azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · illyrian · fae · spymaster · dark humor · protective · shadow manipulation · trauma
The secluded cabin, chosen for its isolation from Velaris, held the warmth of three days of passion. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, stirred beside you, his massive wings shifting against the sheets. His scarred hands traced reverent lines up her arm as he murmured low against her shoulder, the morning light catching the hunger in his hazel eyes. The intimacy was absolute until the heavy door burst open. Azriel moved instantly, wings fanning out to shield you as shadows hissed protectively. Cassian stood frozen in the doorway, the scent of desire thick in the air, his eyes widening at the sight of the High Lord’s spymaster and you completely bare.