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The man beneath Azriel (Mick? Mickey? Nicky? Fuck.) was hot, that much he knew. Azriel studied his golden-blonde curls glistening with sweat as he pounded into his ass. The man’s hands were curled into fists on either side of his head as he moaned beneath him with each thrust. Azriel had one hand clamped to the back of the man’s neck and the other braced on his hip as he fucked him. 

But he struggled to concentrate, as he so often did these days while buried in someone or other. The two beers and four Old Fashioneds he had consumed at Rita’s were not helping. He grit his teeth and tried to focus on the pleasure of pounding into this very attractive man beneath him, slowing down his thrusts to measured sliding and grinding. Mickey (?) moaned beneath him, and Azriel assumed it was working, so continued his slow, deliberate pace. 

As he did, he became distracted by the way the light illuminated a spiderweb in the corner of the room and lost his rhythm. Fuck. He mentally slapped himself in the face and reached around the man’s torso to grip his cock. Possibly Nicky bucked and groaned beneath him as Azriel started working him with his hand in tandem with his thrusts into his ass. Maybe bringing Mick to the edge would get him there, too. 

“Faster,” the man breathed, and Azriel obliged, picking up the pace as sweat slid down his temples. Fuck, it was hot in here. He could finally feel himself unraveling though, so he leaned into the speed and chaos, pounding with his dick and jerking with his hand until he felt shudders before him, a moan gracing his ears, and then warm cum spilling over his fingers. That’ll do it. His own body responded in kind and he was suddenly coming, spilling into Mickey or Mick or Nicky (oh god, was it Mike?) with a relieved groan. 

They both stilled and panted for a few moments before Azriel slid out of him, dismounting him and rolling over. He slid off his condom and threw it into the trash before reaching down for a discarded shirt, cleaning his hand off and dropping it to the floor again. 

The man rolled over as well, his beautiful muscles glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. God damn, he really was hot. Greek god vibes. If only Azriel could remember his fucking name. 

“Damn,” the man panted, pushing his curls out of his eyes. Azriel grinned arrogantly–he knew he was good at fucking. Even with the six drinks. Even with the distraction that he couldn't shake lately. 

“Do you, uh…” the man began, looking around. Fuck, here came the awkward part. “Do you want me to…stay…or?” 

Azriel met Greek God’s eyes. How had they gotten here? Surely they hadn't taken his bike, he wasn't that irresponsible. Had they walked all the way? Called a car? He had a fuzzy memory of being dropped off in a black–oh, fuck. Had Cassian dropped them off? Jesus, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. 

Azriel cleared his throat. He still hadn't answered. Mystery man swung upwards, reading the silence. “I'll get out of your hair,” he rushed out. Azriel sat up and watched as the man gathered up his clothes from around the room and began tugging them back on. Guilt crept up his spine. He should ask someone to stay one of these days. But, honestly, people tended to sound more relieved than anything else when he didn't. He knew a part of everyone he fucked was frightened of him. He couldn't control the hint of danger others felt around him, even at his most respectful. So it was probably best this way. 

Once dressed, Mickey/Mick/Nicky/Mike slid his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a business card, leaving it on a side table. “Call me, if you want,” he said awkwardly, before pocketing his wallet once more. 

Azriel cleared his throat, his elbows rested on his knees. “Do you have a way to get home?” he asked. 

The man waved an unconcerned hand. “I'll walk back to the bar. I like the fresh air.” 

That was probably a forty-five minute walk, but Azriel didn't say anything. 

“Well, bye Azriel,” he said at the threshold of the bedroom. “Thanks for…have a good night.”

Azriel grimaced internally. Of course the Greek god remembered his name. He hazarded the most confident guess he could. 

“Night, Mickey.”

The man’s brows bunched momentarily, but then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Azriel sighed and rose, making his way to the bathroom to clean up. He paused by the side table and lifted the card he knew he would never use.

Fuck. The dude’s name was Jason.

Azriel collapsed onto his bed thirty minutes later after having showered, brushed his teeth, and changed his sheets. He may be a piece of shit, but he was a neat piece of shit, and didn't like the idea of sleeping in Mickey-Jason’s cum. 

Fuck, he hated himself. Why did he have to be such a goddamn asshole? That was a perfectly nice, very fucking good-looking man who Azriel was sure he would never see again. Especially not after he got his name wrong. 

He had been so off his game for the last couple of months. His pattern was the same as it had always been: see a beautiful stranger at the bar, eye fuck them until they approached him, bring them home to his condo, pound the fuck out of them and send them on their way. But he normally wasn't so goddamn removed. Distracted. He sometimes even texted them for a round two another night. 

But not since her. Since that one spring night months ago, when he had seen her at Rita’s and thought she was the most beautiful human he had ever encountered. With her dark brown eyes that sparkled like galaxies and her honey-brown hair that hung in whimsical curls over her breasts. Those godforsaken freckles and that little gold hoop in her nose.  Fuck, she had been like nothing he had ever seen. 

Elaine.

He hadn't been able to remember another person’s name since then. Since he had prowled up to her at the bar, asking if he could buy her a drink. Since they had moved on the dance floor together, her short but curvy frame sucking him in like a fucking black hole. Since he had brought her back to this very room, and had laid her down and fucked her. But no–that wasn't really right. First she had fucked his fingers with her mouth, slowly and sensually, until he was begging her to stop before he came. And then she was grinding on him, both of them still clothed, soaking his thigh through her tights as she rode him. And then she had opened her legs for him and he had feasted on her perfect cunt until she was screaming as he thrusted his fingers inside her while his lips sucked on her clit. And then she had climbed atop him, both of their clothes finally shed, and had fucked herself on his cock hard and fast, until he was moaning as he came inside her. 

And he hadn’t fucking given her his number. He had been so absolutely stunned by her, her face and the way she moved and her soft voice and huge eyes and ethereal spirit and god the way she had fucked him, that he hadn’t even remembered to give her his goddamn number. 

So now he went to Rita’s every weekend night, and waited for her. When she didn’t show up by bar close, he found a stranger to take home and fuck. Man, woman, nonbinary person, Azriel didn’t care. He just liked to get behind someone and sink his cock into them. 

But she never came back, and he never got her out of his head. Maybe she had been a visiting tourist. Maybe he would never see her again, and would just continue to fuck strangers and forget their names and faces instantly. And the worst part, besides never seeing her again, was that the sex wasn’t even satisfying anymore. He got to come, sure, but it was always disappointing when it wasn’t inside of her. Elaine. He got more satisfaction coming into his hand remembering how she felt around him and the noises she made, the noises she had coaxed from him, than from sinking his cock into a stranger. 

It was fucked up, really. Azriel was a busy person. A focused person. His career was on the rise at the firm and he worked nearly twelve hours a day, his eyes blurry by the time he mounted his bike as the sun was going down. He already lost sleep due to his demanding work as finance director, not to mention his bullshit dreams (nightmares) that woke him up half his nights. He couldn’t afford to also lose sleep and focus over a woman he had met and fucked one time, no matter how perfect she had been. 

So Azriel lay in bed and resolved to stop spending his weekend nights at Rita’s waiting for her. If it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, what did he expect to get from seeing her again? More unbelievable fucking? A relationship, for god’s sake? His stomach twisted at the prospect. Under no circumstance would she want him when she actually got to know him, so what was he even doing pining after her? He didn’t know how to be in a fucking relationship. He was absolutely broken in that regard, and he expected to never be fixed. 

Tomorrow he would wake up, sweat out the hangover in the gym, and go about his day not thinking about mystery-woman Elaine. He made that promise to himself as he closed his eyes, drifting into another fitful, disturbed night of semi-sleep.

Elain hummed to herself as she arranged bottles on the shelves of her shop. She was organizing tinctures she had made from her garden on the rooftop of her building, which housed her living quarters and beneath it her little shop. 

It was mostly a space for her to make her living fortune-telling by reading tarot cards and palms, but she also enjoyed making and selling tinctures for all kinds of remedies. Non-magic folk liked to believe they were buying organic “natural” remedies for their ailments, and would probably never accept that magic ran through each of her recipes. 

Elain didn't make a lot of money, but she had inherited some after her parents’ death, and the building was passed on to her from her father, so she had meager needs for money. She didn't really need things like health insurance when she had magic to aid her healing. 

Elain enjoyed her simple, quiet life in the Rainbow district of Velaris. She did what she loved, tending to her garden and using her powers to help guide people who came to see her. She had few friends and even fewer lovers (especially since her failed engagement), which did not usually bother her. 

Only recently, she had had a night with a stranger that haunted her. She had found herself at Rita’s after a particularly harrowing vision, wishing to escape her residence for a while, and had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

The only problem was that Elain was not a typical drinker of alcohol. She enjoyed the occasional wine here and there, but she had had several strong drinks that night, and she could not for the life of her remember the stranger’s name, nor his voice, nor even his face. She knew she went home with him (as rash as that choice was), and she knew they had had sex (and based on how she felt the next day, it had been especially good). 

The only thing Elain remembered about the man she had allowed between her thighs and into her body was his hands. They had been beautiful, brown tanned skin stretched over large, strong, sure, commanding fingers. And they were absolutely covered in thick, raised scars. Burn scars, if Elain had to guess. But they were more extensive than any burn scars she had ever seen–covering his hands in a rough, leathery textured pattern that reminded her of vines creeping over the roots of a great tree deep in the forest. They were brutal and stunning. Mesmerizing. Those hands with those scars were all Elain could remember about that night. She remembered how they looked, yes, but she also remembered how they felt. She could recall clearly, like she had consumed no alcohol at all, how they had felt caressing her breasts, sliding between her thighs, sinking into her core through her slickness. She remembered how they felt holding her hips and her jaw as she rode him. But most of all, she remembered how those fingers felt in her mouth. How she had been unable to resist bringing them between her lips, sliding her tongue over them and sucking on them, how they had tasted and how she had fucked them with her mouth like it had been his cock between her lips and not his fingers. 

Elain found herself thinking about those scarred hands more often than she would like to admit over the past weeks, and usually in bed, alone. She found herself remembering them as she slid her own fingers between her legs and into herself, imagining that they were larger, warmer, scarred– his. 

Elain occasionally considered returning to Rita's to see if the stranger would be there, but she always hesitated until she talked herself out of it. He had not given her his number (or at least, it wasn't in her phone, no card in her wallet, and she sure as hell didn't remember it), so he must not have been too interested. 

She wouldn't even know how to recognize him again, unless she went to every male in the bar and asked to examine their hands, which seemed impractical and desperate. She tried to prod her Sight into telling her something about him, but her mind had been too addled that night. Without an object of his or even a name, she could discern nothing. So she went about her days, trying not to think of those hands and failing when a need for them overtook her most nights. 

The next morning, Sunday, Azriel did as he had resolved to do. He woke up early, went to the gym in his building, and tried to sweat out the remaining liquor. He returned to his condo and showered before he made a protein shake for breakfast. He was just finishing up some laundry when Cassian called him. 

“Yep?” Azriel asked his brother, who wasn't really his brother but was as close as he had ever had. 

“Rhys and I are coming over,” Cassian answered. Azriel raised an eyebrow even though it wouldn't be seen. 

“Did we have plans?”

Cassian grunted over the line. “No, but you owe us after last night. You promised us a truth or dare.”

Azriel groaned. “I'm thirty-five. I'm not doing a truth or dare.” 

“No, no, no,” Cassian protested. “Last night you called me and made me drag your drunk ass and some random stranger to your condo for you. So you could fuck. And you know what you interrupted?”

Azriel ran a hand over his face, shame flooding him. Cassian took his silence as a no. 

“I had a woman’s pussy inches from my mouth.”

Azriel frowned down at his phone. “Then why the fuck did you say yes?” 

His brother laughed roughly over the line. “Because you called so many times I thought it was an emergency! And then you promised you would do anything if I did you this one favor. So Rhysie and I are coming over to see you keep your word on that.”

Azriel sighed, tugging his hair in exasperation with himself. God, he wasn't usually such a messy drunk. 

“Fine, whatever,” he said, and hung up. 

Twenty minutes later, his buzzer sounded, and Azriel hit the button to let his brothers in. They both appeared in his doorway minutes later, wearing shit-eating grins on their faces. Oh, god. What were they going to make him do?

Rhys looked around the condo with his dark blue eyes. “Jesus, for someone who drank so much last night your place is alarmingly clean. I bet you even changed your sheets before you went to bed, huh?” 

Azriel glared at him. 

Rhys just crossed his arms, golden tattooed skin pulling taut over his muscles. His blue-black hair was swept neatly over his forehead and he wore clothes that were altogether too nice for a random Sunday: slacks and a dress shirt with an overcoat. Fucking dickhead. 

“Brother,” Cassian said, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl and tossing it up and down in front of him. “I know you'll fuck anything that moves, but that one seemed nice. Where is he?” 

Azriel scoffed. His brothers never could fucking butt out of his business, even when he gave them nothing at their prodding.

“What do you guys want from me?” Azriel asked, ignoring Cassian’s question.

“Truth or dare?” Cassian asked him, waggling his dark eyebrows. His long dark hair fell loosely to his shoulders and his mammoth frame dwarfed Azriel's kitchen somehow, even though the space was quite large. He took a huge bite of the apple as challenge gleamed in his eyes.

Azriel released one long, drawn out sigh of grudging acceptance. These shitheads were not going to leave him alone until they got what they came for. 

“Dare,” he grumbled, sipping the last dregs of his coffee and steeling his spine for whatever bullshit they came up with. They already knew he wouldn’t pick truth. Azriel would rather die than reveal a secret. 

Rhysand and Cassian grinned at each other mischievously. Azriel put his mug in the sink, grimacing. This could not be good.

“You’re going to go get your fortune told,” Rhys said smugly. 

Azriel crossed his arms. “Again with this bullshit?” They were obsessed with getting Azriel to admit that anything even slightly against scientific logic–astrology, tarot cards, anything to do with fucking chakras–had any merit. He could not and would not accept anything that could not be proven unequivocally by the scientific method. 

“Phone, keys, wallet, man. Rhysie will drive.” 

Azriel looked between the two. “I’ll take my bike and follow,” he pushed back, sliding on his gloves and reaching for his helmet, both of which always sat on his kitchen island. He could at least get some fresh air before no doubt being suffocated by oils and incense and god knows what else.

“Fine,” Cassian grumbled, and moved back towards the door. 

Azriel indulged in one more long, annoyed sigh before acquiescing, grabbing his things and surreptitiously sliding Jason’s business card into the trash bin. Might as well get this the fuck over with. 

They drove, Azriel following on his motorcycle, to a little artsy street in the Rainbow district–somewhere Azriel would never voluntarily go. Rhysand loved it here, though, thought it was cultural or some shit. But Azriel thought he really just liked to flirt with the beautiful young woman that ran an art gallery around the corner. 

Cassian linked his massive arm with Azriel’s and dragged him up the street, pointing to the door of a shop so tiny and dark, he wouldn’t have even noticed it walking by. There wasn’t even a sign over the door. Azriel had his helmet tucked under his other arm. Rhys chuckled behind them. 

“Here we are,” Cassian said, and pulled open the door to tinkling bells. 

Azriel stared at them both, and they stared right back. He raised his eyebrows at them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally, waiting for them to walk away. 

“Oh, you didn’t think we were going to let you do this alone, did you?” Rhysand asked, his grin growing. 

Azriel opened his mouth to retort but Rhys kept talking. “Oh, no, brother. We’re going to watch you squirm.”

Azriel glared at them both, but they were standing behind him with crossed arms like fucking bouncers at a club. So he rolled his eyes and walked in through the door, the dickheads following behind him and snickering. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell of dried herbs and flowers. It wasn’t smoky and cloying like he had feared. It was actually rather refreshing. The second thing that hit him was the overwhelming amount of crap in the shop. There were bottles and books and vials and bundles of flowers everywhere. But it all seemed to be well-organized, everything in its place and stacked and labeled neatly. The third thing Azriel noticed was that no one else was in the space–not even a clerk. 

The three men peered around the shop, Azriel grimacing when he spotted a table piled with tarot cards and star charts and other such bullshit. 

“Hello?” Cassian called loudly, startling both of his brothers. 

“Jesus,” Azriel grumbled. Cassian just shrugged. 

“I’ll be right out,” a soft voice called. Azriel froze. He recognized that voice. He had only heard it for one night, but he had heard it make all kinds of delicious noises. He couldn’t forget that voice if he tried.

He turned on his heel and crowded his brothers, trying to push them towards the door.

“The fuck!” Cassian protested, pushing back. 

“Get the fuck out,” Azriel hissed, shooing them like neighborhood cats.

“Why?” Rhys asked, trying to crane his head over Azriel’s shoulder to see who was coming.

“For the love of god, please,” Azriel begged, shoving them each in their chests probably a little too hard. 

Cassian threw up his hands. “Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you? Fine!” he huffed, and then turned. Rhysand quirked an eyebrow at Azriel but followed his brother out, leaving Azriel standing there stiff as a board, facing the door. 

“You don’t want an audience?” that hypnotic voice asked, and Azriel found himself turning as slowly as possible, like he might startle her away into nonexistence again if he moved too fast. 

He finally faced the interior, and there she was. 

Elaine.

Her glorious honey hair was twisted into one long, thick braid, emerging from under a handkerchief wrapped around her head, highlighting her gorgeous face. Her eyes were just as sparkling and wide and deep as he remembered, a shade of brown so rich they were almost mahogany, framed in thick, sweeping dark lashes. Doe eyes, he realized suddenly, staring at her in silence. She had eyes like a doe. 

Her lips were plush and rosy and looked as soft as he remembered them being on his own, on his neck, his chest, his fingers. She was wearing a casual, long, gauzy light-green dress that looked flowy and airy and made her alabaster skin glow with a sun-kissed sheen. 

Azriel cleared his throat, realizing he had been still and silent for too long. Elaine just blinked at him, tilting her head slightly. He noted her pattern of freckles over her face had been correct in his memory, down to the tiny one grazing her left jawline. And that little golden hoop still shone on her left nostril.

“Are you alright?” she asked, moving behind the counter and busying herself with some piles of paper, clearly waiting for him to tell her why he was there. 

Did she– fuck, did she not know who he was? 

Had he been fucking forgettable? 

Azriel could feel his cheeks and neck burning with a blush, something he hadn’t experienced since his teenage days. 

“I…” he started, but honestly didn’t know how to complete his statement. 

Elaine must have taken pity on him. “Are you here for a reading, or for some products?” she asked kindly. 

Jesus fucking Christ. She had no fucking clue who he was. 

Azriel cleared his throat again. “A-” his voice caught and he tried once more. “A reading.” And then he added in a rush as if he couldn’t stop himself, “My brothers dared me.” 

That was probably an asshole thing to say. This was her livelihood. But she just smiled lightly with those gorgeous fucking lips and nodded. “That happens more than you’d think,” she said without sounding the least bit bothered. 

Azriel approached the counter slowly, trying to get her to look up and meet his eyes. Maybe if she really looked at him, she would remember him. 

And then another thought struck him as he gingerly set his helmet down on the counter. The girl of his dreams that he couldn’t stop thinking about and fucking his own hand to was a fucking… fortune-teller? The universe had to be fucking with him. He could not think of a worse person to have become inexplicably obsessed with. 

Elaine flicked her eyes to his helmet and then up to his, but no recognition flashed there. “Tarot or palms?” was all she asked, looking at him placidly. 

Azriel almost laughed out loud. Palm reading was already a ludicrous idea, but imagining someone trying to read his mangled, disgusting palms was so painfully ironic it was almost funny. He clasped his still-gloved hands behind his back. “Tarot,” he answered, though he cringed internally. He didn’t want to do that, either. 

But as she swept past him, nodding, he almost staggered as the scent of her perfume billowed around him. It was exactly the same as she had smelled in his bed, riding him, letting him bury his face between her thighs, letting him come inside her as she screamed. Jasmine and honey. The only reason he had recognized the smell of jasmine at all was because he had a particular affinity for jasmine tea on cold winter days. Her scent was so strong in that moment he almost reached for her, like a sick fucking psychopath. 

Instead, he clenched his fingers behind his back. 

He supposed he was going to let her do a fucking tarot reading, then. 

Elain began preparing her space at her fortune-telling table, glancing up at the man in her store every couple of seconds. Something about him was familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Even the smell of him–cedar and something like fresh night air–stirred something in her. But she was certain she had never met him before. 

He was a stunning specimen, tall and lean but clearly muscled, his golden-brown arms bulging beneath the short-sleeved, dark blue shirt he wore. Intricate, swirling tattoos peeked out from his shoulders and crept up his neck, and Elain found herself wanting to touch them. The hair around his ears and above his neck was shaved close to his head, but the rest of it flowed in dark waves and hung over his brow in soft, boyish curls the color of raven’s feathers, framing stunning hazel eyes. 

Those eyes looked beautiful, but haunted. She could see his tormented soul peering at her from beneath his long, dark lashes. The stranger had an aura to him, that much was undeniable. He exuded something powerful. Something ancient. Something stirring. 

And his voice–his voice was smooth and dark, like whispers of silk falling through a still night sky. Almost dangerous in its softness, as if it were a trap. The way he moved edged on dangerous, as well. Precise, calculated, intentional. 

Elain tried to clear her head and she indicated to the chair at the table, sitting on the stool behind it. 

The man approached slowly in that sure-footed manner, sliding gracefully into the chair, his hands now clasped on his lap beneath the table. She noticed small silver hoops dangling from his earlobes, a cobalt gem shining on each.

“What is your name?” Elain asked, picking up her deck of cards and shuffling them. 

A beat of silence passed before he answered. “Azriel,” he stated simply. Something again flickered through her at his name, but she only nodded. Her Sight was certainly eager to read this one. 

“That is an unusual name,” she answered gently. “I’m Elain.” 

She tracked a swallow through the stranger’s throat as he watched her carefully. “My father was a religious dick,” he answered. “He thought it was hilarious to name a baby after the angel of death.” 

Elain blinked up at his staggeringly beautiful face. “Well, I think it’s a very nice-sounding name,” she commented. “Does your father regret naming you something so…intense?”

The stranger named Azriel responded without even a modicum of emotion passing over his face or through his voice. “He’s dead.”

Elain swallowed. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He leaned forward slightly, invading her space just a bit, causing a blush to creep up her chest, which she hoped he didn’t notice. “I’m not,” he answered.

She suppressed a nervous giggle, instead focusing down on the cards. “Are you ready?”

He leaned back again, eyes flicking first to her lips and then down to the cards. He just shrugged. 

Elain began, removing three cards from the deck and placing them face-down before him. She used the cards to guide her, but it was really her Sight that interpreted them for her, winding its way through her clients’ spirits and reading the cards for her. 

Azriel stared down at the cards as she placed one steady hand atop the first. Her Sight swelled in her, and she fought to keep her eyes from shifting as she slowly flipped it over. She did not think this man would take it well if her eyes suddenly shifted to white and she began speaking in riddles. She could control it, though–the power. She let it hum throughout her but not overpower her. 

They both looked down at what the first card revealed. 

“The six of swords,” Elain recited. “Reversed.” Azriel just stared down at the card, which depicted a woman and child being rowed over water, their backs turned, six swords lining their way. Elain’s Sight was already prodding, directing, whispering to her. She couldn’t read Azriel as quickly or as easily as she could some. She saw only flashes of images, fleeting sounds. 

“This card tells me that you carry heavy emotional baggage,” she said as gently as she could. Azriel’s eyes flickered as he glanced up at her face. “Perhaps some trauma or unresolved issues from your childhood still haunt you,” she offered. 

He seemed to take a bracing breath. “Well I didn’t need cards to tell me that,” he said, not unkindly, but with a heavy dose of skepticism. Elain felt her lips twitch despite herself. 

“This card also suggests that you try to move on, or maybe to pretend like these things never happened? But something keeps you tethered to the events of your past.” Her Sight prodded her with an image of him, tossing and mumbling in his sleep. “Nightmares, perhaps?” She watched his face pale just slightly before he blinked away his surprise. “Your rational mind is strong, that much is obvious,” Elain continued. “Maybe too strong. Following your intuition, your gut, may help you move forward in the future.” 

Azriel just blinked slowly at her, but said nothing. 

“I think that perhaps your father’s death still bothers you, no?” she asked carefully. He just stared at her some more, so she continued. “Not because you miss him, but because…” she saw flashes of a terrified little boy. A little boy who felt so alone inside himself. “Because you were maybe involved, or–”

“Let’s move to the next card,” Azriel interrupted. It was a gentle request, but a firm one. Elain swallowed. She had hit too close to the mark. But she was so curious. She tried to reign her Sight in as she nodded and flipped over the next card. A demon with two human prisoners–one man, one woman–looked up at them.

“The devil,” she said quietly.

Azriel’s brows rose. “Oh. Great.” It was sarcastic, but she could tell he didn’t love what he was seeing.

“It’s reversed,” Elain said quickly. “A reversed devil means great change is coming for you.” 

Azriel looked like he wanted to get up and leave, but she pressed on. “It represents a reclaiming of power. Of control.” 

Her Sight swirled from her and through him, searching. She felt that stirring ancient power beneath his skin again, and it vibrated like it was desperate to get free. If Elain wasn’t mistaken, she recognized magic within Azriel. Strong magic. But it did not seem like he would take that information well, so she spoke carefully.

“Something is holding you back, like chains. Your childhood trauma, perhaps. But more likely…a resistance within yourself. Finding freedom will require self-reflection. Pain. Change. But you will emerge truly transformed.” 

Azriel was looking at her like what she said was absolute bullshit. But he didn’t know what she saw behind his eyes. The command he could have over his magic. The power. She suppressed a shudder of delight at what she saw. She could feel her own control slipping. Wanting to take her under to show her what it truly beheld in his future. 

So she shook her head slightly and flipped the third card. 

She met his eyes before reading it. “The lovers.” 

Azriel’s hazel gaze once again drifted from her eyes down to her lips, lingering there before they dropped to the card: the classic Adam and Eve scene, the angel Raphael above them. His eyes flicked back to hers. 

“You will find a grand and cosmic love,” Elain said quietly, as Azriel slowly drew a lip between his teeth. “You will build something out of free will, choices, unity. You–” she cut herself off as she was suddenly flooded with images of herself instead of him. What in the fates–it was her, smiling, laughing, moaning with pleasure. She mentally poked her Sight back, as if to tell it to behave. This wasn’t a reading for herself. 

Azriel just stared at her lips, chewing on his own slowly. 

“I what?” he asked darkly, smoothly.

Elain cleared her throat, her blush creeping back up her neck. “I believe you will find great passion and unending love,” she said quietly, tearing her own eyes away from his sensual mouth. “Flesh and passion meeting in an otherworldly romance.”

A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. Elain didn’t think he was thinking about love at all as he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of him. She briefly thought it odd they were still gloved. 

“Is that what your future holds too, Elain?” he asked, his voice nearing a purr. “A meeting of flesh and passion?”

“I–” she stammered, distracted by the way his invasion of her space made her lightheaded. “This isn’t my–” she was feeling fully unhinged, grasping to reel her Sight and her sudden desire back in.

Azriel just chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair once more. “Are we done?” he asked–again, not unkindly. Just decidedly. 

Elain glanced down at his hands. Her Sight was pushing her, begging her to continue reading him. She didn’t want to be done. She wanted to see what his palms held. 

“Would you like a palm reading as well?” Elaine asked.

God, please no.

“No thank you,” Azriel answered, still rattled from the card reading, even though he would never admit it. The first two cards had made him squirm, just as his brothers had wanted. When she got to the final one, though, he knew it was all bullshit. No great, cosmic love would ever find him. He had just wanted to see if he could make her squirm too. And it turned out that with a few well-selected words, careful timing of glances, and his lips calling her attention, he could. He ignored the fact that by the end of that interaction, he was hardly controlling his own words or actions.

He didn’t need his palms read, and he certainly didn’t need Elaine to see his hands again. Especially when she didn’t even remember him or the night they had spent together. 

He clasped his gloved fingers in front of him. 

Elaine’s huge mahogany eyes sparkled with intrigue as she glanced down at his leather-clad hands. 

“I’m quite good at it,” she encouraged softly, leaning closer to him. “I’ll give it to you on the house.”

Azriel bit back a sigh. She really was beautiful, and had been kind to him. He didn’t need to ruin her day with his horrible hands. 

“Really, it’s–” he started, but then a mischievous smile was breaking across her face and before he could even process what was happening, Elaine had snatched his hand with uncannily nimble fingers and was sliding his glove off eagerly. 

They both froze when his fingers were revealed, still clutched in hers from her insane sleight of hand. Azriel’s eyes slowly slid up to her face. Her own eyes just stared and stared down at his scars, widening to unearthly levels. Her lips parted as she slowly slid a thumb over the ridges on his palm, and Azriel felt his cock stir. 

She recognized his hands–that much was clear as he watched a gorgeous pink flush creep up her neck in tendrils before painting her face like a sunset. She ran her thumb over the scars again, but did not recoil, did not grimace, did not look pitying. Just the same as the first time she had seen them, when she had only looked upon them in wonder. When she had breathed a single word as she had gazed at them: “beautiful.”

Slowly, so slowly, her ethereal eyes slid up to meet his, recognition flickering in them. 

Azriel raised a brow. “Remember me now?” he asked, willing some humor into his voice. 

Elaine squeaked a little nondescript sound. He had to bite back a smile at that. 

“I–” she tried, seemingly absentmindedly caressing his hand now. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, remembering everything else she had done to his hands that night. He tried to think about fucking anything other than her tongue pressing down on his fingers while she swallowed them into her mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I–” she continued mumbling, her face turning a deeper shade of red. “I had had so much to drink, and I don’t usually–and–I wasn’t expecting–” 

Azriel tried to grin at her reassuringly, even though he felt anything but casual about this interaction. “It’s alright,” he said. “I can’t be memorable every time.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out stilted and short. Why wasn’t she dropping his hand? Why wasn’t he pulling it away? 

A nervous giggle escaped Elaine. “No!” she cried, her eyes turning into fucking saucers. “It was me, I almost never drink, and I drank–well, I drank a lot that night, and I really couldn’t remember anything, but I–” she fumbled for the words, clutching his hand a little tighter. “I remembered these hands,” she nearly whispered, and Azriel had to force a swallow as his mouth dried out. 

“I remembered how they felt on me, in me, in…in my mouth,” she murmured, looking back down, pulling her lip between her teeth. 

Azriel had to fight his eyes rolling back at her words. Her admission of everything he had remembered and imagined over the past weeks alone in his room, cock in his fist. He was rock fucking hard now.

He turned his hand over, offering her his mangled palm. “And do my scars tell you anything?” he asked, his voice dropping to dangerously sultry levels. 

Elaine’s voice shook slightly as she met his eyes again and answered. “Only that you endured something tragic,” she whispered, placing her other hand atop his so that she was holding it in both of hers. She slowly began tugging them towards her face, and Azriel’s heart rate kicked up, his chest moving rapidly as he let her pull his hand. 

“They tell me that you harbor great pain beneath your beauty,” she continued, massaging her thumbs into his palm. A low, inescapable groan left his lips at that and her eyes flashed knowingly. 

“They tell me that you walk through life with hope and strength despite what you have seen and felt.” His fingers were mere inches from her lips now, and he suddenly didn’t give a fuck that she was a fortune-teller (which was not a real thing). He didn’t give a fuck that under no circumstance would they actually work as a pair. He didn’t give a fuck that he had been slightly terrified about what she had read with her cards. 

He only knew that he needed her lips on his hands. Her tongue running over his fingers. Her hot, wet mouth taking–

The door banged open and Cassian’s loud, obnoxious, terribly-timed voice rang through the space. 

“Taking a long time, br–” he cut himself off as he and Rhys halted in the entrance to the store, seeing Elaine holding Azriel’s hand inches from her parted lips, the blush painted across her face, the strain in Azriel’s body. 

Azriel jerked his head to look at his brothers. They both stood there stunned, two pairs of eyebrows raised so high they were almost in their hairlines. 

“Well, well, well,” Cassian started, shaking off his surprise. Elaine dropped Azriel’s hand at the same moment that he tugged it away from her, slipping his glove back on as quickly as he could. “What’s going on here?”

Azriel said nothing, silently commanding his dick to calm down as Elaine stood behind the table. 

“Your friends are back,” she said quickly, walking away and heading to stand behind the counter.

Azriel scoffed, still sitting to conceal his hard-on. “They’re not my friends.” 

“Oh?” she asked, busying herself again with random organizing as the blush lingered across her cheekbones. 

“We’re his brothers,” Cassian supplied. 

“Not by blood,” Azriel added, silently wishing his blood would rush anywhere but his fucking dick. 

“I see,” Elaine answered, finally ceasing her frenzied organizing and looking up at Rhysand, who was just standing there staring at her. 

“Rhys,” Azriel called after waiting a moment or two to see if his brother was even blinking.

Rhysand shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. “Apologies,” he said smoothly, walking further into the shop and approaching the counter. “You just look eerily similar to someone I…” he trailed off before finishing his sentence. It was not often that Rhysand became flustered; he usually had an arrogant, bored, regal air of ease about him. 

Elaine tilted her head to the side. “My sister?” she asked, as if she had heard this more than once. “Feyre, at the art gallery around the corner?”

Azriel was finally able to stand and joined his brother at the counter, as Rhysand’s face lit up. 

“Yes,” he said, snapping his fingers as a grin grew across his face. “Fey is your sister, huh? Well that makes sense. Different eyes, but…” he trailed off again, studying Elaine. 

“You know her then?” Elaine asked, as Cassian rummaged around the shop looking at the labels on bottles. 

Rhys waved a lazy hand noncommittally. “I enjoy the gallery and visit every once in a while. I don’t know her well.” 

“What’s the total?” Azriel cut in, still feeling fucked off about his brothers interrupting whatever was about to happen with his hands and Elaine’s mouth. 

“Oh,” she said, finally looking back at him. “Don’t bother.” She giggled nervously again, and the sound was quite…pleasant. “It was a dare, after all.” 

Cassian chuckled from his spot between the shelves. 

Azriel met Elaine’s eyes. “I can’t do that,” he offered, fighting a blush once more. “This is your livelihood.”

She blinked back at him. “Don’t worry about it. Just…” she slid a slip of receipt paper towards him. “Let me know if you ever want that palm reading.” 

Azriel looked down at the slip of yellowed paper. It said “Elain Archeron,” in slightly messy writing, with a phone number below it. 

Rhysand grinned stupidly, looking between them. 

“No E,” Azriel said absentmindedly, still staring down at her name.

“Hmm?” she asked, watching his fingers trace over the slip of paper. 

“Your name,” he clarified. “I thought it was spelled with an E at the end.” 

“Oh,” she giggled lightly. “Nope. Common mistake though.”

She bit her lip, looking at him with something like expectation in her eyes. Fuck, she was waiting for him to give her his number. Azriel ran a hand through his hair before he scooped up his helmet from the counter.

This was about to make him the biggest fucking asshole on the planet, but he couldn’t give her his number. She stood for everything he didn’t believe in. Everything he couldn’t believe in. Yes, she was unbelievably beautiful, like a goddess incarnate. Yes, she looked at him and his scars and his whole demeanor in a way no one else ever had. Yes, sex with her had possibly been the best he'd ever had. Yes, he goddamn wanted to fuck her again. 

But it wouldn't be fair to her, or to himself. So he chose to be the asshole instead. 

“Thank you for the reading,” he managed to get out, before turning on his heel and leaving without another look back. 

Elain stared at the place where Azriel had disappeared through the door, vaguely aware that his brothers were awkwardly attempting to shuffle out as well. 

She stared and stared until they were gone, and then her eyes slid down to the counter. To the paper that still lay there, her name and number offered up to him, refuted. He hadn't even bothered to take her number. 

She heard the sound of a motorcycle revving and knew it had to be him, driving away without a second look back. Running. As if he couldn't get away from her fast enough. 

Had she done something wrong? Had something not been about to happen when his brothers had interrupted them?

She had felt the tension enveloping them, pulling them together like magnets. He had let her bring his hand nearly to her lips, wetness pooling between her thighs as she did. He had released that groan that sounded like needing . 

Well, she thought, straightening her spine and crumpling the paper, throwing it into a wastebin. She had more dignity than letting one man’s rejection ruin her. Sure, he was gorgeous and interesting and mysterious and beckoning. But she hadn't gotten over a rejected engagement just to be beaten down again by another idiotic man. If they didn't want her, they were missing out. 

Elain ignored the hollow feeling growing in her chest and busied herself with her daily tasks, resolved to forget about Azriel and his haunted eyes and exquisite hands.

The problem was, Elain Archeron was not typically good at forgetting. 

Chapter Text

Screaming, that's what the little boy heard first as he woke from his slumber. Two voices, no doubt his mother’s and father’s. The room was dark, only a sliver of moonlight breaking through. The voices rose and the little boy jumped, before pulling his blankets up over his head, willing himself to disappear. To fade into shadows. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Just leave, if you hate us so much,” his mother's usually soft voice yelled. “Go to your other family. They already almost killed my baby before you deigned to step in.”

“ Your baby? He's my son, too, bitch,” his father's hateful voice spat back.

“No one treats a real son the way you do,” she answered. 

Something shattered and the little boy shook, tears spilling from his eyes. But then he heard his worst fear spoken.

“Shut your filthy mouth, bitch, or I will kill you.” 

Another crash. 

The little boy needed his mother. He would have no one without her. He loved her, and she loved him. So he wiped his tears and pushed the covers off, tiptoeing to the door. He didn’t know what he could do, but he would try.

He crept down a dark hallway and peered around a corner to see his parents in the living room, broken glass shattered around them. 

“Get out,” his mother said coldly to his father, pointing to the door behind her. 

His father stepped closer then, rage contorting his face. “You don’t tell me what to do, you ungrateful little whore,” he hissed, before wrapping his large hands around her throat. 

The little boy couldn’t let this happen, not to his mother. His father would kill her, that much he was sure of. So he held his head as high as he could and stepped around the corner, entering the room where his parents stood. 

“Stop,” he said, his voice sounding so small despite how large he tried to make it. 

Both heads swiveled as his father dropped his hands from his mother’s throat but did not step away. 

“Go back to your room,” his mother pled, stepping away from his father. But the little boy ran to his mother, standing between his parents, trying with all his might to be a tiny shield. 

“No,” his mother pled, pulling at his arm, but the little boy planted his feet. 

“Don’t hurt her,” he said to his father, voice shaking. 

His father barked a terrible, hateful laugh, and then shoved the little boy aside so hard he went tumbling to the floor, the air knocked out of him. 

“Don’t touch him!” his mother cried, starting to run to his small form. 

The little boy watched as if in slow-motion as his father raised a closed fist, swinging it towards his mother’s face. 

And then the little boy screamed. The scream was all-consuming. Wretched. Finite.

And then blackness. 

He was just a little boy, alone and terrified. He sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, rocking back and forth as tears dripped steadily down his face. His mother was there, somewhere, only he couldn’t see or hear her. 

And his father was there, too. But his father was dead. He lay there, face lifeless and cold, frozen in a mask of terrified shock. His eyes pointed straight at the little boy’s, but saw nothing. 

The little boy didn’t know what had happened. He only knew that his mother had been scared. Terrified. And then his father had been terrified. And then he had been dead. 

And so the little boy sat and wept, burying his face in his knees, his hands still raw and bandaged as they wrapped around his legs. He didn’t know what would happen, now. He didn’t know where he would go, or where his mother had gone. He didn’t know why his father lay before him lifeless, hateful face forever preserved in death. 

He only knew that he was alone, and so, so scared. 

Azriel jerked awake into the blackness of his room, sweat sliding down his temples and his bottom lip raw. His heart was racing, his palms clammy and a panicked feeling drowning him. 

Fuck, why couldn’t he just stop having these nightmares? They were always the same, or at least only slight variations of the same thing. They never shed any further light on what had happened that night, only leaving him more confused each time. He didn’t need to carry this shit around with him—didn’t have time to. 

He tapped his phone on the bedside table to check the time. 5:12 AM. Fuck, he had to get up for work in less than an hour. He groaned and stared up at the ceiling. Why couldn’t this memory fucking leave him alone?

Azriel had never wanted to remember any other details. In fact, he willed himself not to. If he could have just forgotten the whole fucking ordeal he would have been satisfied. 

His mother had always told him it was a heart attack. The story was ever the same; Azriel had woken in the night to find his parents in a fight, his father yelling at his mother and threatening her, being violent with her. He had tried to get in between them unsuccessfully while his mother had screamed at him to go somewhere safe. 

But then before his father could strike at either of them again, he had suffered a heart attack, and had near-instantly fallen dead before them. 

Azriel was fine with this version of events, even if it didn’t align with his dreams. He didn’t know why he was always so terrified and alone in his nightmares, where his mother was, or why his father always looked so terrified in his death. He told himself it was just his subconscious overinflating the event, or mixing events that were emotionally turbulent in his past. He could accept that explanation, because it made sense. It was rational. The fact that anything had happened differently than the story his mother told him was not rational, and not something he would accept. 

So he lay there, night after night, willing himself with everything he had to just fucking stop having the nightmares. He didn’t want to know more. He didn’t want to remember more. His father had been brutal and hateful, and Azriel would rather not remember him in life nor death. 

But willing himself to always forget, to never feel, took its toll. He had started to feel dead inside, dampened by the strength with which he fought his emotions. 

He very rarely felt levity, curiosity, passion, intensity. He more often felt…nothing. And so he fucked strangers, if only to remind himself that he was alive. He fucked strangers and rode his motorcycle to feel the wind on his skin. 

The wind was something he never could deny, even with all the numbness inside him. It called to him like a siren’s song, cleared his head and made him feel alive even more than the fucking did. 

So Azriel rolled out of bed early, and made his way through his morning routine like a zombie. He pushed away thoughts of his nightmare and thoughts of Elain and her tarot cards and her brown eyes, and set out to aimlessly ride amongst the wind for an extra hour before he was confined to his desk at work.

Elain walked through the palace gardens, her sunset-colored gown swishing across the cobblestone pathway. She passed rows of irises and roses, rhododendrons and mums. She bummed softly to herself as she ran a hand over the soft petals of the blooms.

She had much to do today, starting with sitting through her father holding court (a tedious, but necessary, part of her role) and ending with a no-doubt stuffy and drawn-out formal dinner with the Vanserras. 

Elain sighed as she strolled through the gardens, breathing in the floral scent she loved so much. She knew marriage to their youngest son would be politically advantageous for her family, and would make her parents very pleased. But Elain had always harbored a secret hope that she would wed for love, rather than advantage. 

What good was being a princess if she was not even allowed that choice for herself? She supposed it was her duty now, though, since Feyre had secretly wed for love, betraying their parents, and Nesta was unlikely ever to wed. Her family’s future rested on her shoulders.

Elain pushed away her melancholic mental meandering and instead focused on the eyes she felt on her back. 

The ever-present thereness of him followed behind her, silent and watchful as always. She knew if she turned, she would see him, his sword in easy reach of his scarred, brown hands, his armor shining and pristine. His raven locks curling over his brow. Those deep hazel eyes. 

Elain smiled as she ducked under the canopy of a camperdown elm, entering a grove closed off to the rest of the world by the weeping branches hanging down around her. 

She held her breath for three seconds before his hand was parting the branches, and he followed after her. Her knight. Her guard. The one she would choose to wed. Azriel. 

“Princess,” he greeted her, dipping his chin and giving her a slight bow. Her stomach swooped at his night-soft voice. 

She smiled once more, taking a step closer to him. 

“I told you to call me Elain when we are alone, did I not?” she asked kindly. 

He dared to take a step closer to her in turn, then. “You did,” he answered, his eyes roaming over her face. “Apologies, my lady. Elain.”

He reached a scarred hand out palm-up, his other braced behind his back. Elain placed her hand in his, delighting at the feel of his rough skin against hers. He lifted her hand ever-so-slowly to his mouth, before pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

“I missed you,” Elain breathed, closing the final foot between them. 

A small, sad smile graced the knight’s beautiful face. “I am with you all day, my lady.” 

“Not like this,” she answered, before rising up on her toes and kissing him, their lips pressing together softly. Azriel’s arm finally came from behind his back to wrap around her waist, and nothing had ever before felt so right to Elain than her beautiful knight kissing her with his arms around her in this grove of weeping trees. 

They broke apart, and Elain’s heart broke just a bit, as it did every time they parted, just the tiniest speck chipping off and leaving her that much more empty. For Elain and Azriel could never be together the way she really wanted. He would always be a knight, his purpose to serve the crown, and she would always be a princess, betrothed and soon wed to another. 

She laid her head against the armor on his chest and he stroked a broad hand over her perfectly oiled and curled hair. 

“I have something for you,” he murmured into her ear as he leaned down. 

Elain pulled away to look up at him. “Azriel,” she started. “I cannot have you giving me gifts.”

He smiled at her, running a thumb over her jaw. “I have always been poor, Elain, and I will always be poor. I am nothing but a bastard turned knight, and I will never be able to give you what you deserve. But I can give you this, today.”

He pulled from a nondescript pouch tied around his neck a small parcel wrapped in paper, and pressed it into her palm. “I saw this in the square. The vendor told me it was a rare kind.” 

Elain's eyes and heart softened. She already knew what would be wrapped inside. She carefully unfolded the tan paper to reveal a morsel of rich, dark brown chocolate. 

“All the way from Vallahan,” he murmured, as he watched her face. 

Elain smiled up at him, overcome with emotion. 

Azriel bent and picked up a fallen blue flower from the floor, smiling back at her. 

“I will never be good enough for you,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear tenderly. “But in another lifetime,” he continued, placing the stem of the flower carefully behind her ear and admiring his work, “I would have been a rich man, a successful man, a man who was not a nobody. Who could give you the life you deserve.”

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, a tear spilling from her eye. And then she leaned up to kiss him again, wishing with all her heart that things were not as they were. 

