Archive of Our Own ^beta

She had never felt so safe. 

Not that she had never been so safe - she supposed she had been, for several years of her life, scattered here and there - but this was different. A different safety. The kind that wrapped her up inside and out, settled between her ribs to sleep like the closed petals of a lily. The kind that hummed a melody in her ear even in silence, unable to be shaken or forgotten - slumbered with her, rose with her. 

The kind that knew her; knew all of her, and loved. Never left. 

But these were solemn thoughts for the dawn. At least, she supposed it was dawn - it was hard to be sure. Elain shifted her sleep-heavy limbs with an unbidden hum in her throat, but the arm around her waist simply tightened. Her smile couldn’t be seen by anyone. Not even him: his breathing hadn’t changed, and so she knew he wouldn’t be hearing the race of her heart, either. 

Blinking open her eyes, she only saw faint light filtered through the membrane of the pink-tinged wing slung over her face. For protection, or comfort. She hadn’t asked. A yawn split her face, then, and she brought the back of her hand to cover it, but not before her breath fluttered that velvet wing, just slightly. 

He stirred behind her, the slightest groan thrumming from his chest and into her back. Elain shivered, and dared - dared to reach out her fingers to touch…to trace the thin veins visible as lines of darker pink spiderwebbing through the membrane. The patterns were nonsense to any eye, but they were the outline of his make. His shape. Him. 

The rumble of a deep, foggy voice in her ear that sent shivers skating up the length of her spine: “If your intention was to wake me, dearest, you have succeeded.”

Elain hummed then, but didn’t stop. Traced one finger up to the bone, which trembled as she swiped a gentle feel to the talon. “You were deeply asleep if it took that long.” 

“I was.” A rasp. His arm tightened still, nearly pressing the air out of her - a contrast to the warm, satiny lips that pressed to the back of her neck, nuzzling that place between neck and hairline, where he breathed in deep and low. This was the safety, she knew. Of his larger, broader body tucked around hers. Even bare, as they both were, and sleepy to boot. 

Here, there was no pretense. No pretending she was anything other than what - who - she was. And Elain sighed at that, ready to melt into the bedsheets and into his arms and never face the world again. 

“You’re thinking.” Azriel’s hand slid up to clasp her shoulder, just as his mouth branded the base of her neck. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she couldn’t speak as his fingers made a stroking path - as gentle as hers as had been across his wing - down her arm to her fingers, still outstretched, to weave his between hers. Not a shadow in sight where the sun kissed. The scars didn’t look any less violent in the bruised light of dawn, but they belonged here. Still beautiful, with the sorrow behind them.

Just like her. He was the same. 

“Am I thinking too loudly?” Elain quipped, and his response was a low chuckle before teeth nipped into the back of her shoulder - she gasped at the sensation, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. He pressed their clasped hands into the bed, and she arched, tilting her head backwards against his shoulder as his mouth made a hot trail for her ear…and her throat swelled and went thick with the flick of his tongue against the point of it. 

“Far too loudly,” Azriel whispered, his tone grave. But she knew he was teasing, all the same. She knew it in her heart. 

“I’ve scarcely thought any thoughts at all these last days,” Elain whispered. Again his tongue traced around her ear, suckling gently at the tip. She shivered. “Perhaps I need to make up for it.”

“No need,” he told her. “Not yet.” 

She hummed. “And you have no thoughts rattling around yet, shadowsinger?”

“No,” Azriel said promptly. Laughed a laugh that made her heart pound, her thighs to clench together. “I know better than to think too loudly where my High Lord could snoop in.” 

Elain hummed again. 

“But…” His voice lowered an octave, and suddenly he wasn’t pressed so hard against her anymore - she bit back a moan of displeasure at that, at the withdrawing of his wing to let in more of the dawn light. No, she didn’t like that one bit. But then she felt his mouth on her spine, kissing lower with each breath and her hand clenched empty air as her head swam with heady deliciousness. “No, that was a lie, dearest. I am thinking. I’m thinking of you.” 

She whimpered. The talon of his wing was pressed into the bed by her waist, and she could feel the searing imprint of his lips at the base of her spine. Slowly he peeled away the tangle of sheets and blankets from around and between her legs. They rustled, tossed aside without care. It truly was morning, Elain thought in her fog. Sunbeams shone through the glass windows, breaking around the wickedly curved tip of his wing. 

“I thought,” she said, breathless - swallowed once, twice, to clear the raspiness from her throat as one of his hands slid up between her legs to part them. “I thought this - the frenzy was over.” 

“It is,” Azriel told her. Then his face appeared over the curve of her hip, his smile broad and shining, hair tousled from sleep and eyes nearly gold in the sunlight. In a purr he clarified, “Frenzy or not, I still want you, Elain. I want all of you.” With his fingertips gently pressing into her thigh, he lifted it. First against his shoulder, and she twisted her ankle to keep from bumping his wing, even as she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. 

“I want you, too,” Elain whispered. 

