somehow felt important to her. Had he really been waiting around for her for the past two decades while she tried and failed at being the perfect Lady Lucien Vanserra?

But Azriel seemed to side-step her baited trap, arching a brow at her. “My most regular companion has always been my shadows.”

She nodded, unsatisfied and suddenly territorial, accepting his answer as her eyes shifted to the smoking blackness twirling and snaking beyond the foot of the candlelit bed.

She could still feel her heart pulsing beneath her ribs, her mind still tumbling and whirling through the kiss and the feel of his mouth on her skin.

She wanted more.

But he was making them pause.

“Hmmm…” She whispered, reaching a hand toward the shadows, letting out a chuckle as they fled her touch, hiding, as they always seemed to do around her.

She turned back to his hand, pulling it above her face as she observed it in the candlelight, taking an open and studied look at his scars for the first time. “I’ve always thought your scars look like roots. Or Ivy. Beautiful.”

“You’re the only person to have ever said that to me.”

“Really?”

He seemed to shrug. “I’ve heard I’m a bit terrifying to look at.”

“Hardly!”

He arched a brow.

“Your face makes my eyes feel at home. Or like I’m observing a daffodil or the moon or maybe a sunset.”

“Why I don’t believe I’ve been compared to a flower before, Lady Vanserra.” Azriel’s voice turned dark and low.

She swallowed and felt a shiver go down her ribs.

A moment passed.

“I suppose I am Lady Vanserra aren’t I.” Elain’s voice had been small, searching and somewhat ashamed.

And Azriel didn’t reply, simply meeting her gaze with something thick and fiery, a look she had seen a lot since Velaris.

“But what does that mean to you…” Elain had asked quietly, turning to her side to hold her head up again, gazing at him as her heart accelerated beneath her tattooed breast.

But Azriel had just shaken his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’m afraid it meant everything to me until it meant nothing.”

She blinked, confused and intrigued as she felt her tongue wet her bottom lip. “And when did it come to mean nothing?”

Azriel had swallowed, his eyes still shaded and hazel, swirling and locked onto her as he watched her in silence.

She ventured forward, prodding him. “Was it when you had found my mate to be unfaithful?”

He shook his head, his eyes still locked onto her as his voice broke, rough and low. “It was when I found how they broken you. Let you suffer without doing a godsdamned thing about it.”

She blinked, barely able to tolerate the heavy way he was looking at her, their bodies only a few handwidths apart on the soft bed with the rain beginning to pick up strength beyond the windows. “And what were they to do about it?”

“They should have loved you. He should have loved you. Properly.” Azriel answered, resolute and strong as he gazed at her.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what it means to be loved properly.” Elain had admitted, her voice becoming a whisper, hoarse as she felt her heart thump and breathe in her chest loud enough for both of them to hear.

“Then let me show you.” He had answered, his own heart meeting hers.

She swallowed, seeing Azriel’s eyes darken as he gazed at her, his hand coming to her jaw, tracing her features as the moonlight began to pour in through the rain-smattered window. “Let me love you properly.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

She lifted herself up in the bed then, readjusting to lean her shoulders against the headboard as she pulled her knees to her chest, her skirts falling around her as her eyes began to gaze blank across the guestroom, her heart beating and pumping blood into every pulsing limb of her body. “I just— I don’t even know what I’m doing right now.” She spoke as she felt her eyes blur suddenly, the waters of her heart filling her eyes as she shook her head, hugging her knees by grasping her wrist with her small hand, feeling small and unsteady as Azriel waited beside her. “I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore. I just feel so turned around. Like I’m more alive and aware than ever, but I’m also so… so very afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He asked, his eyes soft and intense as he gazed at her, his muscles looking like he was ready to spring forward at any second, but he was holding himself back.

She swallowed. “That I won’t be able to return to my place beneath the veil when this is all over.” She breathed out, feeling her heart accelerate. “When he returns and you leave… when I become Lady Vanserra again.”

Her mind flew to Penelope… her mate… the debut and the war and her life in Autumn—

But it was as if he was reading her mind when Azriel’s voice broke through her anxieties again, drawing up next to her in the bed, taking her by her hand and pulling her to his chest. “Hush.”

She swallowed, feeling the weight of his proposal fall on her heart as she blinked: he wanted her to let him love her properly.

It made her shiver.

“I don’t think I can do this to you Azriel. It’s not fair. I can’t promise you— I can’t give— ” her voice became small.

He shook his head, rolling away from her and off the bed before standing and outstretching a hand toward her. Confused, she accepted, allowing him to pull her forward so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Gazing into her eyes, she watched as Azriel took both her hands in his and lowered to his knees, gazing up at her with his wings behind his enormous shoulders, his scars and tattoos and shadows swirling around him as she felt her heart give way.

“Let’s not talk about the future. Or forever. Or even tomorrow. Let’s just… be happy.”

He smiled then, leaning forward and kissing her hand before rising up.

She wondered if he was about to lean her back and meet her mouth again, her body feeling beyond prepared for his, but he did not. Because instead of ravishing her on his bed, he untangled himself from her with a pained grimace. “I’ll walk you to your room.” Azriel had said gently and formally as she swept her body from his sheets, standing up and brushing her skirts down, as if she had just gotten off a horse or finished cleaning the kitchen.

Taking her by the elbow, he began guiding her from his bed chambers like she was a senile grandmother and he the loyal grandson. A flush of embarrassment bloomed across her cheeks.

She frowned, fighting to remain poised and lovely, a demure lady even, as if she hadn’t just moaned into his mouth moments before.

What was happening?

Why was he trying to get rid of her? Did he regret what had happened? Was it because she didn’t know what she could promise him?

She stepped, gently and wistful, allowing him to hold her up, as her eyes gazed forward, down the marble corridor stretching before her like a never-ending horizon. It was like her feet were dragging, unwilling and resentful of their quest as the questions and worries began exploding in her mind.

But then, as they walked in silence across the marble tile and mahogany wood of Kuskova, with only the distant creaking of the manor settling, and the bristling of his steaming shadows, Elain had heard his heartbeat.

It was thundering, pounding and thudding in her ears until it was all she could hear, louder than the rain pounding into the enormous windows lining the corridor or the winds howling and thrusting against the shaking walls of the manor.

She felt him slow his steps as well, and Elain looked up into Azriel’s dark face, his eyes bearing down upon her as she watched the hazel glimmer in the low candlelight she had been holding.

Elain halted then, stopping in the middle of the corridor, reaching forward to caress his face, which somehow felt even more scandalous than any kissing they had done. Though there was no one to witness her traitorous act, it felt different to touch him outside the secrecy of the bedroom, touching him unbridled here in the manor, with the portraits of her mate’s family bearing down upon her from every angle: it was treachery.

But she did not still her reaching hand, caressing his face like she had wanted to do in the River Mansion all those weeks ago, tracing her thumb along his sharp jaw as his heart continued to pound in her ears.

Azriel’s eyes darkened, and before she knew it, he was reaching toward her, hard and fast, grasping his hands into her hair again as they began to kiss, his mouth sealing against hers as she moaned, dropping the candle onto the wooden floors as his shadows snuffed the wax and fire in an instant.

And then he was stepping forward, sending her small frame back as he moved, before she felt her shoulder blades hit the wall, his body pinning her against a painting. She gasped as she felt his tongue explore her mouth, his hand now running down her waist until hooking over her backside and under her thigh, hoisting her hips up and spreading her legs against him as she whimpered, her hands holding his face as he groaned, the pair completely lost in each other as they kissed, exploring and devouring each other for what felt like forever.