Elain awoke to the loud chirping of a bird outside her window, blinking her eyes rapidly in confusion. It took her several moments to realize where she was, when she was, who she was. She was Elain Archeron. Seer. Fortune-teller. She was no princess in some medieval era. 

But it had felt…so real. She was shaken. It was not a typical nightmare, leaving her frightened and panicked. No, what made it a nightmare was the intense and seemingly unending well of despair she had felt in her dream, that still clung onto her in the present, in her little room above her shop. 

Elain clutched her silk sheets up to her chin, shivering suddenly. Had it been a dream? It had been so detailed. So logical. So tangible. Had it been a vision? A vision while asleep was not unheard of, but she was in no way seeing the future. That couldn't be. Her Sight was awake, though, swirling through her almost agitatedly. It felt as if it was poking her in the ribs, begging her to see. 

And how in the world was she supposed to forget about Azriel and his hands when he found her in her dreams, now? 

Elain’s Sight prodded her again, and she shooed it away mentally, shaking her head to clear it. It had only been a dream. There was nothing else it could have been. And it was only because he was on her mind after their tense run-in. Yet still, she was determined to forget him, even if a tiny piece of her involuntarily clung desperately to the devoted, all-consuming love she had felt for him in her dream. 

Azriel’s head felt clearer as he parked his bike at work, after riding with the song of the wind in his ears for an hour. He took the stairs rather than the elevator up to the fifth floor, where his corner office sat with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the business district of Velaris. 

It was not even 8 A.M. yet and he already had three voicemails and sixteen emails when he tapped his computer to life. The firm was one of the most prominent in Velaris, and Azriel had worked his way up to financial director from sales rep, proving himself to be good with numbers and even better with strategizing. His calm yet intimidating presence seemed to work in his favor in the business world, and Azriel was quite happy with his job, even though he was a workaholic. He made good money, and it was demanding enough that it allowed the rest of his brain to shut off when he was focused on his work. And the best part was that it was logical. It made sense. There were rules he could follow and break, if he so chose. Expectations were clear and outcomes were predictable. 

As he played his voicemails over the office phone’s speaker and jotted down some notes, his assistant knocked lightly and entered with his morning coffee and a cold bottle of water. 

“Thank you, Briar,” he told her. She nodded and left a stack of reports for him on the table before leaving quietly. She was an excellent assistant, and one of the only gorgeous people Azriel had spent time around and not fucked. Luckily, there was no tension between them. She seemed completely immune to his smolder and dark waves and tight dress shirts—all for the better. He had no desire to mix his personal and professional life. But she was beautiful, with straight, raven hair and light blue eyes set in creamy ivory skin. 

Not anywhere as close to her beauty, a small voice said in the back of his head, and he gritted his teeth, ignoring that little niggling voice that just wouldn’t let him forget about Elain Archeron. 

Elain set about her morning in the most relaxing way she could, by climbing the stairs to her rooftop garden and tending to her plants. Her store was closed on Mondays, and she tried to spend as much time in her garden as she could on her day off, soaking up the summer sun and nurturing the life growing there. 

She set her teapot and cup on the little wrought iron table and began working in a steady rhythm, pulling weeds, cutting clippings, pruning and trimming. She took breaks every few minutes to sip her tea. When she had worked a couple hours and her head felt clearer, she sat down at the table with her leather notebook and pencil, and began to sketch plans for her garden come fall. 

She kept a steady supply of fruits and vegetables for her own consumption alongside herbs and flowers that she used in her products she sold. She made healing ointments, tinctures, and blends for all manner of ailments: basic cuts and scrapes, bruises, respiratory illnesses, headaches, indigestion…. What most of her store’s visitors didn’t know was that Elain imbued them all with her plants grown with the aid of her earthwork. 

Elain poured magic into the earth as she grew her garden, ensuring her plants would grow healthy and powerful. The plants held energy of their own, of course, but were only that much stronger with her magic aiding their growth. 

Elain was happily consumed with her plans until hunger struck her, not realizing that the entire morning had passed already as she had focused on her little slice of peace. Her stomach rumbled angrily, and she decided that a walk and change in scenery would also do her good. She readied herself to stroll to her favorite cafe along the Sidra for lunch; she needed to pick up some flour for her baking, anyway. 

Elain descended to her apartment above her store and took a quick shower, and then slipped on a loose white linen top and wide-legged green pants. She rebraided her hair and tied it off with a green ribbon before slinging her canvas satchel over her shoulder. She made her way downstairs and set out into town. 

Azriel worked steadily throughout the morning. While he was normally happily lost in the minutia of his work, focusing on nothing but numbers and plans, he couldn’t defeat the near-constant distraction today. He hated to admit it, because he had already decided nothing could come of it and had acted the asshole, but he was of course distracted with thoughts of her.

When she had just been a stranger at the bar that he had spent one passionate night with, it was easy (well, easier) to pretend it had all been a figment of his imagination, like she was just a passing ghost in his life. 

But now that he had seen her again, spoken to her, he could not deny the fact that she was very much real. She was every bit as warm and soft and delicious and magnetic as he remembered from that night, and she had wanted to see him again. And he had been such a fucking asshole. And no matter how much he tried to focus on the numbers and plans, he couldn’t stop seeing her eyes and her lips and her rosy nipples and the curve of her hips and fuck why couldn’t he just forget her? 

Azriel’s distraction grew to new levels when his stomach began rumbling aggressively, just as Briar poked her head into his office with a knock. 

“It’s lunchtime, sir,” she said politely. “Would you like me to pick something up for you?”

Azriel cleared his throat as if she could see where his thoughts had strayed and the sinful images of Elain that were running through his mind…her knees widening for his shoulders to slide between, her tongue running down his thumb, her clit throbbing with—fuck!

“No, thank you, Briar. I think I need some fresh air. I’ll go pick something up for myself. Do you want to put an order in?”

She looked surprised at the offer and shook her head quickly. “I’m good, but thank you! Enjoy your lunch.” God, had he really become such a dick? And then she backed out of the room again, leaving Azriel to drop his head into his hands. 

He could probably go to Rita’s right now and find someone to fuck, if he was really that desperate. But it wasn’t the physical act of fucking that was getting him so…bothered. It was her. It was like she had bewitched him. Just the thought of fucking someone else, now that he had seen her again, talked to her, was suddenly unappealing. 

And what the fuck was he supposed to do about that? Because he wasn’t going to fuck her again. As much as he wanted to. As much as she possibly wanted him to. She had given him her number…maybe he could go back to the store? Claim he thought he had taken her number with him, but must have forgotten it?

No, fuck, that was exactly what he was trying to avoid. He had to get it together. 

He sighed and swept up his gloves and helmet before exiting his office.

Azriel rode his his bike to the river, where the wind tended to be strongest. There were plenty of cafes along the Sidra, and a huge sandwich sounded perfect. He spotted a store he had never been to before and parked his bike, slinging off his helmet and carrying it by the straps as he entered.

He approached the counter and was pleased to see that they had the exact lunch he was hungry for: a giant sandwich, fancy bread, a shit ton of meat, kettle chips on the side. He placed his order for takeout and waited for his name to be called, staring absently at cracks in the wall.

His name was called after a few minutes, and he took his lunch and thanked the employee who handed it to him, spinning quickly to get back into the open air. But he spun directly into a fortune-teller with honey-brown hair tied into a long, graceful braid, secured with a pretty green ribbon. 

“Oh!” Elain cried, stepping back and then wobbling under the weight of what looked like a twenty-pound bag of flour that she for some reason had inside the cafe. Her cheeks were pink and her sparkling mahogany eyes just as wide as they had been when she had realized who he was in her store. She clutched the bag to her chest, and it was so huge it covered most of her body, which was maybe a blessing and a curse.

Azriel fought the urge to run a long, exasperated hand over his face. Was this for fucking real?

“Elain,” he greeted her, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. 

“Azriel!” she answered, and he hated that his name from her lips sent a shiver down his spine. It sounded like fucking under a gentle spring rain in a mountain cabin. Jesus fucking Christ. 

“What are you doing here? With…a giant bag of flour?” he asked, still clutching his bag of food as they stood in the cafe, away from the line. Various people stopped to glance at Elain with probably the largest bag of flour they’d ever seen, but she seemed completely unaware, which made him smile for some reason.

“Oh, I just stepped out for some lunch,” she explained, gesturing to the interior of the cafe with her eyes only. “This is my favorite cafe. And I also needed to pick up a flour order I placed, only that shop closes at 11:30, so I had to go there first, and…” she trailed off, no further explanation needed as to why she was in a restaurant with a mammoth sack. 

“Ah,” Azriel answered, searching for an escape. He held up his bag of food. “I’ve never been here, but I picked up some lunch,” he continued, completely unnecessarily. “Let me get the door for you.”

He walked past her and exited the cafe, holding the door open so she could pass through with her load. “Thanks,” she breathed as she awkwardly turned sideways and shuffled through the door to the outside.

“No problem,” he answered. He was about to mutter something about getting back to work when Elain staggered a step or two away, struggling under the weight of the flour.
“Are you walking back to your store?” he asked her, despite himself. She was so short and the bag so comically large, it looked almost the same size as her. 

“Yeah,” she answered, still teetering and a sweat breaking out on her temple. “It’s just a few blocks away.” 

Azriel sighed internally. He was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. “Let me help,” he offered, approaching her with his arms out for the bag. 

“Oh, no,” she started, clearly becoming flustered at him seeing her struggling so much. “I can manage, really. That’s kind of you, though.” 

At the exact moment she finished speaking, she was attempting another step, but the toe of her shoe caught on the raised sidewalk she couldn’t see because of the bag, and she stumbled. 

Azriel caught her at the elbows before she could go down, and touching her sent a shudder through his body. Her cheeks grew a darker shade of red. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. Azriel waited a beat too long before dropping his hands from her. 

“Please let me help,” he urged. “You’re going to break your nose.”

Elain sighed a little exasperated sound that made Azriel’s lips twitch before she finally nodded. She took his sack of food from his hands and then he easily plucked the bag from her arms and threw it over his shoulder. She swallowed as her eyes traced his arms, which were probably showing off some nice muscles, holding the bag in place, and then down his sculpted chest and exposed abdomen. His arms were up, holding the bag, and he could feel that his light grey dress shirt had come untucked and ridden up his stomach, exposing a sliver of skin. 

Azriel bit back an arrogant smile. Elain was still blushing. 

She cleared her throat and started walking, and he stepped in line beside her. They walked in awkward silence for a minute or so, neither knowing what to say after the way they had left things just the day before. Azriel finally forced himself to talk. 

“So why did you need to place an order for a twenty-pound bag of flour?” he asked as they walked side-by-side down the street back towards the Rainbow district. 

Elain looked at him like the answer was obvious. “For baking,” she said simply, as if only an idiot would ask that question. 

Azriel’s brows rose. “Shit, how much do you bake?” 

She laughed her little tinkling wind-chime laugh and Azriel’s blood heated at the sound. “A lot, I suppose,” she answered. “I love it. I usually place orders for ten-pound bags, but I have a lot of new recipes I’m testing right now, so I figured I would need more than usual. I didn’t quite realize that twenty pounds would be so…unwieldy.”

Azriel huffed a laugh and shifted the bag slightly on his shoulder. “So why are you bringing this to the store? Is there a kitchen there?”

“Oh, yes. There is a whole apartment above the store. That’s where I live.”

Oh. Great. So Azriel knew—had been—exactly where Elain lives? Where her bed is? Where she got naked to probably take long, luxurious bubble baths with oils and candles and wine? Spectacular.

He cleared his throat and grunted a nonsense sound that meant nothing. He decided he was done asking questions and fell into silence as they walked through town together.

Elain was doing everything in her power not to look at the tan strip of skin exposed above Azriel’s belt, cut muscles glistening with summer sweat. She tried not to notice the soft line of hair extending from where she knew his belly button was straight to the center of his pants, and definitely stopped herself from imagining what lay beyond. She also banned herself from looking at his bulging muscles that were on display under his dress shirt, which he had rolled up to the elbows. And she absolutely rejected the notion of looking at his strong, scarred hands as they confidently gripped her sack of flour, splayed and commanding. She positively did not wonder what dragging her nails over that close-cropped hair and then into his soft curls would feel like.

Azriel had been so casual when she had seen him yesterday. She did not anticipate seeing him in business attire, and what it would do to her. She usually had no interest in the type of man that sat in an office and typed away at a computer at some stuffy firm, but Azriel…made it work. His motorcycle helmet dangled by the strap from  his elbow as he walked beside her, not even huffing and puffing under the weight of the bag. 

They had managed to make some normal-feeling conversation, but had once again fallen into silence. Elain never minded the silence, and she got the impression that Azriel didn’t either, but she certainly needed something to distract her from looking at him, with all his brown muscles and raven curls and haunted hazel eyes. 

“You’re dressed up,” she said suddenly, grasping at anything. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a financial director at a firm downtown,” he answered, sounding perfectly at ease. Of course he was—he wasn’t interested in her, she reminded herself. 

“Impressive,” she replied, although she much preferred her own job to the sound of that. 

Azriel huffed a small sound. “Not really. Most of the people who work there are self-centered assholes. But it’s good work for me.”

They were in the Rainbow district now, turning onto Elain’s street. 

“Why is that?” she asked, glancing at him sideways just briefly. 

He shrugged under the weight of the bag. “It makes sense to my brain. It helps my mind feel settled.”

Elain wondered what he meant—settled from what? What tormented Azriel so much in the night that he required work to bring himself out of it? She didn’t get a chance to ask though before they were at her front door, and she took her key out to unlock it. She held the door open for Azriel to shuffle through with the flour. 

It took a moment for her eyes to readjust after the sunshine outside, and she blinked at him a few times before she could see him clearly. 

“Where should I leave it?” he asked. Elain thought about the steep, narrow staircase that led to her apartment and grimaced internally.

“Would you mind bringing it up to my kitchen? I’m afraid the stairs might kill me.”

Azriel chuckled and nodded. “Lead the way.”

Elain tried to ignore the fact that she was leading him into her private living quarters and made her way to the staircase. He followed behind her, so silent for his huge frame. 

The stairs opened directly to the kitchen, which was pitch-black, as Elain had forgotten to open the curtains before leaving. She knew her space well, though, and hurried over to the counter to drop her satchel and his bag of food so she could clear some space for the flour. 

She heard Azriel’s voice come from the top of the stairs. “I fully cannot see,” he called to her, and she giggled a little bit. 

“The counter is over here!” she called, “but let me turn on the lights for you.”

The light switch was in the hallway to the left of the stairs, and she hurried over as fast as possible to give him some light. But he must have been trying to follow her voice anyway, because she collided with his shoulder in her near-run, and despite his seemingly unending strength, he wavered under the weight of the bag. 

Elain was righting herself, backing away, but then in his imbalance, Azriel’s foot caught on the sliding cabinet that housed her trash can, which she must have left open that morning, and he was swearing as he stumbled. She reached for him, tripping over his quickly moving feet as she did, and then it was far too late, both of them going down. 

“Shit,” Azriel managed to say as they tumbled to the floor together, limbs flailing and a little shriek escaping Elain. They came crashing down, bag of flour somewhere in the fray, and Elain landed with her torso across Azriel’s chest. 

“Fuck,” he groaned beneath her. 

“Are you alright?” she gasped, scooching backward so that she could peer into his face. Oh, god. They were just inches apart. And she was laying across him on the floor. In the dark. She blinked at his eyes, close enough to see each of his night-black, sweeping lashes, even in the dark. She felt her cheeks heat. 

“I’m so sorry!” she whispered, desperately trying not to look at his lips or feel his chest moving beneath her own. “It gets so dark in here with the curtains drawn, and I just forgot to—”

“Elain,” Azriel groaned again, and she briefly had the mad thought that he was groaning in need for her, about to kiss her. 

“Yes?” she breathed, subconsciously licking her lips. 

“The flour is on my dick,” he ground out, now clearly sounding in pain. 

“Oh my god,” she said, flushing, and scrambled off of him. She looked down, and sure enough the twenty-pound bag was laying squarely over his lap. He grunted in pain and pushed the bag off himself as Elain tugged at it, until he was free and lay there flat, breathing heavily. 

Elain lowered herself to sit cross-legged next to him. 

“Is…it…okay?” she asked awkwardly, willing herself not to look down at where his crushed cock lay. 

He grunted and closed his eyes. “Just need like sixty seconds,” he mumbled. 

“Do you want some ice?”

His eyes popped open. “No, no I’m good. Thanks, though. I’ll be fine.” 

She nodded, but he still hadn’t moved. “Thank you for the help,” she said gently, hoping she wasn’t annoying him with her constant blathering. 

Azriel finally moved, pushing himself up to a seated position and resting his elbows on his knees. 

“No problem,” he answered, leaning against her counter and letting his head fall back. 

They were still sitting in the dark, although their eyes had adjusted better now. They sat in silence for a few moments until an uncontrollable laugh bubbled up from Elain’s mouth, which she tried to stifle with a hand. 

Azriel glanced at her with raised brows, but then a grin broke out over his face and he was chuckling, too. They laughed for a moment until Elain’s laughter suddenly died as she gazed at him. He was beautiful every time she had seen him, but he had never been so beautiful as he was in this moment, a true, wide smile stretched across his face and joy shining in his eyes. 

His laughter quieted and he met her eyes. “What is it?” he asked, because she must have been staring. 

Elain shook her head. “Nothing,” she smiled at him. “Let me get you a glass of water.” 

“You really don’t—” he started, but she was already on her feet and filling a glass, yanking the curtains open as she did. The room flooded with summer sunshine as Azriel rose to his feet. 

“Thanks,” he said when she handed him the glass. She nodded at him and watched him drink half the water in one go, Adam's apple and throat muscles bobbing with his swallows. He had such a nice neck. He had such a nice everything. 

God, how was she already in such trouble?

Azriel chugged his water, overheated from carrying the huge bag of flour in the summer sun and then having Elain sprawled out on top of him and his dick crushed into oblivion. He was somehow both aroused and in pain, and not in a kinky way. As if he needed an extra reminder that his cock was there when she was around? Just her stupid (beautiful) brown eyes and too-big (utterly perfect and exquisite) lips were enough to get the job done. 

Thank god she had gotten up and let some light into the room, or he might not have been able to resist pulling her towards him on the floor of her kitchen in the dark. 

He finished the water and set the glass down on the counter, looking around. The kitchen looked much like the shop downstairs, only slightly less packed to the brim. Dried herbs and flowers hung on the walls, silk tapestries were draped around the room, and candles sat on almost every surface. Jesus, this room was a fire hazard. But it was…surprisingly cozy. 

“Take this too,” Elain said, holding something out to him. He took the small brown square from her hand. 

“Chocolate? Why chocolate?”

She looked at him like he had just asked the most idiotic question ever uttered. 

“Chocolate helps everything,” she answered plainly, and then waited for him to eat it expectantly. 

He shrugged and popped it in his mouth. “Damn,” he mumbled as he chewed. It was exceptionally good chocolate. Azriel never thought he had a sweet tooth, but he may just change his mind. Maybe chocolate did help everything. 

Elain beamed at him as he chewed and swallowed, and it made his chest do uncomfortable things. 

“Oh!” she said suddenly, startling him from his quiet appreciation of her exquisite face. “Come downstairs, I have something to take with you.” 

Azriel almost breathed a sigh of relief that she was the one asking him to leave her private living space, and he swept up his helmet, which had gone clattering in their tumble, from the floor. 

He had no idea what she could possibly have for him after he was such a dick to her yesterday, but he followed her downstairs anyway.

“My parents are dead too, you know,” Elain said over his shoulder as they descended the stairs. 

God, he couldn't follow her train of thought.

“What?” he asked awkwardly. They had reached the bottom and entered into the main room of the apothecary again. 

“My parents. Yesterday you said your father had passed away. I didn't get a chance to tell you that I also lost my parents.” 

“Oh,” he answered, unsure of what to do with her bald honesty. “That sucks, I'm sorry.” 

“Yeah,” she said distantly, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt. “My mom died a long time ago, and she wasn't…well she wasn't very kind. But my father only died last year, a week before…” 

She trailed off, piquing Azriel’s curiosity. “Before what?” he asked, suddenly wanting her to keep talking about her life. 

Elain's cheeks pinked. “He died a week before my wedding.”

Azriel nearly choked. Elain was married? He looked around frantically as if a man with a baseball bat would come waltzing out of a dark corner. She hadn't had a ring on when they had fucked, had she? She wasn't wearing one now, was she? 

Elain put her hands up quickly. “I'm not married,” she said in a rush, and Azriel stilled, adrenaline still coursing. “I was just almost married,” she explained further. 

Thank fuck. Azriel was a slut, but he didn't fuck married people (as far as he knew). That was a mess he was not interested in being involved with. 

She was positively red now. “Anyway, everything kind of…fell apart when my dad died, and, well it's a long a story, but my fiancé got spooked by everything and called the wedding off.”

God. What a fucking dick. 

“I…don't know what to say,” Azriel answered her. “That sounds really hard,” he said, more genuinely than he had spoken in a long while. “How old were you?” 

“Twenty-four.” 

Fuck. She was only twenty-five now, then. He felt fucking ancient with the decade he had on her. 

“You were going to get married when you were twenty-four?” 

She scoffed at him. “Just because you're some hot, middle-aged bachelor doesn't mean we all want to be.”

Azriel laughed fully at that, throwing his head back. “I'm thirty-five! I'm not middle-aged.” He hadn't missed her calling him hot, though, and that stupid feeling in his chest swelled again. 

Elain just blinked at him and then shrugged. “Anyway, stay there, I'll be right back.”

She walked away without another word, leaving him stunned. Who the fuck was this woman? She was scrambling his head so much that he almost wished he had never met her that night at Rita’s. Almost. But not quite. 

He heard her walking around the shop, moving bottles. She reappeared a minute later, holding a small jar out to him. 

“Here,” she said, as if he knew what the fuck was happening. 

“What's this?” he asked, taking it from her. Their fingers grazed and her skin was so soft against his.

“It's a salve that I made,” she answered, her eyes flicking down to his crotch briefly. “For your injury. Consider it a thank you.”

Azriel chuckled then, unable to suppress the impulse. “I'm not injured, sugar.” 

Elain's cheeks went up in flames at the name, which Azriel absolutely had not said on purpose, but couldn't take back now. 

“But thank you,” he murmured, turning the jar over in his fingers. “I'm sure I can find a…use for this.” His goddamn voice had dropped low and sultry again, like he had no fucking control over anything anymore. 

“Alright,” Elain answered quietly, and he thought he heard her voice waver just a bit. 

He started backing towards the door before he could act even more stupid. “Maybe I'll see you around,” he all but purred. 

“Thanks again for the help,” she chirped, and then he backed out of the door, still looking at her, before he could linger any longer. 

Azriel kept turning the jar over in his fingers as he walked back to the cafe to retrieve his bike. When he got back he swore, realizing he had left his bag of food at Elain’s place. He sighed. There was no way he was going back there right now, so he resigned himself to go back into the cafe and order himself another sandwich. Before he did though, he examined the jar in his hands. It was filled with some sort of whiteish solid salve. He turned it over and blinked for a moment before barking out a laugh. Her phone number was scrawled on the bottom of the jar in permanent marker. Well, she had balls, he would give her that. And then he slipped the little jar into his pocket before his own balls could tighten after thinking about her and her apparent boldness for too long. 

Back at work and having filled his stomach, Azriel worked the rest of the day with Elain’s little jar sitting on his desk, trying not to imagine her rubbing the ointment into his cock for him. He groaned at his desk, utterly failing at not imagining it. Would she have done it, if he had asked her? And she had given him her number again, even when he had turned her down the first time? Was she really that interested in him? Did she think about him as much as he thought about her? 

When his day finally ended, Azriel repocketed the jar and rode home, striding directly to his condo bedroom and shutting the door behind him. 

He sat on his bed and unscrewed the jar. He had been afraid to open it at work, for fear that it would smell like her, and he realized now that he had been right to fear. The smell of jasmine flooded his bedroom, mixed with something rich and sinful like burnt brown sugar. Not exactly her honey and jasmine scent, but fucking close enough.

Fuck. He released a frustrated sound. He didn’t want to want her. He didn’t want her to want him. But he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about her goddamn lips. He would never forget the way they felt around his fingers, her tongue running over his scars like they were something delicious and sensual and not horrible. 

And the way she talked. It was like she was from a different time, a different world. For some reason she didn’t fear him, didn’t recoil from his dark energy. And that only made him want her more. 

But he knew that he couldn’t have her, even if he did want her. Being with her would compromise everything he believed in, and how could he be with someone if he didn’t appreciate their profession or even think it was real? 

And more than that, his nightmares had gotten clearer since meeting her. No new events or information, but just…crisper, like a camera focusing. And he didn’t want to deal with that shit, either.

And he was ten years older than her. He would be like a fucking anchor holding her back, keeping her from drifting out into the vast unexplored sea of her life. And that wasn’t fucking fair to her, either. She had been ready to get married last year. She basically said that she wants to be married, and soon. She didn’t want to be aging and still fucking around like he was. And he certainly didn't think he could ever give her that.

But he couldn’t deny the pull she had on him. He ran his thumb over the numbers she had scrawled on the bottom of the jar. He imagined her writing them, biting that plush bottom lip of hers as she did. He licked his own lip, remembering exactly how those teeth had felt gently scraping over his fingers. Then his mind drifted to her nipples, and how they had felt under his tongue, pinched between his fingers, pressed into his chest as she rode him. 

He groaned and dipped his finger into the salve, scooping some out. Well, it was supposed to be for healing his dick, wasn’t it? He rubbed it between his fingers, feeling it melting with the heat of his skin. 

Azriel took a deep breath, knowing that if he did this once, he would be doing it every damn night. And choosing to anyway. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his cock free, falling down flat on the bed. He brought his ointment-covered fingers to his face and took a deep breath in to flood his senses with the smell of her, and then lowered his hand, rubbing the salve into his cock. 

He moaned as he worked the oily cream into his shaft and then rubbed it over the head with his thumb. And as he started working himself with slow, long jerks, he thought about the curve of Elain’s hips, the way her back dimpled just above her asscheeks, the upward tilt of her lips. He swore he tried to think about anything but her, but there was no use.

Azriel picked up speed, the melted salve creating a slick, wet feel that was certainly working for him, and he threw his free arm over his face, groaning loudly into the crook of his elbow. 

Fuck, he wanted her. He needed her. He thought about the way she had shuddered as she came on his tongue, her legs clamping around his head. He thought about the way her laugh sounded like windchimes. He thought about the way her eyes sparkled like galaxies and that one little freckle on her jaw. 

And then, as his hand slowed again to work in long, controlled thrusts, he couldn’t stop himself as he brought his free hand to his mouth, recalling everything she had done to it. Reenacting everything she had done to it. He started with his thumb, taking it into his mouth slowly and softly as she had, sucking slightly, before running his tongue over the pad. And then he released it, his stroking keeping a steady rhythm on his cock, and ran his own tongue from the base of his open palm to the tip of his middle finger, before sucking his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. He moaned onto his fingers, his jerking becoming quicker once more as he pretended his mouth was hers. He licked down each of his fingers as he squeezed his cock tightly and jerked in small, quick motions, and then took his middle three fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over them while sucking hard, just as she had done. 

He ripped his hand from his mouth as he felt the rope of tension with him snapping, and then cum was pouring from him as his abs spasmed and his legs went rigid, and without even realizing what he was doing, her name was spilling from his lips like a prayer to the night sky. 

“Elain,” he moaned, as he came, and came, and came, cum pooling in his stomach and dripping down his balls.

“Elain,” he gasped. 

“Elain.”

“Elain.”

Chapter Text

Elain was on her way to her youngest sister’s apartment for their monthly prescribed sisters night. Elain did not drive, as she never enjoyed being in or around those huge metal death machines people seemed to love so much. Instead she walked most places, and when they were too far to walk she rode her bicycle. Only in the most extreme circumstances did she take a bus or call for a rideshare, but she tried to avoid it. Luckily, Feyre lived quite close to Elain’s shop, also in the Rainbow District, as her art gallery was there, too. 

It was Friday, four days since she had seen Azriel and had given him her number again, like an idiot. She couldn’t help herself. She was attracted to him, yes, but it was more than that. It was more than his dark and dangerous presence and the way he looked at her and those strong, scarred hands. Her Sight begged her to reveal him. To peel back his layers and see what prowled beneath his skin. She had tried to read him a few times since she had seen him again, and thought she would have more luck now that she had a name (although no last name yet) and a face and some information about him, but it seemed that his past and whatever surging power lay beneath his exterior was somehow…locked. Shielded. She had never struggled so to read a person before. She could only get strange, quick flashes of colors and images, but nothing that was ever useful. 

So she had given him her number again, like a clueless school-girl that couldn’t take a hint. Four days had passed and he had not used it, nor had he come back to her store. She was so…confused by him. When they were together, in person, he seemed—well, he seemed more than interested. He seemed just as intrigued by her as she was by him. He even…flirted with her, if she wasn’t mistaken. He was kind to her. He asked about her life. But at the end of each of their interactions, he seemed to run like he had realized his mistake. Like he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could.

Elain sighed. She was nearing her sister’s apartment and had to push him out of her mind. She needed to focus on steeling her spine for them. Her sisters could be…a lot. Feyre was always kind, but sometimes nosey. Sometimes capricious and wild in a way that made Elain feel like she needed to put her walls up. Feyre enjoyed leadership roles, and sometimes took that too seriously with her sisters, even when she was the youngest. And Nesta…well, Nesta had come a long way. She was once cruel, cold, not unlike their mother. She still maintained an air of distance and hardness, but she was trying, in her own way, to show kindness to her sisters. And so they committed to these sisters nights.

The dinners were also a convenient time to check in about their magic. Feyre and Nesta possessed powers of their own, wholly different from Elain’s. Their parents had come from long lines of magic, intertwined and scattered and combined throughout generations. While Elain practiced with Sight and earth magic, Nesta had a much more sinister power. She was able to converse with, and animate, in a way, the dead. She couldn’t stop death or reverse death—no one could do that. But she could create something unholy from the dead, if she desired. And she could communicate with the dead. And Feyre…Feyre had a whole amalgamation of magics, from several of their ancestors. She could control the elements, mostly—the wind, water, ice, fire, even darkness. 

Together, the three of them harbored more power than the non-magic folk of Velaris could ever comprehend. They didn't use their powers frivolously, though. No one in the city did. They were cherished and kept a secret from most, and only used when the situation demanded. 

Elain sighed as she looked up at the door. She was always happy to see her sisters, but it was always exhausting, as well. So she plastered a smile on her face as she walked up the path to her younger sister's apartment, clutching the basket of pastries she had made for their visit.

Four days. It had been four days since he had seen Elain, heard her voice, smelled her perfume. And four fucking nights that he had opened that damn jar of salve and fucked himself dry with his hand to memories and fantasies of her. It was finally Friday, and thank fuck, because Azriel had been more distracted than ever at work. And more of an asshole, snapping at people and shutting himself away in his dark office.

He had her number memorized, by now, with how many times he had stared at it on that jar. But he hadn't used it. It was a practice in self-restraint, that much was obvious to himself. He had typed her number into his phone and then deleted it more times than he could count. Every time, the same reasons floated to him. Choked him. He had never been so enthralled by a person before, and for that reason, he knew it wouldn't end well. Couldn't end well. 

So when Friday evening finally rolled around after the longest week of his life, Azriel decided it was time to head to Rita's and find someone's warm body to move on with. He was wound too tight, that was all. He had to fuck someone, hard and fast. Maybe multiple people. Maybe someone new every night until he could drive her from his head. 

So he hadn’t even bothered with dinner, had just changed his clothes into more casual attire and rode to Rita's in search of a beautiful stranger to sink his cock into—preferably a beautiful stranger who bore green or blue or grey eyes. Maybe they had blonde hair or black hair or red. Ideally a man. Anyone that didn't look like her (not that anyone ever could). 

Elain pressed the button for her sister’s apartment and after a few moments, the door buzzed, letting her in. When she got to Feyre’s door, she braced herself and knocked. 

Clipped, sure footsteps approached, and she knew it would be Nesta who opened the door just from those steps. Sure enough, her older sister flung the door open, her grey-blue eyes sharp and assessing. Her mouth, just as sharp, was drawn into a tight line, defining her high cheekbones even more. Her hair, which matched Feyre and Elain's almost perfectly, was swept up into a perfect, sleek bun. 

“You're late,” she hissed, but was shoving a glass of wine at Elain despite her ire. Elain took it and pushed through the door, giving her sister a sheepish smile. “You know I don't like being stuck alone with her,” Nesta continued to whisper aggressively. Elain only rolled her eyes and patted her sister's shoulder. 

“I'm sure you were fine,” she laughed, and then walked further into the house to find her younger sister. 

“Fey?” she called, looking around the cozy apartment. 

“In the kitchen!” Feyre called back, and Elain followed her voice to find her sister whirling about in chaos. 

“Hi,” Elain greeted her, setting her basket of pastries down and giving Feyre a squeeze with her free arm. 

“Elain,” she answered, stooping slightly to kiss her younger sister on the cheek. 

“What's going on in here?” Elain asked, handing Feyre, who clearly needed it, her wine, before spotting the bottle and pouring herself another glass. 

Feyre nodded in thanks and took a healthy gulp of wine. Her eyes, so much like their older sister’s, were darting around, taking in the chaos she had created in the kitchen. Her mouth was like Elain’s, though, like their father’s. Full and wide. Feyre’s hair was in a loose ponytail and she wore a knit sweater and leggings. 

“I decided to try to make dinner,” she said, a slightly crazed giggle breaking free.

Oh, god. Elain didn't think Feyre knew how to boil pasta, much less make a full dinner for three. They would be ordering pizza in two hours if she didn't do something. 

“Would you mind if I helped?” she asked innocently, shooting Nesta, who had sauntered in after her, a disapproving look. Nesta could have offered her help at any point. Nesta only shrugged, looking bored, and sipped her wine. 

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Feyre gushed, sliding a tray of something into the oven. 

Elain smiled at Feyre, and then grimaced at her older sister. “Nesta, get over here and chop, we need you.” 

Nesta sighed and straightened her long black cotton dress, but joined her sisters at the counter, sipping wine as she went. They fell into a steady rhythm with Elain guiding them, chatting about their lives since the last time they had met. Elain prayed that no one would ask her—

“Well, Lain? Are you seeing anyone?” Feyre asked lightly, setting the table with plates and silverware. Ugh.

Elain laughed lightly. “No,” was all she said in answer.

Nesta clicked her tongue. “When are you going to get over that asshole Graysen? He didn’t deserve you, and was a coward and a dickhead.” 

“Jeez, Nesta, I know,” Elain answered, putting the finishing touches on a salad she had whipped up. “I’m not still broken up about him, for what it’s worth. I just haven’t found anyone new yet.”

She scrambled to change the subject. “What about you, Fey? Still relentlessly flirting with Rhysand?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was a goddamn idiot.

Feyre whipped her head around to Elain. “How do you know his name?” Elain mentally slapped herself. Feyre had only told her about a handsome young man who kept stopping by her gallery who had caught her eye, not his name. 

“He…came to my shop the other day,” Elain answered carefully, carrying a plate of bruschetta to the table. 

“He did?” Feyre asked, shocked. “I didn’t take him as someone who would visit an apothecary or a fortune-teller.” 

Elain cleared her throat, trying to find a way out. “Well, it was actually his brother who came. He was just with him?”

“Oh,” Feyre answered, as all three carried the rest of the food over to the table. “Right, he mentioned he has two brothers. Not by blood though, right?” 

Elain nodded. “I’m not entirely sure how they’re related, but I did meet them. They’re all very…nice,” she finished lamely. 

“Well did you—” but Feyre’s words were cut off as Elain’s knees buckled, her vision whiting out. The last thing she heard before she was pulled into the void was her sisters calling her name, and then there was nothing but whiteness.

The night was dark, but the moon and stars were bright. Elain sat in the little rose garden that she tended herself, away from the hands of the gardeners who saw to the rest of the sprawling gardens of the castle. This little patch was just hers, and had been since she had become a woman at the age of fourteen. For five years she had tended to it daily—carefully, lovingly, like a mother would her child. 

Elain sat on a stone bench and stroked the petals of a sunset-orange colored rose beside her, and she waited. Her rose garden was surrounded by high stone walls shrouded in vines of ivy. Her parents had gifted her the space when she had become a woman after her first bleed at fourteen. It was a tradition in her kingdom to present meaningful gifts such as these to girls upon their first bleed. Her own private sanctuary, they said, where she could do what she loved most, and tend to her roses. 

A private sanctuary had other uses besides growing flowers, though, and a smile bloomed on Elain’s face as she heard the unmistakable sound of a man walking in armor. Her beautiful, tall knight appeared, passing through the gate to her rose garden, suddenly shielded from outside eyes by the tall ivied walls.

“Azriel,” she breathed, standing. It hadn’t been his shift to guard her today, and she had missed his presence so. She had missed his soft gaze, his silky voice, his strong and tender scarred hands. 

“My lady,” he answered, bowing his head. 

She crossed the garden walk to him. “I missed you,” she breathed, blinking up into his eyes.

“And I you,” he said, a small smile gracing his face. 

He had his hands clasped behind his back, and Elain wished he would touch her, here in her dark and private sanctuary, where no one but the moon could see them. It was well past midnight, and no one would even suspect that she was out of bed. 

“How was your day?” Azriel asked her, strolling past her to survey the multicolored blooms she tended. 

“Bothersome and tiresome,” Elain sighed, falling into step beside him. But he stopped abruptly, turning on his heel to look down at her. 

“Did someone mistreat you?” he demanded, his eyes turning dark and menacing. He dropped his hands and she saw his fingers twitch as if he wanted to grasp his sword. 

“No,” she answered, daring to put her fingers on the cool metal of his armor, taking the crook of his arm. “It’s only that mother and father are demanding more and more visits with the Vanserras,” she continued. Azriel visibly stiffened beside her. She knew it hurt him to hear of her betrothed, as much as it hurt her to speak of him. “I believe they are preparing to make arrangements for the wedding soon,” she nearly whispered, looking down. 

And then she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and onto the skin of her neck. 

“Elain,” came Azriel’s midnight-soft voice beside her, but she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see those hazel eyes she loved so very much, that she would have to one day soon say goodbye to.

But sure, scarred fingers came under her chin, lifting it gently until she met his eyes. 

“You are strong,” he murmured, holding her gaze like an embrace. “You can endure this.”

“Because I must,” she answered, the hope draining from her. 

“I’ve asked you before, Elain,” her knight continued. “Would you have me duel for your hand? Because I would. I would do anything for you. But he can give you a life I never could, and—”

“I don’t care about that!” Elain cried, pulling her face out of his grip. “I don’t care about the jewels and the servants and the castle and the coin. I would live life as a pauper if it meant I could be with you.”

Azriel’s gaze softened further, and he placed his hands on her waist, ever so gently. “And your family?” he asked. “Your parents would disown you, Elain. I can’t be the cause of so much heartbreak for you.” 

Elain huffed and crossed her arms, looking away from him. He would duel for her hand, she knew that. He would do anything she asked of him. But he would risk his life in doing so, even if he won. He could be executed for breaking the Knights’ code, or banished, and Elain would rather live a life in misery than exist in a world without him. 

Azriel reached up and tucked a stray curl behind Elain’s ear. “What would you have me do, my heart and soul? Tell me.” 

Elain leaned into him, wrapping her arms as far as they could go around his large frame covered in armor. “Just kiss me,” she whispered, and so he backed her into a shadowy corner of the rose garden, and he kissed her. 

Her knight rested one hand below her jaw and the other tenderly on her waist, and he pressed his lips against hers, slowly and softly at first. Tasting her, savoring her, just feeling her. Elain sighed onto his lips and allowed her own to part, her arms coming around his neck. 

Azriel breathed a little sound of need and slipped his tongue between her lips, daring to kiss her more deeply, more absolutely. Their kiss transformed from probing and soft to hungry, needing. Their tongues moved together in a dangerous dance, enticing them to take more, more, more. Elain felt her blood heat as Azriel’s large body pressed her into the ivied wall, creating a pressure at her front and back that only stoked her flame. 

“More,” she breathed against his lips, and a groan broke free from him. 

“It isn’t a good idea, my princess,” he answered, pulling his lips away but resting his forehead against her own, closing his eyes and breathing. 

Elain pulled his hand from her jaw down to her chest, placing his fingers gently over her breast. 

Azriel’s eyes flew open as his fingers hovered on her breast, barely touching it through the fabric of her gown. She arched her back slightly into his touch, bringing her body further into his hand. His nostrils flared in desire and restraint, but he allowed his fingers to close fully around her breast, cupping her tenderly and filling her chest with burning heat. He leaned down and kissed her once more as his fingers gently probed the swells of her chest, leaving a scorching path in their trail. Elain closed her eyes and allowed herself to drown in the feel of him as their tongues came together once more, mapping each other’s mouths in a hungry, desperate plea. 

But he was so gentle. Always so gentle. 

His fingers continued lightly cupping and caressing her breast until they found the peak of her nipple, running over the ridge before carefully taking it between two fingers and squeezing lightly. An inescapable moan broke free from Elain as wetness pooled at her core, and Azriel suddenly stiffened, taking a quick step back and dropping his hands, leaving her feeling icy and empty without them. 

“I can’t—” he muttered, running agitated hands through his raven hair, “I shouldn’t—”

“Azriel,” she tried, taking a step closer to him with a hand outstretched. 

“I went too far,” he murmured, taking another step away from her as a hopeless sadness filled her chest. “I can’t trust myself around you. You’re a princess, I cannot be—”

Elain crossed her arms, unable to hide the hurt she felt flare through her. “But I’m asking you to!” she cried, feeling unhinged and desperate. She wanted him, needed him.

A war crossed Azriel’s features in the blink of an eye, before he schooled his face into the neutrality of the knight. 

“If we are caught, Elain, I—”

“I don’t want him to take my maidenhead!” she cried out, and then slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes growing wide in horrified shame. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, hadn’t meant to get so carried away.

Azriel looked at her, speechless, his lips parted in shock. 

Elain felt her eyes well again. “I don’t love him. I have been waiting for the one I love, for the one who loves me. And I want it to be you, Azriel. I need it to be you. I want you to have all of me.” 

He ripped his hands through his hair again, his mask of neutrality faltering. “Elain,” he uttered, sounding almost desperate. “You are my princess. I am your knight. Don’t dishonor yourself by giving yourself to a man like me, a nobody.” 

Elain stepped towards him again, until they were less than a foot apart, and she looked up into his eyes. “You are not a nobody to me. You are everything. Everything. And I want it to be you. If I must be given to another, let me give myself to you first. Body and soul, completely.” 

She watched as he took in a stilted, labored inhale. When he released it, she heard his breath shaking. 

“I need to think,” he whispered, gently running the back of his hand down her arm. “And here is not the place, anyway.”

Elain grabbed his hand and pulled it between her breasts, so he could feel the wild beating of her heart. 

“Do you feel this?” she asked, her eyes scanning his face rapidly. He nodded, a swallow bobbing his throat. “It beats for you, and only you.”

He looked into her eyes for what felt like an eternity. And then her strong, fearless knight bent, lowering his head to her chest. He gently lifted her fingers from where they sat over her beating heart and kissed her knuckles, before drawing her hand down and away. And then he leaned in, pressing one slow, tender kiss right over her thundering heart. He lingered there for a moment before rising, bringing his mouth to her ear.

“Then I shall protect it with everything that I am,” he whispered, before raising her hand to kiss her knuckles once more. And then he was gone, turning to exit the garden and find somewhere surreptitious to no doubt watch her make her way safely back to the wing of her castle. 

Azriel sat in his usual spot at Rita’s in the corner of the bar, half-concealed by shadows, surveying the patrons. There were plenty of beautiful people—men and women dancing, laughing, drinking. None that caught his eye long enough to hold his attention, though. He cursed under his breath and raised his whiskey to his lips, taking a slow draw. He wouldn’t drink as much as he did last time. He had no desire to be so…messy, again. He would actually try to remember the person’s name this time. 

His eye suddenly caught on a flash of golden hair, and his gaze snagged. She was tall and curvy, with long, luscious blonde hair that shined under the dancing colored lights. She had ruby-red voluptuous lips and sun-kissed skin, with golden-brown eyes shining mischievously. Well, the brown eyes were an unfortunate coincidence. But everything else was different enough. She looked…loud. Exuberant. Distracting. She felt him watching her and met his eyes, a coy smile playing on her wide lips. 

Azriel lifted the corner of his mouth in a tentative smile back, then sipped his drink, still watching her. Her smile grew as she threw her arms over her head and rolled her hips to the music, maintaining eye contact with him. Well, he wasn’t exactly aroused , not yet, but she was most definitely attractive. So he kept watching her with his best bedroom eyes, sipping his drink casually, until the song ended and she began sauntering over to him. 

Azriel motioned to the empty seat next to him when she reached him. She smelled like cloves and oranges and wine. The woman winked at him and sat, ordering a gin and tonic before turning to him. 

“You don’t want to dance?” she asked, breathless from her own dancing. 

Azriel shrugged. “I’m not a big dancer. I would need a lot more drinks in me.” She looked him up and down, surveying his muscles and his tattoos and face. Her gaze snagged on his hands, and—there it was. She flinched ever-so-slightly, before schooling her face and pretending she hadn’t noticed his scars. 

“Well, then why don’t you get more drinks in you?” she asked suggestively, raising her brows and clinking her glass against his. 

Azriel licked his lip slowly as his gaze raked down her body. “Dancing isn’t really what I’m interested in tonight,” he murmured, snapping his eyes back to hers. 

But she cocked her head, looking at him with intrigue. 

“Do I know you?” she asked, as if she had suddenly remembered him from somewhere. 

Azriel frowned slightly. “I don’t think so. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mor.”

“More?” he asked. “As in, more peas please?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. “As if I’ve never heard that before. No, Mor as in short for Morrigan, the ugliest name my parents could come up with.”