Over his bare, tattooed shoulders shadows crept curiously, as if wondering what all the fuss was about: they hadn’t been around much, these past days, and almost absently Azriel flicked one or two of the more daring ones away, and they slunk back. Then, his lips tilted into a crooked, promising smile that made her heart want to leap from its cavity in her chest and into his. 

Where she was, and always would be - safe. 

“Lay back,” he ordered, and into the soft pillows she sunk, closing her eyes and breathing out as steadily as she could. But that intention, good as it was, melted away like ice on a summer day at the first stroke of his tongue. 

It was what her sisters had said; off-hand, in insinuating conversations she’d never been meant to hear. When it was this, it was always as intense and burning as the first time. Over and over again, with the immortal stamina and sensitivity. Elain inhaled sharply, reaching, reaching - and it was a scarred hand that held hers as she writhed against him, dignity having been left outside this house days ago. She moaned his name loud enough to wake anyone nearby. 

Fortunately, they were alone, because when her release hit like a roaring wave over her, crashing again and again as Azriel groaned into her, she may have shouted. 

She could feel it, as solidly as if it was a golden rope between them - even in her dizzy state, Elain reached out and tugged, wanting him, wanting him, wanting him there, with her, where she could kiss him until she drowned. He jolted at the tug, crawling up and over her body at once, though pausing long enough to litter hasty kisses at her breasts that still bore faded, lilac-colored bruises from yesterday. Or was it the day before that? She couldn’t remember. 

Azriel’s mouth was salty, but she drank him in. Tasting every bit of his lips and tongue as he growled, elbows on either side of her, pinning her in - and when her lashes fluttered open she could see the expanse of his wings, flared out above him. The color of roses when they were pressed and preserved between the pages of a book. His majesty, she thought in a rush. 

No, this wasn’t the frenzy, but it was no less than before. When he slid inside, stretching her until she was complete and whole and whimpering. Around his shoulders her arms hung, fingers twining in his mussed hair as he grunted, lifting and pushing one of her knees to the side…

This one they rode out together, Azriel pulling his head back slightly to stare down at her, a rush of emotion in those hazel eyes as Elain felt herself riveted to his gaze - licking her lips, tilting herself towards him for every part of him he offered: it was always all of him. 

He didn’t move when they were done. Just rested his forehead against hers, breathing each other’s breaths as it all washed over them, his hands clenching hers to the bed. The heat, the longing, the love. Every part. And then he laid his head in the crook of her shoulder, and let out a sigh that felt more than a sigh. His wings drooped, and rested against the bed like a shroud around them.

A few of the more daring shadows peeked inquisitively over the side of the bed. Elain smiled at that, twisting her fingers away from Azriel to reach for the darkness - blessed coolness twirled around her hand in whorls of smoky black. Gentler than a lover. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered into her ear. 

“I know.” 

But she didn’t mind. Never had. And truthfully, the whispering cold they skated across her skin dried the damp sweat on her arm as they snooped upwards was pleasant. 

“They’re being nosey,” Azriel told her. “Tell them to go away if you want.”

“I don’t want to,” Elain said. Tilted her face back towards him, smiling. And despite that morning, despite that week, color stole across his tanned face, a wavering sort of curve to his lips. “I’ve been selfish, keeping you to myself, haven’t I?” 

“No,” he said at once. “Never. Never.” 

“They missed you.”

He stilled. Blinked once, twice - then dark brows knitted together curiously. “How do you know?”

“Just a guess,” Elain admitted. Flicked her hand upwards, and the shadows slithered away and off the bed to play more later. That cooler hand she pressed to his face, then, the rough scratch of whiskers that hadn’t been shaved for a few days. But she liked the scrape of them in her palm. “A guess,” she went on. “Because when you’re not riveted on me, I miss you, too.” 

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Flirting, El? Really?” 

“Why not?” She squirmed, limbs grown heavy and tingling from the weight of him - at once he pushed himself off and away, wings fluttering back as if afraid of her feeling even a whisper of discomfort. Elain let that slide, electing to sit up with a yawn to stretch her arms overhead. She didn’t miss the poking shadows coming up again - nor their immediate disappearance at Azriel’s hiss of warning. 

But his hiss was overladen by the growling of her stomach, and immediately Elain lowered her arms to cover her belly as embarrassed heat stained her face. But he laughed. 

“Hungry?” he asked, and she threw a narrowed look over her shoulder, at him reclined back on the bed and his own gaze darkened at the sight of her naked back. 

“I wouldn’t be so hungry if you didn’t come down to the kitchen to distract me,” she told him, trying to be demure - but he brought out this snappish part of her. This bravery. Saying what she wanted to say. Unlocking her lips. 

“It was one time,” Azriel said. And grinned. Clearly remembering the afternoon she’d been too hungry to continue and begged for a respite, wandering to the kitchen in an old shirt of his to prepare some victuals for them - but he’d gotten impatient and gone to find her, and it had ended with her bent over the kitchen table and a basket of apples tipped onto the floor…

“I’m thinking that this mating frenzy isn’t well-thought out as a whole,” Elain said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed - she was leaking, but she didn’t mind that - nor did she mind the shadows that hid under the bed as she strode to the dresser where she’d dropped her clothes the first day they’d come here. 