She didn’t even need more— not yet.

Just tasting him and feeling his desire for her was enough to stoke a million fantasies, her heart powering and thundering beneath her peaked breasts as she whimpered and moaned, feeling every nerve alight and whining across her skin and within her body, her thighs wet with desire as she felt his tongue trace her jawline.

Azriel’s mouth on hers, trailing and devouring her skin as she felt her core pulse with need… it was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was better than any physical alliance she had ever had with the mating bond, and they weren’t even having sex.

It had nearly taken an act of the gods to pull them apart from one another, Azriel remembering himself, or perhaps Elain reaching too closely to his wings as she whimpered, snapping the pair out of their passion and Azriel back toward his task of delivering her to her rooms.

He drew back, cupping her hands against his temples as he shook his head, allowing her legs to drop to the ground, steadying her, though he still kept her pinned, their chests heaving with exertion as she eyed his swollen lips.

“What are we doing?” Azriel breathed out, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I don’t know.” She fought a curling smile.

He opened his eyes, grasping for a breath. “Should we stop?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

Azriel’s brows pulled together. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Elain breathed out, feeling her thighs still shaking slightly from his proximity. “Do you?”

He seemed to pause, swallowing as he closed his eyes and shook his head, his voice rough. “No.”

A silence followed before Azriel allowed himself to meet her eyes again.

“I think this is supposed to feel wrong..”Elain drew her thumb to his jaw again, unable to resist touching him. “But it doesn’t.”

He didn’t answer, closing his eyes again as his face pulled into a pained expression, his arm above her shoulder with his hand holding himself up against the wall. Elain lifted her hand, stroking his scars as her voice drifted to his ears, high and soft. “The only thing that feels wrong is saying goodnight to you.” Elain admitted, her eyes flashing to his dark lashes.

Azriel shook his head, his eyes still closed as his hand balled into a fist, his voice practically a groan. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Elain whispered, her hand now traveling from his forearm to his shoulder, curious and wandering toward the buttons of his shirt.

He all but growled at her. “Because you’re making it too hard for me.”

She smiled, playful and daring. “That doesn’t sound bad."

But Azriel just groaned, pushing away from the wall, creating distance from her. “I need to do right by you Elain. I need to… I need to protect you. From every danger, even if the danger is myself.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he angled away from her. “The Octavo. The Thirteenth Rule… breaking your mating bond could have you sent to the gallows Elain. If Lucien finds out? This is serious. What we’re doing… we need to think.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to think.”

Azriel swallowed.

“Then I’ll think for both of us. I’ll choose for both of us.”

Elain sighed, stepping forward and taking his scarred hand in his. “I can have my lady’s maids return in the morning.”

And as she said the words, she felt her heart breaking.

Because she suddenly knew what she wanted for the first time in nigh-on twenty years, and it was him.

It was Azriel.

Only, he wouldn’t let himself want her too.

He swallowed, nodding darkly before embracing her in a quick hold, winnowing her to the door of her bed chambers and whispering “goodnight” with a kiss to her forehead. He hadn’t even wanted to tempt fate by finishing the walk to her door, she thought with a sigh.

She felt her heart fall to her feet, his kiss still hot on her lips as she tossed and turned in her sheets, sweating and uncomfortable, despite her thin night dress. It was ridiculous to imagine she would be able to sleep after such an evening, especially with Azriel still in the godsdamned house, breathing and beautiful just down the hall from her.

Which was why Elain eventually sought sanctuary in her greenhouse.

Perhaps being surrounded by plants could provide her the sober peace she desperately needed. Because part of her, okay, maybe all of her, wanted to fling open his bedroom door without knocking, straddling him and sealing herself to him again, good-manners and logic be damned!

But she didn’t.

Because he didn’t want her to.

Because he was trying to protect her. From her.

She sighed, her eyes traveling up to the sparkling glass of the warm greenhouse as the memories of the evening continued to float in front of her.

Why had he even kissed her tonight? Had she caught him in such a state of vulnerable nap-muddled confusion that he didn’t have his usual guards up around her? That must mean he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to kiss him.

Only, she wanted to do much more than kiss.

She wanted him to devour her. Whole.

As terrible as it was to admit to herself, she loved the idea of being reckless for a while. In the secrecy of Kuskova, away from the eyes of her mate, her family… hells, even away from the eyes of her servants, Elain wanted to unleash her deepest desires.

It was what terrified her in Winter. It was what she had been running from when she went to Eris. It was what had been drawing her to him since Velaris… since the Cauldron… since before she realized anything at all.

She wanted him.

And she wanted to do this.

If she were to die on the sword of the Thirteen Rules of Female Law, let it be by the Thirteenth Rule: Betrayal.

And as soon as the thought came to her, Elain looked up, startled by the creaking of the door to the greenhouse, only to realize it was Azriel, powering through her swirling memories and ripping her back into consciousness.

Her heart began pounding instantly, her face breaking into a smile as he came close, his eyes dark and intense, fixated on her as he strode forward, determined, his siphons blaring and wings flared like he was charging into battle.

She felt herself gasp, unable to stop the instinct to feel slightly afraid in the presence of a fiery magical winged-male.

He came forward in a rush, stopping only to kneel before the stone bench, dropping to his knees, he rested his hands on hers, reaching as she felt her eyes flare to saucers.

“Azriel?” She could feel her heart and body react to his proximity, firing up again as if he had never dropped her off in her bedroom at all: like they were still pressed against that painting in the hall.

“Tell me now. Tell me I’ve overstepped. Tell me I’m wrong for wanting this.” His voice was low and wild, like he was being powered by something not altogether of this world. “Tell me to stop.”

She shook her head, tugging the wool veil around her shoulders as her voice became small. “I can’t tell you that.”

He dropped his head, the light glinting off his black curls. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She reached forward, lifting his face by the chin to see her. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”

He swallowed.

She felt her brows draw together as she shook her head. “I— I can’t promise anything definitive… I don’t know what’s going to happen…”

He shook his head in her hand. “I know.”

“But I do know one thing,” Elain smiled.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve never felt this way before.” Elain answered, her voice low and rough as she felt her cheeks bloom red.

His eyes darkened, and Elain swallowed as she watched Azriel rise up on his knees, leaning forward toward her. And without another word, his hands were on her face again, pulling her head to his, and he was kissing her. Hard.

And she met him there, her body springing into action as arousal swept over her again, unyielding and strong, as if she had punctured a long-held damn, waiting and begging to be freed.

But this time was different than in his room or in the hall, because she could feel him pushing against her mouth like he was starving. She felt her hands drag forward, under his shirt, grasping over his skin, feeling the rippling muscles of his back and core beneath her skin, unwilling to hide her desire for even a moment.

Things turned from kissing to moaning quickly, Elain unable to stop her back from arching and her thighs from squeezing, the arousal so strong she wasn’t sure if she could contain herself.

He groaned into her hair and neck, his mouth trailing and sucking on her skin as she panted, whimpering as they explored each other’s skin.

“You’re— so f*cking beautiful.”

She breathed out a moan. Why did he say it like that? It made her want to tear his clothes off. No, it made her want to tear her own clothes off.

