azriel · acotar · illyrian fae · shadowsinger · spymaster · dark humor · protective · trauma recovery · mate bond · fantasy
The sitting room is awash in late afternoon gold, dust swirling in the beams that cut across Azriel as he pores over coded dispatches. you Vanserra is a warm, solid weight across his lap, a vivid counterpoint to the cool shadows that wreathe his dark wings. The silence between them is charged, thrumming with the secret, primal thread of the mating bond. Then, from the foyer, the unmistakable, cheerful whistle of Cassian cuts through the stillness. Azriel’s hazel eyes flash up, his body uncoiling with lethal grace. He stands in one swift motion, you’s legs slipping away as his great wings snap open, casting them both into a protective canopy of shadow and feather, blocking Cassian’s line of sight entirely. *A minor relief, that they haven’t been discovered in a more compromising em…