The last time she’d even worn clothes. 

“What do you mean?” he asked as she shook out old underthings with a frown. They’d have to do until she had more clothes. Hopefully when the female staff returned today. 

“Well - only that it’s a great deal of - of lovemaking.” She couldn’t say sex yet. “And that takes energy. And…well, food. But we couldn’t even pry ourselves apart long enough to eat.”

“I ate plenty,” Azriel said in a lazy voice. Elain pursed her lips and sent him a look - but he was grinning, and she laughed. And likely blushed, too. With a groan he sat forward, rolling his neck as she shook out her wrinkled frock. Shameful, to meet the staff in. If she’d been wise enough to take the extra ten minutes to pack clothes at the townhouse…but wisdom and mating didn’t work well together, it seemed. 

She slipped the pale frock over her head, smoothing it down her front and trying to tug on it enough that the wrinkles didn’t show as much. Straightened the waistline beneath her breasts, aware of his eyes on her…

“Will you help me?” Elain asked. Shook out the ties at the nape of her neck for his benefit. Of course she could tie them herself, but when Azriel’s eyes glowed with admiration like that, and even halfway across the bedroom, he was too far…

He was behind her in the span of three heartbeats. Smiling that shy smile, his warm fingers trailing over the bare skin of her back before lifting the ties. Coolness followed: Elain shivered, knowing exactly what was tickling up her spine. 

“Leave her be,” Azriel whispered sternly - not meant for her, as she felt the pull of the ties closed. 

“No, I don’t mind,” she said. “Let them.” 

And as if smug at her permission, she felt the shadows curl over her shoulder, drawing back her loose and tangled hair from in front of her breast, smoothing the strays from her face as she giggled at the sensation. 

“I don’t suppose they can braid, too?” Elain asked in a light voice, and he grumbled. 

“They’d learn for you,” he said. “But I’m going to draw a line somewhere, El. I can’t let them worship at your feet like this, otherwise there will be no room for me.” 

She shivered at that, and at the warm, rough feel of his calloused hands on her bare arms. His lips behind her ear. 

“Maybe I don’t want you at my feet,” she whispered. He went still, pausing as the shadows darted away again. Perhaps told to leave. Perhaps not wanting to see what was in his mind. 

“Then where do you want me?” Azriel asked, his voice a rasp. Hands trailing down, over her body - then dipping between her legs, scrunching the folds of her frock there. The gentle press of his hand drew a moan from between her lips. “Here? Can I worship here?” 

“Yes,” Elain breathed out. How she could want him again so soon - she didn’t know. Only that her blood was pounding, her voice cracked as she said, “And you’ve already done your morning venerations.” 

“And what if I don’t want to wait until evening?” 

“Then you’d better hope your household staff makes themselves scarce at opportune moments.” 

His laugh broke the tautness of the moment. Struck through the air like a hand on a harp, making it shimmer with music. Elain twisted in his arms to face him, to soak in the sight of that pure joy in his expression. Rare, and beautiful: she hoisted herself onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. 

“Breakfast?” she asked with a flutter of her lashes. 

A swallowed growl as his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. “Anything,” Azriel said in a low voice. “Anything for you.” 

“But you can’t - you can’t take me in the kitchen like you did last time.”

His lips curled downwards in what was best described as a pout. It made him look more boyish than anything; a younger version of him she’d never known, but desperately wanted to. Just to understand him better. 

“Aren’t you hungry, too?” Elain asked quietly. Traced along his jaw with her fingers, and he tilted his chin to kiss her palm. 

“Food is one of the last things on my mind,” Azriel admitted. 

“But you still need it.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “And after breakfast I want that tour of the gardens you promised me months ago.” 

His brows flicked upward at that, but he was grinning, all the same, and it made her heart swell up bigger just to see him so…so unburdened. Free. 

Not unlike how she felt. 

Rosehall, despite the name, wasn’t as grand as Rhys and Feyre’s river house. Elain had expected something sprawling and majestic as its owner, but now she felt foolish for such thoughts. Of course Azriel wouldn’t have a grand house - though it was as beautiful as any mansion she’d ever seen. More beautiful. With creeping vines of roses over trellises and a pagoda swarming with greenery. Belly full of cheese and apples (few items in the deserted kitchen were fit to eat after a week, or unprepared), Elain trailed her fingers over the leaves as Azriel tucked her other arm around his. A steady, solid presence beside her - though it must be terribly dull for him to explore the home he’d lived in for centuries already. But he said not a word against it. 

The stucco house glowed in the sunshine, coppery-red roof tiles reflecting homey warmth. And, as they stepped into the sunshine that beckoned the garden path in front of them, Elain breathed deeply at the familiar scents that curled around her. Rich soil, sweet flowers, and him - her mate - musky cedar and rain that fell in the night. 

The shadows that had nipped at their heels out of the door lurked at the pagoda, shaded from the sun, and came no further. 

“It’s spring,” she said aloud, foolish as it sounded. 

“It is,” Azriel said. “And you’re lovely.” 