She whined a bit, moaning into his mouth as he switched positions with her, sitting on the bench and pulling her to straddle him, sending her legs to spread over his hips again like earlier, her pressure point squeezing onto his very hard and very obvious arousal. It felt like he wasn’t trying to conceal his desire for her this time, bucking up into her as she felt herself whine with pleasure.

Elain could feel her own pretense dissolve as well, not shying away as the lady of the house should, but pushing down and grinding into him, desperate and insatiably doused just by the idea of him wanting her like that.

Where had they gone off the rails? She thought vaguely. How had they gone from baking bread and playing chess to desperately mounting each other in the dead of night? What had changed?

But his mouth quickly stilled her roaming thoughts, kissing her into oblivion, his hands now scoping down her back toward her hips, resting and pulling at the thick flesh on her backside as she ground into him again, pressing and whining in a way she had never felt herself do before.

It was like she was female essence unbridled, the spirit of Prythian fae female and human woman united in her gut, with all proprieties and decorum thrown out the godsdamned window.

Because he was driving her mad. His wings… so large and almost wrapped around her, tucking them in a sanctuary of their secrets together, wrapped up, her legs spread over his enormous… asset. She mewled again as his lips suddenly left her mouth and traveled down her neck toward her cleavage.

And then she found herself again, doing something she had never done before, and she was yanking at the top of her night dress, pulling and clawing down the bodice to offer her breasts to him, practically wilting in female ecstasy when he growled in approval when they finally spilled forward, bouncing into his face as she gasped. And he began rubbing and licking and tasting her chest and she threw her head back, pressing down again onto his lap as she felt her thighs begin to soak with the need pouring from her body.

“Gods.” She murmured as she felt the sensations wash over her, allowing Azriel to taste and arouse her again and again, the tension in her sex becoming unbearable.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it anymore, only a few thin layers separating her body from his.

Just when she began reaching a curious hand to his waistband, she felt him grab her wrist, stilling her movement.

He smiled, lifting her up as he stood, her breasts still fallen out, stepping forward as she clung onto him until she felt her back press against the warm glass of the greenhouse like it had in the hall.

She wondered vaguely, if her silhouette could be seen through the blackened back gardens of Kuskova, or if it was truly too dark to see what they were doing, but just as she began to fret, she felt Azriel do something she had only dreamed of in her fantasies.

Instead of pinning her like he had in the hall, he dropped to his knees.

It was a sight she had never even dared to imagine, Azriel on his knees, all but begging for a taste, his wings held behind him, strong and elegant as his dark pleading face matched the tender stroke of his hands against her legs. He was looking to her for permission, and Elain was barely able to nod as she whimpered and bit her lip, allowing him to draw her dress up to her thighs toward her belly before pulling away the slip of underwear concealed beneath her clothes.

She wondered when it would begin to feel wrong— when the little voice inside her would chastise her or remind her of her mate or her daughter or any practical thing, but it didn’t.

Because as Azriel pulled away the fabric, he gasped, and she couldn’t help but whimper, her legs quivering as she pushed away the irritating doubts in her mind.

His mouth began exploring and tasting her thighs up toward her core as her anticipation build. And again, Elain felt surprised at her own behavior, realizing she felt no shyness or embarrassment at her body being revealed to Azriel under the starlight.

Maybe because she was famished for his tongue, or perhaps because she knew he would love whatever he discovered about her.

Soon she found her head thrown back again as he lifted a hand, rubbing and twisting and playing at her breasts as his mouth began inching closer to the apex of her thighs, tasting and feasting until he made contact, exploring and playing with her as she felt her hips buck and writhe, the agony only increased as he added his hands to the mixture, playing and toying with her like she was an instrument and he was a prodigy.

He had to work her for awhile before she felt any sign of release, her body torn between impatience and rusty confusion at the sensations ricocheting up her legs and backside, wondering and worrying at her, if she was supposed to be doing this.

But when she finally came, his mouth and tongue sealed against her body, it was pure ecstasy. Her arousal was so tight and wound, the rush was unstoppable when it finally came, climaxing on his mouth and hands, pushing and bucking her body onto him as he groaned as well, unable to pull himself away until she nearly screamed from the stress upon her exerted nerves.

Elain gasped, heaving as she all but collapsed forward onto him, her dress falling down as she allowed him to pull her toward him, cradling her to his chest as she felt the tension cool within her.

And she breathed out again, waiting and curious, if it was ever going to feel wrong, but it didn’t.

It just felt… right.

And a bit dirty… in a way that felt sexy and erotic to Elain.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Azriel admitted to her, his voice low and gravelly, his lips pressed to her ear.

She smiled, nuzzling into him as she felt the spasm in her nerves continue to decline.

She wondered if perhaps the hazed indiscretions had just been a strange type of pent up lust. If maybe seeing him around the manor so often had made her particularly ripe for the picking, or perhaps the proximity and sad state of Elain’s sex life was the culprit for her dense arousal.

But no.

It wasn’t.

Because although she had just come upon his damn tongue, she still wanted… more.

Actually, more wouldn’t be enough. She wanted all of it. All of him: upon her, inside her… driving her mad with himself the way she already knew he would: or perhaps the way she had always known he would.

Because it was unlike anything Elain had felt before: the maddening affect of Azriel’s mouth upon hers, his hands wound into her curls…

“Sleep next to me tonight.” She whispered, pulling his face to her shoulder, her neck and the slope of her muscles fitting against his cheekbones and jaw in a way that almost made her wonder if she had been made to hold him.

Azriel didn’t answer, pulling back, his eyes searching hers as she gazed at him.

“Come sleep in my bed.” She repeated her proposal, allowing every single thought to fall from her mind because she might as well right? She had already let him pleasure her up against the side of the greenhouse for all the bats and spiders of the night to witness.

The greenhouse he had commissioned for her.

She smiled.

Why not become a true lady of the night? A mistress of the forbidden. “Come sleep with me Shadowsinger.” She repeated, uncaring that she was literally begging him.

She had never called him by his title, not really. And she could tell it had unlocked something in him.

She knew he was cycling through his thoughts: the same ones he had been thinking since they first spoke beneath the Court of Nightmares. Lucien. The mating bond. Blood Duels. Beron. The Octavo. Penelope.

Her life was so complicated.

But tonight, she wasn’t Lady Lucien Vanserra. Hell, she wasn’t even Lady Elain Vanserra.

She was just Elain.

So when he lifted his eyes to hers, his long lashes nearly hitting his brows as he spoke, his swollen lips tempting her just by existing and said “okay,” Elain felt as though she might cry out in excitement.

She stood then, taking him by the hand out of the greenhouse and up the servants stairs until they were crashing into her room, lost in each other again as they drowned in moaning cries and aching pushing and pulling of their bodies, dancing and playing, nearly laughing and groaning, whining and smiling as they dissolved into one another’s mouths, his hands now wandering under her skirts and Elain’s legs unable to stay upright as she laid back on her bed, spreading herself as she mewled, feeling his length press into her above the layers of clothing.

She could taste her salty tang on his mouth, and it felt dirty and wrong in a way she loved. Because it all felt new to her: somewhere she had never been and things she had never done.

They stayed that way for awhile, Elain enjoying the friction and pressure on her spent nerves as Azriel’s mouth explored her neck and face and chest, his hands working and coming dangerously close to her center, but not before pulling back, as if he wasn’t certain if he should do what he clearly wanted to do.

She wanted to beg… wanted to cry out for him to just take her, but she forced herself to remain behaved, to breathe in and out, long and slow as she fought to settle herself.

