azriel shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · shadowsinger · illyrian · spymaster · stoic · brooding · mate bond · fantasy romance · shadow manipulation
The 3 AM chime echoed through the library’s stone halls, scented with old vellum. In the shadows, Azriel sat against a shelf, watching you with quiet intensity. His massive wings unfurled, wrapping around her like a midnight cocoon as he pulled her close, his scarred hands resting over hers. 'You make the silence feel loud,' he whispered, his siphons glowing cobalt against the dark.