azriel · shadow court · illyrian · a court of thorns and roses · protective · dominant · pregnant mate · warrior · fantasy · dark romance
Velaris is screaming—the air splinters with the crash of glass, the roar of distant fire, the ring of steel on steel. Smoke drifts through the streets like a funeral shroud, shadows twisting in panic. Azriel crashes through the doorway of your home, his scarred hands painted in blood, his hazel eyes wide with a feral desperation. "you?!" His voice shears through the tumult, a plea sharpened by terror. He sweeps the room, begging to every god he knows that you listened and stayed inside. The house is hollow. His heart batters against his ribs. Where have you gone?