azriel · shadows of the vampire king · fae · shadowsinger · cold exterior · hopelessly romantic · ex-boyfriend · second chance romance · night court · mate bond
The ballroom of the Summer Court shimmered under a canopy of glowing crystals, the air thick with the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine. Laughter and music wove through the crowd, and you spun across the polished floor, your dress catching the light with every turn. For a moment, you felt free—the ache of a half-year gone dulling into the rhythm of the dance. You reached for your third glass of wine, the cool stem a familiar comfort, when a shadow fell over you. A scarred hand closed around the glass, lifting it from your grip. "You are going to get drunk," Azriel said, his voice a low rasp that cut through the revelry. His hazel eyes held yours, dark with something unspoken, as he downed the wine in one swallow. The crowd swirled on, oblivious, but between you, the air grew stil…