Azriel chuckled softly. “It’s not that bad. I’m Azriel.”

Mor suddenly squealed, snapping her fingers. “Azriel, Rhysand’s brother?” she asked excitedly. Oh, fuck. So she wasn’t a stranger, then. He wasn’t about to fuck someone that knew Rhysand well enough to recognize his brothers’ names.

He nodded. “You know him, then?”

A wide smile broke across her face. “I’m his cousin. Once or twice removed or something, I don’t really understand the whole family tree thing. But we used to see each other at holidays. I think we’ve met before.”

Azriel suddenly had a vague memory of this woman much, much younger. A teenager. Maybe ten years ago? Twelve? So, not a stranger then. He definitely would not be fucking her, it turned out. He had a strangers-only rule for a reason. 

He nodded at Mor, though, sliding a friendly smile over his face. “That’s right. Major puberty glow-up, huh?” 

She scoffed and punched his arm, but then threw her head back and laughed. “And I can say the same for you. I remember you being quite…scrawny.” 

Azriel scowled. “I was never scrawny. But it’s nice to see you again.” 

She nodded happily in agreement and sipped her drink, wiggling on her stool to the music. She so far seemed oblivious to the change in his demeanor towards her, because she bit her lip and looked him up and down again. “So you come here a lot?” 

He shrugged, looking out through the crowd. “It’s a good place to blend in, and to find some company.” 

Mor sighed and leaned her elbows back on the bar after swiveling around to survey the room with him. “You’re right about that, except that I hate blending in.” Azriel chuckled. That, he didn’t doubt, in her glittering gold sequin-covered minidress and four-inch matching heels, generous cleavage proudly on display. “But it is a great place to find men, women, whoever wants some fun for the night,” she finished.

Azriel raised his glass in agreement. So she wasn’t picky about gender, like himself. Too bad he technically knew her (and still had not found an ounce of actual arousal for her within himself). They would probably have had fun together, though.

“And are you looking for company tonight, then?” Mor asked, eyeing him. 

He suddenly wanted to bolt for the door. What was he even doing here? He didn’t want to hook up with a random stranger. He didn’t know how to stoke that desire again. He cleared his throat.

“Well, I was, but…” 

She tilted her head at him again, waiting patiently. 

How forthcoming should he be? “But, to be honest, my heart’s not really in it tonight.”

Mor nodded thoughtfully, but then grinned at him with mischief dancing in her eyes. “Your heart doesn’t need to be in it, as long as other parts are,” she finished with a wink. 

Azriel shook his head and drained his drink. “I’m sorry,” he said to her. “You seem really nice. I hope I can see you again, as Rhys’s family. As friends?”

Mor didn’t look disappointed or hurt in the least. She just shrugged irreverently and tossed her own drink back. “That’s probably a good call. Rhys would most likely skin me if I made a move on either of his brothers. Territorial bastard.” 

Azriel let out a relieved laugh and rose. He wouldn’t be going home with anyone tonight, so he might as well get out of here before another near-disaster occurred. He said goodbye and watched Mor bounce over to the dance floor again before throwing down some cash on the bar, scooping up his gloves and helmet, and striding out to his bike. 

He meant to ride straight home. He swore he meant to. But instead of turning towards his condo downtown, he found himself turning towards the Rainbow District. Towards her. And damn it all, but he let himself.

“Elain!” Nesta was calling, slapping her lightly on the side of the face. 

“Don't slap her!” Feyre chided, earning a click of the tongue from their eldest sister. 

The white was washing out of her vision and the world was returning to its rightful place around her. She blinked and looked around herself, taking deep, steadying breaths. Her sisters were both crouched before her as she lay on the couch. 

“Are you alright, Lain?” Feyre asked, handing her a glass of water. “Were you having a vision?” 

Elain sat up and took the water, drinking half of it at once before answering. 

“I'm not sure,” she said, rubbing at her eyes. She felt more disoriented than usual after a vision, and extremely shaken. It had felt…so real. She could almost feel Azriel's rough but gentle fingers squeezed around her nipple, and the wetness between her thighs was certainly real. And the…the sadness. The deep, unending sadness she had felt as he had walked away from her. 

Her sisters were still staring at her. “It couldn't have been a vision of the future, because it was…the past. An old, old past.” 

“What did you see?” Nesta asked. 

Elain's cheeks warmed. “Me, but I was…a princess. I know that sounds stupid, but it was so real. And I was…I was in love with a knight.”

Feyre sat beside her, patting her hand. “Well that seems romantic.” 

Elain frowned a bit before draining the rest of her water. “I think it…I get the feeling the story does not have a happy ending.” That bottomless well of despair ate at her again.

“Were you seeing the past?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms with an assessing look. 

Elain put her glass down and opened her hands to her sisters in bewilderment. “How could I have been? I've never been a princess. I have visions of the past, sometimes, but only other people, when they come for readings. Nothing…nothing like this.” She dragged her hands through her unbound curls, confused and agitated. 

They all sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments. 

“What if it was a past life?” Feyre asked. 

A past life…Elain had never had visions of a past life, but at her sister's words, her Sight swirled through her in excitement as if saying yes! Yes. You know. 

A past life…with Azriel? With this man she barely knew, who seemed to want very little to do with her? Had she been so in love with him, and he her? Was it even possible? 

“Maybe…” Elain answered dreamily, feeling lost. 

Nesta and Feyre exchanged looks. 

“Why don't we eat?” Feyre asked, nodding towards the table. 

“I…” Elain started, still lost in thought. “I'm not really hungry anymore, I think…I think I just need some fresh air, and then to lay down.”

“Are you sure?” Nesta asked, frowning at her. “Do you want someone to walk you home, or—?”

“No, please, I’m fine,” Elain answered quickly, rising. 

“You should eat, Lain,” Feyre encouraged. “At least take something to go.” 

“Yeah, I’ll eat later,” Elain responded distractedly, still half-lost in her vision. Still rattled. 

“Wait a minute,” Feyre said, and bustled around, plopping food in plastic containers and filling Elain’s basket with food to take home. 

“Thanks,” Elain said to her. Her sisters exchanged looks again. “I’m fine, really!” she assured them. “I’m just feeling a little…out of sorts. You guys eat, have fun, drink the wine.” 

“There’s a bottle for you in there, too,” Feyre said, winking. Elain smiled and nodded her thanks. Nesta looked like she was going to murder her for leaving them alone, but Elain suddenly needed to be in her own space again, to…process. So Elain said goodbye to her sisters and made her way out into the balmy summer night to make the quick walk back home, breathing in the fresh air greedily. 

Azriel pulled up in front of Elain’s shop, fighting with himself the entire time. What the fuck was he doing? He had spent all week convincing himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t want her, shouldn’t be with her, shouldn’t see her. And here he was, just showing up? Without an invitation? Without even using the number that he now had stamped on his brain like braille?

“Fuck you,” he muttered to himself hatefully, and jumped off his bike, striding to Elain’s door before he could think better of it. He yanked his helmet off and pulled on the door handle. It was locked, and dark inside. Alright, she had already closed up for the night. That was no surprise. He looked around and pressed a doorbell that he assumed would sound in her apartment above the shop. He waited for ten, twenty, thirty seconds before resigning to the fact that she must not be home. 

That’s probably better, he thought bitterly, and turned to leave, his chest filled with an overwhelming warring mixture of relief and bitter disappointment. 

He turned, readying himself to hop back on his bike, tuck his tail in shame, and ride back home. But when he turned…there she was. Walking down the street, a basket in hand, looking like she was lost in clouds. His stomach hollowed out and nerves fluttered through his bloodstream. 

Her eyes widened as she saw him turning away from her doorstep, like a fucking kid running when he was caught being naughty. He ground his teeth. 

“Azriel?” she asked him in greeting, and a shiver ran down his spine. 

“Hi,” he answered stupidly, sliding his gloved hands into his pockets. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, closing the distance between them and looking up at him with those ridiculous eyes. Eyes that had started to haunt his dreams right there next to the nightmares. 

Fuck. What was he doing here?

“I…I was just out at the bar, and then decided to go riding for a while. I was passing through the neighborhood and just thought…thought that I’d…say hi,” he finished idiotically. What the fuck was wrong with him? He felt another motherfucking blush threaten his cheeks.

“Oh,” Elain answered, scanning him. She blinked at him a few times, saying nothing at all. She seemed…maybe lost in deep thought? It was unnerving, though, the way she stared at him with those massive eyes. It somehow equally scared him and drew him in, wanting more. 

He glanced at her basket to see it laden with food and wine. “Coming from a picnic?” he asked, looking around at the dark, trying to sound light and amused. 

“Oh,” she said again, shaking her head slightly as if remembering where she was. She looked down at the basket as well, as if she had forgotten she was holding it. “I was at dinner with my sisters, but I didn’t feel well, so I decided to walk home. They wouldn’t let me leave without bringing food with me.”

Concern that he didn’t want suddenly flooded Azriel. “You’re sick?” he asked, scanning her for signs of illness or injury. 

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, I just felt faint for a bit. Some water and fresh air were all I needed.” 

The concern still flitted about his chest, but loosened somewhat. Why was he so goddamn worried about her? He didn’t even know her. And he couldn’t stop asking her fucking questions, like she was the world’s most interesting riddle that he had to crack open.

“You walked?” 

She nodded. “It wasn’t far, and I hate cars. I don’t drive.”

Azriel’s eyebrows rose. “I hate cars too. I only have the bike,” he added, pointing towards his motorcycle with his chin. “Cars make me feel…confined.”

Shut up, shut up. Just leave, idiot.

But Elain nodded knowingly. “And they’re death traps.”

Azriel chuckled. “That too.”

They fell into silence once more, Elain studying him with a slight frown. She once again looked like she was thinking hard, puzzling something out. The time dragged on as they gazed at each other through the semi-darkness of the falling night. Azriel stared into her brown doe eyes long enough that he forgot where he was for a moment. A strong wind suddenly passed through and knocked them both out of their silent reverie.

Azriel was about to make an excuse and leave when Elain lifted her basket of food and wine up in front of her. “Are you hungry?” 

Shit. What was he supposed to say? He should say no. He should leave. He should turn right the fuck around, ride home, and take care of his needs like the lonely, pathetic, desperate man he was. 

“Starving,” was what he purred instead. 

Fuck it all.

Chapter Text

Azriel followed Elain into her building, silently cursing himself the whole way. Was he really so weak-willed? He wasn’t even thinking about sex as he followed her up the stairs to her living space. He just wanted to hear her talk more. He wanted to know what her cooking tasted like. He wanted to share that bottle of wine with her. He wanted to smell her perfume. 

This time he made the smart decision to wait at the top of the dark staircase until Elain flicked on the lights, illuminating the kitchen. He stepped into the space and watched her as she bustled around gathering plates and glasses. Her hair was unbound tonight, hanging in long curls almost to her waist. It made her already soft face look angelic, ethereal. She wore a loose blue blouse that ended at her midriff, with a long and flowy cream skirt below it. A sliver of skin around her stomach was displayed, and he watched it stretch and bend as she moved through the kitchen. He desperately tried not to watch her ass and hips swishing under her skirt, but it was futile. He knew what she looked like naked. He knew there was an ass under there that he would do just about anything to get his face, his hands, his mouth on again. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t resist a perfect ass, was it?

“Do you mind if I light some candles?” she asked him, knocking him out of his dreamlike state of watching her. “I much prefer firelight to lightbulbs.” 

“Not at all,” he answered, already wondering how she would appear in the flickering candlelight, how beautiful she would be. “Can I help with anything?” 

“You can light all the candles,” she answered, nodding to a lighter that sat on the countertop. 

Azriel raised his eyebrow, gazing around the room. “All of them?” 

Elain giggled as she heated up a tray of something. “However many you want.” 

So he took up the lighter and moved around the room, lighting candles at random. “Want me to do the other rooms, too?” 

Elain looked over her shoulder at him as she tossed some salad in a container. “The living room would be great. It’s just through there, on the right,” she added, nodding to the hallway. 

Azriel followed where she indicated and walked down a dark hallway that opened up into a room to the right. He flicked on a light to find a cozy living space, adorned in jewel tones and flowers and creeping vines hanging in pots. And so many candles. A worn leather couch and two overstuffed leather armchairs sat around a scratched wood coffee table. And god, it smelled so much like her. Azriel walked around lighting the candles in that room, too, before flicking the light back off. 

Elain suddenly appeared behind him, carrying two plates of food and napkins with her. “I don’t really have a dining room, if this is okay with you,” she said softly. Azriel stared at her for a few moments before he could answer. Her hair glowed like a halo around her face under the candlelight. Her eyes sparkled. Her skin shone like polished alabaster and she looked somehow more…more. He swallowed before forcing himself to speak.

“This is fine,” he answered, and she set the plates down on the coffee table. “I also hope you’re not picky…I just put some of everything on your plate.”

He looked down to see salad, bruschetta, and some sort of little hand pies. “I’ll eat anything,” he answered. “And it looks delicious.” 

A blush the color of a sunset painted Elain’s cheeks and she smiled shyly. “I’ll be right back.” 

Azriel just shuffled his feet and wondered what he was doing here for the thousandth time until she came back, holding the opened bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses.

“Wine?” she asked. 

“Sure, thanks.” 

Elain poured two glasses and then sat cross-legged on the floor in front of one of the plates. Oh. Well, Azriel had never sat on the floor to eat before. But it seemed like Elain probably did countless things that he had never experienced before, and they all intrigued him, so he sank down to the floor around the corner of the coffee table from her, taking his glass of wine with a nod of thanks.

Elain sipped, studying his still-gloved hands as he did the same. “Aren’t you going to take your gloves off to eat?” she asked quietly, her eyes never leaving his hands. 

Azriel gently put his glass down before answering. “I forget I’m wearing them sometimes,” he said about his motorcycle gloves, which he then pulled off, feeling the all-too-familiar shame and embarrassment flood him. It had been decades, yet he was never able to truly not care when his hands were exposed. 

Elain watched, swallowing, as his hands were slowly unveiled, one after the other. He set his gloves down on the floor next to him. She seemed entranced, watching his hands, and he tried not think about her tongue on them. Tried not to notice his pants tightening at the memory. 

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, and he shifted as his cock grew even harder. He took a gulp of his wine to spare himself from having to think of an answer right away or to speak in a voice that would no doubt drip with lust. 

She seemed to realize she was drifting off into space because she cleared her throat suddenly and picked up her fork, starting to eat. Azriel took her cue and began to eat as well.

“Did you make all this?” he asked after swallowing a few bites of salad. 

“I helped,” she answered, and he got the distinct impression that she was being modest. He raised an eyebrow at her and she giggled. “I suppose I mostly did. I found my sister Feyre attempting to cook and…well, it wasn’t going to end well, so I stepped in.” 

He chuckled and tried the bruschetta. He almost groaned at how delicious it was. “It’s amazing,” he said, completely earnestly, and she blushed that lovely rose color once more. “Do you see your sisters often?”

Elain frowned a bit, taking a sip of wine. “You would think I do, especially Feyre, since we live and work so close. But we all kind of have our own things going on. We get together once a month for sisters nights.”

Azriel nodded as she ate some more of her food. He finished off his salad and washed it down with wine. He had forgotten he had skipped dinner entirely before going to Rita's in his desperation, and actually was starving.

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you see your brothers a lot?”

He scoffed. “Too much. They like to turn up and annoy me as often as possible.” 

Elain studied him carefully, and he saw her eyes shift subtly, losing focus a bit before snapping back to attention. Strange…like most of the things she did. 

“You act like they bother you, but you really love them. Cherish them,” she told him. Her voice had taken on an otherworldly quality, dreamlike and wandering. There was no question in her words. Just facts. A shiver that had nothing to do with arousal traveled down his spine. 

“I do…” he answered slowly. 

She cleared her throat as if she realized he was unnerved. “So how are you related, then?” she quickly asked, her voice returned to its normal lilt. “If not by blood?”

Azriel drank some more wine and decided to forcibly pretend that the eerie way she had just read him hadn’t even occurred. “Cassian and I met at a homeless shelter. My mom and I were staying there after my dad died when I was five, and he wandered in, completely alone. She was immediately drawn to him and took him under her wing without question. We look enough alike that my mom just…pretended he was her son, too. Because we were homeless, she easily claimed that she no longer had any official documentation for him, and everyone just accepted it.” 

Elain had paled while she listened to him. “I didn’t realize,” she responded softly, “that you both had such difficult lives as boys. I’m so sorry.” 

Azriel only shrugged and picked up the little pie, taking a hearty bite. It was filled with some sort of curried meat, and it was one of the best things he had ever eaten. 

“And your other brother?” she asked, before eating some more of her own food. 

Azriel swallowed his bite. “The story gets even less pleasant.” 

Elain studied him for a moment before answering. “Please tell me.”

So he did. “My mom lost custody of us for a while when authorities found out she was practicing prostitution to keep us fed and housed. Rhys was in school with us, and told his mom about it. They were rich and well-positioned in society. She somehow got cleared to provide temporary respite for us, and took us in for a couple years. My mom…” this part of the story was always difficult to tell. “My mom had a hard life. She was beaten, threatened, owned by pimps. And before my dad died he beat and abused her, too. Both of us. She did everything she could to get us back in her care, but it wasn’t until Rhys’s own parents both died in a freak accident that we were returned to her.”

Elain’s eyes had grown wide as she listened to his story. “Oh my god,” she responded in a hushed voice filled with sadness and empathy. 

Azriel just nodded, because there was nothing else to say about it. He had lost four parents in such a short time, and only gotten one back—eventually, and not the same as she had been when he had lost her.

“Anyway, my mom is alive and well now, but she’s…damaged from those years of hardship. She’s never been the same.”

He drank some wine to quell the swelling anger inside him at all the ways his mother had been mistreated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had told this story to someone. He never opened up about his past. It was always too much—the looks of pity, the speechlessness, the awkwardness of the other person. 

But Elain…she just leaned over from her spot on the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace. A warm, soft, perfect embrace.

Azriel froze at first, unsure how to respond, completely startled by this sudden physical contact. But then he allowed his arms to wrap gently around her waist, and hugged her back. And fuck, it felt good.

“I’m glad you found each other,” she said softly into his ear, and he nodded against her cheek, feeling exposed and wrung out and drained. But lighter. Freer. 

She pulled back, and they returned to quietly eating and sipping their wine. Silence enveloped them, and was only broken when they had both finished their food and their wine. 

Elain stood, picking up his plate. “More wine?” 

Dangerous. It was so dangerous, staying here, drinking more, opening up to her. It had scared the shit out of him when she had read him so easily about his brothers. But he craved her presence, her voice, her soft touch, like nothing before, so he nodded. 

She smiled her pretty, perfect smile, and walked away with the plates before returning with the bottle of wine. 

Elain hadn’t mean to read him right in front of him, but it had just…happened. She had asked about his brothers, and had then been barraged with images of them. Images that showed the true, depthless love between them. But he had noticed. He had noticed and had been scared, if his face was any indication. She would have to try to spool her power in, hush it for the rest of the night.

If she was smart, she would just bid him goodnight and send him off. It wasn’t fair to have to suppress her Sight for his comfort, especially not if he had magic, too, that he may very well be ignoring or denying. 

But for tonight…tonight she would simply try to learn about him. Enjoy his presence. Feel him out. 

She had been so heartbroken to hear what he and his brothers had endured, at such a young age. What his mother had endured. She wanted to ask more, to know more, but she didn’t want to press him too much. She could tell he was not used to talking about himself, to opening up. She understood—it must be a very difficult thing to discuss. She wanted so badly to ask about his scars, where they had come from, but perhaps her Sight would show her later. 

She returned to the living room to find Azriel lounging in one of her armchairs, his arm thrown over the back and one foot crossed over the knee of his other leg. He looked so…commanding, sitting there sprawled out. So powerful. So magnetic. 

She swallowed and filled both glasses until the bottle was empty, handing him one and then taking the other armchair. His scars were stark in the flickering candlelight, and she suppressed a shiver as she felt them graze her own skin while she passed him his glass, their rough ridges scraping tantalizingly over the skin of her fingers. 

“Thanks,” he said, and she nodded, crossing her legs. 

They sipped quietly for a few minutes, and then Elain couldn’t help herself any longer. “Why haven’t you used my number?” 

It was probably too bold, she knew, but she got such mixed signals from him that she had to know what he was thinking. 

Azriel cleared his throat, meeting her eyes. He seemed to think for a moment. “I’m not really used to…” he seemed unsure of his words. “I mean, I usually just…” 

“Pick up strangers at the bar?” she asked lightly, sparing him. 

She could have sworn he blushed as he nodded, sipping his wine. “I'm sorry I haven't called or texted. I like talking to you, and I…” he ran a hand through his perfect, wavy hair. “I did want to see you again.” 

Elain swallowed, something in her chest loosening at the admission. He kept talking. 

“I just don't know…I didn't think it was a good idea.”

She frowned at him. “Why not?” 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth now. She tried not to stare at his scars moving over his lips. 

“This,” he said heavily, waving his hand vaguely around him at her space. “What you do for a living. It's…I don't know if I could deal with it. I don't want to be an asshole to you. And you're ten years younger than me, and—” 

She laughed again, choking slightly as she sipped on her wine. “So you're nice-guying me?” She hated the bitterness that coated her tongue as she said it.

He huffed frustratedly, gulping down more wine. “Why did you want me to have your number so badly?” he asked, deflecting, challenging her.

“I'm disappointed I couldn't remember our night together,” she answered carefully, her cheeks burning. His eyebrows rose. 

“I'll be right back,” she said suddenly, feeling too warm. The wine was making her feel daring and loose and extra intrigued, and she needed a moment. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first bar of chocolate she could find, a small comfort in her living room that seemed to be shrinking with him inside it. 

He just stared at her with cunning eyes as she sat back down, unwrapping the chocolate. “Here,” she murmured, handing him a square. 

He looked at it questioningly but just shrugged and popped it into his mouth. As Elain broke off a piece for herself, Azriel drained the rest of his wine, his eyes gleaming with something tempting and dangerous.

Elain quickly finished her own wine, feeling it in settle in her cheeks and chest, as he stood and prowled towards her. Oh god. She should have kept her mouth shut. He didn't stop until he was standing just in front of her, looking down at her with his head cocked to the side. 

He was so… large. So there. She immediately forgot about the square of chocolate in her hand as she looked up at him and his dangerous eyes.

“So you don't remember…anything about that night?” Azriel asked, towering over her as she sat on her armchair, his chest lifting and falling slowly. 

Elain could feel her pulse thrumming in her neck, heat gathering at her core. 

“I told you,” she murmured. “I could remember your hands.” 

He leaned down further towards her face. “What about my hands?” 

“I remembered your scars, and how they felt.” 

His chest heaved more heavily as he let one hand come to rest on the arm of the chair beside her, tilting his body so she could see nothing but him, smell or hear nothing but him. He smelled like cedar and mist and the middle of the night. Desire flooded Elain so intensely her head felt light. 

“How they felt where?” he asked, his head dipping so that his face was next to hers. She felt him take in a long breath, as if he was…trying to breathe in her perfume? 

Elain's voice shook as she breathed her next words. “On my skin. My hips. My…my breasts.”

Azriel's other hand suddenly slammed down onto the arm of the chair on her other side, so his arms were caging her in as his mouth still hovered near her neck, so close she could feel his breath, but not touching. 

“Between my thighs. Sliding inside me. But mostly…” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed. “How they felt in my mouth. How your fingers felt under my tongue, between my lips.” 

A low sound that was more like a growl than anything else rumbled out of Azriel, and Elain’s heartbeat thundered wildly in her chest, slickness dripping down her inner thighs. 

“You've thought about that since then, haven't you?” he asked darkly, his voice taking on a cool, dangerous tone—more dangerous than it usually sounded. 

Elain knew she shouldn't say what she was about to say. But she couldn't help herself as she arched her back slightly, his breath now coasting over her jawline. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “I thought about it for weeks, wishing my fingers were yours at night.” 

A huff of warm air hit her neck as her admission rang through him, and she felt his body stiffen before her. She was still completely caged in, drowning in his smell and the feel of him. 

“I know you did,” he murmured, and then he brought his lips to her ear, so they were just barely grazing her skin as he spoke softly. 

“But I remember everything, Elain. What you were wearing. The way your nipples tented your dress. How fucking wet you were as you rode my thigh until you came.” 

A soft sound of desperation left Elain as she tilted her chin up and to the side, subconsciously granting him access to her neck. Wanting him to claim her throat. 

“I remember every. Little. Sound you made,” Azriel continued before he drifted his lips, just barely touching, down her offered neck. He wasn't kissing her skin, not ravishing her or really doing anything to her. But that tiny contact sent Elain up in flames, her knees widening as if of their own accord. 

Azriel hummed quietly and took the spot she made, stepping between her thighs as he nudged them slightly more open with his legs to accommodate his large size. His lips were back at her ear, his arms seemingly shaking in restraint around her now. 

“I remember how you opened your thighs for me just like this," he whispered, "and how my tongue and fingers inside you made you scream.” 

Elain shuddered, clenching her fingers around the fabric of her skirt to stop herself from reaching for him. 

“I remember how you tasted on my tongue, and the exact moment you shattered—how you soaked my face.” 

She squeezed her eyes tighter even though they were already shut, and could feel her thighs clamping around him, the only spot they were really making contact, albeit through their clothes. 

“And I fucking remember how my cock felt buried deep inside you, as you rode me into oblivion.” 

A quiet whimper left Elain. Azriel finally allowed just one finger to run up Elain’s arm from her wrist to her shoulder, slowly and softly, and then it lingered on her exposed throat. 

“How that hot, wet cunt felt gripping me so tightly I exploded inside you.” 

Elain arched her back further so she was more pressed into him, though he didn't move at all.

“If you think about it so much,” she breathed, “then why haven't you called me?” she asked again.

Azriel let out a frustrated grumble. “Because I shouldn't want you,” he murmured, his mouth against her ear again. 

“Then why are you here in my house?” she whispered.

Azriel’s finger left her throat as he leaned back slightly to look at her. His fingers traveled up to her chin and he gripped it until she opened her eyes and met his. The hunger that shone through them nearly had her moaning aloud. 

“I said that I shouldn't want you," he growled, his voice a low rumble coasting over her skin. "Not that I don't, sugar.” 

That was it. The smallest admission that had her unraveling. She moved to place a hand on his chest but paused when she noticed her fingers covered in melted chocolate—the chocolate that she had completely forgotten she was holding in the wake of him. 

Elain moved to reach around him for a napkin, but he caught her wrist. “Don't,” he murmured. 

And then he lifted her hand to his mouth, keeping his piercing gaze on hers all the while, and licked the chocolate off one finger. Slowly, so slowly he licked, his tongue hot and wet and deliberate. He licked her finger until it was clean, and then moved onto the next. Azriel opened his mouth and placed the tip of her finger in it, closing his lips around it. 

Elain's eyes fluttered closed as her wetness grew. He ran his tongue down the length of her finger, sucking slightly, until it too was clean. He finally moved onto her chocolate-covered thumb, running his tongue along it before sucking it into his mouth, flicking his tongue in a way that suggested exactly how he'd remind her of their night together. A quiet groan rumbled from him onto her fingers, before he pulled them from his mouth, giving them one last sensual and promising flick of the tongue before releasing her hand. 

Elain met Azriel’s eyes, an understanding flickering between them. A hungry, wanton desire. A line begging to be crossed once more. His nostrils were flared, his chest heaving as he slowly licked the residual chocolate from his lips. 

And she wanted him. She wanted him so, so badly. She reached for him, ready to pull him down by the collar and bring his lips to hers, but the moment her fingers touched the fabric of his shirt, something horrible and ominous surged through her. 

She froze, willing her Sight to still, to quiet, even as it tugged and tugged on the corners of her mind. The Void wanted to pull her under, to show her something. 

Protect yourself, it seemed to whisper. Protect the both of you. Flashes of Azriel as that beautiful knight pelted her violently.

The Azriel who stood before her had frozen as well, his eyes drawing in concern and confusion. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, leaning away from her slightly to give her some space. “You don't have to- we don't have to do anything, if you don't want to.”

Elain finally dropped her hand from him and leaned slightly away in her chair. Protect them both.  

“I…” she tried, but didn't know what to say, how to explain what she was feeling and seeing. He wouldn't believe her, anyway. 

A slightly horrified look crossed Azriel's face and he backed up completely, his hands in the air. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, the backs of his knees hitting the coffee table before he shuffled around it, putting even more distance between them. 

“You don't have to go,” Elain said, her own desire warring with her caution, her magic. 

But Azriel was already pulling on his gloves, scooping up his helmet. “I'm sorry,” he said again. “I'll leave you alone.”

Elain's chest felt empty, hollow, as she watched him run from her again. But this time it was her fault. She was being the confusing one, sending mixed signals, not saying what was on her mind. 

She found her footing and rose to try to stop him, but he was already mumbling a goodbye. 

“Thank you for the food and wine,” he said, still backing away, out of the room. “I'll—goodnight,” he managed to get out, and then he was gone. She sat once more, listening to the sound of his footsteps move down her stairs, waiting until she heard the door of the shop click shut, before she crept down the stairs and locked the door behind him.

Azriel couldn't stop the slew of curses that escaped him as he rode his bike away from Elain's shop, running like the coward he was. He had been too forward, too assuming, too hungry for her. 

He should have stopped and asked for her consent. He should have checked in with her, asked if she wanted him too. He had seen that look on her face when she pulled back. She looked worried. Scared. And he couldn't stomach being the cause of it. 

His arousal had left him as quickly as it had found him, and he hadn't even stopped to think. He had imagined that look too many times on his mother's face, had promised himself he would never be the cause of it for another person. Even when he was drunk and a stranger was throwing themselves at him, he still waited for a “yes” before making any physical move. 

He had been so blinded by desire that he had forgotten himself, and would never forgive himself for it. 

Azriel arrived home and parked his bike before angrily punching the elevator button. When he finally reached his upper-level condo, he slammed his door shut behind him, pressing his head against the cool wood in frustration and disappointment. Disappointment in himself, in the night, in the situation. This is why he fucked strangers. Why he didn't get involved on any other level beyond the physical. 

But he had admitted to her he wanted her, had made it clear as day. And she had seemed to want him back until…until he hadn't even remembered to ask for permission.

“Fuck,” he said on an exhale, before trudging to his room and falling face down on the bed. He wouldn't use the salve tonight. He wouldn't fuck his hand, he wouldn't think about her like that. He wouldn't let himself. 

Disgusted with himself, Azriel turned over onto his back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed in the number that he had typed and deleted so many times before, and then wrote a text. One final message and then he wouldn't bother her again. 

I'm sorry for scaring you. 

He tossed aside his phone, expecting no response, and readied himself for bed, still feeling agitated and hateful. 

He lay in bed in the dark a few minutes later, too hopeless and disgusted with himself to even check his phone for a response. He ended up watching some mindless show for hours, barely able to distract himself from replaying the night, until he fell into a fitful sleep. 

The little boy was crying, his arms wrapped around his knees, bandaged hands quivering as he sat cuddled in a ball. He heard his mother’s voice coming from somewhere he couldn't see. 

“It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay.” 

He couldn't answer her, he couldn't do anything but stare at the dead body of his father looking back at him. His father, who had tormented him and his mother until his very last breath. Who had allowed his other, older children to torment the little boy as well. Had let them hold him down and burn him, and had only stepped in when the little boy’s screams were so piercing they had started to draw attention from neighbors. 

There his father lay, his dead face frozen in terror, his mouth open wide in a cry of pure fear, looking straight at the little boy. It was the little boy he was scared of. 

The little boy shook and cried in his spot on the floor, unable to look away from what was moving around his father’s prone form. 

Dark tendrils of shadows slithered around him, like snakes surrounding their prey. They were terrible, horrifying, evil. The little boy watched them in frozen fear, knowing they were what had killed his father. Would they kill him next? His mother? 

“Mama,” he called out, but she didn't come to him. 

“It's going to be okay, baby,” her voice said once more from far away. 

“Mama,” he called again, breaking down into shuddering sobs.

“Mama!” 

Azriel had thought it was his fault, that much was clear. He had left too quickly for Elain to even try to explain, to tell him…what would she tell him? That her secret magical powers were warning her about him? That she had started to see visions of a past life of them and was scared about what it might mean, how it might end? 

She shook her head, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes, before taking the wine glasses and empty bottle to the kitchen and beginning to clean up. 

She was just finishing washing the dishes when her phone buzzed. Elain's heart thumped as she pulled it out of the pocket of her skirt and unlocked it. 

There was a message from an unknown number. 

I'm sorry for scaring you.

She knew it was him without needing her Sight to guide her. She took a deep breath and packed away the leftovers and recycled the wine bottle before answering. 

You didn’t scare me. 

She left her phone in the kitchen and walked back to the living room. She needed to consult her cards.

Elain almost never drew cards for herself—only when she was feeling deeply unsettled, lost, or unsure of her path. She didn’t like reading her own fate. It felt too personal, too dangerous, like cracking open a box that would explode if tampered with too early. But she needed some guidance tonight.

She shuffled her personal, well-worn deck of Tarot cards and then took a deep breath, loosening the leash on her power, feeling it thrum throughout herself. She flipped the first card over. 

Strength. A woman with a crown of ivy was drawn on the card. She was leaning over, her hands on a wild beast of a lion like it was nothing more than a housecat. An infinity symbol floated above her head. 

Elain blew out a breath. Her Sight sent thoughts and images through her mind. She had the strength. She had the strength to guide this wild lion, to guide Azriel, into discovery of his own power. Mastery of it, even. She could help him learn it, accept it, use it. She almost laughed at the idea of Azriel—strong, dangerous, churning, submitting like a housecat to her. Purring under her touch and praise. She didn’t mind that idea at all. 

This was good. Maybe they weren’t doomed. Maybe…maybe if he could grow to trust her, she could show him the world of magic around them. Maybe he wouldn’t run for the hills if she tried. Their pull was undeniable, that much was obvious. There was something between them. But he would have to accept all of her to even have a chance of being with her. 

Elain almost flipped the second card, but her Sight stopped her. Her gaze snagged on the infinity symbol floating above the woman’s head. Her power whispered in her ear. See. See. Time. Time had no beginning and no end. What once was will be again. What will be once passed already. Her insides iced over. Something bad had happened. That beautiful knight floated through her mind again. That story…that story did not have a happy ending. And time, in its cyclical nature, would show her that ending again. Would bring that ending again. 

Hand shaking, Elain flipped the second card. A burning tower, struck by lightning. A man and woman falling from it. A lost crown tumbling away. Destruction. Pain. Her chest grew tighter, and she let her Sight swell in her. Such tragedy would only occur to these two if they entered the tower. Stay out of it, and nothing horrid would befall them when it was struck by lightning. The tower may fall, but they would be safe. 

Elain shuddered involuntarily. Again, a man and a woman. Again, crowns. Again, a warning. What is the tower? she begged her Sight to tell her. What would lead to such pain for her and who she only knew could be Azriel? What would lead to their destruction? Her Sight pushed at her. You know. You know. She was frustrated. Tired. She didn’t know. Was the tower their involvement? If they acted on their desires, gave into their temptations, would something horrible occur? Would they be inviting history to repeat itself—whatever terrible thing had happened in their past life together? She didn’t have the answers, not yet.

Elain flipped the last card and almost laughed at the irony. The lovers. The same card she had drawn last for Azriel. It was like her power was taunting her. Dangling him in front of her. They could give in to whatever was between them, they might even find great, cosmic love together. But if they went into that tower…they would be struck by lightning, consumed by the fire. Fall to their deaths. 

Elain scoffed and swept the cards aside, frustrated and confused and annoyed by her Sight. She nibbled on some chocolate, muttering hateful little comments to her cards, and then put them away, blowing out the candles in the living room. 

She went back to the kitchen and picked up her phone, but of course there was no response from him. She was so torn. She didn't want him to think he had hurt her or scared her. She had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. But she also was confused and anxious about those cards and her visions and what the past and future held. 

She decided to just let it all be for the night, and went to bed hoping that Azriel was not punishing himself too much. 

Azriel had thrown away the salve before falling into bed, resolved never to use it again. He threw it into the trash can under the small table in his room, and then didn’t look towards it again the rest of the night before he fell into his fitful sleep. What he didn’t see, as he was tossing and turning and dreaming of that little boy so afraid, was one wispy, dark tendril of shadow, bleeding across the floor and into the trash can. Coiling around that little jar and gingerly lifting it from the bin. Reverently carrying that jar of salve and placing it with loving care back in its place on top of the table. 

Chapter Text

When Azriel had awoken on Saturday morning to discover the salve back on the table in his room, he had gone through every single possible logical reason for it being there. He just stood and stared at it, imagining every scenario. 

Maybe he had been drunker than he thought (although half a bottle of wine and his one drink prior at Rita’s would hardly have an effect on him on a normal day), and he had simply removed it from the trash can and couldn’t remember. But he didn’t have any kind of hangover….

Maybe he had been dreaming when he had thrown it into the trash, and that had never really happened. Or maybe he had started sleepwalking overnight, and had removed it from the trash in his slumber. Those were all very real possibilities that required nothing more than sound logic to explain, so he decided one of them must be true and had simply moved on, pretending the whole thing never happened. 

On Saturday night, his brothers had insisted that they meet at Rhys’s for drinks and cards, although very little card playing was happening. 

“How’s flirting with Fey going, Rhysie?” Cassian was asking their brother as he stretched his legs out in front of him from his seat on the couch, throwing his arms behind his head. 

Rhys, from his spot perched on the end of his dining table, shrugged, swigging his beer. “I’m not going to pressure her into anything. I figure if she wants to date me, she’ll let me know, or just ask me out. I don’t want to be a creep.”

Azriel raised a brow from his seat on the other side of the couch but remained silent, keeping to himself that she might still think he’s a creep for turning up at her store multiple times a week. 

“They have another sister, don’t they?” Cassian asked innocently, his eyes flicking to Azriel before they returned to Rhysand, who nodded.

“An older sister, who does not seem to be Feyre’s favorite person.” Another swig of his beer. “I don’t think they ever really see each other.”

Azriel frowned around his own beer bottle and lowered it. “They see each other every month at sisters' nights.”

God damn fuck him to hell.  

Both pairs of his brothers’ eyes swiveled to him, dual looks of incredulity thrown his way. 

“Do they?” Cassian asked, a delighted look crossing his face as he slapped his thighs aggressively with his mammoth hands. 

Azriel fought the urge to close his eyes and pretend he was melting into the shadows like he had done as a little boy when he wished to disappear. 

An equally shit-eating grin spread across Rhysand’s face, and Azriel knew he had fucked up. They were going to question him until he gave them something. 

“And how does our big brother know this, now?” he asked him, hopping off the table and sauntering towards them both, free hand sliding into his pocket.

Azriel just scowled down at his beer. 

“Does it perhaps have to do with that little moment we did or didn’t interrupt at a certain sister’s shop?” Cassian drawled, his voice frustratingly cocky. 

“What moment?” Azriel asked, feigning confused ignorance. 

“Hmm,” Rhysand goaded, sinking down onto the coffee table between them. “We weren’t going to bring it up,” he started, making brief, infuriating eye contact with Cassian, “but we seemed to witness a moment back there including her mouth and your fingers.” 

It took all of Azriel’s willpower not to react. He said nothing, just drank his beer and looked straight ahead with a perfect poker face. 

Cassian threw his head back and laughed. “We’ve been brothers for a long time, Azzy. You think you don’t have tells, but we can see that clenched jaw of yours.” 

Azriel unclenched his jaw to more laughing from his brothers. “And,” Cassian continued. “The way you reacted to discovering her in the shop, we were thinking that you might just know each other…”

Azriel sighed and finally looked between his brothers, knowing they weren’t going to drop this. “We didn’t know each other,” he finally said flatly. “I mean, we don’t. We had only met once before.”

“Met or met?” Rhysand asked knowingly, his eyebrow gracefully raised. 

Azriel blew out a breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “The second one.”

Cassian stood suddenly, far too quickly and loudly, jostling the coffee table on which Rhys sat. “You’re telling us that you have fucked the older sister of the woman Rhysie has been pining after for months?” He was absolutely gleeful about this piece of information. 

“Scream it louder, will you?” Azriel grumbled, draining the rest of his beer in one go. 

For a moment, Rhysand looked like he would be angry about this development, but after he blinked a few times, processing, he too threw his head back and laughed heartily. 

“So,” he said through dying chuckles, “it seems like you’re still fucking?”

Azriel did not want to be having this conversation, namely because he didn’t know what he and Elain were doing, but it definitely wasn’t fucking. And, after having deleted and blocked her number so that she wouldn’t try to contact him again, they were really doing nothing, anymore. He didn’t deserve to talk to her or ever see her again after what he had pulled Friday night. Remembering Friday night, he abruptly tried to change the subject.

"I met your cousin, Rhys. Mor. Or met her again, I guess."

Rhys's forehead lifted at Azriel, clearly aware of the sidestepping attempt. "Uh huh?"

"We almost fucked. But then I found out she's your cousin."

Rhysand's brows flattened out. "Okay...well thank you for not fucking my cousin."

Cassian looked between them, blew out an exasperated, impatient breath, and then exclaimed, "Azzy. Are you still fucking the sister or not? Don't leave me hanging with the drama."

Azriel glowered at Cassian.

“No,” he answered flatly. “Only the one time.”

Rhysand raised his eyebrow. “But you know that they have sisters’ nights every month.” 

Cassian chuckled at the jaw that was once more tightly clenched. “We’ve talked a few times, that’s it,” Azriel answered. 

“Azzy!” Cassian bellowed, slapping him on the back far too hard. “I’ve never known you to talk to anyone that you fuck. You must really like this one! I hope she knows you’ve fucked half the city.”  

“Alright, can we not do this?” Azriel grumbled, plunking his empty bottle down next to Rhys. “There’s nothing going on between us, okay? We met at Rita’s one night, we hooked up, and we went our separate ways. I’ve…run into her a couple times since then. We’ve had a few conversations. That’s it.”

Rhysand smirked at him. “Testy about this, are we?” he taunted, setting his own bottle down next to Azriel’s and crossing his arms. “Is it possible that a fortune-teller has gotten under your skin?”

“Okay,” Azriel announced, standing abruptly. “I’m leaving.”

His brothers both shouted protests at him, throwing anything they could at him to apologize and guilt trip him and make him stop. He finally acquiesced just as he was reaching the door, trudged back to the couch, and plopped down, arms crossed. “We’re done talking about this.”

Another Monday, Elain thought to herself as she bustled about her kitchen, making a late morning tea. She had a lot to do today to get ready for her week, including sweeping and mopping her shop floor, restocking popular tinctures, and testing a new recipe for itch cream. Yet she had spent her morning dilly-dallying in her garden, picking fat strawberries and eating them right there on her rooftop. 

She had spent her entire weekend trying to puzzle out what her Sight was trying to tell her with her card reading, and waiting for Azriel to say something in response to her. 

He never did.

She cursed herself more than once for being unable to hide her emotions in that ominous moment, for having scared him off so thoroughly. He thought he had hurt her, and she just wanted him to know that he had not, that he didn’t need to punish himself. 

So she waited, seeing those cards endlessly in her head even through her working hours and doing readings for other customers, but was nowhere closer to an answer about what they meant. 

Elain moved slowly and lazily through her kitchen, carefully selecting a tea leaf blend. She was about to pick up the kettle to pour steaming water in the mug when the world went white around her. She was only aware of falling and the sound of breaking china before she was pulled by mist-kissed hands into the Void. 

“Have you had sufficient time to think?” Elain asked, leaning back on her hands on a bench in the unused oratory. No one ever utilized this private little chapel—her parents preferred to pray in the main chapel with the rest of the castle. And, besides, it locked from the inside, and no one without a key could get in from the outside. 

“I have,” her knight responded, slowly unbuckling his armor as Elain swallowed, watching him carefully. His chest plate came loose and he gently pulled it off, setting it aside to reveal the soft brown tunic he wore below. 

“And?” she encouraged, her eyes drinking in the sight of his muscled chest evident beneath the tunic, and then watching his hands unclasp the armor that shielded his thighs. 

“And,” Azriel responded, moving onto the metal around his calves. “You deserve to be taken to bed by a Lord. And somewhere comfortable, and private.”

Elain’s heart quickened as she gestured around them. “This is private. And comfortable enough.” 

“And,” Azriel said, tight black trousers revealed before he moved onto the plates covering his arms. “This could end very badly for the both of us.” 

Elain raised her chin, drinking in the sight of him looking less and less like a knight and more and more like a man. “Only if we are caught.” 

“And,” he continued, unbuckling his neck plate and then the gauntlets around his wrists. “I cannot bear the bleakness in your eyes when you speak of him having you, nor the desperate longing in my own heart.” 

Elain placed a hand over her thundering chest, taking a step toward him. 

Finally, Azriel removed his armored gloves, revealing hands she had never seen before. She stopped short as they were unveiled, and she saw why he chose to keep them hidden even when he was not on duty. They were covered in thick, violent burn scars. His skin was discolored and raised and rough-looking. But Elain only gazed at them, her lips falling open as she surveyed this part of him that he let only her see.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, and then looked into his eyes. He had a shocked, tortured expression on his face, and then he crossed the space to her, cradling her face in his hands. 

“I’ll have you, Elain. All of you, if you’re ready.”

She had been waiting to hear those words for weeks. Something loosened in her chest, and even though she knew it was only temporary, that he could never have her in the way they both wanted, it was enough. It was enough for now. 

So she wound her arms around his neck, tilted her face up to his, and kissed him. Azriel continued gripping her face, his fingers rough but so gentle against her skin, as he slanted his mouth, taking in more of her. 

Elain opened her lips for him, and he slid one hand to the back of her neck as he swept his tongue into her mouth, in a more hungry gesture than she had ever known from him. A small sound escaped her, and then he was sliding his other hand from her face down to her waist, tugging her more closely to him. 