She had never been so turned-on in her life.

She felt like her body was pulsing with hunger, her flesh slick and her head dazed and confused, wrapped around his tongue and smile like she was ivy and he was stone.

Their chaotic kissing slowed after a second, and Azriel seemed to take advantage of the moment to separate himself, his chest heaving and falling.

She knew what he wanted… she could feel it beneath his trousers.

But she also wanted to pause too. To take it all in.

Because what was the point of hurrying or rushing?

She had already decided what was going to happen tonight, and she wasn’t going to change her mind.

Not now, not ever.

So she allowed him to breathe, smiling as she drew her skirts down her thighs a bit and rolling to her side, inviting him onto the soft comforter, laying on her side. She spoke, her voice gravelly as they rested on their elbows, their heads propped up by shaking hands as she felt the uncomfortable squeeze between her legs pulse and screech profanities at her.

“Maybe we should…” she arched a brow at him with a glittering smile.

“Slow down?” He answered, matching her face.

“Just talk. For a bit. Catch our breath. Before… sleep.” Elain curled her lip, playful and free in a way that felt both so unlike herself, while also being more true to herself than she had ever been.

He swallowed, nodding at her. “Okay.” He rubbed his hand over his hair as he dropped back to the mattress, his wings behind him as he pulled his hands behind his head, folding them with a delirious grin. “Whatever you want honey.”

She nearly gave in just at the pet name, her body reacting in a shudder, but she fought to stay strong.

A second passed, their slamming hearts and pulsing lungs almost comical as Elain fought the blood rushing to her head and legs, pulsing and screaming her to keep going… keep charging forward. It felt ridiculous, probably to her biology as well, to halt the raging herd of horses thundering across the plains of her body and his. Like they were damning a rushing river just for the hell of it, rather than simply sitting back to let nature take its course.

Azriel’s voice broke the silence. “So… what do you want to talk about?”

She smiled, trying to reach for something distracting… something immersive and thick enough to pull her mind from her pulsing body.

She flipped her face toward him. “Tell me about the first time you knew you liked me.”

He grinned, his breath still catching as he seemed to follow her lead, understanding she wanted to take things slower. Not hurt or offended, probably just happy she hadn’t kicked him out yet.

He arched a brow at her. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy,” she purred, smiling ridiculously wide.

He grinned wider. “The first time I saw you.”

“The first time you saw me!?” Elain was aghast, feeling her heart begin to steady as her skin prickled.

“Yes.”

“But— but I was just a human! And, and I was engaged and everything. Just a foolish girl.”

He shrugged. “I liked you the first time I saw you.”

“But why?”

“You were so… brave. And elegant. Hosting a bunch of fae in your dining room though you were scared— and so beautiful.”

She blushed. She knew her face was red and flamed. She couldn’t help but feel shy when Azriel complimented her. It didn’t matter that she had been groaning under his touch only moments before… hearing him compliment her felt like being stripped all over again. Maybe it was because it was different from how other people tended to compliment her… like his words were loaded magic that would make his perspective of her the truth. Like him saying she was brave actually made her brave.

He continued.

“I realized I was a goner when you came to Velaris. I felt so… connected to you. From the beginning. More than I felt toward your sisters. Like I wanted to protect you from the world and the screaming voices inside your head.”

She was lost in his eyes, listening to his words as she felt her lungs all but stop functioning. How had he just had his mouth on the most secret part of her body moments ago, but now they were sharing their hearts?

It didn’t feel real to her.

She swallowed, trying with all her might to focus on his words.

“It felt natural to find you in the gardens— keep watch… keep you company. And saving you from Hybern, well…” his voice dropped off.

She co*cked her head, engaging now with the conversation and dragging her mind from the gutter. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t they send Rhys with Feyre? I’ve always wondered.”

“That’s simple.”

“Huh?”

“I told them I was going to get you back. They didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

She couldn’t help herself when she lunged toward him, gathering his face to hers, kissing him hard and gripping his head to her face.

She could feel the lava between them, brewing and murmuring and ready to explode in a volcanic eruption again if she kept going, so she pulled back, stopping the frenzy with a panting breath, still determined to talk. To take this slowly.

She ran her hands across his scalp, her eyes opening as she pulled back, her voice low and rough, as if she had just realized something for the first time.

“Your hair is growing out.”

“Is it?” Azriel had a playful smile still, like a happy puppy. Like he was just along for whatever f*cking ride she was taking him on.

She nodded. “I like it long. It brings out your curls. Like a little boy. Your curls may even be nicer than mine.”

“Well that’s saying something because I don’t know how anyone could have nicer curls than you.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly before looking at him from the side of her eye. “I’m sure you’ve seen many females with gorgeous curly hair. All these years… I doubt I would rank in the top five.”

She was poking again, she could feel it; prodding to figure out what he had been up to in the twenty years when she was off with her mate. Now that she had tasted him… dragged her hands across his neck and jaw… she felt oddly territorial.

It was a weird sensation because she had never cared about Lucien’s conquests: a fact that hurt her mate beyond the point of repair. But after just kissing for one evening… feeling his mouth on her body… she wanted to form a hit list of every female he had ever so much as licked.

What was happening to her?

But Azriel just shook his head at her boldness. “Are you hunting for pain again?”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps.”

Azriel smiled, shaking his head as if he was the keeper of wisdom she would never quite grasp.

He changed the subject. “So you think I look like a little boy?”

She shook her head, her eyes returning to her curls. “No, I just mean that you look innocent. But that’s how I’ve always seen you: pure.”

“Pure? How could you say that about me of all people?” He looked amused, but also a little shocked.

She tilted her head in question.

Azriel breathed out a chuckle, shaking his head like he knew something she did not.

But when she did not seem to grasp his insinuation, he stopped short, his voice dropping into a rather serious tenor. “I’m a f*cking torturer Elain.”

She felt her eyes flare at his language, confused, and watching him closely.

Adjusting his position, he gazed at her, his eyes hard with challenge, “I kill people. No, worse than that– I kill them slowly. I make them BEG me to kill them.”She gazed at him, her expression unchanging as she watched him, but he was picking up steam, his voice fluttering and volleying as if his anxieties and fears were being let out into the room like moths. “And not only victims of treason or evil villains of the Court of Nightmares… I killed my half-brothers. My father.”

She swallowed.

He shook his head.

“For the past twenty years, I’ve become nothing but a degenerate. Drugs… alcohol.. f*cking around… I’m filthy. Disgusting. You shouldn’t come near me. I shouldn’t even be here with you right now… in your godsdamned bed.” He shook his head. “That’s why I wanted to just leave you alone tonight… after the hallway… after kissing you… I— it’s not right. And honestly, the fact that I’m here right now,” he reached over, stroking her hair, “this just proves what a wicked degenerate I truly am… luring you here. Seducing you… wanting to claim to what I do not and never will deserve.”

“What do you believe you deserve?” She asked, truly curious.

He paused.“A sinner’s damnation and a pauper’s grave. I am filth Elain. Unfit… unfit to touch you… unfit to be here.”

She shook her head, indignant. “None of that is true.”

He sealed his mouth.“If you knew who I really was… what I really am… you wouldn’t be here.You wouldn’t let me lay next to you like this. You wouldn’t let me touch you like this… kiss you like that…” his eyes fluttered to her mouth again.

She swallowed. “You don’t see yourself clearly.”

He watched her closely.