Elain tried to suppress a flush, and she didn’t know whether she succeeded or not. Casting him a look, her eyes were drawn to his wings spread behind him as if to catch the sun. Or to stretch out the muscles. 

“Are you sunning them? Your wings?” she asked curiously. 

“Er - no. Not exactly.” Something sheepish had stolen over his expression, but she waited until he went on in a voice that nearly sounded begrudging to her ears. “It’s…an Illyrian form of posturing,” Azriel admitted. “I can’t really help it. Staking a claim.”

“A claim?”

“On you.” 

“Ah.” Elain nodded. “Yes. Because you think I’d see any other male when you are around.”

His lips twitched at that. “Flattering as that is, dearest, it’s not for you to see. It’s for the males to see. To know to stay away from you.” 

“There is no one else here.”

“The staff is returning today,” Azriel reminded her with an arched brow. He hadn’t combed his hair that morning, she realized, and a secret smile tugged at her lips. His black hair was as disheveled as it had been when he’d crawled out of bed that morning…and tickled by the scarce breeze that fluttered the flowers and bushes around them. She could’ve sighed at the sight. 

“Only females, you said.” 

“Yes.” Something graver, more dangerous lurked in his voice then. But the pace of their slow steps on the stone path didn’t falter. Elain squeezed his arm in some comfort, and he slanted a smile towards her. “It’s best if I…I’m not around other males quite yet.”

She nodded in contemplation. Her sisters had mentioned that, too. But the heart-thudding sound of his wings as he shook them out even wider made her tremble, heat pooling in her limbs again…his breath caught at the same time hers did, his eyes fastening onto her face with the sharp immediacy of gnawing hunger. 

But Azriel swallowed. His gaze dropped to her throat, as if he could see the pulse of her heartbeat there. “Rhys said he’d come when he can,” he rasped to her. “Help…me. To face others again.”

“Help?” Elain’s voice was wispy. Her knees weak. 

“As a punching post until I can behave properly.” A wry twist of his lips, then, as his eyes darted back up to hers at last. She was feeling hot in the sun, though the air itself wasn’t warm. Her free hand shook as she rested it at her throat, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m in no danger,” she whispered. 

“No.” A colder edge to his tone now. “You’re not. Though any male that looks at you will be.” 

Elain shivered. Melted against him, as if his words had cut the very strings holding her upright - his arms stole around her at once, and his mouth found hers in a bruising kiss. A claiming kiss. One that made the bond between them purr with satisfaction, until her breathing was short and his hazel eyes blazing hotter than the sun as he stared down at her, tucking brown-gold curls behind the points of her ears. 

“Now that our alone time is nearly at an end, we should wait until we’re behind locked doors,” Azriel murmured. “I hate to think what would be said of us if the staff returned while we were sprawled in the garden with my head up your skirts.” 

The crassness should bother her, she knew - but it only made her hotter. Sensibility all but gone, and she didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss those walls that had kept her locked away for so long. 

“They already know what we’ve been doing,” Elain pointed out, her voice barely above a whisper, and his head tilted to the side as he considered her. As if he’d perked up at her insinuation. Still he protested,

“But seeing it - ”

“What difference should it make?” she challenged. Ran her hands up his black shirt, to rest on his chest where she could feel the frantic pumping of his heart. “I - I know it’s different here. And with such things as Calanmai…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened a shade to burnished gold, the thick sound of his wings posturing out further; shading her from the sun. Or prying eyes. As if the mere mention of the Rite had woken something completely, utterly fae in him; ready to pounce, to sprawl her in the neatly-trimmed grass as he’d said earlier…

“Are you saying, dearest,” he rumbled, from deep in his chest, “That you’d feel no shame if someone were to…happen upon us?” 

“I don’t know,” Elain whispered. “I should, I know…but somehow…” Her voice trailed off, and anxiously she awaited some response from him. It was silent in the cocoon of his wings, where the world outside of this seemed to have stopped spinning. Pausing, holding its breath. 

“We can experiment with that,” Azriel promised. “Later.” 

Later. But it didn’t stop her heart from racing as he stretched out his wings, and the morning returned to its earlier activity in buzzing insects and the tittering of birds nearby. She heard them, but didn’t see them. 

The winding path took them past any number of plants. Elain tried to take note of the varieties that grew here, but it muddled in her mind somewhere beneath the last echoes of the frenzy. Of him beside her, distracting her with little more than his scent and his feel of his muscled arm beneath her palm. And, even worse for her sense but delicious to her soul - Azriel started humming. 

Elain let the sound wash over her for a while. Reverberating, deep, almost…hoarse. But as peaceful as the sun. Then, quietly, as he drew in a breath she said, “You can sing aloud. I don’t mind.” With her opposite hand she reached out, and the velvety petals of violet tulips bobbed beneath her touch. She almost expected him to refuse, but he didn’t, and a moment later words formed and sprang into the air as lovely and deep as the dusk: 

“Hear me now, oh maiden of the garden,” he began, and she glanced sharply at him, wondering if he was making fun - but it was sincerity and softness. 
“Maiden of the garden,
Hear…
Take me to your cold and weedy bed
Cold and weedy bed, hear...”