“My princess,” he said onto her lips, as she twined her fingers into his hair. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re sure.”

Elain pulled back only enough to look up into her strong knight’s eyes. “I have never been more sure of anything, Azriel,” she answered, and his gaze shuttered at the sound of his name on her lips. And then his hand was spearing up into her unbound hair, gripping it lightly as he claimed her mouth again. She began walking, moving them both, until his back was pressed against the wall, and she pushed her body into his as her own tongue explored his mouth, tentative at first and then hungrily. 

“Touch me,” she whispered into his ear, as she pressed her chest into him. 

Azriel groaned a quiet noise, but allowed his hand to slide down her spine, skirting across the sensitive area of her lower back before gently cupping her rear. Elain whimpered a bit in response and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his throat. 

Azriel’s grip tightened on her backside in turn, so she continued trailing kisses across his neck. 

More—this was more than they had ever done together. They had never stolen more than secret kisses, the briefest of touches. This was more, and Elain wanted to keep giving more, to keep taking more. 

She slid her hand up the muscled planes of his chest as Azriel’s head thumped back on the wall, her lips still working his throat gently. 

“My princess,” he whispered once more, lost to her touch. She slipped her hands under his tunic and let her fingers dance lightly over the soft skin covering hard, strong muscles. 

With what seemed like much effort, Azriel raised his head, only to bend and return the favor against Elain’s own throat. He gripped her hips and suddenly turned her, pressing her against the wall. A moan slipped from Elain’s mouth as he bent once more, branding her skin with heat as he kissed up and down her throat, behind her ear. His hands roamed once more, one sliding to lift her thigh while the other skirted its way to her chest, lightly mapping her breasts as he had done in her rose garden weeks ago. 

Then he brought his lips back to hers, and she hooked the leg he had raised around his hip, pulling her body to his. A groan danced in Azriel’s throat as their bodies began moving together, in time to the joining of their lips. 

“More,” Elain said onto his mouth. “Take all of me, my knight.” 

He suddenly stilled, breathing hard against her, before he gently unhooked her thigh from him and stepped back slightly, running his hands up the sides of her body. 

“Turn around,” he requested softly, and she did. 

And then his lips came to the side of her neck as his strong, broad hands began tenderly unlacing the bindings of her corset, surely and steadily. 

Elain sighed as his lips caressed—worshipped—her throat, a nibble or a tongue joining every few moments. Her corset suddenly loosened and then he was stepping away, lifting it carefully over her head. 

Next, he unbuttoned her overdress, a heavy embroidered silk thing of purple and pink that only provided more separation between her and her knight. She wanted to be rid of it. When it was loosened, she stepped out of it, turning around to face him in nothing but her sheer, dusty rose underslip. 

Azriel ran a hand down his face, a tortured look in his eyes as he surveyed her so exposed before him. 

“You are…” he began, his cheeks growing pink. “So very beautiful.”

Elain blushed in turn, chewing on her bottom lip. “Let me see you, too.”

He trailed a hand over her cheek before reaching for the hem of his tunic, peeling it off and over his head until his bare, incredibly male chest was exposed to her. Elain swallowed as her eyes trailed over his golden-brown skin, a dusting of the softest-looking hair over his chest. Her eyes trailed lower, to where rigid muscles of his abdominals were bisected by one dark line of hair extending from his belly button down to below the hem of his trousers. 

“Wow,” she breathed, and his blush grew, but he only slowly unlaced his trousers before kicking off his boots along with his socks and pulling them down, revealing himself in only his tight breeches. There was no hiding the evidence of his arousal, the large bulge at the front of them that both intimidated and excited Elain. 

“Have you ever—” she began, but he shook his head before she was even done asking.

“Never?” she asked, surprised. Some knights did take oaths of abstinence, but it was an outdated and often ignored tradition. 

“Never. But I know the…general idea,” he added, the reddish tinge to his cheeks now spreading to his ears. 

“Why not?” Elain asked, looking his beautiful body over. 

“The same reason as you,” he said, stepping close to her. He tucked a curl behind her ear, stroking her face as he did so. “I was waiting for the one I love.” 

They gazed at each other for a few moments before he was kissing her again, his hands now freely roaming over every soft curve of her, mapping her, memorizing her, cherishing her. And then he pulled away, walking her to a cushioned bench meant for those awaiting their turn to speak with a priest or other official—comfortable for the royalty that was supposed to use this room. 

Elain let him lower her down onto the wide bench, and watched as he laid down over her, bracing his arms on either side of her head. He bent and kissed across her collarbones, a hand trailing the hem of her slip on one thigh. 

“More,” she breathed, closing her eyes as his touch set her aflame. But Azriel paused, pulling his head away to look down into her eyes. 

“You have no idea how long I have dreamt of this, my lady,” he murmured. “Nothing will make me rush this moment.” 

She sighed in exasperated need, but only speared her fingers through his hair when he lowered his pelvis down onto her, pressing his hardness into her in a way that made her gasp. 

“That’s what I’ve been dreaming of,” he breathed onto the skin of her neck. “You making that sound, in my ear, while I drive you to pleasure.” 

He rolled his body against her once more, and her back arched at the sensation it wrought upon her. 

She had touched herself in the dead of night, exploring with her fingers, but it was nothing like this. This fire, this need to have his bare skin against hers—inside her. His fingers trailed underneath the hem of her slip, skirting the sensitive skin of her hip. 

“May I touch you, princess?” he asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Please,” she breathed, running her own hands over every part of his torso she could. 

He shifted himself onto his hip beside her, watching his own hand as it lifted the skirt of her slip up, up, up, until she was utterly exposed from the waist down. A small sound like a wounded animal escaped him as he surveyed the most secret part of her, and then he was drifting his fingers slowly across her thigh, and he kissed her once more. 

His kisses were slow now. Sensual. Burning and wanting. Azriel’s hand drifted up Elain’s inner thigh and she felt her knees fall apart instinctually, opening for him. His fingers, light as feathers despite the strength she knew they bore, finally skimmed over her core, and she jolted at the sensation. Azriel tried to pull away from the kiss, but she wrapped her hand around the back of his head, pulling him in deeper. His tongue swept into her mouth as his fingers drifted over her core once more, lingering longer against that spot that was far too sensitive.

He moved one finger in light circles as Elain moaned into his mouth, and then dragged his fingers straight down to the very opening of her. She gasped again as a broad, scarred finger pushed on her there, and he paused. 

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and he groaned against her lips. She moved her hips in emphasis, and he sunk that finger into her, slowly, carefully, while his tongue made gentle sweeps in her mouth. She whimpered as he pulled his finger back out, and then trailed her wetness up to that spot just above, tightening his circles there until it felt like she was going mad. Just when she thought she might crack in two, his fingers drifted back down, and he was sinking two into her this time, while his thumb—oh, god—his thumb worked that other spot in tandem, pushing slightly as he rubbed it. 

“I—” she gasped, not sure what to say, what to call this feeling she felt coiling within her. This had never happened when she had touched herself. It had felt good, intriguing, but she hadn’t felt pressure build until she might explode with it, a rope of tension so tight through her body it was almost painful. 

“I have you, my princess,” Azriel said to her, plunging his fingers in and out of her now as his thumb still worked her, moving his kisses back to her throat. “I have you,” he said again. “You can let go. Let it take you.”

Elain didn’t know how she knew what he meant, but somehow she did, and she let go as she felt her legs start to shake, her inner muscles start to clamp down around his fingers.

“That’s right, my beautiful Elain,” he encouraged her, and her back arched further as she threw her head back, moaning truly. “Come apart for me. Let yourself go. I have you.”

And then the tension within her was nearly unbearable before it splintered, shooting through her veins and every nerve ending in her body. She cried out as a pleasure she had never known consumed her so thoroughly, she forgot where she was, who she was. 

Azriel slowly stroked her core, pressing light kisses to her collarbone, until her breathing began to calm, her shudders dying down as her back relaxed onto the cushions again. Her heart was still thundering in her chest as she released the ironclad grip she had had on Azriel’s dark curls. 

He met her eyes, pulling his hand from between her legs and gliding it along her thigh, her own slick wetness trailing his touch. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes nothing but sincere. 

She nodded, her blush returning. The sounds she had made, the faces probably. “I didn’t know…” she breathed, looking away from him. “I didn’t know.”

He ran a thumb along her jaw and then tipped her face up until she looked back at him. “You were so beautiful like that,” he murmured, as if he could sense her thoughts, running his thumb along her jaw once more. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Elain only sat up in response, pulling her slip over her head and tossing it aside, exposing herself utterly to him. He swallowed as he sat up as well, his gaze tracing the swell of her breasts, swollen with desire, her peaked, rosy nipples, the soft plane of her stomach below. 

“My god,” he breathed, and then drifted one soft, careful finger over one nipple, caressing it with utter reverence, before moving to the other and doing the same. He leaned away from her to look at her again, and Elain gazed down at his body. Liquid had gathered on the outside of that bulge in Azriel’s breeches, and she suddenly needed to know what he held beneath them. 

As if reading her thoughts once more, he stood, slowly unlacing his tight breeches. He pulled them down, and Elain swallowed as his thick, long cock was freed, jutting out before him. That dark line of hair did indeed lead directly to the patch surrounding its base, dark and soft-looking. The tip of it leaked a few drops of cloudy liquid. 

Without words, he came back over her, bracing an elbow by her head and tracing his other hand between her breasts and then across her stomach. 

“Do you still want this?” he asked gently, looking deeply into her eyes. 

“Yes,” she breathed, never breaking their joined gaze. “Yes, more than anything.” 

He leaned down and kissed her, rolling his rough fingers over her nipples, her body already going up in flames again. 

“Do you have a nursemaid you can trust?” he asked quietly, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, stroking her there lightly. “For a remedy…after,” he finished. Although she didn’t want to discuss it or think about it, she knew he was being responsible. The most dangerous thing that could happen for either of them right now was if she found herself carrying his child. 

She nodded. “Mara keeps my information private. I will ask her in the morning.” 

He nodded, and then pulled her into another kiss, shifting his body so he was further on top of her, his length nearly jutting into her stomach as he took deep, steadying breaths. 

“I’m ready,” Elain murmured, widening her hips until he could sink between them, her knees knocking out as his body settled on top of hers. 

“I love you, princess,” Azriel breathed, reaching down to guide himself to her. 

“And I love you,” she answered, fighting the sadness that suddenly wanted to drown her. Pushing it away. 

He was looking down, carefully watching as he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, and she breathed deep, willing her muscles to relax, to let him in. 

He looked back up to study her face as he pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking into her, stretching her. 

A short, sharp pain caused a cry to escape Elain’s lips, and Azriel stilled, but she drifted her hands down his back and tilted her hips towards him, encouraging him deeper. 

The pain was replaced by more exquisite stretching as he pushed himself further into her, studying her face all the while. 

And when he was finally fully inside her, his arms braced on either side of her head, he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing deep. 

“Are you alright?” she asked him, running her hand up and down his spine. 

“Just give me a moment,” he breathed, his eyes closed. “I—I have dreamt of this for so long. I just need to indulge for a moment. To believe it.” 

So Elain waited, breathing with him, until he finally lifted his brow from hers, looking into her eyes. “How does it feel?” he asked tentatively, unmoving. 

“Full,” she answered honestly. “Good.” 

He leaned down and kissed her, and as his lips began moving against hers, so did his hips, slowly pulling out of her before driving back in, gently and carefully at first. And the feel of him, god, the friction, the heat, the fullness of him inside her…nothing had ever felt so right or good before. 

Elain found her legs wrapping around his hips behind him as he continued to pull out and slide in with a steady rhythm, his lips and tongue working her own to match. She tangled her fingers in his hair, breaking away from his mouth to kiss across his throat. He groaned, and his thrusting grew faster, stronger. 

She gasped as he began to thrust into her in earnest, hitting something deep inside her that had her unraveling once more. 

“Azriel,” she half-sighed, half-cried, her back arching. “God, you—you feel so good.” 

He bent down to kiss across the swells of her breasts as he continued thrusting into her, a moan breaking free from him this time. 

“Yes, my princess,” was all he was able to say, sucking a nipple into his mouth, causing her to cry out once more. 

“Yes, my princess,” he repeated, releasing her nipple and moving to the other, drawing it between his lips and swirling his tongue over it as he kept thrusting and thrusting into her, his hips meeting hers in a steady rhythm that was driving her mad. 

“My beautiful,” he kissed the hollow of her throat. “Captivating,” he kissed behind one ear. “Beguiling,” he kissed behind the other. “Exquisite princess,” he finished, accentuating each word with a thrust of himself into her, until his breath was coming shallow and fast, sweat breaking out over his brow. 

“Look at me,” she whispered, and he drew back, meeting her eyes. When their gazes met, some final tether within him seemed to snap, and his movements became desperate, erratic, as he pounded into her. She whimpered and arched her back, her legs beginning to shake, but held his gaze without faltering as he gave her everything, his eyes filling with unbarred yearning. She knew her own mirrored his.

“I’m going to—” he began, before biting down hard on his lip as his body shuddered. “ Elain,” he groaned. And then she felt him spasm inside her, and then she felt him, warm and wet, spilling into her, and she couldn’t stop herself from falling over that edge again with him, pleasure overtaking her as her body shuddered against his, a cry escaping her lips. 

And yet their gazes held—desperate, needing, wishing—a steady line of connection between their souls as their pleasure crested and fell together.

Elain jolted, gasping for breath, as her kitchen came into focus around her. She had fallen to the floor as her vision took her under, and she laid there for a moment amidst the broken china of her tea mug, caught between two worlds. Her brow was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her heart thudded rapidly. Her cheeks felt flushed and…oh god, those hands on her. That mouth. 

When she shifted, she felt it—the slickness dripping between her thighs, how swollen she was between them, how tender and heavy her breasts felt. The sensations of his rough skin against her nipples, his lips at her throat, his fingers pushing into her and then his cock, thrusting and thrusting until…

Elain dropped her knees open and slid her hand under the hem of her yellow sundress, sliding it right under the fabric of her panties. And she pleasured herself right there on her kitchen floor, flicking and plunging and circling until she came, memories of that vision clouding her mind all the while. 

She didn’t even notice the sharp shard of broken china protruding from her forearm until two orgasms had rolled through her and she lay on the floor, panting and thinking only of him. In this life, in a past life, it didn’t matter—he was what she wanted. What she had always wanted. 

She sighed, watching the stream of blood drip down her arm, before rolling up to stand and clean herself and her kitchen floor up.

Azriel was in the middle of reading through a financial report that had been left on his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration, when a knock sounded at the door—lighter than Briar’s usual crisp knock, but he thought nothing of it. 

“Come in,” he called, without even looking up from his papers. 

He heard the door swing open, but when Briar hadn’t said anything for a good few seconds, he finally glanced up, and his heart nearly stopped.

Elain stood there, a paper bag clutched in one hand, blinking at him with those chocolate eyes. Her hair was coiled into a bun on her head and she wore a light yellow sundress with white, worn sneakers. Fuck, she looked beautiful. 

Azriel was a man of few words, but at that moment, he had too many, and not enough, and they came out jumbled and confused.

“What are you—how did you—who—” he started, but then he noticed that her forearm was wrapped in gauze and suddenly all his other questions left him. “You’re hurt?” he asked, standing so quickly from his chair he almost toppled it. 

“Oh,” Elain said, as if she had completely forgotten the injury. She looked down at her arm and shrugged. “I broke a mug this morning when I tripped and fell, and…well, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another person as clumsy as me.” 

Azriel’s heartrate had kicked up so intensely when he had noticed her injury that he had to take a few deep breaths to calm it, to tell himself that she was fine, it was only a cut. 

“I brought you a sandwich,” Elain added, holding up the paper bag. 

Briar poked her head in behind Elain. “Mr. Dolan—she didn’t have a meeting scheduled, but she said she was a friend of yours bringing you some food, so…” she said, raising her hands in a lost gesture. 

“Thank you,” Azriel answered, moving from behind his desk. He waved Elain further into the office. “I’ll take my lunch early,” he told Briar, who only nodded and gave him a mischievous smile with a glance in Elain’s direction. He cleared his throat and ignored the look, shutting his door behind Elain. 

She looked around his office before taking a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Well aren’t you fancy,” she said lightly, grinning at him a bit. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair. “How did you know where I work?” he asked, slowly rounding his desk and sinking into his chair again. 

She shrugged. “I know how to google,” she answered, opening the bag and sliding a wrapped sandwich towards him. “This is what you left at my house last week, so I figured it was a safe choice.”

Azriel eyed the sandwich as Elain removed another one for herself, and then pulled a reusable water bottle out of her canvas bag that she had plopped onto the floor beside her. 

“And why are you bringing me lunch?” he asked warily.

Elain sighed. “I wanted to talk to you, after figuring out that you were most likely brooding and punishing yourself for something you didn’t even do, and I didn’t know how else to get you to talk.”

Azriel glanced towards the door. “I’d rather not discuss this at work,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“That’s fine,” Elain said lightly, unwrapping her sandwich. She took a bite and chewed and swallowed before continuing, gesturing for Azriel to start eating as well. He unwrapped his own food slowly, his eyes darting back and forth between the paper and her face. 

“Just listen for a second then,” she finally said. 

Azriel rubbed his forehead but nodded, lifting his sandwich to take a bite. 

“You didn’t scare me,” Elain started, looking unflinchingly into his eyes. “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do, and I didn’t feel hurt or disrespected or taken advantage of.” 

Azriel swallowed, his cheeks growing hot. 

“Listen, I’ve—” he looked towards the door and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “I’ve fucked a lot of people, okay?”

Elain rose an eyebrow but let him continue. 

“Men, women, you name it. But I’ve always—I’ve always asked for permission. And I forgot. I was just, I was too…” he rubbed at his jaw, watching her lips as she dragged one slowly into her mouth and then released it, plump and pink and shining wet. He drew in a deep breath. 

“I seem to get… lost in you,” he finally managed to say, tearing his eyes from her lips. “And I’m sorry.”

Elain considered for a few moments and then shook her head. “Thank you, but you don’t need to be. I always appreciate a man who values consent, but I didn’t feel like you took something I wasn’t offering.”

Azriel felt his fingers unclench and then re-clench. “Then what was that look you gave me, right before you reached for me? You looked…horrified.” 

She looked down at her food, breaking their eye contact and fidgeting in her seat slightly. 

“I was,” she answered quietly. “I had…a bad feeling.”

Azriel felt his insides go cold. “About me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a flat, icy, resigned statement. 

Her eyes flicked back up to his. 

“No!” she insisted. “Well—yes—but, no.” Azriel felt his eyebrows raise as she fumbled over her words. “It wasn’t a bad feeling about the future with you, it was about—”

She huffed, exasperated, and then slumped back in her seat. “Never mind,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. 

Now what the fuck was all that about? God, no one confused him more than this woman. And no one tormented him more. 

He took a deep breath. “Why are you here, Elain?”

She met his gaze again. “Meet me after work. At Rita’s.” 

His jaw slackened at that. “You came all the way here, brought me lunch, just to tell me to meet you later? And did you walk here all the way from the Rainbow?” That was at least an eighty minute walk. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I enjoy walking. Tell me you didn’t delete my number from your phone and block me as some sort of stupid punishment to yourself.”

He drew his head back. He had had, what, five conversations with this woman? And she could guess that about him? 

“I am a fortune-teller, you know,” she said with a little smile, and winked at him. 

Azriel sat there looking at her, dumbfounded, and then took a bite of his sandwich because it was suddenly the only thing he knew how to do. He chewed and swallowed slowly. This woman was not going to let him go, and he knew it made him the dumbest fucking asshole on the planet, but he didn’t want her to let him go. 

“Fine,” he answered eventually. “I’ll let myself off early today and meet you around 5:30.”

“Party animal,” Elain quipped, and then continued to eat her sandwich. 

And then Azriel couldn’t help but drop his head into his hands, laughing. Elain didn’t even bother to ask him what was funny, she just smiled back at him and continued to eat. 

So they ate in comfortable near-silence until they were both done, and then Elain got up to excuse herself, gathering up all their trash and throwing it into the bin by the wall. She scooped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 

“I’ll see you at 5:30, Mr. Dolan,” she simpered, before turning and leaving without another word, Azriel’s pants growing tight around his crotch at her hips swishing in that yellow dress paired with the tone of her voice. 

Chapter Text

Azriel was buzzing with anticipation by the time 5 PM rolled around. He didn’t know what Elain wanted from him, but she at least wanted to talk, and that was something. Maybe they could just…maybe they could just have sex, and leave all the complications out of it. Would she agree to a friends-with-benefits situation? The tension between them was so palpable, so undeniable. 

Maybe if he just let himself have a taste of her again, experience that pleasure with her again, he could ignore the rest of his instincts telling him to be careful—the instincts that told him that something inside of himself was getting…stirred in her presence. That his dreams were revealing more and more that he didn’t want to know. That logic was about to be defied in a way he could not accept. That she was way too fucking good for him, anyway. But maybe they could just fuck, relieve that tension, and nothing more. He knew how fucking good he could make her feel, was dying to show her. But he supposed he would have to see what she had to say to him tonight, first. 

Azriel rode to Rita’s after wrapping up at work. He had stripped his suit coat, tie, and button-up, wearing only his short-sleeved white undershirt untucked from his pants. He told himself it was just because it was summer and it was hot, but he would be god damn lying to himself if he didn’t admit that it was also to show off his arms. He checked his watch as he parked his bike outside Rita’s. 5:28. Perfect timing. He pulled off his helmet and slicked back his dark waves from his forehead, tugging off his gloves as he approached the door. 

The bar was fairly empty, and it was easy to find her sitting at a corner table. She was still wearing that yellow dress, but her hair was now in two braids that turned into wavy pigtails halfway down, and her sneakers were replaced with strappy sandals. It took Azriel less than a heartbeat to see that she had also foregone a bra for her evening excursion, her dress hanging off those small, perfect breasts that he could remember down to the freckle. Fuck. He steadied himself and walked towards her, stuffing his gloves into his back pocket and cradling his helmet under his arm. 

Elain turned to him as he approached her table and gave him a small, shy smile that had him for some reason growing harder than even the evidence of her nipples had. 

“Azriel,” she greeted him, indicating the spot across from her for him to sit. He inclined his head in answer and slid into the seat, plopping his helmet down on the empty chair next to him. Before either of them could say another word, a server approached them, and they each ordered the same glass of wine before looking at each other, Elain boring a blush the color of roses across her cheeks. 

“Maybe we’ll just take a bottle, then,” Azriel said slyly to the server, and she gave them a knowing wink and a nod before turning back around. 

“I didn’t think you’d order wine,” Elain noted, looking him over. Her gaze lingered just long enough on Azriel’s forearms and biceps that he had to bite back a grin. 

He shrugged. “I enjoy wine, much to everyone’s apparent surprise.” 

Elain chuckled a bit and then fell into silence, chewing on her bottom lip. 

Azriel took a slow breath in. Might as well get it over with. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked. Elain cleared her throat and parted her lips to answer, but the server reappeared with their wine, pouring each a glass. When she had again left and they had both taken a sip, Azriel looked back at Elain, waiting.

Finally, she spoke. “What do you think of me?” she asked. “Honestly?”

Well, shit. She wasn’t here to waste time either. Azriel studied her, swirling the wine in his glass. “If I answer your question, you owe me an honest answer to a question, too.”

Elain considered him, and then shrugged. “Fine.” 

He took another sip, gathering his thoughts. 

“Well,” he started, making and keeping eye contact with her. “I obviously think you’re beautiful, attractive, stunning, exquisite, every other adjective that probably won’t even do you justice. And your freckles make you nearly irresistable.” Her blush returned, glowing in the dim light in their corner. Azriel’s lips twitched at it, but he continued. “I think that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our night together, replaying it in our head, envisioning it while I pleasure myself because no other man or woman could possibly live up to how you made me feel that night.” Elain’s blush deepened; she was positively red now as her eyes widened to the size of dollar coins. 

“I think that you’re an interesting person to talk to, and it feels like you genuinely care when you ask about me and listen to me.” He stopped to sip his wine. 

“But I also think you’re confusing as hell.” Her brow furrowed at that. “Sometimes you say things like you know more than you should. Sometimes you say things that completely contradict what you previously said or did. And—”

He took a deep breath before continuing. He didn’t want to admit this part, because it wasn’t logical. There was no real explanation. But he did anyway. 

“And since we’ve met, my dreams, my…nightmares…have become more distinct, sharper, and have revealed more of what I’ve very carefully and happily forgotten. And I’m not a fan of that.” Her frown deepened, but she seemed to be more lost in thought than unhappy. Azriel continued. “I think I’m too old for you and not good enough for you. I think you want something I can’t give you—true love, a husband, peace. And I think that everything you believe in, everything you do for a profession, the cards, the fortune-telling, are things that I can never accept, can never believe in, and will never be able to reconcile.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice further. “And all these things that I think about you, Elain, fucking torture me. You torture me, because I want you, and I can’t have you, and I think you want me, too.” 

He finished, taking a long draw of his wine before setting it down and meeting her eyes once more. He might have been too honest. She might get up and walk out right now. 

She sat motionless for a good sixty seconds, before clearing her throat and setting down her forgotten wine glass. “What do you want to ask me?” was all she said. 

Azriel laughed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure why he expected anything different. Then he shrugged, and answered, “The same, I suppose. I’d like to know what you think of me, of this.” He waved vaguely between them. 

He drank his wine and prepared himself for whatever (he had no fucking clue what) was about to come out of her mouth. 

Elain studied him for a few moments before beginning. “I think that you hide a well of pain behind that beautiful face of yours.” Azriel’s blood chilled a bit. 

“I think that you’re scared. You’re so scared of something that it makes you shut out a whole world of possibility. Whatever it is that happened to you, that visits you in your nightmares, reminds you of that thing you’re scared of. And so do I.” 

Azriel recoiled, his back hitting his chair as he leaned abruptly away from her, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I think under all that hardness and self-protection, you are a very kind, devoted, good man, who deserves better than what this life has given him.” She looked him over, sipping her wine once more. 

“And I think that you’re extremely good-looking, and very tempting, and not too old for me.” 

Azriel’s heart rate had quickened, and he sipped his wine to try to calm it, keeping eye contact with her. He was once again at a loss for words. Elain seemed to remember her wine, and sipped it as well, before leaning forward, placing her hands flat on the table between them. 

“What are you so scared of?” she asked in an ethereal, ominous sort of whisper. Spooky, almost. But Azriel did not blanch or flinch. He simply kept his gaze trained on her own and shook his head. “I gave you one answer, and you gave me one. It’s your turn again first.” 

Elain huffed a laugh but shrugged. They both drained their wine. She refilled both of their glasses and then waited expectantly. 

“Do you want me?” Azriel asked, and then held his breath, pretending he was anything but a tightly coiled rope of tension ready to splinter. 

Elain did not hesitate before she answered “Yes,” matter-of-factly, and then pinned him with a hard stare. “What scares you so much?” she asked again. 

He took a slow drink, thinking of how to answer her honestly but not completely. “I think you were right when you said during my reading that I was somehow involved in my father’s death. That’s what my nightmares have been showing me. And I think I need to go see my mother and ask her about it.” 

She nodded, looking at him thoughtfully. “And that has to do with me, because…?”

Azriel clicked his tongue and she sighed. They both drank. 

“Could you be with me, and I mean really be with me, if you knew that I think what you do is bullshit?” he asked her, without mincing words.

Elain looked hurt for a moment, but then schooled her expression. “I could not be in a committed relationship with you, no. There are many things you don’t know about me, Azriel, that you would have to believe and accept before I could let you into my heart.” 

He nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. “What does your father’s death have to do with me?”

“I already told you,” he said, shrugging. Since I met you, I’m remembering more and more about it, and I would rather not. I don’t know why it has to do with you, only that it does.” 

“What—” she started, but then clamped her lips shut as his expression. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked her—the question that he really needed to know the answer to. The one that was beginning to keep him up at night. 

Elain took a deep breath, and then a long sip of her wine as she seemed to mull it over. “I’m not sure,” she finally answered. “Sometimes, I just want to sleep with you so bad it consumes me, and I can find no relief despite trying to satisfy myself.” 

Fucking hell. He was instantly hard again. 

“Sometimes, I think we could just do that, keep things simple, satisfy our physical cravings of each other with no need to be anything more. But then…then I realize that there is something deeper drawing me to you, and that I want to show you. But that I need you to trust me, to open your mind, to be willing to experience things that you would so charmingly call ‘bullshit.’” 

Azriel scoffed a little bit, bringing his wine glass to his mouth, only to find it empty. They had finished the bottle while they had questioned each other, so he leaned back, waiting for Elain to ask her next question. 

“What are you thinking right now?”

A small grin spread across Azriel’s face. That was an easy answer. “I’m thinking that I want to share the song of the wind with you.”

Elain cocked her head, though a smile broke across her own face as well. “What is the song of the wind?”

Azriel stood, sliding his wallet out of his pocket and dropping cash on the table. He held his hand out to her. “Let me show you.”

“Absolutely not,” Elain insisted, crossing her arms as she stared at the intimidating motorcycle parked in front of Rita’s. Azriel’s grin grew. 

“Come on,” he goaded her. “I promise you’ll like it. And you can wear my helmet. I’ll suffer the brain injury if we crash.”

He laughed at the panicked look that must have crossed her face, and god was he gorgeous that way, when he was free and joyous. Elain wasn’t sure what had changed within him as they answered each other’s questions, but he suddenly seemed determined to have some fun with her. And maybe that wasn’t the worst thing after all the intensity. He held his helmet out to her. “We won’t crash. I’ve been riding since I was fifteen. You’re safe with me.”

She raised her eyebrow at him, still skeptical. Elain did not have a need for speed or any general inclination to chase adrenaline rushes. “Have you driven someone else before?”

He chuckled. “Yes, of course. You think in my twenty years of riding I have never taken someone else on my bike?” 

Elain was not convinced. She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how long have you had this particular bike?” 

Azriel poked her in the ribs and she squawked a bit. “Five years, princess. Now do I pass your inspection? Don’t you want to hear the song of the wind?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. 

Elain sighed and reached out, taking the helmet. “Fine. But Nesta will murder you in cold blood if you let anything happen to me.” 

He chuckled again. “I’ve never met her, but I don’t doubt that.” 

Elain stood there awkwardly, holding the helmet. “What do I do?” 

His lips twitched. “Put the helmet on. I’ll adjust it so it fits you better.” 

She hesitated for a moment before sliding the helmet over her head, suddenly assaulted by the cedar and mist smell of him. Azriel approached her and began gently tightening things here and there until the helmet felt more secure on her head. 

“You look good in my helmet,” he murmured into her ear, before turning and swinging his leg over his bike. She did her best to ignore the burning throughout her body at his words. He looked back at her as he tugged his riding gloves on. “Well? Are you going to get on?” 

Elain huffed and approached him, awkwardly trying to swing her leg behind him without flashing him and everyone else that was on the street. Not the day to skip wearing undergarments, even though that was how she preferred to be. 

Azriel chuckled once more, infuriatingly, and then offered his hand to help steady her. She took it and eventually managed to seat herself behind him. 

“Put your arms around me,” he said, grinning like a little boy locked in a candy shop. Elain gingerly put her hands on his hips, feeling the corded muscle beneath his pants and trying to leave some distance between their bodies. He just smirked at her knowingly. 

“When I turn,” Azriel explained, “you have to lean into it. It will feel like we’re falling, but I promise we’re not. If you lean out of the tilt, it will throw our balance off.”

“Alright,” Elain answered timidly. 

“Just tell me if I go too fast,” he said, and then before Elain could ask what he meant by “too fast,” he had kicked off the ground and started the engine, and they were moving. 

Elain immediately shrieked as they took off down the street, and fully wrapped her arms around his middle, as far as they could go, pressing her body against his in panic. She felt him shake with amused laughter and wished she could flip him off without lifting her arm. She did mentally, anyway.

She did her best to lean into the turns like he had told her even though it was terrifying and definitely did feel like they were going to fall over. Her teeth were clenched and her muscles stiff as she held tight around him, wondering why anyone in their right mind would enjoy this. 

But then Azriel turned another corner and they found themselves along the Sidra, the wide-open river loosening something in Elain. The road following the river was empty and quiet, and Azriel picked up speed, following the river like it was an old friend. 

Elain felt her muscles relax a bit, and then she heard it. The wind whistled through her ears in an ever-changing melody, filling her soul with a peaceful, alive feeling. It was beautiful, and summoning, and freeing. She let it consume her, and felt her fear melt away like it had never even existed. A laugh of delight suddenly left her as she felt like she was flying over the river itself. As if Azriel had grown wings and was soaring through the sky with her in his arms.

Her grip around Azriel became less panicked and more curious. She let herself explore the feel of his rigid muscles beneath her hands as the wind sang in her ears. She felt him twitch as she allowed one hand to slide under the hem of his shirt, stroking the area on his side just above the hip. His muscles were so hard, but his skin was so soft, and warm. And she suddenly wanted him so badly she thought she might die. She wanted to touch him like this, all over. She wanted to kiss every plane of his body. She wanted his mouth, his fingers, his cock…all of it on her, in her. Consuming her. 

So what if a stupid tower toppled in a fire? She didn’t even know what the tower was , and so what if something terrible and ominous had happened in a past life? She had loved him in that life, and maybe…maybe they could find that in this one, too. And avoid a tragic ending. 

Elain let her hand slip around him to caress the ridges of his abs, and the bike swerved a bit. She smiled as Azriel spotted a lookout point next to the road and pulled over, turning off the bike and craning around to look at her. 

Elain pulled off the helmet, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. “The song of the wind is beautiful,” she said genuinely, smiling at him. His eyes drifted down to where her hand still caressed him beneath his shirt, and then back up to her face. 

“I want to tell you, Elain,” Azriel said, his voice low and gravelly, “that if you want me, I can drive us straight back to my place, and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me. No complications. No strings.” 

Elain's blood heated. 

“But,” he continued, staring at her lips now, “I think that would be a lie.” He dared to run one gloved finger over her lips, biting his own. “I fear there would be no you and me without complications or strings.”

Oh, why did he have to be so damn logical all the time? Couldn't he just ignore the stupid complications for a night? His chest was rising and falling rapidly enough that she thought he might want that, too. That he was resisting. 

She pulled her hands from under his shirt. 

“You're right,” she answered begrudgingly. 

He sighed, tucking some more loose curls behind her ear. 

“Maybe we can just…” he started, looking out over the river before looking back at her. “Hang out a little more?” A blush broke out over his face. “It's nice having someone to talk to.”

Elain’s chest warmed. “I’d like that,” she answered. And then she considered. “But maybe somewhere…public.” 

He grinned and then winked at her. “Afraid you won't be able to resist me in private?” 

She scoffed and pushed his shoulder lightly. “Don't act like the same isn't true for you.”

“Hmm,” was all he said, before taking his helmet from her hand and pushing it back over her head gently. 

“Hold on tight, and try not to feel me up.” 

And then they were off, Elain keeping her fingers carefully over his shirt as he sped off without telling her where they were going. 

They rode in the opposite direction along the river until they came to a little group of shops and restaurants nestled along the bluff overlooking the water. 

Azriel hopped down and then helped Elain down, too. She tugged off her helmet and handed it to him. “Where did you take me?” 

He grinned. “I have a couple of restaurant investments,” he said nonchalantly, pointing with his chin to the place closest to him. “This one's my favorite.”

Elain tried not to gawk. “You own multiple restaurants?” 

He waved a dismissive hand. “Just a part owner and investor. A hobby. Hungry? I owe you for the sandwich.” 

Elain tried to reign in her surprise as she looked back at him. She narrowed her eyes. “This seems suspiciously like a date, right after you said we shouldn't get involved.” 

Azriel put his hands up in defense. “Not a date, just two hungry people hanging out. I promise—no holding hands, no kissing, no more-than-friendly touching.” 

Elain wanted to bash her head against the wall at what an utterly stupid idea she was agreeing to, but she just sighed and nodded, resigned. “Fine, yes I'm hungry.”

He cracked that stupid little sideways grin at her that made her heart flutter, and motioned for her to lead the way to the restaurant. 

She was stunned when they entered. It was beautiful, light and airy with a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors all opened to a patio looking out over the river. And the smells emanating from the kitchen were absolutely divine.

Azriel approached the host desk and was immediately recognized (no doubt his tattoos and scarred hands added to his recognizable look, on top of his devastatingly gorgeous face and body). 

“Mr. Dolan,” the young male host greeted him, inclining his head. “We didn't know you'd be joining us this evening.” 

Azriel nodded back in greeting. “I'm sorry I didn't call ahead. I was hoping there would be space for my friend and I on the patio. Next to the garden, if possible?” 

Elain raised her eyebrows at him. A garden? Did he know she would enjoy that? 

“Of course,” the host said briskly. “We've got a few reservations coming up, but I'd be happy to move them around for you.” 

Damn. Azriel just nodded gratefully, the picture of elegance. “I would appreciate it,” he answered, and then they followed the host through the restaurant and the glass doors out to the patio. He led them to the furthest corner, where a resplendent garden sat. Elain could see that it was all herbs and vegetables used in the food itself. Everything from mint and sweet peas to blackberries and lavender sprouted, a gorgeous burst of color partially blocking one little two-person table pushed up against the railing of the patio. 

“This is perfect,” Azriel said, approaching the table and pulling a chair out for Elain, indicating for her to take it. “Thank you,” he added to the host. The young man nodded, told them their server would be there soon, and left them. Elain stared at Azriel as he took a seat across from her.

“What?” he asked, and she realized her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut. 

“I just…didn't know you had this side to you,” Elain answered. 

He raised a brow. “What side?” 

She waved a hand toward him vaguely. “All…fancy rich hot businessman, with your graceful nods and professional manners.” 

His lips twitched, but he pointed a finger at her accusingly. “Don't call me hot.” 

She coughed. Had she said that? 

“Sorry,” she said. “A very plain and honestly kind of disappointing-looking businessman.” 

His lips twitched wider. “And you're a not-memorable-looking, not-ethereally-or-unrealistically-beautiful no-one who I will forget tomorrow.” 

“Mhm,” Elain quipped, crossing her arms. A server appeared with a carafe of sparkling water and glasses for them. 

“Can I get you any other drinks to start?” she asked politely. Elain thought that drinking more alcohol was the last thing she should do, and Azriel seemed to agree, because he just said, “No, thank you. Unless you want something?” he asked, looking at her. She shook her head. “Could you just please let the chef know that Azriel Dolan is here?” 

The server's eyes seemed to spark in recognition at his name. “Of course,” she answered, and bustled off. 

“Who's the chef?” Elain asked, curious. 

“Just an old friend,” Azriel answered, and then sipped his water. 

She narrowed her eyes at him again. “Have you fucked?” 

He choked briefly and then chuckled. “He wishes. But no. I don't fuck my friends.”

She wondered if that was a pointed comment and sipped her own water, looking for something to say in response. But before she could, a tall, muscled and dark-skinned man with long black dreds and shining, dark eyes emerged, no doubt the head chef in what he wore. 

“Azriel,” he boomed, his voice rich and deep. He approached the table, a wide grin on his face. 

Azriel stood and they clapped each other’s backs in a man-hug, Elain’s gaze darting between them. She didn't know why, but she had kind of expected Azriel to…not have friends. Which was stupid. But he just seemed like such a lone-wolf type, with the exception of his brothers. Maybe she had the wrong impression of him, after all. 

“Helion,” Azriel answered. “It's been too long.” 

“Yes it has, old friend,” Helion answered, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Why haven't you come to see me in almost a year?” 

Azriel shrugged. “I've been busy. Work has been busy.”

Helion raised an amused brow. “More like you're a work-a-holic, am I right?” he asked Elain jovially, smiling at her. 

“This is Elain,” Azriel said, indicating towards her. She stood up and shook his hand, giving him a warm smile. “It's nice to meet you.” He looked her up and down and then raised suggestive eyebrows at Azriel, which he ignored even as Elain felt her cheeks blaze with a blush.  

She took her seat again, feeling somewhat awkward.

Helion clapped his hands together. “Please tell me you want me to make you something special. Off menu. It would be my pleasure.”

Azriel chuckled. “We would love that.” Elain nodded in agreement, even though she was completely out of her element. 

Helion looked towards her. “Any dietary restrictions? Preferences?” 

Elain shook her head. “I'll eat anything,” she answered honestly. She really would try anything. 

Azriel grinned at her before turning to Helion. “But chocolate is her favorite,” he added with a wink, and she turned incredulous eyes towards him. He just waved a hand. 

“Is it not?” he asked innocently. 

She fought a grumble. “It is.” 

His grin grew. Helion looked between them, his face utterly delighted. “I'm honored that you brought a date here.” 

Elain and Azriel both said, “It's not a date” simultaneously, and Elain's cheeks grew even hotter. Helion’s smile just grew wider. He winked at Azriel. “I'll send your first course out soon.”

Fine, so Azriel had brought Elain here to impress her. They weren't touching, or kissing, or doing anything un-friend-like. They weren't even on a date. So what if he had brought her somewhere where he knew the head chef, and knew that they would get their own private off-menu meal? Where employees would recognize him and treat him with authority? There was nothing wrong with trying to impress a friend every once in a while. 

He watched her sip her sparkling water, trying not to notice the breeze pulling her dress taut against her bare nipples. 

“What do you think of the garden?” he asked Elain, indicating next to her. 

Her eyes lit up and she took in the blooms and vines. “It's gorgeous. They use all this in the cooking?” 

He nodded. “I helped build it. Just the garden beds, not the restaurant,” he clarified. 

Elain's eyes widened. “You built these?” 

He nodded again, shrugging a bit. “I like to use my hands, to be involved in my investments. And I like building.”

“Let me guess,” Elain mused. “You love how it's all based on rules and logic and numbers.” 

He grinned at her in that ridiculous lopsided way. “You've got me all figured out.” 

She scoffed. “I wish,” she grumbled. 

He chuckled and looked out over the river. The sun was beginning to set, making the water glow with an orange iridescence. He wanted not to notice how it made Elain's eyes sparkle like the stars were awakening in them with the falling night, but it was impossible not to.

Why had he asked her to keep spending time with him? God, he was an idiot. It was like he lost all common sense around her. But he was determined to be friendly and normal despite her very plain admission earlier that night that she did indeed want him, and despite the way he had grown so hard on his bike with her hands under his shirt that it had been painful. 

Elain also looked out at the water, her face glowing in the setting sun. He wanted to reach over and stroke her cheek. Touch her in any way he could. But he clenched his fingers and his jaw, determined to follow his own rules. 

They were quiet for a while, both taking in the sights and sounds of the Sidra. A server eventually reappeared, holding a plate of appetizers. “Candied bacon-wrapped figs, stuffed with a cream-cheese based filling and coated in a cocoa and chili powder blend.” 

Elain’s eyebrows rose and Azriel thanked the server. He grinned at her. 

“You had to tell him chocolate was my favorite?” 

He shrugged. “Helion loves to create special dishes for his special guests.” 

Elain gingerly picked up a fig and sank her teeth into it. Azriel watched her lips close around the bite, and watched her lips become coated in the dusting around the outside. Then he watched her chew and swallow, and then use her pink, wet tongue to lick the dusting off her lips. God fucking damn. 

He cleared his throat. “Good?” he asked, picking one up himself. 

“Amazing,” she answered, popping the rest into her mouth, seemingly oblivious to how tortured he already was by watching her eat. 

He popped the whole morsel into his mouth and almost moaned at how good it was as he chewed and swallowed. 

“Almost as good as your cooking,” he said to her, and she scoffed. 

“Please,” she answered, picking up another fig. “I could never be skilled enough to do something like run a restaurant.” 

“How many people get to try your cooking, besides your sisters?” Azriel asked, as they continued eating. 

She shrugged. “Only a couple friends. My dad before he died. And my ex, obviously.” 

Azriel felt anger surge through him at the mention of that asshole. He couldn’t help but ask her more about it. “He left you a week before your wedding? Right after your dad died?”
Elain sighed, folding her hands in front of her. “Yes. He was a dick. I’m better off without him, even though I was heartbroken at the time.”

“Why were you with him if he was a dick?” 

Elain looked down at her lap. It was a personal question, and he wouldn’t blame her for refusing to answer. But she said, looking back up at him, “I spent a long time undervaluing myself.” 

He hadn’t been expecting that. Azriel tilted his head at her. “You thought you deserved to be with an asshole?”

She sighed again. “I suppose I didn’t think he was an asshole at the time, because I just thought that was how I was supposed to be treated. But now, with some distance, I see how foolish I was.”

Azriel watched her beautiful face carefully, with her open, honest eyes looking right back at him. “He was the foolish one,” he finally said, and she blushed deeply. He probably shouldn’t have said that, but he couldn’t help it. He hated the idea of anyone being an asshole to her, and hated even more that she had thought she deserved it. 

Their next course appeared before they could discuss it further. “Mozzarella strawberry salad with a chocolate vinaigrette,” the server informed them, before leaving once more. 

Azriel chuckled, but Elain balked. “Is he…flirting with me?” she asked nervously. 

He laughed more loudly. “Helion flirts with anything that moves. He’s probably back there contemplating how to ask us both to have a threesome with him. He’s been trying to get me into bed for a decade, but it will never happen.”

She blushed once more. “Oh,” was all she said, looking away from him and eating some of her salad. 

Azriel followed suit, and they ate in silence for a while before Elain looked at him inquisitively. “So, you said you sleep with men and women?”

Talking about sex with her. Decidedly stupid. But he just shrugged. 

“Men, women, nonbinary people, it really doesn’t matter to me what parts someone has or what pronouns they use.” 

Elain nodded as she chewed and swallowed. “Do you have any preferences?” she asked. This wasn’t making her blush, but a simple compliment did? 

He thought about it for a moment. “Not really. I have been attracted to people of every gender for as long as I can remember. My first time was with a woman, but I was too curious to leave it at that.” 