“I’ll tell you what I see when I look at you.” Elain pushed her body up, her eyes bright and flashing as her shoulders pulled back, like she was delivering a speech before kings. “I see a male of nobility. A male of honor and bravery. One who is sacrificial and kind. Protective and loving. I see a male worthy of a saint’s heaven and a king’s tomb. A male who has conquered more than I could ever imagine, and a male who has yet to conquer more.”

She watched a budding tear build in his eye, only for it to wan as he squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head again in disbelief.

She lifted her finger to that tear and brushed it away. “I admire you Azriel. Truly. I wish I could be more like you.”

He balked at her.

And she forged ahead in her speech. “Because though you were imprisoned, you never gave in. You never licked your master’s feet and you never let your spirit break.I wish I was like that.”

“Hardly. I feel that all I’ve done is destroy and destroy and destroy everything around me.” He sighed, dejected and broken.

The conversation had taken such a serious turn, Elain felt her heart thud and boom in her chest, like her body couldn’t tolerate the emotional intimacy foisted upon her soul after their physical closeness. She could still feel the squeeze of his mouth on her breast, and now her heart thundering beneath her flesh was squeezing too, her flesh and soul swirling and swimming like the circling koi in Beron’s holy pond of kings: as one.

She shook her head.

“We all have seasons of pain… grief… uselessness. I think you and I are similar in that way. When we’re suffering, it’s impossible to keep close to those around us. After I lost my… my babe…” she struggled over the words, “I all but pushed Lucien out of our family. All I wanted was Penelope. And I know you’re not close with your brothers right now… the Inner Circle… but it doesn’t mean things can’t be mended.”
A little pause passed where Azriel seemed to be surveying her, his heart slowing as Elain swallowed. “Do you… do you ever want to mend things? With your mate?” He asked, his voice tight and worried.

The question took her by surprise, and Elain felt her mouth open a bit. Then, considering an honest answer, she shook her head. “If you had asked me that six months ago, hells, six weeks ago, maybe I would have said yes. For the sake of my family… my daughter.”

“But now?”

“But now… after you’ve come back into my life— back into my heart— I don’t think I could look at another male again. Ever even touch another male.”

“Elain.”

“What?”

“You’re giving me too much hope.”

“I can’t help it.”

He smiled, drawing a finger over her lips.

She tilted her head. “Your turn now. How do you see me?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Pure… peachy innocence and beauty personified. As if the mother had created female and used you as the blueprint. You are grace… love…home.”

Elain smiled. She knew he sounded crazy. To say a female he hadn’t seen in twenty years was home was ludicrous, but she also knew that perhaps her and Azriel were crazy and it was okay to say these things aloud to each other.

He watched her closely. “Where do you feel home?”

She considered earnestly. “With Penelope.”

He nodded.

“I suppose that’s why I imploded when she left for the riding rite. Like a part of my soul had gone to roost in another court.”

“Two decades in autumn and it’s not home.” He eyed her.

She shook her head. “Autumn. Kuskova… it’s too, well… you know.”

“Unsettling?”

She laughed. “Unsettling... undying… uninspiring… take your pick.”

She knew he wanted to ask: then why should you stay? Why won’t you come with me? Why should you live out your days here when happiness could be had elsewhere? But she knew he knew she would just say: Penelope.

So instead, she watched with warm appreciation as Azriel changed the subject with the grace of a high-flying courtier. In fact, at the moment, he even looked the part of a handsome courtier laying in her bed with his bicep folded under his gorgeous head, black curly hair poking through his sinewy scarred hand. It made her flush.

She swallowed, wondering if he wouldn’t mind if she brought her mouth to his again… her thighs squeezing together as she realized she was still more turned on than she had ever possibly been in her life.

But Azriel seemed to be overly respecting her desire to slow down. His mind was elsewhere.

His brows knit as he suddenly surveyed her with urgency. “I think you need to begin carrying a weapon.”

She laughed, distracted momentarily from the pulse between her thighs. “A weapon?”

He nodded. “You don’t have one do you?”

“Other than this beautiful face?” She wiggled her brows at him, playful and flirty in a way that felt foreign to her.

Azriel laughed. “Is that why they make you wear a veil? You’d have too much power in this court walking around with those eyes on display.”

“Call me high lady!” Elain ordered with a wink in a voice she thought Vanessa would conjure.

Azriel laughed, shaking his head and grinning.

Elain tilted her head, her mind churning back to the matter. “Though I’ve long wondered if that’s not the intention of veiling in general: gathering the magic of the females through some strange ritual. Like being bound to the Octavo and the veil binds our magic to Beron somehow.” She mused aloud, her eyes folding up to the ceiling before she caught herself, chuckling nervously. “But what do I know about magick… I’ve hardly been fae for two decades.”

But Azriel shook his head, pondering her words with serious consideration. “No, that’s not altogether impossible. You haven’t had visions since you’ve come here… and your daughter shows no sign of magic?”
Elain nodded. “And Shyla and Nerissa, my sisters-in-law, they complained after coming here, that their Summer and Dawn magic was waning. Beron redirected them to the task of producing Vanserra babes, but it always stuck with me. I kind of felt guilty though… I hadn’t really noticed my powers fading like they had because in a way I was relieved to be free from the visions… from being a Seer. I just don’t like being out of control like that.”

Azriel nodded. “It would make sense, not wanting to be out of your body in a court so…”

“Oppressive?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “Perhaps.”

“How does it feel? To be veiled?”

She considered. “I suppose it’s cowardly of me, but I don’t mind it.”

“How so?”

“Well... I almost prefer it: the physical veil is kind of a barrier between the public and me. Recently at Beron’s birthday celebration, I found myself unveiled on display like a show peaco*ck or something, and the comments— the criticisms… it’s was enough to drive me into the arms of six glasses of champagne.” She smiled weakly, looking embarrassed. “Sometimes a veil isn’t too bad. I like to be able to just slip by unnoticed.”

“I understand. Sometimes I feel that way about my shadows. It’s nice to hide.”

She grinned.

He arched a brow. “Then maybe it’s time to hide a little secret under that veil… a dagger or a sword.”

“What?”

“I know you’re handy with a knife.”

Elain shook her head, her mind wandering back to the war with Hybern. “But why?”

“You never know when you’ll be accosted by an Eris Vanserra in the corridor.” He continued, looking serious and silly all at once. “Meet his threats of the Fifth Rule with a slice to his neck next time.”

Elain laughed, her cheeks burning, remembering back to meeting Eris in the closet in her manor… how a weapon had been so far from her mind… she had been hungry for the flesh of a male then too. But it was so different than now: so different than how it was with Azriel.

She flushed.

Azriel continued speaking, almost to himself, like he was plotting a strategy for espionage. “I could show you a few moves. I could even sew you pockets in your gowns for it.”

Elain laughed. “Azriel sews?”

“Well.. yes. I’ve learned fabric, but my specialty is skin. Sewing skin together. For myself after battle. But it can be useful in my work too. I once added an extra thumb onto the hand of a particularly nasty child-murderer.” He spoke animatedly, like he was describing a secret ingredient. “Everyone who tortures always chops fingers, but there is an overlooked disturbance in adding a finger or a limb.” He nodded, satisfied.

Elain felt her mouth open in horror.

His face suddenly fell, like he was caught red-handed doing something awful. “I dare say I’m quite disturbing to have a conversation with.” His face flushed.