They’d stopped walking, though she pretended more interest in the thick leaves of a fern, freeing him from scrutiny that might close him up…

“Love me through the flooding, muddy soil,
Kiss me through the plucks of hungry birds,
Marry me in a dress of lily petals
Hear…”

If there was more, Azriel didn’t go on. Cleared his throat and softly, without turning, Elain asked, “What song is it?”

“It’s an old ditty,” he told her, his speaking voice bland. “I believe it’s sung throughout Prythian, though the verses vary. I’ve heard Lucien humming the melody under his breath once or twice.” 

Regret didn’t belong in that sunny morning, wrenching in her chest like a bitter tea. So Elain buried it, like the dig of her fingers into the cool soil. She’d planted a better seed in its place. Sinking into a crouch, she frowned at a weed that was threatening to overtake a bush of flowers she didn’t recognize. A swift yank dislodged it and its pale root, and she shook the dirt from it. Splatters landed on her white frock, but she merely shook them off as she stood again. 

Azriel had stiffened, peering back over his shoulder. “They’re here,” he said quietly. Her heart thumped unhappily: they were no longer alone. These frenzied days had come to an end - she’d known they would, of course, the perfection she’d found in his company, and his alone. 

When he turned back at her, she was ready with a smile. “Will you still hold my hand?” Elain asked. “Even though it’s dirty?”

By way of answer he clasped her hand in both of his, bringing it to his mouth for a tender kiss. He lingered there, breathing in deeply as his eyes closed. “Your scent,” he murmured, twisting her hand ‘round to breathe in again, this time his nose pressed to her wrist. “I’ll never get enough of it.” 

“You won’t have to,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” That blazing promise she allowed to shine from her face. Azriel’s eyes snapped up to gaze at her, and his lips twisting into a smile…one without humor, but saturated through with possession. 

“Let’s go back. Rest before lunch.” 

“We only woke a little while ago.” 

“Not that kind of rest.” Then that smile turned teasing, and Elain laughed as he scooped her into his arms without effort, kicking off from the ground in a whoosh that tangled the wind in her hair and around her skirts. His chest was warm and solid - a venerable wall of strength. But if she tilted her head, she could kiss his throat - and she did, taking her time to nibble at the taut, hot skin there. His flight wobbled somewhat, a groan whipped away at speed. 

She saw nothing of the staff that he’d mentioned - perhaps he concealed her. And as Azriel swooped to the balcony that jutted from the east side of the house, connected to his bedroom by double doors paned with frosted glass, she strained her ears to hear. As is from far away, quiet female voices and the clattering of pots and pans. Her meager breakfast after so many days of even scanter nourishment hadn’t been enough. Elain was starving. But she wanted her mate, too, with a different kind of ache as he nudged open one of the doors with a foot to stride through, still carrying her - and she would very much appreciate a bath, and - 

“You’re thinking loudly again,” Azriel remarked. 

“I was thinking of a bath,” she admitted, peering up at him. 

“Oh?”

“And a meal would be welcome.” 

The shadows were there, waiting for them - as soon as Azriel set her down on the floor they snaked up around her, and him - Elain felt the coolness flick the heat from her face like a breezy whisper. The prickling sweat at the back of her neck gone beneath her heavy hair. 

“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled, and she turned to face him with a smile. “They’re fussing.” 

“I don’t mind,” she said, but then hurried to add, “If you don’t mind, that is.” 

“Well, I’m jealous, certainly,” Azriel grinned. “But I don’t see why I’m so surprised. I adore you, after all. Why shouldn’t they?” 

“A poignant question indeed.” Elain would have had to be a special kind of stupid not to notice that the shadows had crept up her back, and flicked the tie of her dress undone before slithering away - but it did bring a flush to her cheeks. “Dear me,” she mumbled, though she didn’t mean it as the straps of her frock fell forward. The weight of her breasts sunk the neckline low, and Azriel’s attention was snagged like a fish on a lure, eyes honed in on her. “I wonder what they meant by that.” 

His throat bobbed in a swallow. Then, with no more warning than a surge of intention through the golden bond between them, he sprung across the few feet between them to gather her up in a crushing embrace, mouth branding on hers with a groan. Hers or his? Her head spun. She didn’t know - 

The bodice was torn down by Azriel’s hand, with which he immediately cupped one of her bare breasts as she whimpered; his teeth sinking into her bottom lip with a ravenous growl. 

“Az - ” Elain gasped, tearing at his shirt without even thinking about it - something primal had taken over. “Az - I - ” She meant to say something coy and delicate, perhaps ‘take me to bed’ or ‘please make love to me,’ but she hadn’t the words in her mind. But he knew what she meant, clearly, for she was swept up into his arms once more as he bolted for the bed - it had been neatly made, she realized dazedly - the shadows or the staff? 

A knock on the door interrupted a bruising kiss, stopping his hand up her thigh in its tracks. Then an airy, almost nervous voice from the hallway as Azriel tilted his head: “We - we’ve brought up Lady Elain’s trunk sent from Velaris. Of her things.” 

