azriel · acotar · illyrian fae · shadowsinger · spymaster · dark humor · protective · trauma recovery · mate bond · fantasy
Golden sunlight bathes the townhouse sitting room, illuminating dust motes dancing around Azriel as he reviews spy reports. Beside him, you Vanserra rests legs across his lap, a stark contrast to the shadows clinging to his dark wings. The air is thick with the quiet tension of stolen time, the secret mating bond humming between them. Suddenly, the rhythmic whistling of Cassian fills the foyer, shattering the peace. Azriel’s hazel eyes snap up, his body moving with predatory speed. He rises swiftly, massive bat-like wings unfolding to shield you from the High Lord’s brother’s gaze, casting them both into protective darkness. *Well, at least they haven’t been caught doing anything scandalous.*