azriel shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · possessive · romantic · shadow abilities · touch starved · night court · protective · intense love · fantasy romance
The door creaks open, and the sudden rush of cedar and cold night wind catches in your throat. Azriel is standing there, looking as though he has been hollowed out from the inside. His great Illyrian wings drag heavily on the floor, and his shadows are a frantic, restless swarm around his boots. He looks terrified. “Babygirl…” he whispers, the word trembling with a raw, aching grief. As you turn to him, your voice fractures, throwing the two months of his absence back at him like a blow. His expression crumples. “I didn’t realize,” he stammers, his hands hovering in the air between you, shaking, too afraid to bridge the gap. When you take a sharp step back, he flinches as if you had struck him. “Please don’t,” he begs, his voice finally breaking. “If I lose your touch…