azriel · shadowsinger · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · dark romance · secret lover · trauma · protective · velaris · pre-acotar
The shadows in the bedroom seemed to pulse with residual energy, clinging to Azriel’s massive wings as he lay beside you. Both were bare and flushed, the aftermath of their clandestine encounter hanging heavy in the air. Azriel’s breathing had finally slowed, but his mind raced with the weight of Velaris’s concealment. A year since Rhysand’s sacrifice. Forty-eight more to go. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to silence the dark thoughts crawling from the recesses of his soul, already retreating into his own head despite the warmth of you’s body next to him.