She rushed to soothe him. “No, I think it’s charming!”

“Charming huh? Torture is charming?” His spirits seemed lifted as he looked at her, amused.

“Well, no, but I find you charming when you talk about your work. I’m only now realizing I hardly know about the spying and torture side of things.”

“And you’d like to know about it?” He spoke shyly, like he wasn’t sure if she was just playing with him.

Elain nodded, eager, yet unsure what she was getting herself into. “Sure! Well… maybe begin with the spying first. It seems a bit more palatable than gutting intestines and chopping ears off. Though, I have to admit, all plants need a good prune once in a while. Getting one’s hands dirty is the key to life’s success.”

Azriel laughed at her comparison of torture to gardening. “I guess if you want to know about spying… spying is really boring. paperwork… reading files and stalking boring servants or lowly assassins. Roosting in the rafters of a birthday party, trying to get comfortable while everyone gets drunk beneath you.”

She felt her heart squeeze. “Oh you were there that night were you?”

He looked guilty.

She curled her lip. “So I’ve had a shadow for longer than I realized. I see.”

“I wasn’t stalking you. Just... checking in.” He seemed miffed, turning his face from her as his cheeks continued to bloom red.

Elain laughed.

Azriel sat up then, shaking his head. “No really, I was exploring all of Autumn. Not just— not just you and your family. I even made friends while I was here.”

“A social circle from another court? Oh really? How refined of you. I suppose you and my brother-in-law are quite close now?” It was a mock-question, said with a giggle as Elain sat up too, crossing her arms.

“No. The monks. A pater of your local temple. Though I think he belongs to one near Belna Mount. A happy sort of chap. And the local barman. He poured me a few pints.” Azriel grinned, proud of his social forays in Autumn.

“Sounds like you went on a right holiday here in Autumn under my nose.” Elain watched him with true joy.

It felt absurd in a way, to be talking so light and sweet after the dirty things he had done to her in the greenhouse. But the juxtaposition of it all— of the heady passion and cozy conversation— it was causing her heart to swell.

Because with her mate, she couldn’t recall hours spent in bed just chatting and laughing. She sometimes felt like a vessel for their mating bond, receiving his seed and his passion before being put off to the side until the next time they were to convene. It was physical and intense from the mating bond, sure, but sometimes Elain wondered if that was all she had to look forward to. And she was hard to please in bed, often frustrating her mate before he gave up altogether. Such disappointments didn’t usually lend to long hours spent dreaming and talking as they looked up at the ceiling.

She smiled.

Here with Azriel, talking about utter nonsense and just laughing together after such a passionate evening… it made her feel whole. Like life truly was cinnamon buns and apple pies. Like there was someone who was cozy and wonderful and who didn’t mind listening to her musings or feelings… no, more than that: he wanted her musings and feelings. He was curious about her, and not just her body or her climax: he wanted her heart and thoughts too. And he was willing to put his physical desire aside to just talk with her.

If anything, the talking and his patience was having the opposite affect on her body. She felt her eyes becoming increasingly distracted by his mouth as she felt the urge to strip her clothes off, pulling herself to his chest in a wild display of undiluted fae female desire.

Forget chit-chat… she wanted to take things further.

And she almost did.

But then Azriel was laughing, his own chatter musing toward the vaulted ceilings as Elain restrained her wandering hand to her chest, listening intently.

Autumn.

They were discussing Autumn still.

“I do think it could be more charming and holiday-like here,” Azriel mused, “less... carnage and concubines and more… cinnamon pies and hot cocoa.”

“It sounds dreamy,” Elain answered, pulling her mind back into focus, “though I don’t think the High Lord has any intention of changing his ways. If anything, he’s gotten stricter every year.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Though I thought Eris had made a treaty with Rhys at some point? To make a move for the throne. I doubt a rulership under Eris would include cinnamon pie, though I know he has a knack for carrot cheesecake.” Elain smiled.

“Eris liking something sweet? Somewhat surprising, though not at the same time.” Azriel answered.

Elain arched a brow.

Azriel relented. “Well I know he’s sick over you and you’re sweeter than a carrot cheesecake.”

Elain laughed. “That whole thing perplexes me. He’s mated!”

Azriel’s voice was tight. “Eris is always scheming. I imagine his mating with Vanessa is another part of the scheme.”

“That female is interesting.” Elain mused.

Azriel leaned over. “What do you think of her?”

She tilted her head. “I think family dinners at the Vanserras are about to be even more interesting.”

“Now, see, that’s something I’ll never understand.”

“What?”

“Lucien. His logic in all of this. Coming to Autumn… sure. A fresh start… bond with the family of origin… you know. But having to put up with this den of vipers for eternity?” He shook his head.

Elain laughed. “Maybe that’s why he spends more than half his time traveling and working in Osenya and who the hells knows where else.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened.

She shrugged. “I imagine it’s just what he’s used to. And maybe it feels like a victory in a way, after so many years estranged and exiled in Spring, to be reaccepted in his family of origin.”

Azriel pursed his lips. “I still question the sanity of a male who spent hundreds of years in the company of Tamlin.”

Elain nodded. “I try not to think of him… it makes me remember the Cauldron.” She shuddered.

His eyes seemed to follow her with concern, maybe wondering if she wouldn’t have another breakdown right now. She steadied herself. “Though, maybe I should be grateful to him. I wouldn’t be fae if not for him… wouldn’t have—“

“Penelope.” Azriel finished her sentence, smiling warmly.

Elain nodded, feeling understood the way he always seemed to make her feel.

She tilted her head and changed the subject back to Vanessa. “I do think Vanessa will be able to hold her own though, in Autumn. Amongst our den of vipers.” She winked. “I imagine she’ll approach the veils and the Octavo Law with about as much enthusiasm as Nesta. She won’t take it lying down… not like I did.”

Azriel watched her with compassion. “Anyone can be broken though. Life… grief… sometimes it hurts more to fight than it hurts to just do nothing and let things pass you by.”

She knew he was being sympathetic to her. It was nice.

“I suppose. Though I don’t know what could break Vanessa. When I saw her in Winter, she implied she wanted to bed my mate before insulting me for being a former human. I think she even threw in a jibe about coming to Velaris with us to rub elbows with hot Illyrian warriors.”

Azriel choked out a laugh, tilting back his head. “Wow. Eris really may have met his match.”

“Truly.” Elain chuckled, rubbing her hairline and tugging her curls away from her forehead as she smiled.

“Though I do wonder at their mating bond.” Azriel queried, his eyes catching her suddenly with curiosity.

Elain’s brows furrowed as she felt her body go still. “How so?”

“It’s just… intriguing. Eris seemed to imply he’s also mates with someone from his past.” Azriel’s voice had become tight, his eyes flickering across her face as she felt her heart increase speed again.

“Dual mating bonds?” She nearly choked on the words.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed with a slight nod, his eyes flashing to her lips before drawing to her hair and collarbones.

“Strange.” Elain answered dismissively, her own eyes roaming his body too.

“Yes.” Azriel replied.

Elain felt a flutter go across her chest. Was it possible to have dual mating bonds?

“Do you think… do you think that maybe?” Her voice was high and tight, her eyes settling on his as the unspoken was shared just by her face.

Azriel shook his head. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t we know?”

“Maybe.” She answered earnestly.

“What does the mating bond feel like?” Azriel asked then, curious, but with a tone that suggested he was trying to conceal his curiosity, looking at her from the side of his eyes as his wings tensed.