He ate some more of his food, Elain looking at him thoughtfully. “What about you?” he asked her, and at that, she grew pink again. 

“What about me?” she asked in turn, taking a long drink of her water. 

“Do you have any sexual…preferences?” 

Her blush deepened. “I wouldn’t really know,” she said quietly. “The only other person I’ve slept with besides Graysen was…you.”

Azriel nearly choked on his food, coughing and thumping himself on the chest until he could breathe again. “What?” he rasped, and her blush grew even redder. “You seemed to know…exactly what you wanted.” 

Elain swallowed, draining the rest of her glass. Azriel refilled it for her. “I was with Graysen since I was 19. He was my first. By the time I met you that night, I was…ready to experience something new.”

Azriel let her words sink in. He was one of the only two people she had ever fucked in her life. He didn’t know what to do with that information. It really shouldn’t matter that much, but…

“Why were you so good at it?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. He wasn’t even trying to flirt. He was genuinely curious. He watched her open and close her mouth, struggling to come up with an answer. 

“Well, for one, you don’t have to have sex with a lot of people to have a lot of experience. Graysen may have been an asshole, but we had a healthy sex life.” Unwanted anger again seared through Azriel, and…god help him…was that jealousy he was feeling? He chugged some water to try to relieve the feeling. 

“And,” Elain continued, “the internet and books and toys do exist. I am a curious person.” 

Azriel could have come right there in his pants, imagining her watching a dirty video while she plunged a vibrating dildo in and out of her. He almost stood to throw her over the table and fuck her right there in the restaurant, but he gripped the edge of his seat instead, arms nearly trembling.

“Let’s talk about you again,” Elain said quickly, and Azriel released a small, relieved breath. Anything was better than imagining that . “When you sleep with men, do you have a preference about…you know…top or bottom?” 

Azriel fixed her with a stare he knew was too intense. “I am always on top.” 

Elain looked like she might melt in her chair. 

“Except with you,” he amended, and held her gaze as he drank. 

“You’ve never let someone else…” She looked discreetly around them to make sure they were alone. “Fuck you?” she finished. 

Azriel shrugged. “I have, but I much prefer to do the fucking.” And then he looked her over carefully, brazenly. “I would let you fuck me, though, if you wanted. If we didn’t have our rules to follow.” 

Elain turned as red as the strawberries growing in the garden beside them. “Is that possible?” she asked. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You just told me that the internet and books and toys exist for a reason. Do some research and find out.” 

She opened her mouth only to shut it again. The tension was ratcheting up again between them, palpable and heavy. And he would, he realized in that moment. He would let her strap on a dildo and fuck him in the ass as hard as she wanted, if she wanted to explore that way. He would let her do anything and everything she wanted to do to him. His chest started heaving as his eyes once again settled on her lips. He opened his mouth to tell her the thought he had just had when their server reappeared. 

“I know you didn’t order drinks,” she said, professionally ignoring the fact that she had very obviously interrupted a tense moment, “but Chef insisted. Chocolate and espresso martinis.”

Azriel laughed, relieved to have something to break the tension, and shook his head. “Tell him he’s a prick, but thank you,” he told the server as she set the drinks in front of them. She blanched a bit but just nodded and ran off. 

“I think you scared her,” Elain quipped, eyeing the drink.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he said, nodding towards the glasses. But Elain shrugged, picking hers up. 

“It’s here now,” she said, so he picked his own up and they clinked their glasses before drinking. 

They chatted idly, sipping their martinis and eating their next course—chocolate chipotle sirloin steak—steering away from the topics of sex and relationships. They talked about their families, Elain’s rooftop garden, music, their favorite spots in the city. 

Elain was so…easy to talk to. Azriel was not typically a chatty person, but he found her so easy to open up to, so willing to share parts of himself with her that he normally never would. And her laughter tinkled like windchimes throughout the meal, warming his chest in a way that should have been a warning. More than once he had to stop himself from reaching over and taking her hand, or tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, or just standing to lean over the table and kiss her.

Night had fallen completely, the patio lit with small round string lights, when dessert arrived. A classic that needed no introduction: chocolate-covered strawberries. Elain gasped when the plate was placed between them. 

“There is nothing I love more than chocolate-covered strawberries.” 

She licked her lips as she gazed down at the juicy-looking strawberries, and common sense flew out of Azriel like someone had knocked it out of him with a baseball bat. His ears were nearly ringing with his sudden need for her as he carefully reached out and picked the best-looking strawberry, then brought it slowly across the table, holding it in front of her mouth. 

She looked at him, swallowing slowly. 

“Try it,” he murmured. 

She looked back down at his scar-covered hands holding the strawberry before her. 

“This seems against your little rules you set,” she answered back in a hush. 

He just shrugged. Don’t bring up the damn rules right now. Just let me have this. “A friend can’t help another friend try a food?” 

He watched her throat bob, and then in the most beautiful turn of events he could have imagined, she opened her lips, leaning her head forward. 

Azriel placed the strawberry between her lips, his cock instantly fucking hard once more. It pulsed in his pants as he watched her teeth bite down, breaking through the chocolate shell and sinking into the juicy fruit beneath it. Her eyes fluttered closed as she slowly—so fucking slowly—bit through the strawberry. 

He reached down to adjust his cock in his pants while her eyes were closed, as her mouth lingered on the strawberry. She fluttered her eyes back open and chewed, his hand still hovering before her. Some strawberry juice had burst from the fruit as she bit it, and a small stream was rolling down her chin. 

Azriel dropped the rest of the strawberry onto the plate before her, and then caught the stream of juice with the tip of his finger. He traced it up, up, up to where it spilled from her lips, and they parted again. His cock fucking throbbed as he dragged that stream of juice back into her mouth, her lips falling closed around the tip of his finger.

The faintest groan escaped him as Elain’s tongue flicked over his juice-covered finger before she released it, licking her lips and drawing her face back. He brought his finger to his own mouth and licked the tip as well, as if cleaning off juice that had clearly already been taken care of. 

Elain dragged in a stuttered breath. “We should probably go,” she managed to get out, and Azriel just nodded. She was right, he should take her home before he could get himself into more trouble. But…there were no rules about talking, right? Talking wasn’t touching. 

So he rose from his seat and approached her, circling around to the back of her chair and leaning down to murmur into her ear, picking up the half-strawberry that was still on her plate. 

“Just so you know,” he breathed, and felt her spine go rigid. “If we didn’t have these rules, if I hadn’t been stupid enough to stop us back there on my bike, I would have stood up, picked you up, and turned you around on my bike, and then I would have sunk back onto the seat behind you so you were straddling me.” She sucked in a sharp breath, and he continued. “I would have pushed you up against my handlebars and run my hands right under that flimsy dress of yours—with your permission, of course. I would have slid all the way up to those gorgeous breasts that I can see are uncovered under that dress. They’ve been torturing me all night, you know.” He looked down at them from his position above her and groaned into her ear quietly.

“I would have caressed you as you kept running your hands under my shirt, and then I would have kissed you so thoroughly that you would have forgotten where you were, who you were. I would have kissed you until you were writhing against me, soaking through your panties, begging me for more. And then, sugar, I would have driven you straight home, and fucked you until you couldn’t stand.” Azriel put the half-eaten strawberry into his mouth, biting it just under the leaves and then dropping them onto her plate once more.

Elain shuddered, seeming to go a bit boneless before him. “You’re wrong about one thing,” she breathed as he swallowed the strawberry. 

“Hmm?” he asked, his nose just a hair’s width away from the spot behind her ear. She tilted her face slightly towards him. 

“I’m not wearing any panties, either.” 

The breath rushed out of Azriel like he had been punched in the gut. “Fuck,” he growled into her ear, and then tore himself away from her, stepping back. 

Elain's eyes flicked down to no doubt confirm that Azriel was, indeed, visibly erect beneath his work slacks. She bit her lip and he growled a little warning sound at her, tugging her up from her chair gently. 

“I'm sorry,” he said into her ear, pulling her in front of him and wrapping an arm around her waist. “I know I said no touching, but I literally need you. I don't want the whole restaurant seeing how much you torture me.”  

He could have sworn Elain bit back a laugh as he guided her back towards the front of the restaurant. He kept her partially in front of him the entire way, trying his best to ignore the way she felt in his arms. 

They stopped by the host table. “Please have the meal put on my tab. And a generous tip.” 

The host nodded. “Thank you Mr. Dolan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, and they exited the restaurant. 

As soon as they were out, Azriel released her, leaning over on his bike with an elbow braced on the handlebars. 

“Are you alright?” Elain asked. 

“Just need a minute before I can get on,” he ground out.

She shuffled her feet behind him for a few moments as he concentrated on literally anything but her. Ice baths. Falling to his death from the top of a skyscraper. Toenails that grew too long. When he could confidently face her again, he turned around. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “For…all of that, back there.” 

Elain just gazed at him with those preternatural eyes. “Rules still apply?” she asked, and it took every ounce of willpower, everything Azriel had inside himself, to nod and repeat, “Rules still apply.” 

She just nodded back and asked, “Can you drop me off at home?” 

If she was bothered by any of it, he couldn't tell. He loosed a breath. “Of course. I'm sorry, again.” 

She waved a hand between them. “Don't worry. I wasn't any better. Let's just chock it up to the martinis and move on. Besides…we almost followed the rules.” 

Azriel grinned despite himself. “What, you don't let your friends feed you chocolate-covered strawberries, and then lick the juice off their fingers?” 

Her cheeks turned pink and his grin grew. “I love it when you blush.” Fucking hell. “Sorry—ignore me.” 

Elain shook her head with a little laugh and just said, "Let's go,” before tugging his helmet down on her head. 

God, she was so fucking sexy it was unfair. He shook his own head and pulled his gloves on before stepping over his bike, offering her a hand to do the same. 

They rode to her shop with Elain keeping her hands carefully on his waist, over his shirt. He adamantly tried and failed not to think about her braless breasts and panty-less pussy pushed up against him. He almost cursed himself again for his stupid rules. 

When they arrived, they dismounted, Elain handed him his helmet, and Azriel walked her to her door. 

She fumbled with her keys for a moment or two as they stood there. “Unblock my number,” she finally said. “Friends don't have each other blocked. And friends use their phones to talk.” 

Azriel chuckled. “Right. Thanks for the reminder.”

She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Did you mean what you said at the restaurant? About what you would have done?”

Azriel swallowed. “Every word,” he swore, his gaze raking down her body once more as if in confirmation. 

She seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. “Goodnight, Azriel.” 

So they were to continue playing this game. Good enough. “Goodnight, Elain,” he answered, inclining his head. 

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for lunch.” 

Her lips twitched into a grin and she unlocked her door, looking over her shoulder at him. “I'm still going to think about you, by the way, when I have my fingers inside myself tonight.” 

And then she swung the door shut with a click, and he heard it lock behind him. 

“Fuck,” Azriel whispered in a desperate plea to no one, his forehead thudding against her door in defeat. 

It took him a good five minutes to be able to get back on his bike, and when he got home, he went straight back to that fucking jar of salve, and pumped himself dry—twice—trying and failing not to moan Elain's name into his pillow. 

The little boy couldn’t let this happen, not to his mother. His father would kill her, that much he was sure of. So he held his head as high as he could and stepped around the corner, entering the room where his parents stood. 

“Stop,” he said, his voice sounding so small despite how large he tried to make it. 

Both heads swiveled as his father dropped his hands from his mother’s throat but did not step away. 

“Go back to your room,” his mother pled, stepping away from his father. But the little boy ran to his mother, standing between his parents, trying with all his might to be a tiny shield. 

“No,” his mother pled, pulling at his arm, but the little boy planted his feet. 

“Don’t hurt her,” he said to his father, voice shaking. 

His father barked a terrible, hateful laugh, and then shoved the little boy aside so hard he went tumbling to the floor, the air knocked out of him. 

“Don’t touch him!” his mother cried, starting to run to his small form. 

The little boy watched as if in slow-motion as his father raised a closed fist, swinging it towards his mother’s face. 

And then the little boy screamed. The scream was all-consuming. Wretched. Finite.

He wasn't the only one screaming. He heard his mother's screams, and even his father’s too. Something black was coiling around the little boy, making it hard to see. Darkness was swirling around him, spilling in every direction. He didn't understand. Where was it coming from? What was happening?

And then he heard his father’s scream once more, and the thud of a body. His vision cleared. 

His father was dead, staring at him with a face frozen in true, undiluted terror.

“Mama,” the little boy cried, and fell to the floor, as wisps of those terrible shadows still swirled around his father’s dead body. 

Chapter Text

Azriel unblocked Elain’s number Monday night, and left it unblocked. He supposed they were…friends, now, although he didn’t typically come into his hand nightly thinking about his friends. He didn’t imagine their asses bouncing as he pounded into them from behind. He didn’t fear and want them in equal, infuriating measures. 

But he unblocked her number, because, whether he tried to resist her or not, Elain seemed determined to get under his skin and stay there. He was sure of this fact when, on Tuesday morning as he was furiously typing away his computer, his phone buzzed. He picked it up to a text that read, “Did you unblock me?” He shook his head, chuckling. He responded with a simple “Yes,” and then put it back down, his mood slightly lifted. 

He didn’t get another text from her all day. He was just packing up his things to go home at 6:30 when his phone buzzed again, and he pretended that he didn’t get infuriating butterflies of excitement. 

“I used my research skills to find out how I would hypothetically fuck you. Intriguing.”

He stared at his phone for a good twenty seconds. Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Yes, please come over and fuck me right now you beautiful, torturous vixen? We can practice if you want—just friends? He shook his head, blowing out a breath. 

In the end, he texted back, “Too bad we’re just friends.”

He was about to climb onto his bike when her response came. “Too bad.”

He typed out an answer before he could think too long about it. “Maybe you can find someone else who will let you experiment with them.”

And then, like the coward he was, Azriel mounted his bike and started riding home before he could wait for whatever damning response she would give him. 

The first thing he did after parking was look at his phone. She had responded with a simple, “Hmm.”

Hmm? What kind of a fucking response was that? Azriel was too old for trying to decipher tone over text. It was her turn to squirm. He left her text dangling, giving her no answer. If he knew her at all, and he thought he was beginning to, she was stubborn and hard-headed enough to inevitably reach out to him again. 

But two days passed and Azriel didn’t hear from Elain. He was beginning to doubt his silence, and almost broke himself, when he walked into work Thursday morning to a basket sitting on his desk. He recognized that basket and his heart thudded.

Azriel checked his watch—it was 7:42 AM. How the fuck was this already here? He walked over to his desk and peered in to find it filled with scones. He blinked, and then exited his office to visit Briar at her desk. 

“Good morning Mr. Dolan,” she smiled up at him. “I was just about to get your coffee.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Did someone leave something for me this morning?” 

A little knowing smile broke across Briar’s face. “Oh, yes, that same very pretty woman from last week left you baked goods. She said she was a friend of yours?” 

Azriel willed himself not to fidget or clear his throat. “When did she stop by?” 

Briar looked like she could read his thoughts and her smile grew. “Right after I got in, at about 7:15.” 

The sneaky little minx. 

He tapped his fingers on her desk once. “Alright, well…I’ll see you in a few.” 

He turned around and hurried back to his office to study the basket more clearly, and he spotted a note tucked underneath it. Fighting a grin, Azriel slid out the piece of paper and unfolded it. Elain’s handwriting was loose and free and slightly messy. 

I thought you might enjoy some of the fruits of your labor. These lavender-mulberry scones were made with the flour that crushed your dick. You should put them in something with a lid when you get home so they don’t dry out.

Azriel stared at her note for a few seconds before chuckling, running his hand down his face. He was still chuckling when Briar entered with his coffee. 

“Your coffee, sir,” she said, and then raised a dark eyebrow at him. “You’re jovial this morning.” 

He just shook his head and dropped the note on the desk. “Have a scone. They’re lavender-mulberry.”

“Oh,” she responded, not used to this casual and friendly side of him. He really needed to work on being less of a moody dick. “Thank you.” She reached into the basket and took one. “Your girlfriend is a baker?”

Azriel fought a blush with every fiber of his being. “Elain is just a friend. And I’ve actually never tried her baking before.”

“Uh huh,” Briar answered skeptically, and they each took a bite of their respective scones. 

“Oh my god,” Briar said with a full mouth. 

“Fuck,” Azriel agreed, and then added a quick, “Sorry.” The scone was fucking melting in his mouth, a burst of flavor so delicate yet bright and warm…the scone felt like a hug. For his taste buds. God, he was an idiot. But it was the best fucking scone he had ever tried. 

Briar swallowed and laughed lightly. “I don’t care if you swear, Mr. Dolan. This scone is incredible, thank you.” 

He nodded at her, taking another bite. 

They talked for a few minutes about Azriel’s projects, his tasks for Briar that day, and his meeting schedule before they had finished their scones and Azriel got to work for the day.

When Azriel got home, he followed Elain’s instructions and found a plastic container in a cupboard to store the scones in. He had eaten three more throughout the day, but there were still a good six or seven left, and he wasn’t about to let them dry out. 

He froze, however, as he removed the last couple of scones from the basket to find them sitting atop a sealed plastic bag. When he recovered from the small shock, Azriel lifted the bag up, turning it around slowly to look at its contents from all angles. It was a fucking strap-on, complete with a sparkly purple dildo, still sealed in the product packaging from the store. A sticky note was stuck to the bag with more of Elain’s handwriting scrawled on it. 

I am very thorough with my research. Maybe you can find someone else willing to explore with you, too. It was part of a set—but I’m keeping the companion toy.

He blinked once. Twice. Three times. And then Azriel threw his head back and laughed. He laughed until tears sprung from his eyes and his stomach hurt. 

“I'm so fucked,” he commented aloud to himself, and chuckled all the way to his bedroom, where he shut the door and tore open the plastic bag. 

It was bold of Elain, she knew that. She was pretty positive that friends did not show up at each other's work places with scones hiding secret strap-ons. But if Azriel could stand over her at dinner and whisper such filth in her ear that no amount of using her own fingers could satisfy herself, then she could torture him a bit back, too. 

She waited all day Thursday for him to discover the little gift she left him at the bottom of the basket. She had visited the store the night before, and found a matching strap-on and vibrator set. She happily kept the vibrator, always glad to add to her collection, and packed up the strap on to torment Azriel. Or maybe herself. She didn't really know at this point. 

She used the vibrator that night, climaxing almost egregiously fast as she thought about being bent over the seat of Azriel’s bike, his cock slamming into her as he held her by her hair. 

On Thursday evening, Elain was having dinner with her friends Nuala and Cerridwen—twins who also were members of the magical underbelly of the city—when her phone buzzed. 

She grinned and pulled her phone from her pocket as she sat on the floor in front of her coffee table, her friends on either side of her. 

She just had one text from him: “I've never had such a generous friend before, although I think it's a gift-giving faux pas to keep half the gift.” 

She chewed on her lip, thinking about her response, before Nuala nudged her with her foot. Her head snapped up. “Sorry, what?” 

Nuala, with her long, pin-straight black hair and stunningly black eyes set in rich brown skin, scowled. “I was trying to ask you how business is going, but you seem distracted.” 

“Oh,” Elain answered, looking guiltily between them. Cerridwen was a mirror image to Nuala, and Elain could only tell them apart because she had known them for years. “Sorry!”

“You're smiling at your phone like a schoolgirl,” Cerridwen added dryly. 

Elain tossed her phone down and waved a hand dismissively. “Just got a text from a friend. Anyway, how have the spells been coming?” 

The twins were witches, and Elain successfully buried her desire to respond to Azriel for the next couple of hours by focusing on their powers and exchanging stories of magic, until they headed out for the night. Elain kissed them both on their cheeks and then hurried to her bedroom, shutting the door. 

She had been thinking of him for too long, of that damn toy. She pulled out her phone and finally typed out a response. 

“What would be the point of giving you the other half if you’re not going to use it on me? Because we have our rules, right?”

She sank down onto her bed, chewing on her lip as she waited for a reply. He might not reply at all—he seemed to enjoy playing these little games with her. Elain reached under her pillow and pulled out the sparkly purple vibrator that had come with the strap-on. It had one flat, thin side and one thicker, rounder side. The round side could be used as a regular vibrator, but the flat side…the flat side could be inserted and used during intercourse, she had learned in her research. She didn’t dare think about using it with Azriel for too long. 

Elain was already growing warm and squirmy studying the vibrator when her phone dinged. She smiled and lifted it to find a text from Azriel. 

“Right. The rules. I guess we’ll both have to find someone else to use our gifts with.” 

She chuckled. Yeah, right. That was a blatant lie if she ever heard one. 

She replied, “I don’t need someone else to use this with.” 

Elain fell back on her bed, twirling the vibrator between her fingers, her other hand skirting the waistband of her loose pants. Stroking, waiting. 

Ding.

“Oh? You’re going to use it all by your lonesome?”

She bit her lip, untying the drawstring of her pants. 

“Maybe,” she replied. “Maybe I’ll try it right now.”

She could already feel herself growing wet. Were they breaking the stupid rules? She didn’t think so. Nothing explicit was being said. And imagining Azriel pumping his cock while she drove herself to a climax with a vibrator was innocent, wasn’t it? There were no rules about imagining. 

She turned the vibrator on, watching it buzz to life. Her phone dinged again. 

“Too bad we have our rules, or I would ask to watch.”

She pulled down her pants, kicking them off her feet and running a hand across one inner thigh, wishing it was larger, warmer, scarred—his. She slowly and lightly drew the vibrator over the skin of her lower stomach, her pulse increasing at the feel. 

“Too bad,” she texted back. “I suppose you’ll just have to imagine.”  

Elain widened her legs, bending one knee against the bed as she drew the vibrator down towards that spot that was growing swollen and needy. It didn’t take long for Azriel to reply this time. 

“Good thing I have a healthy imagination, and very practiced hands—since I’ve met you.”  

She nearly moaned at his response, thinking about him shucking down his boxers and gripping his hard, thick cock, and she brought the vibrator straight to her core.

Elain writhed as she moved against the toy, drawing her hips up and down to provide the exact pressure and friction she needed, her own imagination running wild. What would that cock taste like in her mouth? What would his tongue feel like parting her folds? What would it feel like to have him tugging her hair while he thrust himself up into her from beneath her? 

She cursed herself for the thousandth time for drinking too much that singular night they spent together, for being able to remember next to nothing. And then she gasped as she dragged the vibrator straight to her clit, a shock traveling through her body. Her phone dinged.

“I’m going to take your silence as confirmation that you’re using that little gift you kept for yourself. Consider my imagination and hands now occupied.”

Elain groaned as she threw her phone back down, images of Azriel pumping himself, his neck and ab muscles strained and glistening, surging through her head as she swirled the vibrator over her clit.

She started seeing stars as she moaned quietly, writhing against the vibrating head of the toy, her back arching slightly off the bed. 

She remembered how it felt to have that knight’s fingers inside her, how tender they were, how they were the same fingers—belonged to Azriel, in whatever life he found her. That was enough to take her under, a cry breaking free as her head was thrown back, her legs beginning to shake. 

But the moment she fell into her orgasm, the world around her slid away, and she was transported to that time and place centuries away. 

And Elain was having another climax, a different climax, as her knight’s dark head moved between her legs, his tongue swirling over the sensitive spot between her thighs as his fingers moved in and out of her, his mouth humming an encouraging noise. She gripped at the long grasses around her that she lay in, her body writhing before him. Azriel held her hip steadily but gently with his unoccupied hand, keeping her pressed tightly to him as she tried to muffle her moans. 

He broke away from her for a moment to look up and murmur, “Go over the edge for me, princess. You can do it.” So she took a breath and then surrendered as he brought his mouth back to her, sucking on that spot as stroked his fingers inside her, and she fell right over that edge. Her legs clamped around her knight’s head as her entire body tightened, pleasure to the point of pain consuming her, and then something snapped and she threw a hand over her mouth to catch a scream as everything unwound inside her. 

Azriel slowly licked and kissed her as she shuddered through wave after wave of cresting pleasure, until she finally came down from that high, panting and staring up at the cloudless blue sky and boughs of leaves above her. 

He raised his head, grinning at her softly in love and admiration as she took steadying breaths. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about doing that,” he said to her, his voice low and steadying. Calm and cool as a night breeze. 

Elain propped herself up on her elbows as he carefully pulled the layers of her skirts back down over her knees, her calves. He removed a handkerchief from some hidden pocket in his armor and wiped his face, still grinning at her. 

“How did you learn to do that,” Elain asked, “if you’ve never made love before me?” 

Azriel’s cheeks reddened as he sat back on his haunches, his armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. “The brotherhood enjoys exchanging stories and imparting advice. And I’ve read books…” he trailed off, his cheeks growing redder. 

A giggle broke free from Elain as she imagined her strong, stoic knight bent over with a candle, reading something salacious in the quiet hours of the night. “How scandalous.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her and looked around, as if to imply that what they were currently doing was much more scandalous. And it was. Elain had announced that morning that she would like to go on a ride through the grounds, and that she would take Azriel with her for protection. Her family seemed to think nothing of it, as he was the guard on rotation with her that day, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to take rides through the grounds. In fact, that was how she and Azriel had become friends—and more—in the first place. 

“Thank you,” Elain said gently, sitting up and drawing her legs beneath her. 

Her knight cocked his head in question. “For what?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “For…what you just did.” 

He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It was my pleasure.” 

She frowned at him. “I think it was mine,” she replied dryly. 

Azriel chuckled. “Believe me,” he answered slightly gruffly. “Providing you with pleasure is a significant gift to me, as well.” 

Elain reached out and caught his hand, which he had removed of armor, kissing the scars there. “But do you want—”

“No, princess,” he stopped her, moving his fingers to tip her chin up. “Not today. Today I will just take pride and solace in the fact that I made you feel good.” 

Elain sighed. No man would ever compare to him. She would never love another, nor did she ever want to. Her eyes welled suddenly, and she looked down at her hands. 

Azriel moved closer, placing his hands on both of her cheeks. “What saddens you so?” 

Tears spilled over both eyes as she forced himself to look up and meet his gaze. “They have set a date for the wedding.” 

Elain was wrenched from the Void, white and colors swirling in her vision until the white faded and the colors of the world returned to her. She was still laying flat on her bed, phone and vibrator laying beside her, legs spread wide. She rubbed her hands over her face and rolled off the wet spot she had made on her bed, sighing and heaving herself up to a seat. 

She sighed once more, hugging her knees to her chest. God, she was in such a tangled mess.

Azriel lay on his bed, cum dripping through the ridges of his muscles as his chest rose and fell rapidly. A few flirtatious texts was all it took for him to need relief, knowing (or, hoping desperately) that Elain was on the other side of her phone, making herself moan as she pleasured herself with a sparkly purple vibrator. 

He reached over for the shirt he had shucked off and wiped himself clean before balling up the shirt and tossing it into his hamper across the room. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. 

What the fuck was he doing? Everything inside him told him to run, that this would not end well, that whatever was between them was too dangerous, too demanding, too wild. 

Azriel was used to having everything under control—always measured, always calculating. Even when he was drinking and picking up random strangers at the bar, he was careful, cool, collected. He was deliberate and restrained. He had his rules, and he followed them. Because if he didn’t…he had always known there was something wilder and darker in him trying to claw its way out. He lived in fear of that caged beast, of what it could do if it was released. 

And around Elain…it was like it started snarling and slamming itself against the bars of its enclosure, clawing and roaring and thrashing. That feeling scared him more than anything, and yet it was like an addiction, being around her, thinking about her, talking to her, imagining himself fucking her. Her voice, her eyes, her smell, her body, her skin…it was all like his own personal heaven and hell entwined. 

Azriel somehow made it through the rest of his Thursday and Friday without texting, calling, or seeing Elain. But avoiding fucking his hand to thoughts of her was impossible—he didn’t even try anymore in that department. He fought against the feeling of becoming more unhinged as the week went on. He was fine. He was the same calm, controlled, measured man that he had always been. 

But as he finally fell asleep on Friday night, that thing inside him was released in his nightmares once more.

“Don’t hurt her,” the little boy said to his father, voice shaking. 

His father barked a terrible, hateful laugh, and then shoved the little boy aside so hard he went tumbling to the floor, the air knocked out of him. 

“Don’t touch him!” his mother cried, starting to run to his small form. 

The little boy watched as if in slow-motion as his father raised a closed fist, swinging it towards his mother’s face. 

And then the little boy screamed. The scream was all-consuming. Wretched. Finite. 

He continued to scream in fear and panic as something dark and cold exploded from him. His tiny form shook as ropes and ropes of dark shadows flew from him, seeming to be born from under his skin and erupting through it like it was nothing. 

The little boy watched in horror, still screaming, as the shadows shot straight toward his father, coiling around his arm and blocking him from striking his mother. His mother fell back in shock, her own scream leaving her, as his father swore and stumbled, a terrified look falling over his face. 

The little boy couldn’t control what was happening as more and more shadows spilled from him, arcing towards his father. He didn’t understand what was happening, how to stop it. He only understood that they came from him. From inside him, like he was some kind of monster. 

The shadows coiled around his father’s body, dragging him to the ground as he began fighting and bellowing. The little boy just cowered, wrapping his arms around his legs. And then the shadows began streaming into his father’s nose and mouth, choking off his screams as he turned purple, unable to breathe. 

Tears began streaming down the little boy’s face as his mother scrambled back from him, still shrieking. He didn’t know how to make it stop. He didn’t know how to do anything at all but cry and scream as he watched the horrible things that came from him killing his hateful father. 

And then he heard a snap, and his father’s head fell at an unnatural angle on his neck. He slumped to the floor, his eyes open wide and staring at the little boy in horror, his mouth still in a silent yell of terror. The shadows uncoiled from his body, creeping back towards him in dark rivulets. He tried to recoil from them, but they bled back into him, sinking under his skin, where he felt them stirring inside him. 

His mother was still pushed away from him, looking between him and his father in horror. And his father was dead, and he…he had done that. 

“Mama,” he cried, reaching out to her in desperation. 

Azriel awoke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, his sheets tangled around him like he had been thrashing violently. His nightmare flashed through his mind again and his stomach surged, nausea churning. He tried to fight it, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He tried to bury those images, to deny them and banish them. 

But it was no use as the nausea grew stronger, and he rolled out of bed, only making it to the trash can into his room before he dropped to his knees and vomited violently. His skin felt thin, papery, and underneath it…crawling. He vomited again, groaning as his stomach strained. 

Azriel didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, with those images still surging through his mind and knowing what he must do in the morning. 

It was time for Azriel to ask his mother some questions.

Elain awoke on Saturday morning ready to open her shop and concentrate on her work. She had several appointments for readings today, and was determined to focus on them rather than on her own visions of her past life or on whatever was going on between her and Azriel. 

She hadn’t heard from him for the rest of the week, and had resisted reaching out to him. But what she had not resisted was using that vibrator again and again, imagining him there with her. Sometimes he was wielding the toy, bringing her to the edge over and over only to deny her until she was weeping and begging him to relieve her. Sometimes he had his head between her legs like she saw and felt her knight do. Sometimes he was simply bending her over and pounding his cock into her as hard and fast as he could. 

But she woke up Saturday morning ready to work and ignore her desires and daydreams. She brushed her teeth and dressed for her day in a long patterned skirt and green blouse. She pulled back half her hair into a braided coil, and then made herself coffee and ate a scone for breakfast. 

When opening time rolled around, she padded down the stairs, flicked on the lights, and unlocked the front door of her shop. She flipped the sign in the window to “OPEN”, but before she could pull open the door to air the space out, her phone rang. She pulled it from the pocket of her skirt, her eyebrows lifting as she saw Azriel's name. Well, calling was new. 

“Hello?” she answered, still standing before the closed front door. 

Silence on the other end. Her Sight swirled that ominous feeling through her. 

“Azriel?” 

When he spoke, he sounded…defeated, sad, scared even. “Can I please come over?” 

Elain blinked, taken aback. She had never heard him lacking the casual confidence and slight dangerous edge to his voice that she was so used to now. 

“What's wrong?” she asked, suddenly filled with anxiety. He didn't sound right. 

“Please,” was all he said, so quietly she barely heard it. “I need your help.” 

“I…of course,” she finally answered, her heart racing. “I have appointments today, but I can cancel them, or reschedule them.” 

“No,” he said quickly over the line. “Don't let me disturb your work. I can wait in your shop or upstairs, I just…” a beat or two of silence. “I don't think I can sit in my apartment anymore.” 

Elain swallowed. “Alright,” she said softly. “Come on over. I'll be here.” 

Elain was halfway through her first reading when her shop bell tinkled and Azriel walked in. She was momentarily completely distracted from her work as she looked upon him. He had his hands in his jeans pockets, and was looking down at his feet as he waited near the counter in the front. Dark circles sat beneath eyes that looked haunted, tortured. 

Elain forced herself to tear her eyes away from him and return to her task at hand. As soon as her client had paid and left, though, her focus returned to him completely. She rounded the counter to stand in front of him.

“Azriel?” she asked tentatively, reaching a hand out to place on his arm. 

He looked down at her hand silently before meeting her gaze again. “I need your help,” he said again in a broken rasp. 

Elain pulled him further into the space by his hand And looked up into his eyes. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

He was the last person she expected to see this morning, and she had never expected him to look so…broken. 

He didn’t speak for a few moments, looking back down at his feet again. 

“Azriel?” she asked again quietly, still gripping his hand. Her Sight swirled through her again in vague ominous warning. Something was not right with him, she thought once more. He finally spoke, looking at her face. 

“Will you come with me to see my mother?” 

She drew her head back slightly. That is not what she had expected. “I—what?” she stammered, still gripping his fingers. 

“I think I understand what I have been seeing in my nightmares.” He spoke so quietly it was almost difficult to make out his words. “But I need to go ask her some questions and it…it won’t be easy. And I can’t ask my brothers to come. But I just need someone else there to…to tell me I’m not crazy. To believe me. Someone else to hear it.” 

Elain blinked at him a few times. Out of everyone in his life, Azriel was asking her to come with him to do something that seemed to be incredibly difficult for him. Something that terrified him. Was it because of the slips of magic she had had around him? Could he feel her power? 

“I…” she said, trailing off with a loss of words. 

He gripped her fingers tighter. “Please,” he whispered. 

Elain shook herself slightly to break out of her stupor. “Of course I’ll go with you,” she answered gently, and saw his shoulders droop. She squeezed his fingers once more before dropping them. “I still have several appointments today. Are you sure you don't want me to reschedule them?” 

He shook his head adamantly. “I'll wait. Please, don't disturb your work for me.” 

Elain looked him up and down before answering. “Okay. Follow me.”

Azriel followed her up her stairs into her living space. She patted the couch until he sat, and then made him a cup of tea. 

“I have appointments until 1,” she said, placing it in front of him. She had decided to go with herbal, because he did not look like a man that would benefit from caffeine at the moment. “And then we can go.” 

He nodded at her, staring down into the tea. 

“Please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, if you’re hungry. There’s a garden on the rooftop with nice seating space, and the bathroom is right through there,” she finished, pointing down the hall. “Just make yourself comfortable, and come find me or call me if you need anything.” 

He was still staring down at the tea, silent, so she moved to pat his shoulder before walking away. But Azriel caught her hand, squeezing it as he finally looked up into her eyes. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he rasped, that broken look still in his eyes. 

She squeezed his fingers back. “Of course,” she answered softly, and then remembered something. “Be right back.” 

Elain walked back to her kitchen and grabbed a bar of dark chocolate from the cabinet. She found Azriel in the exact same position, like he hadn’t moved a muscle, and placed the chocolate down next to his tea before retreating back downstairs to open her shop once more. 

Azriel stared at the tea for long minutes, his head empty except for what he had seen and continued to see, over and over, in his nightmare. He barely knew how he had ended up outside Elain’s door. He knew he had paced in his apartment throughout the night until a reasonable hour to leave, and had then dressed and brushed his teeth, gathering up his helmet and gloves and walking out without a look behind. 

He had at least thought to call her and ask her permission to come over before he had mounted his bike. When she had said yes, he had started riding without a thought in his head. He only knew that he needed someone, and his bike took him to who he needed in that moment. 

So here Azriel sat in Elain’s living room, staring at the cup of tea she had made him. The steam drifted off it in tendrils like…like those shadows that had spilled from him. He watched them, transfixed and horrified. He watched them until the tea had cooled and the steam had died. Only when it was cold to the touch did he tip it back into his mouth and drink it swiftly, barely tasting it. And then he picked up the chocolate bar and broke a chunk off, chewing and swallowing it slowly. The chocolate seemed to awaken his senses somewhat, and he wondered if Elain was right that chocolate really did make everything better. He realized he had been up half the night and hadn’t yet eaten anything, and that he was hungry, especially after emptying his insides various times that morning into his trash can. 

With the tea and chocolate giving him some life, Azriel rose from the spot where he had been frozen on her couch and made his way to the kitchen. His eyes snagged on a container of what was surely those same scones that she had made him, but he didn’t take one. He instead picked up a fat red apple sitting in her fruit bowl, and sunk his teeth into it. 

Azriel snooped around Elain’s living room for a while as he ate his apple, reading the spines of her books and studying the knick knacks on her shelves. She had an unnerving number of books about fortune-telling and magic, and something called “earthwork.” Azriel shook his head, wondering how he ever ended up here in this room that was the antithesis of everything that he believed in. Eventually, though, he found a book about local flora and fauna that intrigued him, and he went in search of the stairs that would take him to her rooftop garden. 

Azriel loosed a breath of relief as he emerged onto the flat roof of Elain’s building, the song of the wind already whistling through his ears. Her garden was lovely, bursting with blooms and vines, fruits and vegetables, that seemed to be placed strategically throughout the space so that there were little pockets of calm and orderly and other pockets of wild and free, areas exploding in color and other areas boasting only shades of green. 

Azriel followed a path that led to a little seating area, and he sat down at a wrought iron table and chair set. He wondered how often Elain sat in this very spot with a mug of tea and her chocolate, and grinned a bit. He understood it—the peace she felt up here. And she had been listening to the song of the wind way up high all this time without even knowing it. 

Azriel cracked the book open and began to read. 

The sun had risen high above Azriel and he had dragged the chair and table to a shadier spot when he sensed movement at the other end of the garden. He looked up from the book, which he had gotten halfway through without even really noticing time passing, and saw Elain emerging from the stairs with a heavy tray laden with food. Azriel stood up and walked briskly to her, taking the tray before she could trip and break something. 

“Thanks,” Elain sighed as he lifted it gently from her hands. “I figured you were up here when I couldn’t find you anywhere inside.” 

“Taking a break?” Azriel asked, placing the tray down on the table. 

Elain blinked at him. “It’s 1:30. My work is done for the day and I closed the shop up. I just thought we should maybe eat before heading out anywhere.”

The whole morning had passed and he hadn’t even noticed. He fell back into his chair as Elain dragged the other from the sunshine to his shadier spot. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, eyeing the spread she had somehow whipped up in a matter of minutes. 

“I don’t mind,” she smiled at him. “Actually, feeding others gives me joy. So you’re doing something nice for me in accepting it.” 

He struggled to grin back at her. She was too fucking good and kind to even be breathing the same air as him. 

“I’m sorry for calling on such short notice,” he said as they started putting food on their plates. “That was probably rude. I just kind of…panicked.” 

Elain paused with tongs full of green beans halfway to her plate. “It’s alright,” she answered gently. “I understand needing somewhere to go. But can I ask…” she chewed on her lip for a moment. “Why couldn’t you go to one of your brothers? Don’t they know you much better than me?” 

He shrugged. “What I have to ask my mother, and what you might hear…they would think I’m crazy. I think I’m crazy.” 

Elain put down the tongs. “Will you tell me what happened, Azriel? What did you see in your nightmare that has you shaken? Maybe I can help.”

His stomach clenched and he shook his head. “I need to hear it from my mother first. To know that it’s true. After that…I’ll tell you everything. But you might think I’m crazy, too.”

He watched her sip some of the water with lemons she had brought up. “I won’t think you’re crazy,” she answered finally. “But I do think I may be able to help, when you do tell me.” 

Azriel swallowed nervously, not knowing what that meant. She was doing that ethereal, spooky thing again. He focused on eating some of the food she had brought to distract himself, and Elain followed suit. 

“Is going to see your mother difficult for you?” she asked him between bites. 

Azriel considered. “Not usually. I mean…it’s difficult to see how she’s suffered from what life has dealt her. From what she did to keep me and Cassian safe and fed. That will always be difficult. But being with her…no. I love my mother. She’s one of the few precious things I have that I cherish.” He should be embarrassed to admit such feelings aloud, but Azriel was never ashamed of his love for his mother. She had sacrificed everything for him, and he would spend his life showing her he knew it. 

Elain gave him a soft, beautiful smile at his words. “Where does she live?” 

“She lives about an hour away by bike. I hope that’s okay. Outside of Velaris lines but not too far. I had a…manor, of sorts, built for her just outside the forest. It’s called Rosehall.” 

“That’s beautiful,” Elain answered. “I would be honored to go with you.” 

Azriel felt a knot in his chest loosen at those words. “Thank you,” he said, and meant each word with everything inside himself. “She has some live-in nurses who help her on her…hard days. And a housekeeper that cooks and cleans for her. Other than that, she lives alone, so I try to go to visit her at least once every week or two, if I can. Rhys and Cassian sometimes join.” 

“What’s her name?” Elain asked. 

Azriel paused for a few seconds before answering. “Her name is Hope.”

Chapter Text

Elain changed into loose cream pants before she slid Azriel’s helmet on and climbed onto the back of his bike, holding his sides gently. He had seemed to perk up a bit while she was working, and the food definitely helped, but she could see that he was still disturbed, anxious, and above all, scared. It was jarring to see someone like him so terrified; not because she thought that strong, large men couldn’t be scared. But because she could tell that not much scared him, so whatever he was seeing or experiencing had to be horrific.

To her surprise, they had only ridden a few minutes before Azriel pulled over on a street lined with shops. “One stop first,” he said, offering her a hand to dismount. He led her into what was clearly a motorcycle accessory shop, and she wondered if he needed something for his bike. But he just walked her over to a wall of helmets and waved a hand at them. 

“Pick one,” Azriel said, his voice just edging on that cool, dangerous tone she had grown used to. 

“Oh,” Elain answered, surprised. He cracked the tiniest smile. 

“I can’t keep having you wear my helmet,” he explained. “For one, it’s not your size. Also, I don’t actually want a brain injury if we crash.” He delivered it with dry, just-barely-there humor, but Elain huffed a little laugh for both of their benefit. 

“I think the ones on this side will be more your size,” Azriel offered, indicating to the left portion of the wall. 

Elain shuffled her feet, staring at all the helmets, feeling bewildered. “How do I pick one?” she asked. He grinned at her a hair wider. 

“Are you asking me for fashion advice?” 

She sent him a flat look and he mercifully chuckled. “These are all top of the line. Whichever one you pick will be amongst the best to keep you safe. So just choose one you think looks nice.”

“Alright…” she answered, surveying her options. There were dozens of colors and designs, shiny and matte, but her gaze snagged on a light blue matte helmet. 

“That one,” she said, pointing at it. 

Azriel plucked it off the hook. “Let’s try it.” He helped her pull it on and get it adjusted. “How does it feel?” he asked. 

Elain shrugged. Was she supposed to know how a motorcycle helmet felt? “Good, I think?”

He wiggled it a bit, using whatever expertise he had to determine whether it was good enough. “It’s perfect,” he finally decided, and then they walked to the counter. 

Elain began digging in her bag to find her wallet, but Azriel was already there, sliding a black credit card to the salesclerk. She tried to protest, but he only raised his brow and shook his head. 

“You’re on the bike because of me. Consider this a thank you for coming with me today.”

Elain’s gaze softened as the clerk rang him up. “I don’t need you to thank me with anything. But alright.” 

Back on the sidewalk, Azriel surveyed Elain once again in her helmet, and shook his head slightly. 

“What?” she asked, looking up at him. 

“I shouldn’t say,” he answered, and then swung onto the bike before she could push him further.

The ride was long, but not uncomfortable. Elain was distracted by her thoughts and questions the entire time, trying to prod her Sight into reading him without slipping into a vision. It certainly would have been a disaster if she had fallen off the bike because her vision turned white suddenly. But god she wanted to know what was troubling Azriel. And more than that—she wanted to know what was lurking beneath, what he was hiding from himself and the world, his past experiences, his thoughts, his future. She wanted to know everything. 

But even with her Sight, he was so shielded. Blocked. 

As they rode away from the city, the hot mid-afternoon summer sun beating down on them, the landscape became forested and hilly. Azriel finally turned down a road off the highway, taking them into the woods. They followed some winding roads, slowing down on the bike, for a few minutes until they came upon a much more rudimentary road.

Elain gasped when Azriel turned a corner and his mother’s manor came into view. It was breathtaking, all stone walls with crawling ivy and roses of every color. It reminded her of the castle in her past life as a princess. It was large, but not enormous. It was nestled amongst the woods and surrounded by stunning gardens that Elain could tell were painstakingly cared for. 

They had parked, and Azriel craned his neck to look at Elain, pulling his helmet off. She did the same. 

“My mother is a gardener, as well,” he murmured, a sad smile gracing his face. Gone was the brief lightness and humor he had shown in the store. Here was that broken and scared man again. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Elain said honestly, taking in their surroundings again. “You had this built? It looks so old.”

“Sort of,” Azriel replied. “I had an old, crumbling building restored and added to, and the grounds expanded.” 

Elain nodded as he dismounted and offered her a hand to do the same. They left their helmets balanced on the seat of his bike and Elain tidied her clothes and hair, readjusting her bag slung over her body. 

“Do I look okay?” she asked, suddenly nervous to meet his mother that he clearly loved so much. 

Azriel reached over and tucked a curl behind her ear, seeming to forget their rules for the time being. “You look perfect. Come on.”

