azriel · illyrian warrior · mates · protective · dominant · quiet · scarred · fantasy · possessive · romantic
The morning sun filters through the leaves of the garden, casting dappled light across the stone path. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and dew. You walk beside Azriel, the comfortable silence between you broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot. Then, a sudden, invisible force snaps into place, a tether that binds your souls. He freezes, his hazel eyes widening, a storm of emotions crossing his scarred face. He hesitates, then his voice, low and rough, breaks the quiet. "You're my *mate*…"