Elain watched him. “Like a noose. Or a long lost sibling.”

“You can’t… read each other’s minds?”

She shook her head with a chuckle. “I think that’s a Rhys and Feyre thing.”

Azriel laughed. “Well... I know what being near your mating bond feels like. f*cking terrible. Like acid in the nose.”

“Really!”

He nodded. “Or maybe the disgust is just my undying jealousy.”

She grinned, catlike and curious. “I like the idea of you feeling a little jealous over me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when I suffer?” Azriel smirked.

She tossed her head back and forth. “I just like the idea of you… desiring me strongly.”

He nodded, his voice small. “I feel the same way.”

“You’d want me to be jealous?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you unhappy.”

She grinned. “Maybe I’m hiding it, but I do feel a little jealous. Of all those females who’ve gotten to be with you.”

“Should have been you, huh?”

“Maybe.”
“It could be you.” Azriel watched her, Elain suddenly feeling the spring and tension of the bed beneath them… the rain still pattering against the windows of the mansion as the soft hum from the fireplace crackled.

Her eyes darkened.

She was ready to tear apart his clothes right now.

But Azriel was still speaking.

“Only no one’s ever had me like you. Not fully. Not in the way where she was holding my soul as much as my body: my heart and mind swept away in the tide anywhere she went. Like I would suffocate and drown without her soul to breathe.”

Elain felt her brain stutter, “Do you really feel that way? That me leaving for Autumn— it caused you to go off the deep end?”

He considered her question before he shrugged. “Is that crazy?”

She shook her head. It wasn’t crazy to her.

He tilted his face. “Maybe I didn’t realize at the time, but that night when Rhys called me to his study, trying to protect you from me… it was like I had a choice. And instead of going out and fighting, it’s like I curled back into that dungeon that raised me, hiding and allowing others to dictate my future.”

She was listening, hanging onto every word, suddenly feeling weightless and light, like a bird soaring through a cloud.

“But I’m done living like that. I’m done pretending that you’re not the only thing in this entire world I want. That you’re not the reason I breathe and wake. That you’re not the ghost whose been haunting my life and breath for two decades: the only female I think I’ll ever love for as long as I live.”

Elain felt the air in her lungs evaporate as his words fell upon her. “You love me?”

Azriel blinked, perhaps trying to decide how honest he wanted to be with her; perhaps kicking himself for saying so much.
But true to who she knew him to be, he simply met her eye, standing behind his words with a firm nod. “I’ve always loved you Elain. Always.”

She felt herself begin to cry. It was so sudden… so… so soon. So unexpected.

Azriel continued speaking, reaching forward to trace her face as he smiled, almost like he was just talking to himself. “I love your heart. Your humanity. Your soul and spirit… I love you more than I love life or any f*cking thing on this godsdamned continent. And I’ll never stop loving you Elain. Even if you never leave Autumn or leave— him.”

But at those words, Elain could not handle it anymore. The luminous glow in her heart exploded and her flesh reacted, rushing toward him and fusing her mouth to his with a kiss so hard, she could tell it took him by surprise.

But then she felt herself ripping at his shirt, tugging and pulling to free him from the fabric and layers that separated them. She wasn’t able to wait anymore, taking-things-slow be damned. She wanted to take things fast. As fast as the wind on the ocean or gravity pulling a rock from a cliff… unthinking and hard.

He matched her immediately, though his movements were more measured, pulling and tugging her out of her dress as his hand returned to her thigh, sticky and warm from earlier.

He felt her wet arousal on his fingers, causing him to groan as she felt him lean down and flick her nipple with his tongue, Elain completely dissolved into moaning cries, her body twitching in anticipation as his fingers continued, now reaching their haven, hidden beneath that small slip of fabric again. She felt him pull it to the side quickly, letting out a full body moan against her nipple as he took the palm of his hand against her, coating his fingers in her wet desire.

She felt him begin to explore and work her body, his mouth switching to her other nipple as she felt her cries erupt from her throat, guttural and thick as the desire and arousal erupted from within her.

It was unlike anything: the feelings so strong and whole, she wondered if this was not what was on the other side of death herself. Because how could life feel like this? How could her body have so many sensations at his disposal, ready to drive her wild with his hand and mouth in a way she had never felt in her short life. It suddenly felt like there was so much she had missed out on— so much she had to look forward to, if only she continued running toward the light that was Azriel.

The sensations came quick and strong, his hand dragging through her, causing her to buck against him again, lifting her pelvis, and spreading her legs further, offering herself to him as her hands grabbed at his scalp before she felt him lower her to the mattress, still working her as her hands plunged into the sheets and pillows next to her as she writhed.

Their voices were lost in moans and whimpers, their lips sealing each other as if language and words or any thought had been silenced behind the veil of what they were doing.

Because she felt in a way, like she was stealing a sliver of happiness she did not deserve nor own. Like she had found a Made item from the legendary Trove, reaching and grasping at stolen pleasure and forbidden tastes. It felt like crying out or saying a single word would break the spell between them… draw even more attention to the forbidden nature of their tryst.

But she couldn’t help it as she felt him fill her with his hand, pushing and filling her with those scarred fingers as she began to contract around him, moaning and crying out into his mouth, her whimpers muffled against his tongue and teeth as she felt his chest groan against her bare breasts.

It was too godsdamned perfect.

But then she couldn’t handle it anymore. She wanted more. She wanted to jump off that cliff.

“Azriel!”

Her cry ripped open his chest, causing him to growl and draw his face back up to hers, his eyes boring into hers as she reached a hand to the outline of his co*ck, nodding and groaning as she whimpered. “More. I want you. I want you. Now.”

He looked pained, almost as if his eyes were questioning her sanity… her rightness of mind. As if what they were doing could be undone if they didn’t go any further.

But she knew it couldn’t.

So she allowed herself to show him: show him how she really felt, her back arching off the bed as she whimpered, clawing at his waistband, tugging and pulling his trousers downward.

He seemed to dwell in conflict, hesitating and searching her face. As if he knew what they had done up until now could be hidden or explained away, but if they went further, it would be crossing the point of no return.

But Elain wanted to cross the point of no return.

In fact, she wanted to throw herself off the cliff of no return: anything if it meant feeling more of whatever this was between them.

“Please.” She whimpered, realizing she would beg for him if she had to. On her hands and godsdamned knees.

But he didn’t make her. He simply nodded, tugging his waistband down the final stretch with a look of trepidation.

She felt her throat release a gasp, taking in his form with her eyes… her face breaking down into a mixture of lust and fear. Because he was enormous. And beautiful.

She swallowed, trying to contain herself; trying to force herself to lay back like a lady instead of launching forward, licking and lapping at every unveiled part of him. She was so ready… so wanting.

There was something about all of this… it was making her feel unhinged from reality and herself.

Because for so much of her life, sex had just felt like one more thing she was supposed to be doing.

As a mate… as the Lady of Lucien Vanserra or as a fiancé. As a human, it had purely been the next step and part of falling in love. It was natural. And as a faerie, it had been an experiment with the mating bond and a test of her carnal desires. It was as if she owed herself to those males; especially her mate. Like she could buy her keep in Autumn and pay off the debt of her title by yielding her body to her mate’s.

But this… with Azriel… what they were doing was so unequivocally and wholly not what they were supposed to be doing that it was driving her to the brink of insanity.