They made their way up the stone walkway to the tall wooden front door, Azriel stuffing his hands into his pockets once more. He had the same sure, steady, graceful walk he always did, but Elain could see the extra tension held in his muscles, could sense the anxiety rolling off him. 

Azriel seemed to take a great, bracing breath before releasing it in a slow, steady stream, and then he rang the doorbell. 

Azriel counted the seconds as he waited for someone to answer the door, his heart rate increasing. He tried not to shift on his feet, to twitch the way he felt he might start doing. Elain was a warm, steady presence on his right, grounding him in a way he somehow had known she would. He heard footsteps and focused on fixing his face into casual ease. 

The door swung open and his mother’s housekeeper Alice stood there, short and plump with a smile stretching over her face.

“Azriel,” she greeted him in her rich, merry voice, grabbing him by the face and pulling him down six inches so that she could rise on her tiptoes and smack both of his cheeks with sloppy kisses. He chuckled despite his nerves, squeezing her in a brief hug.

“Hi, Alice,” he murmured. It didn’t matter that she saw him every month, sometimes twice or three times. She always greeted him with such warmth and enthusiasm. He heard Elain giggle lightly next to him, and Alice turned her head towards her. 

“And who is this stunning beauty?” she asked, clasping Elain’s hands in welcome. 

“I’m Azriel’s friend Elain,” she answered, returning Alice’s warmth in kind, squeezing her hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alice bowed her head. “I’m Alice, Hope’s housekeeper.”

“And the woman who single-handedly forces me to double my workouts some weeks,” Azriel said with a wink, and both women chuckled. 

“Please, please, come in,” Alice said, ushering them in and shutting the door behind them. “Your mother is in the library.” 

Azriel swallowed, following Alice down the hall. It seemed that she had opened every curtain in the house to let sunlight stream in, which…wasn’t a good sign. “Is she having a bad day?” he asked under his breath. 

Alice slid her eyes to him and gave just one swift nod. His heart sank. A shitty day to confront her about this, then, but he had to do it. He had to know. 

They got to a fork in the hallway where Azriel knew one path would lead to the library. 

“I’ll bring in some coffee and snacks,” she said, and patted him on the shoulder. He nodded his thanks and then led Elain down the hall towards his mother.

When Azriel pushed open the door to the library, his eyes flew straight to her. His mother was wrapped in a dark blue robe, still seemingly in her pajamas beneath it. Her hair was down and unbrushed, hanging limply in loose tangles around her shoulders. He knew better than to ask Alice or her nurses why they wouldn’t help her brush it; when she didn’t want to, there was no use in pushing it. It only made things worse. 

She was sitting in an armchair with a book laying open in her palms, but she wasn’t reading the book. She was just gazing distantly out the window into her garden beyond, her eyes glazed over. She had the same dark, wavy hair and tanned skin as Azriel, the same strong jaw, but her eyes were a light gray color. Although right now they looked darker, sunken. 

Elain looked at Azriel uncertainly. He reached out and squeezed her hand in reassurance before dropping it and walking slowly over to his mother. 

“Ma?” he asked gently. She didn’t look at him right away, so he walked all the way to her, Elain keeping a few paces back, and dropped to a knee beside her armchair, bringing him eye-level with her. 

“Ma,” he repeated, and her eyes slowly turned towards him, breaking away from her vigil as if in a trance. 

“Azriel,” she finally answered, recognition flaring in her eyes. Azriel had to forcibly stop himself from wincing at her voice, which was rough and strained, as if this was the first time she had talked all day. 

He offered her a warm smile. “Hi, Ma.” 

“My boy,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. Azriel closed his eyes at his mother’s touch, his heart flooding with love for her. “You came to see me,” she said.

He nodded and stood, waving Elain over. “And I brought a friend. This is Elain.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Elain said softly, as his mother looked over her carefully. “Your gardens are so beautiful,” Elain added. “I enjoy gardening, myself.” 

His mother blinked at her a few times before rising from her seat, Azriel bracing her with an arm to help her up. 

“Well don’t you just have the kindest soul I’ve ever met?” his mother asked her, and then opened her arms for an embrace. Elain looked slightly bewildered, but hid it well, returning his mother’s hug gracefully and warmly. 

For some reason, Azriel’s eyes stung watching them, and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision, swallowing hard. 

“Can we sit with you?” he asked, and his mother sank back down onto her armchair, closing her unread book and waving at the chairs sharing the little seating area with her. 

“Of course, son. I…I’m a little lost today. I’m sorry if…” she trailed off, her eyes glazing again. Elain and Azriel both took seats across from her, and Azriel reached across the space to squeeze his mother’s hand.

“It’s alright, Ma. You know it doesn’t bother me.” She squeezed his fingers back, and they sat in silence for a minute or so. Elain was watching them both with such tenderness in her eyes that Azriel nearly had to blink back tears again. He had never brought another person to meet his mother before. The only others that ever came with him were his brothers, who had known her for decades, considered her a mother as well. 

“I’m sorry it’s been a couple weeks,” Azriel said softly, keeping his hand held in hers. “I’ve been busy, although it’s no excuse. I should have come sooner.” 

She clicked her tongue at him, shaking her head. “You’re too good to me, son. I know you have your career and personal life keeping you occupied. They’re more important than sitting with your old mother by the window.”

Azriel felt his chest hollow out. “No,” he said sternly but gently. “They’re not. You know nothing is more important to me than you, Ma.”

She just shook her head as her gaze fell back on the window, and Azriel swallowed, pulling his hand away from hers and lacing his fingers over his legs. He looked over at Elain, who gazed back at him. He gave her a small encouraging nod, trying to convey to her that everything was fine. His mother was just off today. 

She wasn’t always like this. No, some days she was filled with the colorful spirit she had boasted during his childhood, telling stories and laughing heartily with him and his brothers. Some days she walked along her grounds, or gardened in the sunshine. But she was always his mother, the woman who raised him, who had endured hell for him. 

“Ma,” Azriel broke the silence quietly. “I need to ask you some questions about—” but he cut himself off as Alice came bustling into the library with a tray of coffees and snacks. 

“Thank you so much,” Elain said to her, helping her to arrange the tray between them. 

“Thank you, Alice,” Azriel echoed. His mother said nothing, only continued to gaze out the window. So Azriel and Elain each prepared coffee for themselves, stirring in sugar and cream. Azriel also made a coffee for his mother, just the way he knew she liked it—with a tiny bit of cream and a lot of sugar. 

“I need to ask you some questions about my father,” he finally said once Alice had left the room again, in as measured a voice as he could muster.

His mother’s gaze drifted back to his, her eyes somewhat clearer. He held her coffee out to her and she took it gingerly. He waited until she took a sip before continuing. 

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ve been having…dreams…and I need to know the truth about some things.”

Elain was looking between them nervously, cradling her mug but not drinking. Azriel sipped his own coffee, waiting for his mother to answer. 

Finally, she dragged her eyes back to his, and they were suddenly perfectly clear. Piercing and lively like they had been in his youth. 

“I wondered when this day would come,” she answered.

Elain glanced between Azriel and his mother. It was stunning how closely they resembled each other, save for his mother’s gray eyes. She was beautiful, with dark hair peppered with white and lines on her face that etched her years of wisdom and strength. 

But Elain tensed at the sudden change in his mother’s demeanor, her renewed clarity as Azriel’s question sunk in. She let her Sight prod at Hope a little a bit, trying to glean whether or not she shared Azriel’s magical attributes. Her Sight briefly sent her devastating images of poverty, hopelessness, fear, and equally powerful images of unending love and devotion for her son, for Cassian and Rhysand. But no magic that she could detect. 

“Please, Ma,” Azriel said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I need to know what happened. I don’t think he died of a heart attack.”

His mother surveyed him, and then slid her cunning gray eyes to Elain. “Are you sure you want your friend to hear this? It might change what she thinks of you.”

Before Azriel could open his mouth, Elain answered. “It won’t. And besides, I have some things to share with him about myself that could equally damage our friendship.” She hoped she wasn’t overstepping or inserting herself too much, but she just wanted him to understand that whatever was about to be revealed could be matched by her, and that she wouldn’t run. 

Her gaze met Azriel’s, and they stared at each other for a few seconds before he dipped his chin in confirmation. He looked back at his mother. “Tell me what happened,” he requested again, firmly but gently. 

Hope folded her hands, which were yet unwrinkled, over her knee. “Alright, son, but just know that I was young, and scared, and desperate. That I was so, so scared…not of you, but of what would happen to you should anyone—” she cut herself off with a sharp inhale, and Azriel just nodded at her reassuringly. 

“I understand, Ma. Don’t worry. You’ve never abandoned me or made me feel unloved.”

She nodded, and began to talk. “Your father did not die of a heart attack.” Elain watched Azriel’s face carefully, though he kept it behind a frozen, unfeeling mask. Not one muscle twitched in his face at his mother’s statement. 

“That night, your father had been out drinking for hours. I had put you to bed, and by the time he got home, you were long since asleep.” 

Elain’s Sight swirled though her, whispering true true true true true true. It was reading Hope’s intentions, judging her statements as fact or fabrication. She let it, out of her caution for Azriel. 

“When he finally returned home, he was drunk and angry. He had been threatening me for weeks—to kick me out of the house, abandon us on the streets. And just a few days prior, he had let those awful sons of his from his other family hold you down and…and…” her eyes welled, and Elain’s gaze drifted to Azriel’s hands, which remained unmoving, sitting lightly on his lap. He just nodded, that mask still firmly in place. 

“Anyway,” Hope continued, pulling herself back together. “When he came home that night, he was already angry, and when he saw some toys of yours I had yet to put away, it sent him over the edge. He yelled and began throwing them at me.”

Elain finally saw Azriel react with the briefest flinch at his mother’s words.

“I was angry, too. And foolish. I was so terrified for you, worried that he would take his anger out on you more than he already did, and so I provoked him, let him cross that line with me.”

Azriel paled. “Ma…” he uttered, his mask faltering. She just shook his head at him. 

“I am a mother, Azriel. If you are ever a father, you will understand. You would do anything for your child.”

Azriel sucked in a labored breath but just nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“Anyway, our fight must have woken you, and suddenly you were out of bed, trying to shield me from your father. He was so huge, and you were so, so tiny, just five years old and standing in front of me like you could save me from harm.”

Elain’s eyes stung and she willed herself not to cry, imagining Azriel as a tiny, scared boy, determined to protect his mother from someone who could easily overtake him. To witness such violence, such hatred between his own parents at such a young age… She cleared her throat quietly and sipped her coffee to try to calm her emotions. 

“But he shoved you out of the way, and I saw red when he put his hands on you, when he threw you to the ground when you were still in pain and healing.” This time Elain avoided glancing at Azriel’s hands. He was blinking rapidly, his breaths coming faster, but his face was once again unreadable.

“So I screamed at him not to touch you, and he lifted his fist to me.” She stopped abruptly, looking down at her hands. Elain’s heart was beating so fast, her Sight surging through her in powerful waves, telling her to pay attention, pay attention, pay attention. Hear him, see him, know him.  

Azriel leaned forward, his nostrils flaring and something wild prowling behind his eyes. “What happened next, Ma?” His voice was still gentle and encouraging, but his entire body was taut with tension, the lines of his arms and legs rigid, his back stiff. Elain could feel the tension emanating off of him in powerful waves that threatened to consume her.

Hope drew in a deep breath and raised her head to look her son in the eyes. “I will tell you what happened next, though I can’t explain it.” 

Azriel only nodded, his body still rigid with strain. Elain held her breath, and could not have anticipated the words that came next.

“Dark…something erupted from your body. They were like shadows, only living, writhing.”

Elain felt her eyes widen as her breath whooshed out of her. Azriel just remained frozen.

“They surged from you to your father, where they wound around him, stopping his fist from colliding with me. You were screaming, terrified, like you didn’t understand and couldn’t make it stop. The shadows began cutting off his breath, suffocating him. And then…” she trailed off, her eyes darting between Azriel and Elain and then back down to her hands.

“And then what, Ma?” Azriel asked, his voice as cold as a glacier and…shaking. 

“And then they snapped his neck,” she whispered. 

Silence. Utter, dead silence in the room. Elain stared at Azriel. Azriel stared at his mother. His mother stared down at her hands. 

He did have power. Vast, dark power, it seemed. Elain didn’t dare speak a word. She only waited for one of them to say something. His mother drew in a long breath.

“Once I recovered from the shock, I took care of the situation. To protect you, I convinced you that he had died of a heart attack. Of course, the coroner’s office had many questions about how his neck had snapped, with no evidence of anyone’s hands being on him or of suicide. In the end, they left it at an accidental death and moved on. They didn’t care much about a poor family living in the trailer park. Too many of us died for them to think too hard about it.” 

Azriel blinked at her once. Twice. Three times. And then he asked, “And did anything like that ever happen again? With the…shadows?” Elain could tell it was a visible effort for him to say the word, and just uttering it made him look like he might be sick. He had taken on a pale, green pallor and his hands were slightly shaking, though he tried to steady them in his lap. 

“Only little things,” she answered. “Catching something you had accidentally knocked down before it broke. Finding your favorite stuffed bear under your bed when you cried for it. But always…secretively. I don’t think you ever noticed, and it stopped after a year or two.”

Elain’s mind was buzzing rapidly. Protecting him. Azriel’s shadows—whatever they were—were there to protect him. To keep him safe. They may have been dark, but they were not evil. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Azriel asked slowly. His mother looked up into his hazel eyes with her own shining gray ones, tears clinging to her lower lashes. 

“I thought I was protecting you. If anyone ever found out, if you ever told anyone…I didn’t know what would happen to you. And you were so bright, so driven, so kind-hearted. You had already endured so much, at such a young age. I didn’t want you to have to carry a heavier burden than you already were.” 

Azriel looked back down at his own hands. He sat there for so long in silence, his mother watching him hopelessly, that Elain was about to interject, to say something—anything—to break the tension, when his head finally lifted. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I just need to get some air for a minute.” And then he stood, striding to the doors of the library, and he was gone.

As soon as Azriel had opened the back door and the fresh air hit him, he ran. He sprinted as fast as he could toward the edge of the forest, the coffee and crackers he had consumed roiling in his gut. Panic surged through him as he reached the tree line, a cold sweat breaking over his body and his mouth filling with saliva. 

Not again. Not again.

But he gripped a tree trunk and doubled over, vomiting violently onto the mossy ground beneath his feet. 

He had done that. He had killed his father as a five-year-old, and there was something—something inside him—

He doubled over and wretched again. And again. His lunch with Elain coming up, the water, the apple, everything he had consumed. He was coughing and spitting, his thoughts moving too fast through his head, his chest heaving as he gripped that tree for dear life. 

He was…some sort of monster. Something not real. Something that didn’t make sense and went against everything he believed in, everything he stood for. He could pretend it wasn’t real when it was only in his nightmares, but now his mother…

Again and again he expelled his stomach, until only bile rose from him and his legs were too weak to hold him. He was kneeling, his head bowed, spitting out another mouthful of bile and saliva, when a small hand brushed down his spine and he stilled. 

“It’s okay, Azriel,” Elain’s lovely, soft voice came from behind him. He felt her kneel down beside him, stroking her hand over his spine as he groaned, his stomach clenching. “It’s okay,” she said again. 

“It’s not,” he croaked, forcing his legs to take him to standing, though they still shook. Elain stood with him, her hand braced under his elbow to help steady him. He couldn’t look at her, shame and fear coating every inch of him. His shoulders drooped inward, but she just repeated, “it’s okay.”

He turned away from her, looking back at the house. Her hand fell away from his elbow but she didn’t move. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice strained and rough. 

“Yes, I should,” Elain protested, and he heard her voice grow hard and determined.

Azriel ran his hands over his face, taking a step away from her. “You shouldn’t,” he repeated.

“Why not?”

And then Azriel exploded. “Because I fucking killed my father!” he bellowed, spinning to look her in the eye. His breath was coming hard and fast, and he felt wild, unhinged, as he looked into Elain’s face. But she looked…calm. Steady. She did not flinch or cower or frown. She just looked back at him with those wide, honest brown eyes. 

“Azriel,” she said gently, reaching out a hand to place softly on his forearm. “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

He scoffed and closed his eyes. “No, you don’t. Because I don’t,” he answered, opening his eyes again. He searched her face. “What my mother just told me, it’s…it’s insane. It makes no sense. All I heard was that I’m some…I’m some fucking demon or something, with the ability to kill someone without even touching them, and I can’t fucking control it.”

Elain took a step toward him, her other hand landing on his opposite arm. She gripped him lightly. “Take a breath, Azriel. Just breathe for a minute with me.”

It was an effort, but he did, dragging in some breaths and releasing them violently until it became slightly easier. The shame was only tightening its fist around his heart, his head. 

“You should be running,” he said darkly, looking down at his feet. But then Elain’s warm, soft hands came to either side of his face, and she tugged at him gently until he looked up at her. She stroked both thumbs over his cheeks softly. “I’m not running,” she murmured. “I told you, I have things I need to tell you about me, as well.” 

Azriel didn’t know what she meant, and could barely process it. “Later,” Elain added, seeing the struggle on his face. “Just…just let me be here with you. We can walk, if you want, or we can go back inside. But I’m not running from you. I told you I wouldn’t.” 

Azriel swallowed, unsure what he had ever done to deserve friendship from a bright shining light like this. They gazed at each other for a few moments, Elain still holding his face in her hands. 

“Let’s walk,” Azriel finally rasped, and Elain dropped her hands, nodding. 

And so they walked, mostly in silence. Azriel let her take his hand in her own, squeezing his fingers. They walked around the grounds of the house, the sun slowly making its way across the sky, for what felt like hours. Azriel hardly said a word, but Elain didn’t mind. She was happy to let him process, to process herself. 

Azriel was magic. It might take him…well—years, maybe—to accept it, if he ever did. But he was. And she had so much to tell him. So much to show him. Her mind continually circled back to those damn cards, wondering what that fucking Tower was. Was it the pull between them? Was it the magic they shared—diving in to explore it together? What would lead to that doom she so badly wanted to avoid? 

Azriel never dropped her hand, clutching it desperately, like a lifeline, and she didn’t mind that either. She knew that this wasn’t about their relationship or their rules or even her. He just needed something to ground him, and she could be that something. For now…he might run even faster from her when he found out her own secrets. 

And how would she tell him? When would she tell him? Her cards and Sight were very clear with their prediction that she could guide him, show him the way, help him master his magic. But would that lead to the Tower, their metaphorical fall from the heavens? Or would it lead to the Lovers? Or both? Elain only grew more confused and unsure by the minute.

She decided to try to bury her own questions and uncertainties and focus on supporting Azriel, instead. After they had walked around the grounds four times, Elain stopped, looking up at him. 

“I think if I keep walking I’ll collapse,” she said softly. “I need some water. And to get out of the sun.”

He looked down at her, then down at their joined hands, as if he had forgotten they were entwined. “Right…” he answered distantly. “Should we…we can ride home.”

Elain drew her head back, appalled. “Azriel,” she chided lightly. “I am not going to let you drive for an hour in this state. You just hurled up everything you’ve eaten today—don’t look at me like I didn’t see that—and you’re in shock. You just…you need to rest. I know you might want to be home, but…I don’t think that’s a safe choice right now.” 

She straightened her spine, ready to argue in her stubborn way if needed. But Azriel only gazed down at their joined hands again, his eyes somewhat glassy, and nodded. “Okay,” he sighed. “Let’s go inside.”

They dropped their hands as they approached the back door of the house again, and shuffled in. Alice immediately found them, looking haughty and put-out.

“I don’t know what happened in there,” she said in a clipped voice, “but your mother is very upset. She’s in bed.”

Azriel opened his mouth, but Elain answered first. “It wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly. “Azriel didn’t do anything. They just discussed the past, and it was difficult for them both.” 

Alice’s shrewd gaze darted from Elain to Azriel, and then her gaze softened as she took in his pale, haggard face, his hands that were still slightly shaking, his drooped body. 

She clicked her tongue. “You two have been through enough,” she said gently. “Have a seat. I’ll prepare us all some dinner.” 

Elain glanced at Azriel. He was looking down at his feet, not saying a word. “Actually,” Elain said, “I think what he needs now is a shower and a toothbrush, if you have one. And then to sit. And I would love to help you make dinner, if you’d allow me to.” 

Alice looked taken aback for a moment, and Elain wondered if she’d ever seen Azriel appear so broken before. Or if she’d ever been offered help in the kitchen. 

“Of course,” she answered finally, her voice back to its usual warmth and care. “You know where the spare toothbrushes and bathroom supplies are, son,” she said gently to Azriel, who only nodded at her and walked away wordlessly. 

Elain watched him go, and then looked at Alice nervously. “He seems to be struggling today,” she said unhelpfully, and the portly woman only clicked her tongue again and shook her head sadly. 

“I’ve never seen him like that before,” she muttered thoughtfully, “but it’s not too far off from how his mother looks right now.” She waved at Elain to follow her down the hall to the kitchen, where she immediately handed her an apron, tying one onto herself as well. 

“Whatever caused them to become so upset?” she asked, pulling ingredients from cabinets and the refrigerator. 

“Oh,” Elain said nervously, washing her hands. “I don’t know if I should…” 

Alice tsked. “Nevermind, sweetheart. You’re a good friend. Now let’s make this roast.”

As Elain assisted Alice in making a pot roast with a summer salad and whipped potatoes with gravy, they chatted easily, Alice telling stories of Azriel and his mother. Apparently, she had worked for them for twelve years now, and had a plethora of stories, both tender and amusing, to tell of their antics together and apart. 

Elain fell into the easy rhythm of the kitchen, happily chatting with Alice while straining her ears to detect any other movement in the house. The house was too large for her to be able to hear whether or not Azriel had actually showered like she had suggested, but she also did not hear the sound of his bike starting and driving off into the distance—a small comfort. She didn’t think he would just leave her here alone, but she did fear him running from her in self-hatred. 

The pair was setting the table together when Alice looked at Elain with those shrewd dark eyes of hers. “Do you think you can convince him to stay the night?” she asked, placing knives beside the plates. “It’s not uncommon for him to do so, and in his state, I don’t think that boy should be driving either of you on that crazy contraption of his.”

Elain laughed lightly, both at her use of “boy” to describe the very grown, very manly Azriel, and at her assessment of his bike. “I agree. He could barely convince me to get on it in the first place, although I don’t mind it now. I’ll do my best to convince him.”

“And…” Alice said, raising an eyebrow at her and looking her over. “If he agrees, am I setting up one bedroom, or two?” 

Elain felt her cheeks redden as she knocked a water glass sideways and had to catch it before it toppled over. Alice chuckled knowingly. 

“Oh,” she answered, flustered. “Two, please. If you don’t mind the extra work. It’s—I—we—” she cleared her throat. “We’re just friends.” 

Alice stared at her for what felt like twenty seconds before simply replying, “Mhm.” Elain knew her cheeks were the color of tomatoes at this point. She hurried off to find Azriel while Alice roused his mother from bed for dinner.

Elain had been right, as she so often was, it seemed. Showering and brushing his teeth had felt good. He still felt raw and wrung out, unsteady, but he at least felt clean. He had stood in the shower, as hot as he could endure it, for over thirty minutes, letting the steam and sweat evaporate some of the twisted torments from him. Only some, but it was enough to put his head on straight to make it through dinner. 

After he had dried off and tugged his clothes back on, Azriel had made his way to the little art gallery on the second floor of the house. His mother loved art, and he had slowly helped her collect her pieces over the years. He was gazing at an oil painting of a red rose breaking through a littered lot of gravel*, pieces of rubble and trash surrounding it, when Elain’s voice broke his stupor.

“There you are,” she said gently. He turned to see her still wearing an apron, her hair now pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and smiled slightly. She surveyed him from head to toe, studying his wet hair as if to ensure that he had actually showered. “Dinner is ready,” she added, her eyes drifting to the painting he had been looking at. “That’s a beautiful painting.”

He only nodded and turned, leading the way out of the room. “I’m sorry for how I acted,” he said under his breath as they descended the stairs. 

Elain put her hand out against the back of his shoulder and he stopped, turning to look at her. “Don’t apologize for that,” she answered softly. “You’re processing a lot.” A wave of panic surged through him at that reminder, but he turned back to the front and kept moving, and she followed. 

When they entered the dining room, Alice and his mother were already seated. His mother looked even more vacant and lost than before, and guilt flooded him so completely that he strode right to her, dropping to his knees beside her chair. He placed both hands over hers. 

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he said, as softly as he could. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and I’m so grateful for everything you told me. And I love you.” He squeezed her hands gently until she drew her glazed eyes to his. They cleared only slightly.

“I love you too, son,” she whispered. He fought the pain in his chest and stood once more, pulling out a seat for Elain and indicating that she take it. 

“Oh,” she said, looking down at herself as if she suddenly realized that she was still wearing her apron. “One minute.”

She bustled off and Azriel and Alice took their seats, waiting. She came back with her apron gone and her hair down and flowing, as if she had hurriedly run her fingers through it to present herself. The corner of his mouth lifted. 

Dinner was a quiet and painful affair, with mostly Elain and Alice making idle chat as Azriel sat and watched his mother guiltily. He hadn’t meant to make her so upset. He should have known that talking about this would have been monumental for her, too, and he would give anything to take away that vacant look in her eyes. She had severe PTSD, he knew that, discussed it regularly with her nurses and psychologist. And he had been so selfish, demanding that she discuss it. He hated himself more with each breath. 

He was only pulled out of his unending well of bitterness when Elain addressed him directly. “Did you hear me, Azriel?” 

He shook his head slightly. He had been eating slowly and without really tasting anything, although he was glad to be able to fill his stomach now that it felt somewhat more settled. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“I said that Alice offered that we stay here tonight, and I think it’s a good idea. I think we should be sure your…stomach is feeling better before we try to make that long ride again.” She was looking at him pointedly, like she could see right through him. Could see that he was just barely holding his shit together. He didn’t even have the energy to argue.

“Alright,” he answered distantly, taking a sip of water. 

Alice clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll have two rooms made up for you,” she said with a meaningful look at Elain, and Azriel couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, wondering what exactly they had been discussing as they had cooked. Elain blushed but thanked Alice.

When dinner was done, Azriel thanked Elain and Alice for cooking, and then offered to clean up. Elain insisted that she help while Alice took his mother back to bed. They cleaned up mostly in silence, Azriel getting more and more lost in his head. 

When they were done, exhaustion was overtaking Azriel so completely he felt like he might collapse, even though it was barely 7:30 PM. Elain watched him warily, like she was also worried he might fall over. 

“Come on,” she said gently as they finished up. “Let’s go find our rooms.”

“I know where they are,” he said heavily, feeling like he weighed five tons. He led her up the stairs to the two spare bedrooms Alice often made up for him and his brothers and found that it had already been done. 

“You look like you need to get some sleep,” Elain told him, and he only nodded. “Thank you for bringing me here today,” she added, and his gaze finally snapped to hers, shocked by her words. “Thank you for trusting me with this.” 

“Elain,” he rasped, his control slipping. She could see it in his eyes, and she crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He collapsed into it, shaking slightly as he held her. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair, hugging her closely to him. She nodded into his chest and they stood like that for a few moments before she broke away, taking a step or two back from him. 

“Goodnight, Azriel,” she murmured, giving him a small smile. 

“Goodnight,” he answered, and then she left, pulling the door gently closed behind her. Azriel took in one stuttered breath, his fear and confusion immediately surging as she left him. He pulled off his shoes and socks, and then his pants and shirt, his heart thudding faster and faster. It was like his exhaustion evaporated in the wake of her absence, replaced by screaming demons within him. 

Azriel tried to shut off the light and lay down, but it made it worse, his stomach clenching once more and his head swimming. So he stood up and paced, his breath coming harder and faster, his fear eating at him from the inside out. He ripped his hands through his hair.

He was a monster, evil, an abomination. He was something that didn’t make sense, something that shouldn’t exist. And he had killed his father. He was a murderer. And there were no answers, no explanations, no rules of nature he could turn to this time. He was lost at a violent sea, his body thrashing in the waves, the saltwater choking the life out of him as he lost control completely. 

He didn’t know how long he paced, feeling further and further outside of his body, until a gentle knock came at his door and it cracked open. His steps faltered when Elain’s head poked in. She took one look at him and slid inside his room, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

He didn’t say anything, his chest heaving violently, but he knew his eyes spoke for him. There was a pleading scream within him, reaching for her. He needed her. She was still fully clothed as she surveyed him in his anguish, pacing through his bedroom in his boxers. She remained silent as she strode to where his shirt lay discarded on the floor. Turning her back to him, she tugged her blouse over her head, exposing her bare back to him. 

“What are you doing?” he finally rasped, confused and agitated and not in the mood to add lust to the mix. Elain only pulled his large t-shirt over her head, and it fell to her midthigh. She turned around and reached under the shirt, pulling her pants off. Wordlessly, she made her way to his bed, nudging the covers down and laying down on her side, propped up on her elbow. She patted the bed. 

“Come lie down with me.” 

His chest was still heaving, his fingers flexing in his agitation. His body felt so taut it might snap. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Azriel,” she assured him. “I just want to help you sleep.” Azriel ground his teeth together as his agony kept pulsing into him again and again. For the monster he was, for what he had done to his mother today, for everything he didn’t understand. 

But his feet moved as if with their own will, and he found himself sliding into bed next to Elain, the scent of her perfume and his own cologne from his shirt greeting him. Their shared scents settled something inside him, and even though he was still raging, he laid his head down on the pillow beside her. 

Elain laid her own head down, and they were both on their sides, face to face. She tugged the blankets up over them, and then she lifted her hand wordlessly, and stroked it down the side of his face. He blinked, and she did it again. And then she stroked down his nose, across his jaw. When she stroked a soft finger between his eyebrows, his eyes fell closed. His breath was loosening, slowing. 

“Shh,” she murmured, her hand moving to his hair. She brushed her fingers through it, and his breath slowed a bit more. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It will be okay. I promise. I’ll help you.” 

He still didn’t speak, just lay there, eyes closed, as she gently stroked his hair, lulling him away from his panic, his anguish. Drawing him towards something more peaceful, safer. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered again, breathing slowly before him. He followed her breath, letting his chest rise and fall with hers, until his exhaustion returned, and he couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. 

And Elain just lay there, no longer speaking, just breathing steadily, letting her beautiful soul wrap around his as she stroked and stroked his hair, until those strokes followed him into his dreams. And even when he fell into slumber, Elain was still there, laying next to him on the sandy beach, where she had pulled him from those violent tidal waves, carried him to shore, and stroked his hair until he fell asleep even within his dream.

Chapter Text

Elain awoke to early morning light streaming through curtains that had been left open. She blinked a few times, feeling wholly different than she normally did when she rose. As sensory information pelted her—sounds of birdsong and deep breathing, a warm, heavy weight at her back, curled around her, limbs tangled with hers, the smell of cedar and night-chilled mist—she realized why. 

Shit. She had fallen asleep in Azriel’s bed. In his arms. At his mother’s house. Memories from the previous day came flooding back to her. The conversation with Hope, Azriel learning the truth about his father, Azriel bent over along the tree line, expelling everything from his stomach. His eyes, so terrified and lost. The way she had touched him, stroking his hair, until he had fallen asleep beside her. The way her own eyes had grown heavy as she lay against his warm, hard body, listening to his rhythmic, deep breathing. She must have fallen asleep soon after. And at some point, she must have turned away from him in her sleep, and he had curled around her, draping his arm and leg over her. 

Shit, shit, shit. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep with him. She hadn’t meant to spend the night with him. And she certainly hadn’t expected the peaceful, content, safe feeling filling her chest that she had woken with. Elain’s heart beat faster as she lay there, trying not to move and wake him. This felt good. So good. But would surely not align with what they had agreed on. It certainly broke their little rules, and they had done enough of that yesterday. Azriel didn’t need to be confused or frustrated by her right now. He needed a friend, and he needed support. He didn’t need her pushing him to his limit or pressuring him into something he wasn’t ready for. 

So Elain, as slowly and carefully as she could, inched away from Azriel’s nearly-naked body. It wasn’t easy, as he had an arm and a leg both banded around her, holding her to him. His other arm was up above them under their pillows. 

Elain cringed as she carefully nudged his arm off her, praying that he didn’t wake. If she could just make it out of the room without him waking, she could claim that she had left after he had fallen asleep, no harm done. She held her breath as she fully slid out from under his leg, silently looking sideways to make sure he was still sleeping. 

Her breath caught at what she saw. Azriel’s face was so soft, so peaceful, as he continued to sleep, showing no reaction to her movement. The hard lines of his jaw were slackened as his muscles were truly relaxed (sleeping was probably the only time he didn’t hold his jaw clenched so hard he would need orthodontic work later in life), and his full, beautiful lips were parted softly. His bare, muscled chest rose and fell evenly, slowly, his cut muscles staring at her. Elain just watched him sleep for a few moments, stunned by his truly unfair beauty, before she shook herself out of her trance and rose quietly from the bed. 

She crept across the room and quickly tugged his shirt off, dropping it where she had found it the night before. She pulled on her blouse and pants, picked up her shoes, and tiptoed across the floor. She took one last look at his still-sleeping form before she opened the door as gently as she could to escape back to the room she was supposed to have slept in. 

Azriel hadn’t been sleeping. Well, he had been when Elain had presumably first woken, but he was an incredibly light sleeper. As soon as she began gently extricating herself from his limbs, he had woken. But she was clearly trying to sneak out of his room—cuddling over—so he decided to show her some mercy and just pretend to stay asleep. It was a skill he had perfected over his years, whether to avoid unpleasant interactions with his father or at the homeless shelter, to try to quell his mother’s worry, or simply to pretend he was normal. 

He didn’t blame her. She had probably woken, remembered that she was sleeping next to a literal monster, and got the fuck out of there. Good—it was what he deserved. He remembered falling asleep to the strokes of her fingers through his hair, but he hadn’t woken once throughout the night. Elain must have fallen asleep by accident and woken up horrified that she was sleeping next to him. 

Well, she didn’t need to worry. He heard her message loud and clear, even if she had wanted to be sneaky about it. She didn’t want to fall asleep with him, she didn’t want him holding her, and she sure as fuck didn’t want to wake up with him. Bitterness filled Azriel’s chest. Not at Elain—her line of thinking was sound. Even if she had promised him she wasn’t scared of him, he didn’t know how she could hold to that promise. He was a literal creature of nightmares. 

No, his bitterness was only at himself. He shouldn’t have allowed her in last night. He shouldn’t have been so weak, so desperate. He shouldn’t have let himself to feel that comfort she gave him so freely, let himself have a taste of what it felt like to have her next to him, laying with him, wearing his shirt. Sleeping next to him. Curled into his arms. 

“Fuck,” Azriel whispered to himself, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. Now he had to go out and face her, pretend like none of it happened, as she did the same. He would have to pretend to sleep for a little while longer, he supposed. So he lay there and stared up at the ceiling, hating himself more every second for how fucking pathetic he had been yesterday. Even if she wasn’t afraid of him, he had displayed a side of himself that he kept locked away so absolutely, no one even knew he had it. Panicked. Unhinged. Desperate. Terrified. Weak. She had seen it all, and she would no doubt be disgusted and pitying now. 

Perfect, he thought sarcastically. At least it will help dampen the lust. Maybe a blessing, then. 

When he felt that enough time had passed, Azriel rose. He tugged on his shirt that smelled devastatingly strongly of her perfume, immediately searing his senses and aggravating him even more. He ground his teeth together as he pulled on the rest of his clothes and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

They had fallen asleep so early, it was only 6 AM when Azriel wandered through his mother’s house, looking for signs of life. Of course, he found only Elain, sitting with a cup of tea at a little round table in the sitting room. He cleared his throat at the threshold—there was no use trying to avoid her.

Elain turned to face him, looking slightly panicked and guilty. Regret, clearly. “Morning,” she said with what sounded like forced lightness.

“Good morning,” Azriel answered, approaching the table and sinking down into the chair opposite her. She smelled like toothpaste and herself and him. 

“How did you sleep?” she asked. Azriel would play along then. 

“Really well,” he answered. “Thank you, for last night. I’m sorry if that was weird, I didn’t mean to be so—”

Elain shook her head vehemently. “Please don’t be sorry. It was nothing, really. I was glad to be able to help.” He studied her for a moment, and she seemed to mean it. 

“How did you sleep?” Azriel asked her, wondering how she would respond. Testing the waters. Elain’s cheeks flushed a bit, but she maintained eye contact with him. “Good,” she answered. “The bed was very comfortable.”

Yeah, my bed was. As was being in my arms. He held those thoughts in, because they were useless. 

“Good,” he answered with a tight smile. “I’m glad.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Azriel wondered if she had ruffled up the blankets and sheets in her bed to make it look like she had slept there.

His bitterness got the better of him as he asked, “Why did you change into my shirt, if you were going to put your clothes back on and leave?”

An unfair question, but he asked it anyway. 

Elain's cheeks deepened in color. It took her a moment to answer, as she fiddled with the handle of her mug. “To be comfortable. We didn't bring anything with us, and you had already taken it off, so I was just going to sleep in it. But then I realized that if I wore it to bed you wouldn't have it to put on in the morning.” 

Azriel cocked his head to the side. “So you slept in…?”

God, he was being such a dick. To her or to himself, he didn't know. To both of them, he supposed. 

Elain flushed redder. “Do you need to know that?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I guess not, no.” He had to fix this train wreck. “Anyway, thank you again for everything you did for me yesterday. For coming here with me, for witnessing all of that, for…taking care of me.” 

That concept was foreign to him. Only his mother and Rhys’s mother had ever taken care of him, and it had been decades. 

Elain's eyes softened as her blush receded slightly. “You're welcome,” she said softly. “It means a lot to me that you trusted me. And I meant what I said. I'll help you…figure it all out.” 

Azriel swallowed. It was too early to talk about this, to discuss what he had learned about himself. “I'm going to make some coffee,” he mumbled, and headed to the kitchen. 

Elain was vexed. First, because Azriel had called her out. Why had she put his shirt on? She swore to herself that she hadn't meant to fall asleep with him, but then why had she stripped her clothes and put his shirt on instead? Was she just lying to herself? Was she that desperate? 

She was also vexed because he already seemed determined to move on from yesterday. To go back to his cool, collected demeanor. It made her uneasy, like he was ready to go straight back to denial. And she knew from experience that denying your magic only ended in disaster. 

Graysen had known about her Sight. She had told him everything when they had deemed themselves in love. How could she have married someone without them knowing about her magic? But he didn't want to accept it. He was openly disgusted by it, and asked—no, demanded—that she “keep it under control.” She did everything she could to suppress her Sight when she was with him. It had made her ill, exhausted, dangerous even. Outside of his presence, she had begun to read people on accident, to tell them their futures or speak in riddles. Her grip on reality had begun to slip, and it became difficult for her to distinguish the difference between the present and the future. Her business suffered, as did her personal life.

Her earthwork became alarming, as well. Plants that she thought she was pouring healing power into were suddenly filled with deadly poison or other sinister effects when ingested or used on the skin. It was a miracle she didn't accidentally kill someone during that time. 

Only when they had ended and she was able to fully embrace her Sight once more did her power level, cooperate with her, serve her again. She wouldn't let Azriel suffer the same fate, even if he ended up hating her for it as Graysen did. 

But she was wondering now if telling him the truth about her right away was the best idea. 

The thoughts gnawed at her all morning. She and Azriel drank their coffee and tea in near silence. Even her Sight was silent, like it could sense his deep brooding and shrunk away from him. Eventually, Alice rose, bustling around to prepare them breakfast. Finally, a nurse roused Hope, helped her prepare for the day, and Azriel’s mother joined them in the dining room. 

They shared a quiet, solemn breakfast. His mother was distant, seeming lost in that haze still. Azriel was warm and gentle with her, as he had been the day before. It was a beautiful side to this man who showed the world such a cold version of himself. Elain couldn't help but like both versions. The outward version was enticing, dangerous, mysterious. The private version—the version he reserved for his mother alone—was heartbreakingly tender and earnest. 

Elain was able to bring Hope some clarity when she asked about her gardens, and she happily spoke with her about flower varieties until the end of breakfast, when Azriel announced they had overstayed their welcome and should leave. 

He stooped to hug his mother, embracing her carefully but tightly, and spoke low in her ear. Elain looked at her feet, trying hard to pretend she wasn't there and not invade this moment between them. 

When he stepped away from his mother, Hope beckoned Elain over. Elain approached her, unsure of whether she should offer a hug or a handshake or something else, but Hope made the decision and pulled her into a firm hug. She hugged her back, relishing in the motherly affection she had not experienced in so long—ever, really, if she was being honest. 

“Take care of my boy,” Hope said low under her breath, into Elain's ear. “He needs a gentle touch like yours. And he needs someone to see him.” 

Elain froze in the embrace. The way she had said “see”...like she knew. Like she could sense Elain's power. 

“Help him,” Hope murmured. 

“I will,” Elain promised, and then they broke away, Hope patting Elain on the forearm. 

“I hope you come back to garden with me, sweetheart,” she said, and looked like she meant it. 

A smile broke over Elain's face as she promised she would. When she turned back to Azriel, he was watching them with an unreadable look on his face. He blinked a few times, as if clearing his vision, and then they left, climbing atop his bike and taking off onto the highway once more.

It was only midday when Azriel pulled up outside of Elain’s shop and they both climbed down from his bike and tugged off their helmets. Elain gazed up at him, wondering how to breach the silence between them. Well, since she and Graysen had ended, she had seen no use in tiptoeing or delaying. 

“Will you come in and talk to me?” she asked, looking up into his hazel eyes earnestly. 

Azriel ran a gloved hand through his tousled curls, looking down at her silently. She chewed the inside of her lip. 

“You can’t just ignore this, Azriel. I just want to help.”

He released a sharp breath through his nose. “I know that,” he said gruffly. “I just think…I just think I need a minute. I need some space to process.”

Elain couldn’t pressure him— wouldn’t pressure him. She didn’t know what this felt like. She had always been aware of her powers. Her parents, despite the faults they both possessed, had at least given her and her sisters that. They had been trained from a young age, given wisdom and guidance and the knowledge they needed to practice safe and responsible magic. She didn’t have to deal with a revelation like this. Of course he needed time. 

“I understand,” she said gently. 

Azriel took a relieved breath and nodded at her gratefully. 

“Can you just promise me one thing?” 

He looked at her suspiciously. “I don’t make promises without hearing them first.”

Elain almost rolled her eyes at the so-very Azriel way he said it, but held herself back. 

“Will you promise me that you won’t shut me out? When you’re ready to talk, come to me. If you need help, come to me. I think you brought me with you for a reason, and you don’t have to figure this out alone. So please just…remember I’m here, and don’t disappear.” 

He looked at her for a few moments, blinking slowly. Letting her words sink in. She held his gaze, sending all of the earnestness and honesty she could back at him. 

Finally, he nodded. “I won’t disappear. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to talk. I promise.”

Elain let out a breath she had been holding while waiting for him to answer. She got the feeling that Azriel very rarely made promises, and even more rarely broke them. 

“Alright,” she answered gently. “Thank you.”

He shook his head at her. “Thank you,” he answered quietly, and then he was leaning down, gently drifting a hand up her back and kissing her on the top of her head. Her eyes dropped closed, soaking in the feeling, until he suddenly jerked away from her violently.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his face contorted in pain. “I shouldn’t have—that was fucked up.”

He was already backing away from her. Elain tried to grasp his arm to stop him, just to tell him it was okay, that she knew he must be confused and in pain and feeling alone, that she wouldn’t hold the small affection against him, that she liked it, but he was already down the path, leaving her at her front door. 

“I’ll call you,” he said quickly, already mounting his bike again. “I’m sorry.”

Elain didn’t even have a moment to answer before he slid his helmet back on and took off. She stared at the space where his body had been for a long time, before finally turning around and unlocking the door of her shop.

The moment she closed the door behind her, her knees buckled and she fell forward onto them, her hands slamming onto the wood floor. Her vision went white.

A slender but strong hand was gripping Elain by the upper arm, pulling her into an open door as she had been striding down the castle hall to her own chambers. It was well past midnight, and she had just spent hours in her private garden with Azriel. Kissing him, crying into his arms, just staring into his beautiful eyes. 

Nesta dragged Elain into her chambers, clicking the door shut decisively behind her. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Nesta hissed at her as Elain gasped in surprise. Her sister’s hair was out of its usual coronet braid, down for the night, her face clean of cosmetics. She was wearing a sleep shift with a dressing robe over it. One look around told Elain that Nesta had yet to actually go to bed, though she was ready. A mug of still-hot tea and a book sat at the low table in the sitting area of her chambers. 

Elain only turned and looked at her, trying hard to keep a guilty expression off her face. She was still fully dressed, her hair still in its perfect half-up braid, wearing a corset and formal day gown. 

Nesta crossed her arms, looking down at Elain severely. She was several inches taller than Elain, older, and much more intimidating. 

“How long have you been engaging in appropriate behavior with Azriel Dolan, our knight?” she asked pointedly. Plainly.

Elain’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach, its beat increasing rapidly, but she schooled her face into cool neutrality. “I don’t know what you mean,” she answered, keeping her voice steady and sure, drawing on every etiquette lesson she had ever endured.

Nesta bared her teeth at Elain. “That garden of yours may have high walls, but it does not have a roof, silly little girl. Go look.” She pointed to her window overlooking the grounds. Elain swallowed, a cold sweat breaking out over her palms, but she walked gracefully to the window. She felt the color drain from her face as she looked out and down—straight into her private garden with its high stone walls. 

She turned around, her eyes widening and her grace faltering. She opened her mouth, but no words came. 

“Elain,” Nesta hissed once more, her voice full of disappointment, but also…concern. “Tell me.”

Panic rose in Elain. Who else had seen them? She was overcome as she blurted out, “I’m in love with him!”

Nesta’s face paled as her arms dropped to her sides in shock. “You what?” 