“Leave it outside the door,” Azriel said hoarsely. “Th - thank you.” 

All the politeness he could manage, and with her heart hammering Elain nudged herself against him, his hard length pressed into her leg. He sucked in a breath at that, turning his attention back to her with burning gold in his eyes: like a breath on embers, the heat inside of her flared. Barely noticed footsteps faded away down the hallway as his wings flared slightly - she couldn’t help staring, wondering if he was posturing again…

“How do you want me?” he whispered. Nudged his nose against hers, completely in contrast to the raging need she felt. The need that surfaced from the marrow of her bones to sluice through her veins, to him. 

“Any way,” Elain breathed back, and she meant it. 

Azriel’s lips were parted as his gaze raked over her face. A shadow curled beneath his ear, but he paid it no mind: instead, rucked up the hem of her skirt to settle at her hips, exposing her to the air. She shivered, but it was from the molten way he stared at her, the brush of the backs of his scarred fingers on her bare thigh. 

“I want you every way,” he said, his voice gone low and dark. “And we have all day.” 

That mere insinuation drew a moan from between her lips, and Azriel smiled the sort of smile she suspected a wolf might wear when it saw a fawn: but it wasn’t fear that writhed through her. It was the thrill of being hunted. Being wanted. 

He tucked his other arm around her neck, to cradle her close as his wandering fingers stroked up the slit of her. Elain reached up to clasp his face in her hands, pulling it down to kiss him fiercely. The groan through his chest was enough to set her on fire; with the gentle stroking of his fingers she could burn to ashes in a heartbeat. 

It didn’t take long for him to bring her to climax - she wondered as he peppered kisses to her breasts, if her body responded to him so violently because they were mated or if it was simply because he knew how to play her like an instrument. Breath after breath lifted her chest, trying to calm herself, but it wasn’t to be: with a grin his delved his fingers into her again, and Elain shrieked and squirmed but laughed - he laughed, too, and she felt the cooling brush of shadow against her cheek - 

A thunk on the balcony they’d come in on drew Azriel’s gaze to the side, sharp and sudden as a whip. Still protected by his shoulders, Elain poked her head beneath his splayed wing to see a familiar set of boots on the ground. She couldn’t see above that, but she knew who it was. And she was practically naked -

“Well, well, well,” Cassian boomed, and then even his boots were concealed from her gaze as Azriel spread his wings further, shielding her from being seen. She rested her hands on his chest, but his head was turned and his lips curled, baring his teeth. “Still going, Az?” 

“Back off,” was the snarl in response. Elain’s breath caught in her throat, but not from fear. 

“Is she hiding in there? Or did she scarper?”

“I’m here,” she squeaked back. 

“Ah. How are you liking that wingspan, Ellie?”

“Don’t call her that,” Azriel growled, low in his chest. She could feel the tautness of him, ready to spring - though his trousers had been unbuttoned and his shirt was hanging open, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack. Not even his brother. And his Siphons were on the other side of the bed - 

“Why not?” Cassian asked, his tone innocent. “Don’t you?” 

Elain craned her neck to see over Azriel’s wing - it was about what she expected, Cassian leaning against the open glass doors with the expanse of bright blue sky behind him. He was grinning like a cat that had got the cream, fully-armored, his hair tied back. 

“Come out and show me how you really feel, Az,” Cassian said, and she felt Azriel shift above her like a snare. Then Cassian winked, and started walking backwards to the stone railing and, likely, safety. But he still called back, “Nice to see you, Ellie. Nes is waiting downstairs.”

As soon as Cassian went over the edge in a dare, Azriel snarled, and followed at a run. Elain felt the whoosh of air as he left her on the bed, the flap of his wings as he shot out of the doors and into the sky - 

Oh, dear. And he hadn’t even buttoned his trousers. 

This was what he’d mentioned in the garden, she supposed. “A punching post until I can behave properly,” was what Azriel had said, but he’d assumed Rhys. Had Cassian’s unexpected appearance made it worse? 

Tugging at the sleeves and bodice and skirt of her rumpled frock, Elain strode across the bedroom for the balcony, curious - she heard a shout, and a laugh (Cassian’s) and then a crash of something. She had to lean over the edge to see, but they were there, a bundle of black and golden skin and red light as they tumbled on the manicured lawn. The crash had been a marble statue, which now lay in several parts. She flinched as Azriel landed a spectacularly brutal blow against Cassian’s middle, but the general just wheezed, still grinning - he glanced towards her and waved his fingers, but that was a mistake on his part. Azriel turned to face her, snarled at his brother’s irreverence towards his mate, and tackled him back to the grass. 

We have all day, Azriel had said, and Elain pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. 

No time for a bath quite yet, but she did kneel beside the trunk in the hallway to find more suitable (and clean) clothes. A little fussing and a quick comb of her hair, letting the curls fall down her back threaded through with curious shadows was enough to feel enough of herself to face her sister. 

