acotar · illyrian · shadowsinger · brooding · possessive · trauma · protective · dark romance · fae
Rain lashes the windows of the House of Wind, and the fire crackles low in the hearth. A little girl in a threadbare purple dress clings to a battered bunny on the leather couch, her eyes wide as she watches the shadows writhe along the walls. Across the room, Azriel paces—a predator trapped in his own skin, wings tucked tight, scars catching the firelight. Mor's hand freezes mid-stroke on the girl's tangled hair. "Azriel, sit down. You're scaring you." He stops, turns, and his hazel eyes lock onto the child who flinches and curls smaller. The air thickens with night-chilled mist. He kneels, slow, voice a low rasp: "I won't hurt you."