Elain straightened her spine. “I’m in love with him. I don’t want to marry Lucien Vanserra. I hate that family. I am in love with Azriel, and he loves me.”

Nesta sank down onto the sofa in her sitting area, running an elegant hand over her face. When she looked back at Elain, her eyes had softened, but her face remained hard. “How long have you been seeing him in such a way, Elain?”

Elain fidgeted with the tie around her waist, looking at her feet as she slowly sank into an armchair opposite her sister. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Almost a year? We were…we were just friends, first. He was kind to me. We talked, and—”

“He is a knight, Elain. If Mother and Father found out—”

“Does anyone else know?” Elain asked quickly, her head snapping up to meet her sister’s gaze. 

Nesta clicked her tongue and crossed her legs haughtily. “I don’t think so,” she said stiffly. “No other rooms in this wing have a direct view to your garden.” 

Relief coursed through Elain’s body, even as her eyes widened. “How do you know?”

Nesta glared at her younger sister. “Because I checked. I spotted you two in there a few days ago, and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”

Elain’s cheeks burned with societal shame. No matter who it was, a princess could not be caught tangled up with any man before marriage—even kissing a man outside of private quarters was reprehensible to most.

Nesta continued, “I’ve spent the last couple of days coming up with ridiculous excuses to venture into the chambers in this wing and check what their occupants could see under their windows. Cousin Ammalie can see nothing. Nor can Uncle Jeremiah.”

Elain loosed a long, shaking breath. She glanced nervously at her sister. “Did you see anything…uncouth?” Her face was as hot as the sun. 

Nesta arched an elegant eyebrow. “I saw his mouth on yours and his hands roving under the laces of your corset. That was all I needed to see, and have carefully avoided looking since.”

Elain’s cheeks blazed, and she looked down at her clasped hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing. She had done nothing to hurt Nesta. But Nesta was now in a precarious position, and could be punished for keeping this secret. 

Nesta huffed and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “I will ask you something that is going to make you blush even more than you already are,” she ground out. “But you must answer honestly.”

Elain swallowed. She knew what was coming. 

“How much have you given him?”

Elain’s stomach bottomed out completely. She squeezed her hands together until her knuckles shone white. “Everything,” she whispered.

Nesta grimaced, her eyes falling closed. “That is what I was afraid you would say.” They sat in silence for a few moments, Nesta wordlessly fuming with what appeared to be a mixture of anger and concern. 

“How could you be so careless?” she finally snapped, fixing her sister with a stare that could take down grown warriors. Elain did her best to straighten her back and return the gaze without backing down. 

“I have taken precautions,” she murmured, her face so hot she thought she might faint. “I am taking a tonic, and—”

Nesta scoffed again. “A tonic!” she spat. “Elain! Why? Why would you give your maidenhead to a knight? Just before you are to be married to a duke? There is no way his member is that—”

“Nesta!” Elain cut her off, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment. “Please, don’t. I know we have taken a risk.” She looked up at her sister again, fighting the shame. “But he did nothing wrong. I was the one that asked him to take my maidenhead, to give me everything. He tried to say no, he tried to deny our feelings for each other. He was the noble one. But I…won that argument, in the end.” 

Nesta just stared at Elain like she had never seen her before. “Why?” she asked again.

Elain took a steadying breath. “Because I didn’t want the duke to have my maidenhead. Because all my life, my choices have been made for me. Because Feyre defied our parents, because you have your own path you are traveling. Because I wanted something for myself. Because I love him, Nesta. I know him. He is a good, honorable man, who cares for me and knows me. He knows me unlike anyone—”

Nesta cut her off. “An honorable man does not take the maidenhead of a betrothed princess, especially when he is so below her in rank,” she snapped. 

It was Elain’s turn to glare at her sister. “I do not care about rank. Such things are silly. He is a better man than every Vanserra put together.”

Nesta drew her head back at Elain’s venomous words. 

Elain forced her face to soften. “Please, Nesta.” She wasn’t entirely sure what she was pleading of her sister. To keep her secret? To let her continue? To trust her? “Please,” she whispered again. “We love each other.”

Nesta looked at her skeptically, like she very much doubted that they did, but eventually sighed and leaned back on the couch cushions, looking up towards the ceiling. When she spoke again, she sounded resigned. “Do you have a plan?” 

Azriel was a coward. He had never felt like a coward before—at least not since he was a little boy terrified of his father. Since his father’s death, he had vowed to himself that he would not let his fear get the better of him. He became strong, in mind and in body. He would not hide again.

But as he rode away from Elain, leaving her stunned and confused on her doorstep, he felt like a coward at heart. 

She deserved better than this. She deserved better than a man—a friend, whatever—who dragged her to an uncomfortable meeting with his mother, who made her witness an insane confession about things that made no fucking sense, who let her take care of him when he thought he was drowning, who told her he needed space and then proceeded to give her affection like she meant more to him than just a friend. And then who ran. 

He was a piece of shit, and he had known that she was already scared of him, trying to get away from him, if that morning was any indication. She was probably relieved that he hadn’t wanted to come up and talk. 

A little voice at the back of his head, maybe the last shred of sanity he was holding onto, whispered at him in disapproval. It told him that she wouldn’t have begged that promise of him if she was truly scared of him. But he shut it out, bitterness enveloping him. 

As soon as he got home, he ripped off his shirt that smelled too much like their combined scents. He changed his clothes entirely, but her perfume clung to his skin like it was a part of him now. So he took a long, aggressive shower, scrubbing his body and hair until he could be sure not a trace of her was left on him. And then he did his laundry, washing away the last dregs of her scent from his living space. 

He didn’t throw her salve away, but he did stuff it in a drawer, unable to look at it for the time being. 

He had to get his head on straight. Tomorrow was Monday. He had a full, busy week of work ahead of him, and couldn’t afford to be distracted while he was working. He would deal with all of this shit after he got through the week, he promised himself. He would let himself think about it all then. About his mother, his father, Elain, whatever the fuck kind of a monster he was. 

So that is what Azriel set out to do. He woke up. He worked out. He showered. He went to work. He got home and did whatever he could to distract himself until he could fall into bed. Usually it involved working out again, or just mindlessly riding his bike along the river. 

He didn’t talk to Elain, and he forcibly ignored the thoughts and fears gnawing at him. But his nightmares got worse and worse throughout the week. They evolved, starting with his father’s death, clearly now seeing and feeling those shadows surge from him, hearing them snap his father’s neck. And then they moved onto other sinister visions. One night his shadows were strangling himself, suffocating him as he writhed on the floor. Another night the shadows were leaking from him in every direction while people stopped on the street and stared, horrified, and he could do nothing to hide them or himself. 

Every night, he woke up again and again in cold sweat, fighting down the nausea. He figured he was averaging around 4 hours of sleep a night, with how long it took him to fall asleep and how many times he woke throughout the night. But he kept going, kept his focus at work, kept fighting it down. Until his nightmare on Thursday night. 

Azriel and Elain were walking along the Sidra, hand in hand. She looked stunning, in a flowing light-blue dress, her brown eyes sparkling in the sun. He smiled at her, overcome with love for this woman who somehow loved him back. She smiled back and squeezed his hand. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, looking up at him openly. 

He grinned down at her, his heart filled with peace and contentment. “How much I love you.”

Her eyes shone even more brightly. “I love you too, Azriel,” she answered, and tugged him to a stop along the path. 

She stood on her toes, her face tipped up to his, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. His eyes were closed, drinking in the sunlight bathing his skin and the way Elain’s soft fingers felt in his, the way her lips caressed his with a tender promise of hope and happiness. 

But then he began to feel cold, and a strangled sound left Elain’s lips against his. He pulled back, opening his eyes. 

Horror flooded him. 

Tendrils of shadows were extended from his arms, his shoulders, his hands, all of them climbing up Elain and wrapped around her throat. Her eyes were bulging with fear and panic. She dropped his hand and clawed at her neck, her hands moving right through the shadows but unable to pull them away. 

“Elain!” Azriel tried to tug on the shadows with all his might. He commanded them again and again in his head to let her go, even as her face turned purple. He clutched his head in his hands, pain erupting in his skull. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. Elain’s mouth opened and closed silently, her eyes begging him to help. 

He was trying. He was trying.

She fell to her knees, and he caught her, sobbing now. “I can’t stop it. I don’t know how.”

Elain clawed again at her throat, looking at him in betrayal and fear. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t make it stop. The shadows squeezed and squeezed until Elain went limp in his arms.

Azriel jolted upright, his body drenched in sweat, panting. He scanned his hands and arms in a panic, checking to see if they looked normal, making sure no… fuck. He forced air in and out. No shadows. No nothing. Just the same old brutal scars he would always have. 

He bowed his head, bracketing it between his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. He forced himself to breathe in and out deeply, until the nausea passed and the world righted itself. Just a dream. It was just a dream. 

But Azriel couldn’t stop seeing it. For the rest of the night, for the morning, for his ride to work. It replayed over and over. 

Briar asked him if he was alright when she delivered him a stack of papers to review and sign. She had never done that before. He must have truly looked like hell, then, or was acting strangely enough. 

It wasn’t even 10 A.M. yet when Azriel strode to his office door, shutting it and leaning his forehead against the cool wood. He had to get himself together. 

He paced back and forth in his office, rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t call her. He shouldn’t. If his nightmare was any indication, she should be terrified of him. She should be trying to get as far away as she fucking could. 

But he had promised her, and he didn’t make promises lightly. If they could just talk, maybe in his own space this time, he would feel more comfortable, more grounded. He could remind himself of who and what he was. He didn’t know what the fuck Elain meant when she said she could help him. How could anyone help him?

But he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. She was the only person who knew this darkest secret of his. So he pulled out his phone and sank back into his chair behind his desk. 

He realized she was probably working and decided to text her instead of calling her. He had already fucked up her work once before, even if she was too kind to admit it. 

He sent her one text that just said, “Can we talk later today?”

Azriel jiggled his knee, pretending to read emails but really seeing nothing, waiting for a response. Fuck, he was jittery. Azriel had never been jittery before in his life. Not until the last few weeks, at least. 

Elain responded after almost 45 minutes. “Of course. Just tell me when and where.”

He blew out a breath of relief, even as he felt consumed by guilt. 

“When do you finish work?” he replied. 

She answered more quickly this time. “I usually close at 5.”

5 PM. Alright. He could last until then, and then however long it took her to get to him. Fuck, did she even have a way to get to him? She had walked for so long last time she visited him downtown. 

“Would you have a way to get to my condo? I live downtown, not too far from my office. If not, I can come pick you up.”

He clicked through some spreadsheets without taking in any information until his phone buzzed with a response. 

“Yes. I’ll see you at 5:30. Send me your address.” 

He took a few deep breaths before typing out his address and sending it off to her. Her reply came almost immediately. 

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”

Azriel was pacing through his condo at 5:30, his nerves having only ramped up throughout the rest of the day. He had ended up leaving work early at 3 PM—probably the earliest he had ever let himself go, and went for an hour-long run just to try and stave off the impending doom he felt. 

He had showered, scarfed down some food he barely tasted, and then paced.

He didn’t know if he was making the right decision. He didn’t even know what he was going to say to her when she arrived. Please help me learn about my super-villain powers so I don’t accidentally kill more people? Fuck. 

It was all insane. 

But his head snapped to the door as his buzzer sounded. He strode over and hit the intercom. “Come on up. Apartment 2. You’ll want to use the elevator.” He punched the button to let her in, and then paced some more. 

A couple minutes later, a knock came at his door. He took two seconds to breathe through his nerves before he strode to it and swung it open. Elain stood there in long, flowy pants patterned with flowers and a loose cropped white top that looked like it was made from the softest silk. Her hair was mussed and a helmet that wasn’t the one he had bought her dangled from her wrist. The canvas bag she always carried was slung over her shoulder. 

“Hi,” she breathed, as Azriel moved aside and beckoned her to come in. He closed the door and then turned around to face her, running a hand through his hair. 

“Hi,” he answered. “How did you get here?”

Elain held up the white helmet, which he could clearly now see was a bicycle helmet. “I rode my bike.” 

The nerves left Azriel for a moment as it sunk in that Elain rode around town on an honest-to-god bicycle. Fuck, that was cute. He mentally slapped himself. 

“Oh,” he answered dumbly. “Shit. I could have come pick you up.”

Elain smiled and waved her hand dismissively. “I like biking, and it’s really my only form of working out, so I don’t mind.” 

He managed a chuckle and walked further into his condo. “Well, thank you for coming. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water would be amazing,” Elain answered, subtly trying to wipe some sweat off her forehead. Azriel nodded, filling a glass with cold, filtered fridge water and handing it to her. 

“Want to go sit down?” 

She nodded, taking in his condo as she followed him to the living room. It was the exact opposite of her place. His walls were bare, except for one framed photograph of him and his brothers and his mom, which was taken on the day they moved her into Rosehall. They were sweaty and beaming, and she was standing between them all, smiling proudly up at Azriel in front of her new home. 

Other than that, everything in his apartment was white, grey, black, or dark blue. Nothing had soul. He was suddenly ashamed of it. 

“I know it’s not very cozy—I’m sorry,” he said quickly, not really sure why he was apologizing. 

Elain sipped her water as she took a seat on his leather sofa and then laughed lightly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She pulled her bag over her shoulder and placed it on the floor next to her.

He sat in the loveseat opposite her, chewing on the inside of his lip. How the fuck was he supposed to start? 

Elain only watched him patiently, sipping her water. 

He drew in a deep breath, and decided to just fucking go for it. “You said you could help,” he said quietly, clasping his scarred hands together. “But I don’t understand how.”

Elain set down her glass, crossing her knees with a face that said she had expected this question. 

“I thought we could start with research,” she said plainly. 

Azriel’s cheeks puffed out with a breath. “How is this something we can just research?” 

Elain did not fidget or balk. “I have many books on magic, and know of other places where we can access more.”

That word—magic—sent a bolt of fear through Azriel. “Magic’s not real,” he blurted before he could stop himself. He didn’t care if it made him a dick. They were not living in some fantasy fairytale. No one was going to pop up and tell him he was a boy wizard. This was not how this could go. 

“Azriel,” Elain started gently, like she was talking to a trapped, wounded animal. But he shook his head, standing quickly from his seat and beginning to pace again. 

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

Elain stood then as well, not to pace, but to try to get closer to his height, it seemed. She raised her chin. “It was not a mistake. You need to trust me.”

Azriel cut her a look. “Trusting you isn’t the issue. You shouldn’t trust me.” 

She crossed her arms sternly. “Don’t do that. Don’t martyr yourself.”

His mouth dropped open in response. “I’m not martyring myself. I…I’ve been having these dreams. Nightmares. Different than before.” He stopped pacing and ran his hands over his face, taking more deep breaths. When he dropped them and opened his eyes again, Elain was right fucking in front of him. She had moved silently. 

“Tell me about them,” she said softly. 

He still didn’t sit. He couldn’t force his body to relax, so he just stood there gazing down at her. It took him a few moments to be able to answer. 

“In my nightmares, the shadows, they…hurt people. Myself, strangers, my mother.” He met her eyes. “You.”

Her expression didn’t change. She just watched him openly, thinking it over. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust me, Elain. Aren’t you scared of me? What you heard…it should have made you run for the hills.”

“But it didn’t,” she answered, a little stronger this time. Determined. 

Azriel turned away from her, beginning to pace again, the agitation building once more. “Well it fucking should have! I would run from me if I could. You should look at me like I’m a fucking monster. You should run like you did Sunday morning. That was the smartest thing you’ve done since learning the truth.”

Elain scoffed at him, growing frustrated herself now. “That’s fucking rude!” she shot back. “I am very smart, and can make my own decisions for my safety.”

Azriel’s ire only grew. He knew he wasn’t really mad at her, had no reason to be, but this was easier than facing the truth. 

“Why the fuck do you want to help me, Elain?” he seethed, approaching her now, towering over her so that he felt the rise and fall of her breaths against his lower chest. His nostrils flared with his temper as he scowled down into her face.

“Because I’m not!” she answered, squaring off with him fully, planting her feet and balling her fists. Good, he was making her mad. Maybe she would get pissed enough to leave and they could just pretend this never happened.

That thought made his temper surge further, and then Azriel couldn’t help but grip her face with both of his hands, and hiss at her under his breath, his chest heaving as he invaded her space fully. “Why. Not?” 

Elain bared her teeth at him for a few silent moments, her breasts pressing against him with every inhale, her eyes shining with determination and something close to anger. 

And then she threw her arms around his neck, dragging him down to her, and she kissed him. 

Chapter Text

Oh, fuck. Elain was kissing him, and she tasted and felt exactly like he remembered. Azriel had no hesitation, no second thoughts as he let his fingers slide from her face to bury in her thick hair, tilting her face up further to him. He kissed her back, letting all of that anguish and fear of the last week mix together with the lust for her that had been growing and growing for weeks, the combination driving him into a mad frenzy. He needed her. He needed her.

He ran his tongue over her lips and Elain immediately opened them for him, her hands dropping from his neck to wrap around his waist, fingertips digging into him as she gripped the back of his shirt. Azriel swept his tongue into her mouth as their lips moved together, and she fucking whimpered against him. The sound sent him up in flames and he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, before running his tongue over her top lip. He released her and then her own tongue was exploring, dancing over his as she pressed their bodies as tightly together as they could go. He was about to bite down on her lip when she pulled away suddenly and he stilled, his hands frozen in her hair, her face looking up at him in shock. 

“The-the rules,” she breathed, her breasts still heaving against him. Her sunkissed cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes glassy. She looked so fucking stunning.

He tightened his grip in her hair. “Fuck the rules,” he snarled, his voice a low near-rasp. She shuddered against him, still gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Tell me yes, Elain, and you can do whatever you want to me. Tell me yes, and I swear to you I will make you so feel so fucking good you won’t ever want to leave my bed. I will worship you until you forget your name.”

He panted as he looked down at her. He didn’t care that he was begging. He would crawl on his knees begging for her, if he had to. This is what he needed. He needed her—all of her.

“But you said no complications,” she whispered. “No strings. And you don’t fuck your friends.”

He almost growled in his desperation. She was trying to be responsible. Trying to keep them out of a hole they may not be able to climb out of. 

“It’s your choice,” he breathed, forcing his eyes to lock on hers rather than travel down to her wet lips. “I’m willing to get messy at this point. It’s already messy. It can be just the one time if you want it to be. It can all be on your terms. Just tell me yes or no.” 

He watched her think it over for one, two, three, four seconds. And then she whispered the most beautiful word in the English language. “Yes.”

Elain didn’t have to think about it for long. Would it be only the one night? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted Azriel in that moment, that she was willing to risk her heart and walk into the complications for him. So she had given the answer she knew was true. She had said yes. 

Azriel groaned in what sounded like relief as he leaned back down, and good lord—how had she not remembered what this had felt like? Kissing him felt better than she could have possibly imagined. His lips were soft but demanding, his tongue exploring but sure. He knew exactly what he wanted from her and heaven help her, she was going to give it to him. 

He started walking, his hands finally leaving their maddening grip on her hair as one traveled to her hip, pushing her along backwards. The other rested lightly on her jaw, holding her face there for his taking. Elain could have died just from the pure command, the pure intensity, of his hold on her. Her calves hit the couch and she dropped down, his mouth never leaving hers. His tongue was teasing her, sweeping through her mouth in infuriatingly fast motions, denying her what he could already tell she wanted. She tried more than once to suck his tongue into her mouth as Azriel sank down onto the couch beside her, but he wouldn’t let her, pulling it back every time. 

Elain broke the kiss long enough to ask, “Are you fucking edging me with your tongue?”

Azriel grinned against her mouth. “I have to torture you a little bit. I remember everything about being with you, but you remember nothing. I’m not going to rush this.”

Elain just huffed and then wrapped her hands around the back of his head and neck, dragging her closer to him as she brought their mouths together again. He made an approving sound and began leaning over her, forcing her body sideways and down on the couch until she was laying down fully, his body over hers. 

He broke their hungry kiss to speak again. “What do I have a yes for?”

Elain panted, scraping her fingers against the part of his scalp that was only covered in short, shaved hair. He almost purred under her touch, rolling his neck and letting his eyes fall closed. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, already trying to writhe beneath him. 

Azriel’s eyes opened once more. “You said yes. Does that mean kissing you? Touching you? Going down on you? Fucking you? What were you giving me a yes for?”

Elain’s cheeks grew hotter and her core wetter with every word. She only had to think about it for a moment. “Everything,” she whispered, and he grinned darkly, sinking his mouth to her neck and working his lips over her throat. She couldn’t contain the moan as he worshiped her neck, his hands moving slowly over her body, across her hip, up her ribs, gently stroking around her curves but not diving straight in yet. 

“What about you?” she managed to get out, even though her eyes were closed and her head tilted back, arching her neck for him. 

“Hmm?” he asked, kissing his way up the side of her throat to her earlobe, which he nibbled on before sucking it into his mouth.

“Do I have a yes from you, and for what?” 

Azriel paused, pulling away to look down at her face. “Yes. To all of it.” 

At that, Elain’s legs widened, making more space for him to sink down between them. He did so, his body pressing against hers as he again lowered his mouth, this time dragging his lips down to her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, the top swells of her breasts. 

Elain let her hands explore as he did with his lips, running them over the hard ridges of his waist, his hips. She slipped them under the back of his shirt and he arched against her as she trailed her nails over his skin. She let her fingers slide over his backside as one of his hands slid up her own shirt, feeling for a clasp or buttons on her back. 

“How the fuck do I get this off?” he asked gruffly, his mouth still against her chest. Elain giggled and leaned up on her elbows so that he was forced to pull his face away from her. 

“It just goes over the head.” 

Azriel braced her lower back with a strong hand to help her stay up. “Then lift your arms, sugar.” 

Elain blushed to the heavens and did so, as he tugged her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. 

He let out a strangled sound as her breasts were freed, lowering her gently back down onto the couch. 

He trailed one finger, his touch soft as a feather despite his rough scars, across a peaked nipple. Elain shuddered. 

“Do you ever wear a god damn bra?” he asked, his eyes glued to her chest. 

Elain bit her lip. “Not really. Only if I have to.” 

His eyes flicked up to hers. “You wore a white shirt with no bra for work?" he asked. Not accusingly, but more with an amused tone of voice.

She grimaced slightly at his shrewdness. "I may have changed before coming over."

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment in what looked like a bid for self-control. "I've never met a woman so wicked and sweet as you," he said, low and smooth, his words drawing goosebumps over her skin. "You have been torturing the fuck out of me with these,” he murmured, and then he leaned down, running a tongue lightly over the nipple he had just caressed. Her back arched at the warm, wet touch, a sigh leaving her. Azriel licked over her other nipple, before closing his lips around her and sucking. That drew a cry of pleasure from Elain, and she slid her fingers under the waist band of his pants and boxers, her fingertips skimming the top of his asscheeks. He groaned against her as he moved to her other breast, licking and sucking on that one, even biting down lightly on her nipple, until she was positively dripping between her thighs, digging her fingertips into whatever part of his sensitive flesh she could reach. 

And then he was back at her mouth, finally giving her everything with his tongue, one hand palming a breast while the other slid under her hips, angling her so he could grind himself—and his rock-hard erection—against her. 

He loosed a breathy curse as he dragged himself over her, and Elain moaned again, and then drew her fingers from his pants to tug at his shirt. He broke their kiss to reach behind him and pull it off his head in the sexiest one-handed maneuver she had ever witnessed, and then dove back into the kiss, claiming, searing, taking. And Elain wanted him to take it—to take it all. 

Azriel’s hand traveled down her stomach, fingers skirting over her in a maddeningly soft and gentle way, until they reached the waistband of her loose pants. And then he just stayed there, teasing her as he kissed her, running his fingers along the band, tangling his tongue with hers so thoroughly she didn’t know where her own mouth ended and his began. 

“Azriel,” she all but whined, rolling her hips under him. His hand stilled and he pulled his mouth from hers. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Say my name like that again, angel.”

Angel. Something hot and near-painful seared through her chest. She said his name like that again. An animal sound came from him, and he slid his hand into her pants, his fingers running over the soft curls between her legs as she gasped in anticipation. 

“I’m sorry I don’t shave it—” she started, but he fucking growled at her, catching her bottom lip and biting down hard. She went completely still, and he pulled away, releasing her lip. 

“Don’t ever fucking apologize for that,” he snapped, his voice gutteral and raw, his eyes clouded with lust. 

“Okay,” she whispered, and he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, moving his fingers once more. They slid down to stroke her clit, and her hips bucked, another gasp escaping her. 

“Shit,” he breathed, swirling those scarred, textured fingers over her entrance, gathering up her slickness. “You’re so wet, Elain.” 

She nodded, a breathy sigh escaping her as Azriel arched his neck, craning his face down to watch his hand moving beneath her pants. “I bet I can make you more wet,” he murmured, before bringing his mouth to her neck and licking a hot stripe across it, his fingers still just gently gliding over her entrance and her clit. Careful, measured, tender, almost.  

And damn him, he did make her more wet. She was drenched as he coaxed her further and further into bliss while barely even doing anything. The combination of his lips and tongue and teeth against her throat and those infuriatingly light touches were going to kill her. 

“I need—” she breathed, her fingers tightening on the bare skin of his back. 

“What do you need?” he asked, before nipping at her throat lightly. 

“I need more,” she managed to say, not able to think straight around the sensations consuming her. 

She felt him grin against her neck, and then he was moving off her, standing. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, almost pouting. The lack of warmth from his hard body and his mouth and his hand sent a shiver across her body. 

“Nowhere, sugar,” he answered. “If you want more, I’m going to give you more.” And then he reached down and pulled her pants over her hips, tugging them all the way off along with her shoes. And Elain was laying there, completely naked, completely vulnerable. 

Azriel stepped back, running a hand through his hair, eyes drinking in her body. 

“Fuck me,” he murmured, drifting his fingers over his lips as he surveyed her. She felt herself blush. 

“This is unfair,” he continued, gesturing at her body. Elain gawked at him. 

“Have you seen yourself?” she squeaked, looking pointedly at his broad frame cut with stark muscles. 

He waved a hand like it was nothing special. “You are so sexy it hurts,” he murmured, dropping back to the couch between her legs. He kissed across both breasts and down her sternum to her stomach. Elain blushed further. No one had ever called her sexy before. Pretty, beautiful, cute, yes. But not sexy. With Azriel, though, she felt sexy. 

He looked up at her from where he was kissing her belly button. “What more do you want, angel?” he asked, running a finger through her folds and making her buck again. “My mouth, or my fingers?” 

Elain waited until she was sure his eyes were locked on hers, and then said, “Both.”

A wicked grin spread across Azriel’s face. “Greedy,” he chastised, but then in one swift movement that was too fast for her to track, he had slid from the couch to his knees and had tugged her upright to a seat before him, where he now knelt between her legs. 

“God,” Elain remarked, but then drew in a sharp breath as he gently widened her legs further, kissing up one inner thigh and down the other. A stupid thought suddenly struck her. She had biked here, and it was summer. She had definitely worked up a sweat during that bike ride, and it probably wasn’t the most pleasant—

But Azriel was already thrusting his face up between her thighs, and he dragged his tongue down between her folds. A cry escaped her as her hand flew to his hair, the other clenched on the couch beside her. 

He made a sound of satisfaction at the first taste of her, at her reaction, and then swept his tongue over her again. He drew back just enough to murmur, “You taste like you were made for me,” and then brought his tongue to her entrance, dipping the tip in and then making a slow, steady circle around it. Elain cried out again, her fingers pulling at his dark curls. 

Azriel plunged his tongue inside her a few times before dragging it up to her clit, to where she was throbbing for him, to where she knew he could undo her in just a few minutes. Her legs shook as he worked her clit in warm, wet circles, interjecting them with small flicks of his tongue that set her blood on fire. 

“Oh,” Elain whimpered, throwing her head back as the hand on couch traveled up to her own breast, squeezing it out of instinct, out of the need for more. 

Azriel mumbled a “mhm” onto her entrance, and then finally brought his fingers to join in with his mouth. He could have sent her over the edge with just his tongue, but she wanted that pressure deep inside herself, wanted to see what he could do with those beautiful hands. He sucked her clit into his mouth at the same time as he pushed a broad finger against her entrance. 

“More,” she breathed, and he slid it in, but only an inch or so. 

“More,” Elain whined, his tongue once again flicking her clit, driving her mad. She felt him smile against her and pushed in one more inch, but only more inch. 

“Azriel!” she begged, and he chuckled. But instead of pushing his finger in all the way like she expected, he pulled it out completely. Only to coax a strangled scream from her as he plunged two fingers in, all the way to the bottom knuckle, smooth and fast as butter melting on a flaming-hot pan. 

Elain’s eyes rolled back as he began pumping his fingers in and out of her, his tongue mirroring the motion on her clit. She was consumed with full-body pleasure, the sounds escaping her primal and desperate. She continued to massage her own breast, desperate for more, rolling her nipple between her fingers.

Elain’s body began to shudder as he pumped and pumped and pumped, driving her to a place of ecstasy she knew would be addicting, all-consuming. His tongue pulsed on her clit, and the pressure in her built. And built. And built. 

“Come on my fingers,” Azriel said onto her flesh, his voice rumbling against her. “Come on my tongue, sugar.”

And then he pushed down hard inside her, flicking his tongue fast and light over her clit, and she came. She screamed as her entire body tensed, and she felt herself soak his hand as her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, pulsing and gripping him. Wave after wave of pleasure overtook her as she cried and shook, Azriel slowly licking every drop from her with a soft, warm tongue, until she collapsed, going boneless against the sofa cushions, panting.

He kept licking her though, pulling his fingers from her slowly and gently. He ran his hands up and down her thighs and licked her until he was satisfied with his clean up, and then lifted his head, a slightly arrogant grin stretching his mouth. 

“I told you,” he crooned, and she shuddered at that face and that voice, an aftershock moving through her as she convulsed once and then collapsed again. 

She breathed a few times, Azriel just stroking her thighs and looking up at her, until the world righted itself, until the throbbing in her core dulled to a light buzzing, until she could think again. 

“How do you feel?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss inside one knee and then the next. How did she feel? Her lust had not left her, had not been dampened by her orgasm, however powerful it had been. She only wanted more, and indeed felt herself growing wet again as his fingers slowly roved over the flesh of her thighs. 

“I feel like you need to take your pants off,” she breathed, sitting up straighter and pushing her hair off her face. Azriel arched a beautiful brow at her, but stood between her legs. He was so tall that she had to tilt her face up slightly to see the button of his pants…and what lay below it. The crotch of his pants were straining under the force of his erection. His very large and thick erection. Her eyes flicked up to him. 

“All for you, angel,” he purred, knowing that she was studying the bulge. Her cheeks blazed again and she raised steady fingers to his waistband.

Azriel held his breath as Elain’s thin, nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, opening it and then moving to his button. Witnessing her coming once again and not soaking his own pants had been a test of sheer willpower. He had never had to hold himself back like that before. If anything, he normally had to work unfairly hard to reach his own climax, no matter how much pleasure he gave the other person. 

With Elain, though, he felt ready to burst at any moment. The sounds she made, the faces, the way she tugged on his hair as her legs shook around him…fuck, he couldn’t even think about it. 

Instead he sent his predatory focus to her perfect, pearly fingers, which slowly but steadily tugged open his pants. She hooked them under the waistband of his jeans and his boxers, and tugged. 

Azriel’s cock was freed, and there was no hiding how fucking turned on he was. It jutted straight forward towards her face, hard as bricks and dripping with precum already. She blinked at it for a few moments, and he suppressed a smirk. He knew his dick was big. Quite big. Most women (and men) had to take a moment to process what they were seeing when it was revealed. Her eyes flicked up to his and he just ran fingers over her hair and along her jaw. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and take them all the way off?” 

Elain nodded, her mahogany doe eyes glowing, as she tugged his pants and boxers all the way down to his ankles. He reached down and pulled them off, along with his socks. And then they were looking at each other, both completely naked. He watched Elain’s eyes rove over his body, drinking in the shape of his arms, his chest and tattoos, the cut of his abs. They traced down over the happy trail leading straight to his cock, and then over his muscled thighs. He remained silent, just watching her take him in. 

Finally, she looked back up at his face. “No wonder half the city has fucked you,” she breathed, and a surprised laugh burst from him. 

Once he had mastered himself, he ran a finger over her lips. “You could have half the city too, if you wanted, Elain.” 

In response, she opened her lips and sucked his finger into her mouth. Azriel groaned as his cock twitched in response. He fought his eyes closing so he could watch her suck his finger down, her tongue swirling over his scars. She released him far too soon, but his disappointment was short lived as Elain ran one hand up the back of his thigh, and gripped his cock in her other. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, his hips bucking and his hand flying to her hair, the other wrapping around the side of her neck. 

She passed her hand up and down his cock, and he shuddered, a tingle traveling up his spine. She rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the bead of precum, and then brought it to her mouth, licking off the salty liquid. 

Azriel groaned as he watched her, his fingers grazing over her scalp. 

“Mm,” Elain hummed, and then extended her tongue and brought it to his cock, licking all the way from the base to the tip. 

A string of curses left him as his fingers tightened in her hair. She followed her tongue with a pass of her hand, and pleasure was already zinging through Azriel’s body, screaming for more. He wanted her to grip his ass, swallow him down so hard she gagged, grip his base until it hurt. But he could be patient. He would be patient, for her. 

She licked him again, letting her tongue swirl over his tip this time. 

And then she jerked him a few times with her hand, the fire in him growing. “God, Elain, you’re going to kill me,” he moaned, gathering her hair up into his hand to keep it out of her face. 

She just looked up into his eyes as she opened her mouth and finally closed her lips around him, enveloping him in her warm, soft wetness. A deep rumble left Azriel as she slowly sucked him down, her head nearing his base and then pulling away, tongue following it. She kept her lips around him though. 

He hissed, the hand at her neck moving in long strokes now. She sucked him down again, her fingers gripping his base with just enough pressure. He moaned, forcing his hips to stay still, to let her move at her own pace. 

Elain began working him in earnest, teasing and tasting done for now. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft, her hand moving in tandem. She swallowed him deeper and deeper, as curses and garbled mumbles left him. It felt so fucking good, and Azriel suddenly wondered why the entire rest of the world was so fucking bad at blow jobs. 

He began massaging her throat, encouraging it to relax as she took him deeper, until his cock was bumping the back of her throat. She hummed in pleasure around his cock in response to the way he rubbed her throat, so he continued. 

A deep, desperate moan left him as his hips began to rock, losing his ability to restrain himself. He wanted to fuck her throat, hard and deep. He wanted to feel himself slamming into the soft flesh at the back of the space, wanted her to suck as hard as she could. 

“Oh god,” he groaned, as she let him bounce against the wall of her throat, keeping her hand and tongue moving despite her occasional coughs around him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, even as she sucked him down and down and down, her head bobbing and her fingers digging into the back of his thigh. 

“Mhm,” she answered onto his cock, and then sucked hard. Her cheeks hollowed out, sucking and sucking, until she released him with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he almost shouted, his fingers pulling the hair at her roots as his other hand gripped her neck in desperation. 

“Angel,” he panted, his abs growing tight as she didn’t let up, as she worked him into a frenzy while he thrust his hips towards her again and again. “If you don’t stop I’m going to—”

But it was too late. She wasn’t going to let him go. She was going to hold him in blissful hostage until he came right into the back of her throat. The thought was enough to cause his thrusting to become unhinged as he fucked her mouth, his body seizing. 

It was building, everything was building, his climax rushing towards him at a dizzying speed. His vision blurred, he felt every muscle within him go taut, and then he felt himself release, shouting roughly as he let himself go over the edge.

But then two things happened in such quick succession it could have been simultaneous. He came, semen spilling into Elain’s waiting mouth, his body convulsing. 

And then the shadows.

Shadows erupted from him as his body shook, bursting from under his skin and surging across the room in every direction, darkening the space. Elain released him in shock, and Azriel stumbled backwards, his legs hitting the coffee table as more shadows spilled from him. His balance was compromised as he scrambled away from the table, away from Elain, tripping over his feet, and he went down. 

The shadows died just as he fell to the floor, evaporating as quickly as they had appeared, but still he scrambled backwards on his ass, shock and horror telling him to put as much distance between himself and Elain as possible. Elain just sat there, wide-eyed, hands frozen in front of her where she had been holding him, as Azriel’s back hit the wall and he finally stopped trying to scramble away from her in panic. 

He panted as he stared at her from across the room, his hands shaking, willing whatever he had just experienced to not be real. By the look on Elain’s face, though, it sure as fuck was real. 

He looked down at his tanned skin, for evidence of anything out of the ordinary. But he looked normal. The coldness limning his body was the only physical reminder of the shadows that had just been there. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, looking back at Elain on the couch. She had finally dropped her arms, her chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“I—” she began, but that was all she said. 

“Did you just see that?” he asked. He had to hear it from her. 

“I…” she started again, and once more ended there.

“Did you?” Azriel asked again, his voice urgent. 

She slowly nodded, drawing her legs up in front of her and wrapping her arms around them. Afraid. She looked afraid. 

He was still sprawled out naked on the floor, his back to the wall. He ran his hands through his hair. 

“You should go,” was all he managed to say, shame and fear coating his every breath. 

“Azriel,” Elain answered, looking at him with wide, brimming eyes. She was fucking crying. 

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand being the monster she already knew he was, confirming his every worst fear. Being the reason she was sitting there in terror, crying. He had fucked up, so, so badly. He had known she was too good for him, in every sense of the word. Had known he was dangerous. Had known he would never deserve her and her light and what she wanted to give him so freely. He had thought he could handle just a taste of her. He was reckless and stupid to pretend he deserved that small taste. He never would.

“Go,” he begged her. He didn’t know if he was begging her for his own sake or for hers. Didn’t know if he was more terrified that those horrible shadows had once again emerged, or that she had somehow been the catalyst.

A look of hurt and pain etched Elain’s face, and he couldn’t fucking stand that, either. He hung his head, his body still shaking in the aftermath of the climax and the explosion of shadows. He couldn’t bear to look at her, to see that hurt and pain on her face for one more second. 

He just listened, his head bowed, as she rose from the couch, slowly putting her discarded clothes back on. He listened as she pulled her shoes back on and then picked up her bag. 

“Azriel,” she said again softly, and he forced himself to look up at her. “Don’t make me go. Let me stay, let me help.” 

Her eyes shone with unshed tears. 

“I don’t think that’s safe,” he said back, his voice low and dead-sounding. “Please, Elain,” he begged again. “I know you want to help. But it doesn’t seem like being around you helps,” he said, gesturing around himself to the now nonexistent shadows. And then he said it out loud, those words he knew were a lie but that he also knew would make her leave. "This was a mistake."

Elain's eyes overflowed once more, her lips quivering. A hurt that he never wanted to see flared over her beautiful, desolate face. She just stared at him for a few moments longer, and then scooped up her helmet and left without another word.

Chapter Text

Stunning princessxknight moodboard made by ater-love (sharing with permission)

Elain held back her tears for the entire bike ride home. She managed to get home, lock her bike, let herself in, and run up the stairs. As soon as she was in her bedroom, she sank down onto her mattress, covered her face with her hands, and wept. 

This was a mistake.

She had been a mistake to Graysen, too. 

Elain felt hollow. She had just wanted to help Azriel, and then she had been blinded by lust and longing for him. It had felt so good to finally have a taste of him, to satisfy a craving that had been eating her alive. But maybe it had been a mistake. 

This was a mistake. The rejection stung, badly. The way he had looked at her, like she had done that to him, made his shadows reappear, stung even more badly. And even though it hurt, as terrible as it felt to hear him tell her to go, she understood. He thought she was scared, and he thought that being with her had triggered something in him to make those shadows appear. But he was scared. He was more terrified than she had ever seen another person be. 

But she hadn’t been scared of the display of shadows Azriel had shown, the raw power. It had been shocking, yes. Alarming, even. But it hadn’t scared her. She had seen Nesta converse with the dead, even reanimate the dead. She had seen Feyre draw water and wind and fire to herself with devastating results. The shadows were just another form of magic, and they were Azriel’s magic. They didn’t scare her.

Even as she wept on her bed, overcome with the emotion of it all, the intellectual part of her brain reminded her that sometimes magic showed itself this way, when a person was experiencing overwhelming emotional or physical moments. She was so confused. It wasn’t her fault, but it wasn’t not her fault. Being together that way had…affected Azriel so much that his powers had surged to life. 

Staggering sensations and emotions pelted Elain one after another as she cried. The adamant anger at Azriel and his general attitude, the overwhelming lust and desperation she had felt for him, followed by the incredible, all-consuming pleasure he had wrought from her, and then the wild need she had felt to return that pleasure. And then the shock. And then the hurt. It was all just so…much. So powerful. 

Paired with the impending heartbreak and doom she felt following each of her new visions of that past life, she was overwhelmed, lost, and simply…buried in it all. So she sat and she cried, letting herself feel it all. She didn’t even notice the vines that began creeping up her arms, encircling her in protection, tiny white blooms erupting over them. She cried until she was empty, and only when she raised her head from her hands did she notice those vines. 

“Oh, don’t bother,” she mumbled, sniffling, and waved her hand a bit until they disintegrated. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. And then she rose to make some tea.

Azriel’s phone was ringing. Again and again. He knew it wasn’t Elain. If she hadn’t hated him—or at least feared him—before, she sure as fuck would now. He had ruined that entire situation in one fell swoop. Well, if he was being honest with himself, he had made mistake after mistake with her. He ghosted her (or tried to) more than once, gave her confusing as fuck mixed signals, made her witness the insane, started to fuck her, and then kicked her out after the most intense intimacy he had ever experienced without even a moment to waste. 

The worst part of it all—worse than the horrible shadows, worse than killing his own asshole father, worse than his unending fear—was that he had made her cry. She had sat on his couch and cried, while he couldn’t even look at her, until she had put her clothes back on and left. And that made him the worst kind of fucking person. She didn’t deserve to be hurt, didn’t deserve to cry. He hadn’t meant to call her “angel” in the throes of passion, but once he did, he realized that that was what she felt like to him. She had felt like an angel sent down from the clouds just for him. But that was all ripped away when those terrible shadows had erupted from him in response to her—or what she had done to him. 

This was a mistake.

That was the worst possible thing he could have said to her, and he couldn’t move past it. He could have said anything. He could have told her he needed space. He could have told her the truth—that he was scared and lost and didn’t want to hurt her. He could have just said he would call her. But he had to say the one thing she would most likely never forgive him for. The one thing that made him probably a bigger asshole than her ex. 

This was a mistake. 

She could never be a mistake. Kissing her, touching her, talking to her—none of it ever once felt like a mistake when it was happening. It just kept feeling right, and that scared him almost as much as the shadows did. He wondered if she went home and continued to cry, resigned to the fact that the first man who she had given the time of day to after her horrible ex ended up being a dick, too. He should apologize. He knew he should. He should tell her that he didn’t mean it, and that if anything, he was the mistake. The abomination. The monster that shouldn’t exist. And she was nothing but sunshine and beauty and lullabies. And she deserved to be with someone who wasn’t a mistake.

You taste like you were made for me.  

Azriel hadn’t meant to say that, either. But it was the truest thing he had said in his entire life. He didn’t know if it was the godforsaken shadows that were waking up, or just the immense full-body pleasure of being with Elain in that way, but it was like all of his senses had heightened, grown more sensitive, when they had been together. It suddenly felt like he could smell more than just her perfume—he could smell her desire, her pleasure, her hunger. And when he tasted her between her thighs…he shuddered thinking about it now. It was indescribable, like something forged in the fucking heavens specifically for him—words that he would never say aloud, because they were fucking stupid, but that was how it had felt. 

Not that he had been in the mood—especially after how he had hurt Elain—but Azriel hadn’t dared return to his nightly routine of fisting himself until he came. It had been ten days, and he didn’t know what would happen if he experienced another climax like the one she had given him. With her goddamn perfect mouth and divine hands. And he knew if he chanced touching himself, just to relieve some of the pressure building in him, he would be remembering—reliving—those moments, and he could not risk what would happen when he did. 

Azriel never wanted to see those fucking shadows again. He had spent the rest of that evening and night in a near comatose state. He had managed to slide on new boxers, sit on his bed, and do nothing else. He stared at the walls, only breaking his vigil to compulsively check his skin for signs of shadows every few minutes, until his body had given out at god knows what time and he had slumped over asleep. 

The last ten days had not been much different. He fully dissociated when he went to work, feeling like a different person completely. He let himself forget who he was, what he had done, the broken neck and the shadows and her tears. But as soon as he stepped out of that building, his rage and fear crept back over him, sinking their claws into him until he was again numb and lifeless and staring at the walls and his arms and scarred hands. He forgot to eat until he was so hungry his organs felt like they were disintegrating. And he sure as fuck didn’t sleep until his body forced him to. 

He didn’t dare do one thing that could make him lose control, forget himself, remember, for fear of those shadows reemerging. He tried to convince himself that it hadn’t happened. Tried to convince himself that it was a nightmare, or his imagination. He might have been able to if he didn’t have that horrible memory of Elain’s shocked face, hands frozen in midair before her, naked on his couch. 

He looked at the phone, seeing Cassian’s name, and hit ignore. 

Over the next few days, Elain’s confusion, her sadness and her sense of loss at Azriel choosing to distance himself again, grew into ire. Honestly, she was pissed at him. How many times would he try to ice her out because he couldn’t get a grip? She would not come crawling back to him with cute notes or baked goods this time. If he wanted to speak with her again, he would have to get his shit together and come to her. She had more dignity than that.

So she sat in her rooftop garden one morning over a week after they had parted, violently ripping a flower apart and muttering to herself angrily. She was working on tearing the stem of the daisy into as small of pieces as she could when she was suddenly no longer on her rooftop, and instead found herself in a grand dining room.

