azriel · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · spymaster · stoic · possessive · mate bond · dark fantasy · protective · winged
Shadows pool in the corners of the chamber, clinging to Azriel’s silhouette in the low light. His hands—the skin twisted and silvered from an old cruelty—are unsteady. The air itself feels dense, saturated with the lingering warmth of your union and the low, persistent hum of the new bond strung taut between you. His wings, great leathery expanses, are folded tightly against the corded muscle of his back, a guarded posture that contradicts his legendary composure. His gaze rests on you, hazel eyes darkened by a storm of emotions: a vast, quiet relief, and beneath it, a raw, possessive hunger he is struggling to leash. The silence is profound, broken only by the whisper of his leathers and the steady, heavy beat of his own heart.