The grunts and shouts and Cassian’s bellowing laughter from the lawn followed her all the way down the stairs. 

Nesta, in her usual steel-grey with her hair braided atop her head, was reading a book in one of the front rooms. Elain hadn’t taken the time to explore all that Rosehall had to offer yet, but she squashed that blushing thought as her sister caught sight of her, and stood. 

“Well?” Nesta asked with an arch look, gazing at Elain up and down. Another crash from the lawn. 

“Well, what?” Elain tried to recall self-control and poise, dragging it up from deep in her chest where she’d lost it sometime several days ago. She would not flush - she had nothing to be ashamed of - 

“How are you?” 

“Perfectly well. And you?” 

Nesta’s eyes flickered to the window. But the males weren’t visible from this side of the house. “He’d better be able to fly us back to Velaris after this,” she said, in an almost grumpy voice, and Elain smiled. 

“Are you hungry?” Elain asked. “I think we could find something in the kitchens if you are.”

“I had breakfast not long ago,” Nesta said, and again her attention turned to Elain. Grey eyes narrowed. “Have you eaten at all this week?” 

“Here and there.” Practically a lie. And as if to punish her for it, the hollow ache in her belly shuddered inside of her, begging for something - anything. Elain bit her lip to keep from wincing. 

“I’ll go find something,” Nesta said in a voice that allowed no argument. “You sit here.” 

Weakly Elain sat on a settee to the thump of Nesta’s book being closed and tossed onto a sofa. Her sister strode from the room as if she were mistress of the house, rather than Elain, but she was unable to form a complaint. Not with the strands of herself still scattered around, though she tried half-heartedly to scoop them up to put herself back together…but she didn’t want to be put together. She wanted to be unravelled with her mate, to return to the quiet stillness of solitude; when it had been just them. 

But the plate of cakes and fruit that Nestra returned with was wildly welcome. Elain ate a still-warm vanilla cake in two bites and was halfway through a sliced pear topped with a hard, salty cheese before she realized her sister was still watching her, and with an amused smile on her face. It was rare enough that Nesta be amused, let alone at her, and so Elain swallowed her mouthful and her nerves, clearing her throat. 

“You came with Cassian,” she said to make conversation. 

“Someone needed to check in on you,” Nesta said. Nodded her head towards the window. “He can report on Azriel, but I knew he wouldn’t see much of you.” 

“I’m perfectly well,” Elain repeated. 

“Good.” 

Slowly, with more decorum now, she layered together pear and cheese atop a cracker dotted with seeds. Took a nibble, though her stomach ached for more, now. Nesta leaned forward, and lifted the iced pitcher she’d brought as well to fill the two cups. Oh, lemonade - how lovely. The staff must be working hard in the kitchens; she’d have to stop by later. 

“And how is…everything?” Elain asked carefully, to which Nestra shrugged. 

“Everything is as it always is,” she said. “You and Azriel are missed. Some - ” and Nesta rolled her eyes, as if unwilling to name names, “ - have missed your presence as the only two with any sense.” 

“I see.” 

“Do you know when you’ll return?”

“I don’t know,” Elain said. I don’t want to return, she thought mulishly to herself, but she couldn’t allow herself to be so selfish. Swiping fluffed cream from the top of another cake with the tip of her finger, and sucking it off between her lips. Delicious. She was still starved. 

“Has it worn off?” Nesta asked next. Elain felt her cheeks heat at that, but a comforting bit of coolness curl around her throat, as if to stave off her own embarrassment at her sister’s frankness. Or to remind her that she wasn’t alone. 

“Azriel says it has,” she said. “But I - I don’t know.” 

Nesta nodded, and then her face was split by a sly smile. “The circle has taken wagers on what you gave him to eat,” she said. “Mor suggested it would be a full course meal. And I believe it was Amren that bet on a handful of scallions torn out of a garden.” 

“I haven’t had time to prepare a full course meal,” Elain told her, mimicking Nesta’s arch tone perfectly. “Not that it matters, but I gave him a lemon cake.”

Of the food that had been left behind by staff before their timely exit, they’d burned through in less than a day during that initial frenzy. But not so quickly that she hadn’t chosen the plumpest, tenderest cake to slip through Azriel’s lips - he’d been on his knees, then, but she couldn’t recall quite why…Elain nearly choked on a bit of pear as the memory returned from the delicious haze the entire week had become. Ah. That was why. 

“We’ll be collecting our winnings, then,” Nesta said, still smiling. “Are you sure you’re well, Elain?”

“I am very well, though if you continue to pester me I might be less well,” Elain said in a testy voice. 

“No…questions about…anything?” 

“No,” she said, firm and bland, and she was saved from further questioning: a blur of black and angry snarling hurled past the window they sat in front of, drawing their attention as a pot of mums was nearly knocked over on the veranda. The males had come to a stop outside, and Nesta made it to the window before Elain: but it was Azriel that popped up first, his eyes flickering towards her as her belly twisted for something other than food. His hair stuck up on its ends, his cheeks flushed with exertion and a bruise blossoming beneath his chin. His shirt was torn in several places, as if severed by claws. 