And for once, laying naked beneath a male, she felt that she was the one with the agency and the possession: she had a claim to herself and all her decisions and all of her choices, be them good or bad or somewhere in between: they were hers and she was her own.

She had no debt to him.

He had no claim to her.

The very fact that they did not belong to one another is what made her want him more desperately than she had ever wanted anything.

Because it was she alone who was choosing him.

Not the Cauldron or the Mother. Not her biology or her fae essence or anything other than the keening arousal in her core and the cry of her heart.

What they were about to do was absolutely what she should not be doing.

And that made it all the more enchanting to her.

“We can go slow.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, but she shook her head, tugging and pulling at his waist to come closer before her hands began to explore lower, now cradling him fully.

He seemed to shiver from the sensation as she turned her mouth to his ear, kissing and tickling it as she began running her squeezed fingers up and down the length of him. She tilted her hips as she began kissing him, his chest brushing against hers.

“I can handle it.” She whispered, her voice seductive and low as she lied, drawing him toward her with her hands, resting him directly at her entrance. She wasn’t sure if she could, but she wanted to.

So he thrust forward, ever so slightly, parting her as she let out a gasp.

Pulling back, she saw him smile, dark and delicious as she kept a firm grasp on him, not letting him get away before mewling her need again. He obliged her, pushing in again as Elain released a gasp that seemed to ere on the side of pleasure, rather than pain.

And oh f*cking gods was he huge. And hard. And strong. And every incredible thing she had ever imagined and fantasized.

Because Elain had imagined this moment in her head. She could admit that.

But the reality stretched so far beyond her fantasies, she was struggling to breathe as she felt her ribs gasp and heave at every push inside her until she suddenly released him, letting her arms fall to her sides as she gathered fistfuls of sheets, her mouth open as her head dropped back, her legs pulling apart as wide as she could, spreading herself for him as much as she seemed to be able to.

She forced herself to relax, feeling the vibrating anticipation gathering in her womb as he pulled out and then thrust forward again, pumping her into the mattress. And it wasn’t just his body filling her, but the force in which he was slamming into her bones and muscles, causing her entire core to contract and pulse.

Oh my gods.

Yes.

It was deep, but it was insane. She felt like he was going to pop out of her belly button. Like her organs were being rearranged.

She moaned, guttural and deep as her breasts peaked and her nerves twitched. And he pulled back again and again, as she began gasping and moaning and crying out, her body expanding to take him as her hips bucked and whined. He was unable to conceal a growl as he reached toward her neck, feeling her pulse under his thumb as she whimpered and moaned out his name in drawn out unintelligible syllables.

It was as if time was slowing down and speeding up, as Azriel and Elain descended into ecstasy, as much from the sensations of him pushing inside her as from the forbidden secret of it all.

It was intoxicating.

Because no one knew she was here.
No one knew what they were doing… no one would approve and no one would ever find out.

And that made her feral.

But he didn’t last long.

She hadn’t climaxed when he came, filling her as she moaned beneath him, wanting more and more and more.

She could tell immediately that he was embarrassed after his groans had waned and he became soft, but she was too far gone in the throes of arousal to care, flipping to her belly as Azriel eagerly worked her with his hands again, drawing her closer to climax as he seemed relieved she didn’t want him to stop.

“Keep going.” She whimpered, shocked at her own demands.

She wondered if she should feel embarrassed for being difficult to please.

But he didn’t seem to care.

And frankly, neither did she.

Because she could keep going and going all night until it happened, so desperate she was to touch him and spread herself for him.

She heard him catch his breath as she rocked on his hand, drawing up to her knees and arching her back as her breasts and collarbones pressed into the bed, lifting her hips to him. And she settled into the pleasure for a while before she realized he was filling her with himself again, enormous and heady, sending himself to her belly button from behind as she pushed her knees into the bed.

He went slow, moving her gently as she felt the rise and fall of him inside her become more and more comfortable.

“Relax baby.” He whispered, his hips hitting into her backside as she felt her body twitch and shudder, melting as his hand met her nerves from the front, swirling her as gently as he was pushing into her. His other hand came to her hair then, winding in a hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her head back softly but firmly as she felt him pin her down in those three locations.

The sound, of primal sex, slapping bodies and groaning fae… it was driving her crazy. Like she was some sort of wild beast, being tamed. It was a feeling she had never experienced before… a position and dance she hadn’t done in a long time… if ever.

And it made her feel so beyond aroused, she wondered how long her body would hold her hostage before releasing.

She cried out, desperate for release as he gently pushed inside her, the pull on her scalp causing her brain to short-circuit as his hand drove her to madness between her thighs. He was patient with her, gentle and firm as he seemed to read her twitching body, understanding and learning her as they moved together.

“That’s good baby. Yes, just like that. Let go, baby.” Azriel spoke, low and rough as Elain whimpered and whined, pushing her hips back into him as she finally felt her body give in at his words.

She felt like she was dying. Or maybe she was being resurrected. It was like every nerve ending in her entire body, every ounce of blood, and every muscle was tightened and exploding in her core. And to have Azriel follow close after, exploding inside her again… because of her… it was magnifying everything. But then she felt her nerves dangerously close to being overworked, suddenly slamming her thighs closed as she cried out, collapsing beneath him as he released her, pulling her close and spooning from behind as he buried his nose in the space where he had just been gripping her hair.

She felt the muscles in her thighs twitch as her nerves continued to pulse, the echoes of his handiwork still pulsing across her body. His seed was spilling out of her, hot on her legs as she felt her soul prepare and wait for the wrongness of it all to hit her.

But it never came.

Instead, she merely laid there, feeling satisfied.

A satisfaction she hadn’t ever felt. Not in this way: not with a male.

She wondered vaguely, as Azriel’s breathing stilled behind her spine, if allowing another male to worship her body in this way was breaking the mating bond.

She didn’t think sex with another broke the magical bond.

No, the Mother knew fae too well to design a failsafe like that into the bond: fae were primal and reckless. They were bound to trespass on one another because faeries were passionate and physical and unyielding in a way Elain had never identified with.

Until now.

Until tonight, pushing herself around Azriel and whining and groaning for him in the house her mate had earned for her. In the house where she employed a staff: servants who called her lady. In the Court she had sold her soul to.

She was wretched for it. Beyond primal.

But no one had to know.

Because she knew the mating bond still slung between her and Lucien, low and heady, like a chain laced with grief and long-forsaken hope. She never tugged on it… never really paid it any mind. She could feel it distantly, almost like a piece of jewelry you wore and never removed. Blind to its presence unless you thought about it. It reminded her of the veils in a way: just another condition of her coming to Autumn.

And she had to come to Autumn.

For the babe. For Penelope. For every dream and hope she had ever had in her short life.

“I love you.” Azriel whispered into her curls, breaking Elain from her thoughts.

She flipped to face him, her eyes tracing his face, gazing across the planes of his hollowed cheeks and dark under eyes, searching for the broken skin and tearing soul she had seen in the river mansion in Velaris, all those weeks ago.

But it was as if a different face was looking back at her.

Not entirely who he used to be, twenty years ago, but different, like coming here to Kuskova, being with her, as if it had patched up some part of him she didn’t realize needed patching. His skin was flushed in the moonlight and she felt her breath catch.

She realized she loved him too. Maybe she always had.

But she didn’t know if she should tell him.

Because she didn’t know what was going to come of all this.

And if she said those words… made those promises, she was certain her life would never be the same.

So she didn’t.