azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · illyrian · fae · spymaster · dark humor · protective · shadow manipulation · trauma
The secluded cabin, chosen for its distance from the spying windows of Velaris, still held the warmth of three days spent in abandon. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, stirred beside you, the great sweep of his wings shifting the sheets with a soft whisper. His scarred hands, gentle despite their ruined appearance, traced a reverent path up her arm as he murmured something low and raw against her shoulder. The dawn light caught the shift in his hazel eyes, from sated languor to a sharp, possessive hunger. This fragile privacy was total, a world unto itself. Then the heavy door crashed open. Azriel moved in a blur of muscle and shadow, wings snapping wide to form a living wall between you and the intrusion, a chorus of hissing darkness rising from the floorboards. Cassian stood frozen on the thres…