But it was Cassian, hauling himself up to his feet by clutching a wrought-iron bench, that had clearly come off worse. Nose leaking blood, his arm hanging stiffly as he tried to roll his shoulder. Didn’t stop him from winking at Nesta, though, who harrumphed right back. 

Elain’s nose was pressed to the glass as she stared at her mate. 

“Thank you for visiting,” she whispered to Nesta. “We’ll - we’ll return soon.” 

“Take your time,” Nesta replied. Her book was tucked under her arm again, and lifting her skirts in one hand she made for the door. “I’m glad you’re happy, El.” 

But Elain’s eyes were still fixed on Azriel, and his on her. Cassian limped away behind him, to meet Nesta at the door, but Azriel jerked his head in the opposite direction. The back entrance. 

It was there that they met in a flurry - his arms open for her, shirt in complete tatters as she pressed herself to him. Not close enough, never close enough…Elain lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him, breathing in the scents of soil and grass that now clung to his skin. He groaned into her mouth, fingers digging into her skirts and the flesh of her buttocks. 

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” she breathed. Traced over the planes of his face with her fingertips as he stared hungrily at her. The shadows around him made some effort to fix up his shirt; lifting the shreds as if to cover him. And then gave up to slink away to the corners. “Fight - yes. But…not like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you - " 

"You didn’t.” Elain held his golden gaze as he went still. Then, a whisper, “I love you.”

Immediately she was hauled into his arms, his wings tucking in to make it through the doorway and into the cooler relief of the stone hallway. From here she could hear the clattering activity in the kitchens, and she knew Azriel must be as starving as she’d been, but convincing him to eat would likely be a futile effort. 

Sparring Cassian clearly hadn’t depleted him too much, Elain learned. And she learned it on her back, frock rucked up to her waist and her ankles over his shoulders as he stood above her, gripping her hips to thrust into her until she was completely unravelled once more. Just the way she wanted - spilling over the edge with him and uncaring what anyone else thought.

“Again,” Azriel grit through his teeth. Her knuckles were throbbing with pain from clutching the bedsheets, her throat hoarse and dry from the first two climaxes he’d wrung from her. She was limp and soaked, barely even aware of the vulgar, slapping noises they were making. “Again, El. For me. One more time.” 

The dominance in his voice brought her back, rekindling the embers that tried to sleep in her veins. Elain whimpered, but couldn’t resist: this release was slower than the others, but sultry and sweet as she met her mate’s gaze - his tousled hair framed by the sunlight coming in through the open balcony doors, the muscles in his chest and arms taut and flexing as he rode her. 

“With me,” she whispered, and he dipped his head in a nod before she spun out of control. 

Elain was slack head-to-toe when Azriel gently extracted himself - he swore under his breath, but she couldn’t even open her eyes to see what it was: and then she felt her skirts gathered in his hand, wiping down between her legs as she nearly shrieked aloud at how sensitive she was. 

He collapsed on the bed beside her, panting, and she turned to face him with a smile. Curling up and around him like his shadows liked to do - and could she blame them? Azriel grinned at her, smoldering gold once more rather than an inferno, and pulled her close. Around their forms his wing rested. 

It meant that this was their space, she was coming to learn. And woe to anyone who interrupted them: Cassian had the bruises to prove it. Elain frowned, then, and reached up to touch the purple splotch beneath Azriel’s chin with her fingers. He didn’t flinch, but merely stared at her. 

“Will you be alright?” she whispered. 

“It’s nothing,” he said. “And…I can face the world again, I suppose.” 

“But do you want to?” Elain asked, a smile lifting her tired lips. 

“No,” Azriel said at once. “Do you?”

“No, but we’ll have to.”

“But not today.”

“No. Not today.” She smiled, then, and his responding grin was the kind that warmed her from the inside out. “Can we have a bath now?” 

“Yes, of course.” Hauling her against his chest, Azriel sat them up with a groan of his own, settling her in his lap at the edge of the bed. “Though it may be worth noting,” he added, some mischief forming in that curl of his mouth. “That no amount of soap is going to wash the scent of me from your skin.”

Elain hummed, smoothing back some of that tangled hair from his forehead. “That’s a relief to hear.”

His eyes blinked, the gold in them nothing short of yearning. An ache in his expression that thrummed painfully through her. Through what lay between them. “You mean it?” Azriel whispered. 

“Yes.” Teeth clamped onto her bottom lip, but still she smiled, leaning her forehead against his damp one as he huffed. Laughter, perhaps - or something else. 

The squeaking sound of a faucet drew her attention towards the bathing room, the door that led to it wreathed in shadows. “They like baths,” Azriel said by way of explanation. “Bubbles especially.” 

“I don’t know why people are afraid of your shadows,” Elain told him. “They’re sweet.” 

“To you. They’re fond of you.” He grinned, teeth flashing. “Lady Shadowsinger.” 

She laughed at that, and he stood with her still in his arms. Around them his wings fluttered and flared as he carried them to their bath, and Elain rested her head against his tattooed chest. 

Lady Shadowsinger. 

She liked it.