Elain’s knight stood by the door, shoulders back and hands clasped behind him, watching the room. Watching Elain, as she endured yet another dinner with her family and the Vanserras. Azriel’s anger simmered within him at the injustice of it all. Because her younger sister had defied her parents and married someone they did not approve of, because her elder sister refused to marry at all, Elain was forced to do as her parents bid. To be a political pawn in this game of power they all played so gracefully. 

Azriel had always been a poor bastard-turned-knight. He had never wielded any power beyond that bestowed on him by his blade and shield, and would never rise to another station in life. Truth be told, Elain deserved more than him. His precious, beautiful, sunshine princess. She deserved everything life had to offer. She should be with someone richer and more powerful and higher-ranked than a low knight. But that wasn’t Lucien fucking Vanserra. That much, he knew.

He maintained a neutral, blank face as he watched the table, while also staying vigilant to their surroundings. He looked at the youngest red-haired duke with distaste. The man was so…bland. And from the looks of it, he had very little interest in Elain as well. He appreciated her looks, that much was obvious. For no one in the kingdom could look upon Elain Archeron and not be struck speechless by her eternal beauty, her soft, elegant body, her devastating smile. Azriel had had to contain his disgust and rage more than once upon noticing too-long looks of intrigue from the duke, and not just at her stunning face. 

But Azriel had witnessed the duke and the princess interact enough times to see that their conversation was difficult, strained. They followed the rules of etiquette for royal families and made polite chat, but it was empty and stilted. It always seemed like the duke had to force himself to come up with questions to ask her, and never truly listened to her answers. 

And Elain…he had never seen someone look so uncomfortable as when she had to interact with the man, and that made him more angry than any of it. Now, as he watched her, he could only see her stiff back, her shadowed eyes, her clenched fingers. She did not want to be in the company of this man, and her parents were forcing her to marry him. 

Azriel knew that what he was allowing himself to experience with the princess made him a dishonorable man—an unworthy, dishonest, and selfish man. If he was punished for it, he would deserve it. Elain was a princess , above him in every sense of the word. And she was risking everything to be with him. The King and Queen were not known for their cruelty, but they were not either known for their mercy. Azriel had served them for a decade now, and knew that they could be hard, cold, and unyielding in their demands and punishments. He had witnessed them treat their own daughters as such too many times. 

So maybe this was already the start of a fitting punishment, the knight thought. Being forced to stand here on guard, watching the love of his life, the princess of his realm, be courted and sold off to a duke that would never, and could never, deserve her. 

Elain jerked back to the present with a gasp. She was seated in a wrought iron chair on her rooftop, cold tea in front of her. After taking a few moments to reorient herself, she retraced her vision. She hadn’t had one since before she had parted ways with Azriel that horrible evening, and she had never had one in his point of view before. 

Her anger at him ebbed in the wake of the vision. The love of his life. That’s what that knight thought about that princess. That’s what Azriel, in whatever lifetime, had thought about her. And she wondered if those other thoughts and feelings she had experienced as if they were her own—the ones of self-doubt, self-hatred, worthlessness—did not only belong to that version of Azriel. 

She was still pissed as hell at him, and would be until she got a very good apology. But he would need her. Romantically, she had no idea what would happen with them, but she shoved that aside. She shoved aside the heartbreakingly real memories of that knight loving her as a princess, as well.

Elain assessed the situation. Azriel would need her help again, whether he was ready for it tomorrow or in a month from now. His shadows seemed to have…awakened, or something that night, and he had no one else he could go to. She would help him, when he was ready. She had promised him that, and she wanted to help him. 

So she shoved it all aside, and focused on what she could do, now. 

Elain tucked her hair behind her ears, reaching to dump her cold tea into a patch of clover behind her, and then she stood on steady legs. She descended the stairs and entered her living room. She grabbed her laptop, walked to her bookshelf, and pulled the most promising books down. Then she crossed her legs on the couch and got to work. 

Elain spent days researching in every book she owned. She had read most of them already, but she had always read them to learn more about her own magic, or her sisters’ magic, or magical laws and fundamentals in general. She had never searched with a lens for… this, so she set to it. 

As soon as she woke up, she was up on her rooftop garden with a book and her tea, and as soon as her workday was over, she was there again. She read every page thoroughly, looking for anything related to… dark magic. Shadows. Nightmares manifesting. Controlling the darkness or the night. With her elemental magic, Feyre had some control over the darkness. She could put out lights, draw the night in around them, but she had no semblance of physical shadows like Azriel displayed. His shadows were different. Feyre pulled in darkness from the earth, from space. Azriel’s shadows…came from him. 

While she still stung from his rejection, Elain put it aside for the time being. She didn’t bother to check her phone, didn’t bother to call or text him. She knew he wouldn’t be reaching out to her anytime soon. That much, at least, her Sight had shown her. She was never able to get a clear read on Azriel—only brief, fleeting images, sounds, smells. But she was gifted with enough to know that she should not expect to hear from him for the foreseeable week, at least. 

She vowed not to push him, not to reach out to him, not to send him gifts or show up at his work. But she thought about it, and him…a lot. She thought about her anger and her annoyance, yes. But she also thought about the way he had claimed her. The way he had devoured her neck like it was his sustenance, his lifeblood. She thought about the way his fingers had coaxed her so close to the edge with featherlight touches that were almost nothing, yet consumed her entirely. She thought about the way all of those sinful words coming off his tongue sounded. Kissing you? Touching you? Going down on you? Fucking you?

She thought about how he had kept calling her “sugar,” how he had called her “angel.” How he had kept saying all the right things to set her more aflame, to show her he cared about her, to show her how much he wanted her, too. 

You taste like you were made for me.

Those words had cracked something deep inside Elain, and she hadn’t even realized until days later. Something intrinsic was now reaching and reaching for him. 

She thought about how beautiful his strong, broad body was, naked and hungry for her. She thought about the way he had teased her, drawn out her pleasure and her desperation, and then given her more than she could have possibly imagined. She thought about the force of the climax he had coaxed her to, how it had rent her apart, body and soul, and how she would have given anything to have him buried in her wholly and unendingly. 

And she also thought about that kiss—not the one on fire, that she had thrown at him recklessly and desperately, but the one days before that. The kiss that he had dropped down onto her head without even meaning to. The kiss that had seemed second-nature when he had said goodbye, drifting his hand up her spine and pressing his lips to her hair. That kiss, while fleeting and chaste, clung to her more than any of the others. Because that kiss felt like something beyond passion and lust, beyond simple affection. That kiss felt like hope, and connection, and reaching. That kiss felt like home. 

And that scared Elain more than the shadows ever could. 

She was not afraid of falling in love. She was not even afraid of being heartbroken again—she had survived that once, and she could survive it again. The unknown did not scare her, as she walked beside it every day, her magic feeding from it. No, what scared Elain was leading Azriel down a path that would end in tragedy. Walking him to his doom. Being responsible for ripping apart the tapestry of fate until the broken shards could not be put back together. And she was so, so afraid of what her visions of the past would show her. 

Azriel drew in a deep breath from his position lying flat on his bed as his phone rang again, after he had let it go to voicemail the last time. Two and a half weeks had passed since he had seen Elain, since he had hurt her, since those shadows had reemerged. 17 days. Things weren’t getting worse, but they weren’t getting better. He had sunken into something so removed he was beginning to scare himself. And he hadn’t been to visit his mother, which was adding to his guilt and self-hatred.

Azriel sighed up at the ceiling as his phone rang and rang. He finally scooped it up from his bedside table and glanced at the screen to see it was Rhysand calling. He answered, just to get him to stop fucking calling. 

“What?” he asked flatly, not bothering with greetings. 

“Where the fuck have you been, brother?” 

Azriel just stared at his ceiling. “What do you mean?” 

“Well we at least normally hear from you enough to know that you’re not dead,” Rhysand answered, his voice light and carefree. “Been too busy with a certain brown-haired honey?”

Azriel grimaced and ignored the question that made his insides twist. “Do you need something?”

“Damn, you’re testy today,” his brother answered. “I can’t call my big brother to check in?”

Azriel took measured breaths, willing himself not to grow frustrated. He didn’t want to deal with this bullshit right now. He didn’t want to deal with anything.

A few seconds of silence passed before Rhysand spoke again. “Fine, I need something.”

Of course. Azriel just silently waited for him to continue. 

Rhysand clicked his tongue in annoyance but continued. “I need you to go on a double date with me and Feyre.”

Azriel did not even hesitate for a moment. “No,” he said into the phone, and hung up. 

Blessed silence enveloped him once more as he found a new pattern in the ceiling to trace with his eyes. But then his fucking phone rang again. 

He answered it, his frustration growing. “I said no.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rhysand asked, still casual but sounding less lighthearted. 

“Nothing. I’m not going on a double date with you.”

His brother scoffed into the phone. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to. And you know I don’t date.”

“Come on,” his brother goaded. “Bring Elain.”

Azriel almost laughed out loud at that suggestion. If only Rhysand fucking knew how very much he could not bring Elain.

But instead he just repeated, “No.”

He heard Rhys sigh over the line. “Why not?” he asked again. 

Azriel wished he could slap him over the phone, just to get him to shut the fuck up. 

“Make Cassian go with you.” 

“He’s out of town at some rugby thing, which you would know if you ever fucking talked to us.”

Azriel remained silent at that.

“What’s going on with you?” Rhysand asked him, his voice sounding a tinge more concerned. 

“Nothing,” he answered. “Ask one of your other friends to go with you.”

Azriel could almost see his brother frowning down at the phone. “My other friends are dicks and will scare her off. You’re perfect. You’re quiet and polite and I’ll even ignore the fact that you’re prettier than me.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips twitched despite himself. “Rhys,” he said, trying extremely hard to not be an ass. “I have never once gone on a date. I meet people, I fuck them, I never talk to them again. You know that. And I’m not really in the mood to fuck anyone right—”

His brother cut him off. “When are you, Azriel Dolan, not in the mood to fuck someone? You are the biggest slut I’ve ever met.”

Azriel just sat there and counted the seconds of silence before Rhysand cracked under the pressure. 

“Okay, fine, I’m canceling my date Friday and you’re coming out with me instead. Something is clearly wrong with you and I’m going to find out what.”

Azriel wanted to scream. Instead he just clutched his phone so hard he could feel his knuckles turning white. 

“Nothing is wrong with me,” he said, as measured and collected as he could. 

Rhys just clicked his tongue. “You’re a liar, and I will beat the shit out of you if that’s what it takes to get you to talk.”

Azriel's smooth voice didn't falter. “That has never worked before and it won’t now.” It was true. As children, Azriel would sometimes fall into episodes of silence. His brothers used to pummel him, betting with each other on how long it would take him to break and talk. Neither of them ever won. 

“And don’t cancel your date,” Azriel added. “You’ve been visiting Feyre like a creep for months. Take the win. Go out with her.” 

“She specifically asked to go on a double date with me,” Rhysand answered in exasperation. “Probably to make sure I’m not actually a creep. I’m not going to make myself into a predator by ignoring that.”

Azriel had no answer to that. That was probably a good call, on his brother’s part. 

Rhysand spoke again. “You. Me. Friday night. No other dicks or pussies involved. We’ll go to the bar and play stupid board games. Then we’ll get drunk and pour our hearts out to each other.”

Azriel sighed. “I’m not doing the second part,” was all he said before hanging up in resignation. 

After a week of scouring her books and finding nothing remotely helpful, Elain was forced to ask Feyre for help. She would go to Nesta next, if Feyre had nothing useful, but Nesta was prying and demanding. Feyre would be easier to deal with first. And while she trusted Cerridwen and Nuala completely, she wasn’t quite ready to go to them for help yet, either.

So a week after Azriel had given Elain the best orgasm of her life, she had witnessed the awakening of his shadows, and he had begged her to leave his condo, Elain found herself cross-legged on the floor of Feyre’s loft, surrounded by every book on magic her sister possessed. 

“So…explain to me what you’re looking for, and why?” Feyre asked, handing her a glass of chilled lemonade. 

“Thanks,” Elain said distractedly, taking a quick sip and then placing it down and continuing to scour her current book. “And it’s for a client who comes to see me for readings. They recently disclosed to me that they believe they possess magic, and would like some help. I agreed.” She said it all without looking up from the book, hoping her words came out smoothly and confidently. 

“Huh,” Feyre answered, sipping her own lemonade. “And it’s a magic so rare you’ve never heard of it? Can you describe it to me?”

Elain looked up at that. She supposed she would have to tell Feyre about it, if she wanted any help looking. She chewed her lip, wondering how much to share. 

“It’s…kind of like how you can control the darkness. But it’s not elemental. The darkness doesn’t come from the earth.”

Feyre cocked her head, thinking it over. “How do you know?” she asked.

Elain took another sip of her lemonade, thinking, before she answered. “Well, I’ve seen them wield their magic. Only once. And it wasn’t like they controlled the darkness that already exists in the world. It was more like it came from…within them. And it was less, general darkness, and more…solid shadows. Distinct and nearly sentient. They…shot from under his skin.”

Feyre blinked a few times, thinking it over. If she had caught Elain’s slip of using the word “him,” she didn’t show it. “So your client controls shadows?”

Elain nodded. “Yes, I think so. But it’s like they come from them, not that they’re drawn to them. And the shadows do things on their own…protect my client. I think.”

Feyre raised a brow. “Okaaay,” she said, drawing the word out. “And when you say protect…?”

Elain feigned innocence, giving Feyre her best wide-eyed look of ignorance. 

“Elain,” Feyre coaxed. “Are you getting into something dangerous? This power sounds…dark.”

Elain huffed. Feyre had always tried to protect her. Both her sisters had, viciously. To her own detriment sometimes, she thought privately. Even though Feyre was the youngest, they always thought of Elain as the innocent one, the helpless one, the one who needed looking out for. 

“I’m not going to get hurt,” she answered confidently, raising her chin from her seat on the floor. “This client is my friend. They would never hurt me.”

“On purpose, I don’t doubt that,” Feyre answered seriously. “But these shadows…they seem insidious. Why else haven’t you been able to find anything about them so far?”

Elain sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a rare form of magic. But I trust this person.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes at her sister. “If you get hurt I’ll kill you.”

“I know,” Elain answered with a smile. “Now sit down and help me.”

Friday night arrived, and Azriel was doing his best to pull himself together to go out with Rhysand. He knew his brother would overreact if he canceled, and probably drag his ass out anyway. He couldn’t be dead to society forever, so he hit a punching bag with his bare skin for an hour straight until his knuckles started to crack, took a shower, and got ready. He put on black jeans and a gray t-shirt that clung to his body in a pleasing way, he supposed, checked his hair and that both earrings were still in, and scoffed at himself in the mirror.

“You’re a piece of shit and a monster,” he muttered to himself, before gathering up his phone, keys, wallet, helmet, and gloves, and taking off to meet his brother.

They didn’t go to Rita’s, thank goodness. Azriel had told Rhysand they could go anywhere but there. He didn’t want a single reminder of Elain, or a chance to run into one of his previous hookups. So Azriel pulled up to a bar he had been to a few times and parked his bike, sighing as he tugged off his helmet. This was fine. He could do this. He just had to act normal for a couple fucking hours, get his brother off his back, then he could go back to brooding and pretending he didn't exist. 

He walked into the bar, scanning the tables for Rhysand. He figured he would be sitting at one rather than the bar, because he wanted to play board games or some dumb shit. And there he was, at a cozy little corner table in dim lighting. 

Azriel approached him, clapping his brother on the back in greeting and sliding into a chair opposite him. 

Rhys nodded at him while taking a sip of a beer and then did a double-take. “Damn, brother. You look like you haven't slept in a week.” 

Azriel kept his face neutral. “Always love to hear that I look like shit. Good to see you, too.”

Rhysand waved a lazy hand. “Shut up, you know you're pretty. I just mean you…look like you haven't slept. Or that you got punched in both eyes, but I somehow doubt that happened.” 

Rhys’s eyes flicked down to Azriel's hands as if to check he actually hadn't been in a fight, his gaze landing on scraped knuckles. He raised a brow. 

“Just the punching bag,” Azriel answered nonchalantly. 

Rhys’s brow lifted even higher. “You got a lot of shit to work through?” 

Thank god a server appeared and Azriel could avoid answering. He ordered an old fashioned and a water, and hoped that his brother would drop the whole concerned family thing. 

He looked around the table. “I thought you wanted to play board games or something.” 

Rhysand started to answer, leaning back cockily in his chair. “I—” but then he straightened suddenly, subconsciously fixing his hair. “They're here,” he crooned, his mouth curling into a devilish grin as he raised a hand in greeting. 

Azriel’s insides froze. He didn't even have to turn around to know who was walking towards him. He could feel it. But he turned anyway. 

Elain fucking Archeron was standing there, stopped dead in her tracks, a horrified look on her face. 

Chapter Text

Azriel could only assume that Elain’s sister Feyre stood next to her, grinning shyly at his brother. He barely even took in Feyre’s appearance. He only registered that she was taller than Elain, looked slightly younger, and had the same hair color but different eyes. That was all he was able to notice as he watched Elain grab Feyre's hand and whisper to her. No doubt trying to leave, to run away from him and everything he had done to her. 

Azriel turned slowly back towards Rhys. “What the fuck," he hissed quietly. “You fucking lied to me?” 

Rhys only shrugged and grinned mischievously. “You were right,” he drawled. “I shouldn't have given up my chance to go on a date with my dream woman. And Feyre agreed that you and Elain would be perfect together. Plus, you already know each other.”

“Rhys,” Azriel growled at his brother. He was going to crack his head in later for this. Rhys’s smile only grew. 

“They're coming over,” he murmured, throwing a wink at Feyre. 

Azriel clenched his jaw, his entire body taut, as he turned again to see Feyre dragging Elain by the hand. Elain had schooled her face, but clearly still did not want to be there. She was trying to tug her hand back, murmuring something to her sister. 

They were suddenly in front of them, though, Feyre beaming and Elain looking like a deer in the headlights. 

Rhys stood from his seat, reaching out and taking Feyre’s hand and fucking kissing it like the asshole he was. “Feyre,” he drawled, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

She blushed and waved a hand at Elain. “This is my sister, Elain.” 

“Nice to meet you again, formally,” Rhys said, inclining his head and extending a hand. Elain shook his hand hesitantly, clearly trying to act normal. 

“You too,” she mumbled, attempting an easy smile. 

“Don’t be rude, Az,” Rhysand said to his brother, looking far too delighted. “Stand up and meet my date.”

Azriel had been glued to his seat, just staring at Elain. He hated that his first thought was how insanely beautiful she looked. She was wearing a light blue sundress that ended just above her knees, had her hair twisted up into a bun with little curls falling around her face, and those stupid, cute white tennis shoes on. And she wasn’t wearing a fucking god damn bra. 

He hated even more that his second thought was the memory of her naked, crying on his leather sofa. He clenched his jaw even tighter to keep from making any kind of face, and forced himself to stand. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” he said, extending a hand and shaking hers. 

“And you two already know each other,” Feyre smiled, looking between Elain and Azriel with a satisfied grin. Rhys pulled the chair next to him out for her, and she took it, leaving only the chair next to Azriel for Elain. 

“We do,” Elain said with what was obviously forced lightness. “It’s nice to see you again, Azriel,” she added, giving him the coldest look he had ever seen from her, which made him want to rip his insides out. She was pissed at him. 

But he only inclined his head. “You too,” he answered, before pulling a chair out for her and taking his seat once more. 

He didn’t know what would have been worse: Elain sitting across from him, and being forced to stare at her stunning face that was permanently etched with tear streaks in his mind, or having her right fucking next to him, so he could feel her warmth, smell her jasmine and honey perfume, be close enough to touch. 

Elain was sitting with preternatural stillness next to him, and he breathed in and out of his mouth to try to avoid being flooded with the smell of her. It didn’t work. 

“We’re sorry for deceiving the two of you,” Rhys said smoothly, not sounding sorry in the least as he chucked and looked between them. Azriel narrowed his eyes at his brother, the only sign of emotion he would show. “But you’re both so stubborn, and Feyre and I thought that the two of you needed to get out.” That meddling asshole. 

Azriel and Elain both said nothing, just stared at Feyre and Rhys and pretended the other wasn’t there. Feyre had the good sense to look a little bit wary as she laughed nervously. 

The server reappeared before either Azriel or Elain could answer Rhys. 

“Can I get you ladies any drinks?” she asked. 

Azriel sipped his old fashioned as Feyre ordered a white wine. Then he choked and spluttered as Elain ordered a double whiskey. He thumped his chest once to lessen the burn.

He swiveled his head to her slowly, letting his surprise show through his eyes. 

“Damn, Elain,” Feyre noted. “I’ve never seen you drink anything stronger than red wine.”

Elain frowned a tiny bit, creating an all-too-endearing crease between her eyes. “And I’ve never been tricked into a double date,” she said coolly. 

Well, damn. She was really pissed—at Feyre or himself, or most likely both. He couldn’t blame her for either.

Rhysand, the prick, just waved a lazy hand as if to move them along from the unimportant topic. He already had an arrogant arm draped over the back of Feyre’s seat, and she was delightedly soaking up the attention. Feyre was beautiful as well, with the same full, soft mouth as Elain. But her cheekbones were sharper, her eyes slightly uptilted and a stormy blue-gray color rather than Elain’s rich brown doe eyes. Her hair was the same honey brown, but it hung in long, loose waves rather than in the full curls Elain boasted. She was taller and more athletically built than Elain. She was beautiful, yes, but no one in the world held a candle to Elain Archeron’s ethereal and goddess-like flawlessness.

“So Elain,” Rhysand drawled, “tell me more about your work.”

“Oh,” Elain answered uncomfortably. The worst possible fucking topic Rhys could have picked in this moment of time. “It’s really nothing special. I have to make a living somehow, right?” 

The server reappeared with drinks for Elain and Feyre before anyone had a chance to answer. Azriel turned towards Elain again to watch her swallow half the whiskey in one gulp. Her eyes met his as she lowered the glass, and they held a gleam that said, What? A girl can’t drink in a stressful situation?

He sent her the smallest raise of an eyebrow back, as if to say, You can do whatever you want, sugar. She dipped her chin in the tiniest acknowledgment and looked forward once more. 

Rhysand and Feyre had already moved on, discussing some of Feyre’s personal artwork. She was telling his brother that he had to stop by and come into the private studio in the back of her gallery. Rhysand was flirting like the motherfucker he was, completely oblivious to anything going on between Azriel and Elain as he worked every one of his godforsaken charms on Feyre.

“Feyre’s a wonderful painter,” Elain added to the conversation, her cheeks already pink from the liquor. “She was the only sister born with any artistic skill.”

Feyre scoffed. “That is not true, Elain! Your gardens are works of art. And your pastries.” 

Elain blushed and only took another sip of her whiskey. And then Azriel, the idiot he was, nodded in agreement. That, of course, Rhysand didn’t miss—his eyes snapped to Azriel’s face. 

God fucking damn him. 

“You’ve seen her gardens,” he crooned, before taking a lazy sip of his beer. Elain flushed darker in the corner of Azriel’s eye, and Feyre’s eyebrows flicked up. 

“We’re just friends,” Elain deadpanned, a frown etched over her perfect eyebrows, as if she had to beat either of them to the accusations. 

Azriel’s gut twisted deep within him, a feeling of hopelessness flooding him at her words. But he just nodded and lifted his glass in agreement. “Just friends.” His words came out low and flat.

The corner of Rhysand’s mouth lifted in an arrogant smirk, but he didn’t push it. 

The conversation moved on, thank god, but Azriel never stopped being aware of Elain’s skin right fucking next to him. He could have reached out just two inches to run a hand down her arm. To get her to look at him. To tell her how sorry he was about how he had acted. To beg on his knees for things to go back to how they were before that night ended so horribly.

But instead he just sat, silently sipping his drink, letting the conversation ebb and flow around him. 

Elain, on the other hand, became more chatty the more she drank, and seemed to more deliberately ignore Azriel. She didn’t look over at him once. She was asking Rhysand all about his job as a lawyer, gave him her earnest condolences about his parents, wanted to hear about Cassian and his EMS work. She did it all so whole-heartedly, so kindly. And Azriel knew it was because that was just who she was. Even while she was angry with him. She just was a dawn sun, soft and delicate, shining down on everything and everyone, lighting them up and asking for nothing in return. 

She may not be his angel—may never be—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t an angel. 

After an hour and two whiskeys, Elain began to look his way. Each instance, her eyes were hard, as cold as they could be despite their warm, rich color. Their gaze met a few times, and Azriel was always the first to look away. Because he was the coward out of the two of them. And if she was an angel, he didn’t know what that made him. A demon, he supposed. Maybe literally. 

His skin crawled as if reminding him of those shadows that were ruining his life, that had already ruined his life at five years old. He wanted to get the fuck out of here. He was on the verge of making up an excuse, no longer able to withstand being next to Elain and all of her light and all of her anger, when Rhysand announced it was time to start playing board games. 

Azriel rubbed his temples as Feyre jumped up excitedly, offering to go help him pick one from the shelf next to the bar. And so Azriel and Elain were left alone, side-by-side, as they both raised their eyes to each other. 

Azriel started to say “I—” at the same time as Elain said “It’s—” and they cut themselves off, both waving at each other to continue. 

Azriel huffed a frustrated breath, and Elain just gazed sadly back at him.

“It’s good to see you,” she finally said, though the words sounded forced. They didn’t have the gentle lilt he was so used to hearing in her voice.

Azriel swallowed. “Is it?” he asked quietly, swirling the last sip of his drink before tossing it back. 

Elain’s eyebrows creased a bit. “Of course,” she answered. “This,” she continued, waving a hand around them, “is a ridiculous situation. And I think it’s obvious I’m not happy with you. But I am glad to see you again.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I was getting worried about you,” Elain said softly, her gaze dropping. 

“I don’t deserve that,” he replied under his breath. He gathered his courage. “Elain I’m—”

But Rhysand and Feyre chose that moment to reappear. They were trying to sit down again when Azriel, not breaking his gaze from Elain’s face, said, “Not that game.”

Feyre paused, confused, but Rhysand clicked his tongue. “What do you mean? We just toiled over this decision.”

Azriel didn’t look away from Elain. “Pick another one,” he said, softly but with enough edge that his brother would understand his meaning.

A couple moments of awkward silence passed as Elain and Azriel stared at each other, but he didn’t care. He needed to get these words out. 

“Alright,” his brother drawled, and placed his hand on Feyre’s back to lead her towards the games once more. As soon as they were out of earshot, Azriel kept talking like they had never been interrupted. 

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m so fucking sorry, Elain. I was an asshole to you, and I hate that I made you cry, I hate that I kicked you out, I hate that I’m a fucking monster. You were only trying to help me. I deserve for you to be angry with me, and I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I just need you to know how sorry I am.”

Elain seemed at a loss for words for a few moments, just blinking at him slowly. “Azriel,” she finally said softly, and his body jerked slightly at his name on her lips. “When are you going to stop running?” 

He frowned. Straight to the fucking chase, then. “I don’t know what the hell is happening to me, and I have never met someone like you before,” he started. “And I’ve been getting fucking confused and lost, and what happened scared the shit out of me. And none of it is an excuse for how I treated you, but I need you to know how much I hate myself for that night.” He pointedly didn’t answer her question despite all his garbled words.

Elain shook her head sadly at him. “Don’t hate yourself,” she murmured quietly. “Please. I’m pissed at you, because I didn’t deserve to be left hanging like that, but I know you were scared. And I’m still willing to help you.” 

Azriel looked over Elain’s shoulder for a moment to see his brother stalling, ordering them all drinks at the bar. Fine, maybe he wasn’t such a dick. He looked back at Elain. This woman, despite all the ways he had already failed to be a good person for her, still wanted to help him. She still cared about him. He couldn’t fathom it. 

“I don’t know what to do, Elain.” He knew he sounded desperate. But he was desperate. 

She placed a small, soft hand on his forearm. The warmth from those perfect fingers sunk into his skin, warmed him to his very bones. “Let me help you,” she answered. “We can figure this out together. I’ve been researching, and I haven’t found anything yet, but I—”

Azriel drew his head back in shock. “What do you mean you’ve been researching?” 

She looked confused. “I didn’t want to pressure you or make you talk to me, but I wanted to help however I could, so I’ve been going through my books, and other books, trying to find anything I can that might help shed some light.”

Azriel didn’t know if he wanted to slam his face into the table and laugh, or sob. He started to feel hysterical. “Why the hell would you still want to help me after how I treated you?” He couldn’t help but ask the question that was gnawing at his mind.

Elain’s face softened further. “Because I already knew you were sorry, Azriel. And that you were scared, and that you would punish yourself enough for it.”

Azriel opened his mouth and then closed it. Elain narrowed her eyes at him suddenly. “I accept your apology, and I want to help you. But don’t fucking kick me out like that again.” She said it so lightly, but with such a scowl on her face, that Azriel couldn’t hold in the bark of laughter that escaped him. The knot in his chest loosened ever-so-slightly, and he was about to promise her that he wouldn’t when Feyre and Rhysand finally returned, four drinks and game in hand.

Rhysand passed Azriel another old fashioned, keeping a beer for himself, and Feyre gave Elain a pointed look as she passed her a glass of white wine, something pink and bubbly in her other hand. Elain cringed slightly. Feyre was right, she shouldn’t have any more whiskey. Her head was already swimming with the combination of the drinks and her brief but intense conversation with Azriel.

But she felt a smile stretch over her face as her sister and Rhysand took their seats, placing the newly chosen game on the table. Azriel had spoken to her. He had thought about her, and apologized to her, and seemed willing to accept her help. Maybe it had taken an insane double date setup to make it happen, but it happened. She wasn’t ready to act like none of it had occurred, to fall back into his arms or into his bed. She still felt hurt and pissed.

But she was also still worried about him. She watched him as they began setting up the game—Banagrams—and studied the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that had grown on his face, the sallow look to his skin. Azriel was no less beautiful, but he did look tormented—worse than how he had looked before they went to see his mother. 

Elain was not really in the mood to play some silly game over drinks with her sister and her sister’s date (who was almost as handsome as Azriel, but not quite). She wanted to go home with Azriel and get to work. If she was being honest with herself, her body wanted to do more than just that, and the scent of his cologne was already torturing her, but she ignored that particular desire. She had no idea if and when he would want that kind of contact with her again, or if she would trust him enough for that again. 

So Elain forced herself to engage in the game, and actually had fun doing it. After her whiskeys and her glass of white wine, she was most definitely tipsy, and feeling lighter despite the worry for Azriel. She felt lighter than she had for the past nineteen days, because he was here next to her, chuckling in his quiet, reserved way. Being alarmingly good at this stupid game, of course. Looking at her like he didn’t only associate her with his nightmares and fears. 

And she smiled at how happy her sister looked. Feyre had dealt with her own share of heartbreak and her own shitty fiancé (god, how did they both already have failed engagements?), and it made her truly happy to see Feyre overjoyed, being fawned over by a man who seemed equally as beautiful and cunning as she was. 

The tension in Azriel’s body lessened slightly as the next hour passed, his shoulders loosening a bit and the muscles in his hands relaxing. Those beautiful hands. Elain couldn’t look at them for fear of the memories that would arise. Even though she was not done being pissed at him, the warmth and size of his solid body so close to hers was begrudgingly comforting. She had missed him, she realized, even in her anger and hurt and despair. She had missed just being near him like this. 

As soon as the game ended, Elain’s bladder got the better of her, and she announced that she was headed to the restroom. Like the loyal sister she was, Feyre immediately got up to join her. Her younger sister hooked elbows with her and tugged her towards the back of the bar.

“What in the hell was that about?” Feyre asked, as soon as they were out of earshot from the brothers.

“What was what about?” Elain answered innocently, focusing on staying steady. Her head swam worse now that she was standing. 

“You and Azriel are acting fucking weird—he’s absurdly hot, by the way. What was that moment that we interrupted? That was tense as hell.”

Elain didn’t answer right away, mulling possible responses over. Feyre spoke again. 

“And you were acting pretty cold to him, Elain. I thought you guys had only met a couple times—why were you acting so pissed at him?”

Elain sighed as they pushed their way through the swinging door into the restroom. “We’re sort of friends, I guess,” she hedged. “And he did do something to piss me off. But he apologized while you guys were getting more drinks.”

Feyre crossed her arms. “Are you two dating or something? Sleeping together? And do I need to hit him for hurting you?”

Elain felt her cheeks blaze. “No, god! And I have to pee, so leave me alone.” 

Feyre huffed but stepped back, and they took side by side stalls. 

They met again at the sinks. 

“And I’m pissed at you , also, by the way,” Elain hissed at her sister, even though the weight behind the words wasn’t there. “That was not cool of you to lie to me. I thought we were having a girls-only night out. I would have…put on a stupid bra or something if I had known. No, actually, I wouldn’t even have said yes.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at Elain through the mirror as she dried her hands. “I know you would have said no. That’s why I tricked you. But it was fucked up, and I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Elain glared at her through the mirror. Feyre nudged her with an elbow. “But you are having a little fun, right?”

If Feyre had any inclination that Azriel was the “client” Elain had told her about, she gave nothing away. “I guess so,” Elain grumbled. Feyre grinned and held the door open for Elain. She stepped through it, her own smile betraying her as she laughed lightly. 

This was a crazy situation, but she thought she may as well lean into it. She was having a little bit of fun. 

Only just then, a lanky male stepped in front of her, leering down at her. “Let me buy you a drink, baby,” he crooned, looking fairly drunk himself. His light brown hair and blue eyes reminded her too much of Graysen, which already set her on edge. 

“No thank you,” Elain said stiffly, and tried to step around him. But the man blocked her way again. “Come on,” he crooned. “Just one. You’ll have a good time, I promise.”

Feyre grabbed Elain’s hand and took a threatening step towards the drunk. “She said no. Have a good night.”

He only grinned like a wolf, raking his eyes over Feyre’s body and then Elain’s. He had his legs spread wide, blocking their way in the bar that was now getting crowded. “You can come too, mama. I’ve got a friend for you. You two twins or just sisters? Because damn.” 

Elain scowled as Feyre squared up to him, ready to defend them. She had always been the fearless sister. “Get out of our way.” 

Elain tried to sidestep again when he didn’t move, but the man shot out his hand and caught her wrist. His fingers were hard and cold, biting into her skin. “Or what?” he crooned. 

Before Elain could register what was happening, the bulky frames of Rhysand and Azriel had appeared behind the man. Rhysand shoved him out of the way, taking Feyre by the waist and tugging her behind him, his face full of cold rage. The shove sent the man, surprised and off-centered, into Azriel’s side, who wrapped one arm around his shoulders and lashed out his hand to grip the man’s forearm, just above where his fingers encircled Elain’s wrist. 

“Take your hand off her,” Azriel breathed, his voice more frozen and wrathful than Elain had ever heard it, “Or I will break your fingers.” 

To any onlooker, it might look like they were having a regular, if not slightly tense interaction. But fear flooded the man’s eyes as he met Azriel’s gaze of icy death. The stranger was tall, but he was thin and lacked muscle or size. He looked like a lanky child next to Azriel’s broad, muscled frame. Elain had never seen Azriel look so terrifying, so bloodthirsty. Even with all the cold leeching off him, something deep inside Elain heated at the vengeance that shone on his face. 

The man sneered at Azriel, even as his face paled with fear, and relaxed his fingers on Elain’s wrist. She jerked her arm back out of his grip. Before she could step back further, though, something cool and soft brushed her ankle. She slowly looked down, Feyre and Rhys distracted with a murmured conversation. A tendril of shadow was snaking around her calf. She stayed perfectly still, looking back up at Azriel slowly. 

He hadn’t noticed. He still had his arm around the man, fingers digging tightly into the skin of his shoulder. He was whispering something into the stranger’s ear—something that was making the man tremble with fear. 

Elain started shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide, trying to get Azriel’s attention. He had to get ahold of his emotions, or Elain feared more shadows would emerge. It was dark and crowded in this bar, and no one was likely to notice the one curling around her calf currently, but he needed to calm down. 

Azriel finally cut his eyes back to hers and noticed her shaking her head at him. She only dared point downward with her eyes, and his own gaze followed. He paled at the sight of the shadow, which was only barely visible in the dim lighting of the bar. 

Azriel looked back at the man beside him, dropping his arm suddenly. “Get the fuck out of here. Quickly.”

Rhysand stepped forward then, holding Feyre’s hand protectively behind him. “In fact, don’t ever come back,” he added smoothly. “We have a third brother you know, and he’s the largest and strongest of us all.” 

The man held his hands up before him. “I didn’t know they were spoken for,” he spluttered, stepping back. “I didn’t—”

But Azriel cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, death incarnate. “Get. The fuck. Out.”

Fear flashed over the man’s face again and he whirled, hurrying out of the bar without bothering to stop and say goodbye to whoever we had been with. 

Elain didn’t dare look down towards the shadow again. 

“Are you alright?” Azriel asked, stepping in front of her, reaching a hand towards her face but stopping himself. His fingers were shaking. 

“Yes,” Elain said soothingly. “It was only some drunk asshole hitting on me. Us.”

Rhysand growled from behind Azriel. “Fucking disgusting entitled men,” he spat. 

“Azriel,” Elain murmured, and he closed his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. Elain’s eyes widened when she felt the shadow dissipate from around her ankle. She exhaled in relief. 

“Want to get some air?” he asked Elain as he opened his eyes, and she nodded. Azriel murmured something under his breath to his brother, and then he put a hand on her back, guiding her towards the doors to the bar’s patio. 

Azriel dragged in a deep breath as the night air hit his lungs. And then he dropped his hand from Elain’s back, realizing that was probably not the best move at that moment. He had seen red when he watched that fucking prick’s disgusting fingers wrap around Elain’s immaculate wrist, and had moved. Rhys had realized what was happening in the same moment, and the rage on his brother’s face had mirrored what he felt searing in his chest. 

Azriel hated any man who put their hands on a woman without consent, who tried to dominate women, intimidate them, control them. But the fact that it was Elain that vile asshole was touching…he dragged in another breath of fresh air to shake off the once-again rising rage. 

And then he remembered the shadow. His gaze shot down to Elain’s ankle. She looked down as well, and then back up at him. He only nodded his head to an empty space along the railing across the patio. She followed him, until they were both leaning against the railing, looking out over the mountains that bordered Velaris. 

“Was that another fucking shadow?” Azriel bit out under his breath. Elain met his eyes, and only nodded. 

“Shit,” he breathed, running a hand over the shaved hair above his neck. “ Shit.”

“Have you seen any others since—” she began, but he caught her off, unable to relive that night once more.

“No,” he said quickly, clenching his fingers on the railing. 

Elain nodded thoughtfully, as if one of his terrifying demonic shadows hadn’t just been touching her. As if reading his thoughts, she gazed up at him. 

“It didn’t feel evil, by the way,” she said softly. He only blinked back at her. “It didn’t even feel bad. It just felt…cool. And soft. It almost felt like it was…comforting me.”

Azriel blew out a breath slowly, his mind reeling. And then he opened his hands to her.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, his voice turning into a rasp. “How am I just supposed to go on living my life knowing that this could happen at any moment? That I could hurt someone again?”

Elain looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she squared her shoulders. “Tomorrow,” she said, as if deciding something. She still seemed tipsy as hell, though the interaction with the asshole had been slightly sobering. “Tomorrow we are going to start working on this together. We’re going to find some answers for you, and you are going to trust me. No more freaking out. No more running.”

Azriel swallowed, weighing her words. Here she was, again, offering to step off a cliff into the insane, the impossible, with him, asking for nothing in return other than trust. Wanting only to help him. 

“Alright,” he finally murmured, never breaking their gaze. 

A small smile bloomed on Elain’s flushed face. “Alright,” she breathed, like his answer relieved her. 

He grimaced as her breath lifted and then dropped her chest. “But we might need to write some more solid rules.” 

Elain frowned at him. “Rules?” she asked. “What do you—oh.”

He felt his heart falling as he said the words. “I can’t lose control like that again, Elain. Not while I don’t understand what’s happening to me, or how to manage it. Not that I’m assuming you’d want that—I know you’re still pissed at me and I broke your trust, but—”

“No, no, I get what you’re saying,” Elain said quickly, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink in the moonlight. 

Azriel’s gaze dipped to her chest before he snapped his eyes back to her face. “Like, for instance,” he breathed, stepping a couple inches closer to her, so their arms brushed. He fought a shiver at the contact. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. Nothing more than friendly touches. I’m not going to assume what you want or don’t want, but it would help me if you could agree to the same.” 

Elain bit her lip, and it nearly fucking killed him. He would do anything to taste those lips again. “I can agree to that,” she said quietly. 

He dropped his voice lower. “No kissing,” he murmured huskily. Fuck, was he flirting with her at the same time as setting new rules? Pathetic. “No sleepovers. No sex—including oral.”

Elain was turning redder and redder. “As if I’d want that,” she mumbled, but her words lacked any kind of bite. 

“Elain,” Azriel said quietly, begging her with his tone to look up at him. She slowly raised her eyes to him, searching his face. “You have no idea how much it kills me to set these boundaries. But if I hurt you accidentally, if I lose control…”

Elain waved her hand in understanding. “I know,” she answered. “I get it. And I agree.”

He blew out a slow breath. Back to the fucking rules, then. Bitterness flooded him, but it had to be this way. He couldn’t risk it any other way. 

“Can I ask you a question, though?” Elain said timidly, twisting her fingers together.

“Of course,” he answered, wanting more than anything to run a comforting hand down her back. 

“Have you been seeing anyone else? Or do you want to?”

Azriel blinked at her, drawing his head back. “What?” he asked, incredulous. 

“I mean,” she stumbled. “Maybe you don’t want to lose control with me, but is it partially because you’re finding relief…elsewhere?” 

Azriel’s mouth dropped open in shock. How could Elain think that he would be interested in anyone after finding her once again after that night?

“Elain,” he said, finally reaching up to place a hand on her back. She met his eyes. “I haven’t even thought about another person since I walked into your shop that Sunday and saw you again. Before that, yes, I slept with other people after sleeping with you. But that was only because I truly thought I would never see you again. And I was distracted and off my game and unenthusiastic every time, because I was thinking about you. And then once I saw you again…” he tightened his fingers slightly on her back. Her eyes were warm and open and trusting as they searched his own. “No, Elain. I’m afraid you’ve ruined every other person for me.”

Her cheeks blazed anew, and she chewed on her lip once more. “Oh,” was all she managed to get out. 

“But I want you to know that I have no expectations of you,” he said quickly, wondering if she needed another kind of reassurance. “If you want to date, sleep with other people, go ahead. I mean, I’d rather not hear about it, but you don’t owe me anything. Just because I’m a ruined mess doesn’t mean I expect you to wait for me or be loyal to me in any way.”

She shuffled on her feet. He had never seen her so nervous. 

“I have no desire to be with anyone else,” she finally answered, meeting his eyes as she did. Azriel’s chest loosened another fraction at her admittance, her truth. “I will follow your stupid rules,” she continued, and Azriel chuckled. “But I won’t be seeking anyone else out.” 

“Alright,” he murmured gently, letting his hand drift up her back despite himself and his stupid rules. Relief poured through him. She still wanted him, in some sort of manner. Enough to write off other potential hookups or relationships, for the time being, at least. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of it. But fuck him, he wanted to keep her all to himself. 

He was seconds away from leaning in and breaking his rules two seconds after he had set them, when Feyre appeared from nowhere, bouncing on her heels between them. 

“Come dance with us,” she breathed, her own cheeks pink and her voice breathless, like she and Rhysand had already been dancing. Azriel peered over her shoulder to see his brother standing a few yards away, grinning. Rhys jerked his head to the dance floor, waving a hand at them to join. 

Elain peered up at Azriel and grinned shyly, and then grabbed his hand and followed Feyre back inside. 

Elain shut out the rules and the hard conversations and the confusing feelings for the time being. She let herself be swept into the dancing crowd at the bar, the drinks still swimming in her head and making her feel warm and fuzzy. 

She danced with her sister, she danced with Rhysand, and she danced with Azriel. The music was lively and fun and she found herself laughing and twirling, giving herself over to plain joy for the time being. She felt relief that she was here with these people. She felt relief that she and Azriel had made up. She felt relief that her sister was so happy. And she felt relief that Azriel truly wanted her and no one else. 

So, like she was getting too used to lately, she shoved aside all the rest, and danced. 

And when the music turned slower and more romantic, when Feyre and Rhys swayed together in the crowd, Elain looked up at Azriel, and he offered her a beautiful, scarred hand, a tentative smile on his face. 

So she let him take him in his arms, just for tonight, just for a song or two, and lead her gently on the dance floor. Her head ended up on his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat, hear his steady breathing under the music. One of his hands had drifted into her hair, and she closed her eyes. 

She didn't know how long had passed, maybe two songs, maybe a third, when she felt his mouth at her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin. 

“You look so stunning tonight, Elain,” Azriel murmured quietly to her. A shiver skittered down her spine. 

“I’m so glad that I met you. And if this is all I can ever have from you, if I only ever get to touch you like this, it will still all have been worth it.” 

Chapter Text

Elain waited for Azriel on her rooftop garden, her knee jiggling. They had a lot to talk about before they got to work. She would have to tell him…everything. Everything. She would have to teach him about magic, convince him that it was real, to trust her, and show him her own power. But only her Sight might help illuminate how to guide him, now.

She was glad they had decided to meet the very next day. Elain’s shop was typically open on Saturdays---the weekends were when she usually got the most business, after all—but she remained closed today, as she didn't have any scheduled readings anyway. They had agreed to meet at 10:00 AM. Elain already had tea and homemade muffins laid out, waiting. 

They had left the bar after a few dances, and Elain had thankfully avoided drinking any more. She had also avoided touching Azriel in any way beyond the dances they shared. But she wouldn’t forget those dances—the way he had held her gently and tenderly, like he treasured her. What he had whispered into her ear as they swayed. How content she had felt. Elain didn’t know if it made her a fool to have such feelings right after she had been so upset with Azriel, but what could she do? She may be the one more practiced in magic, but it felt like he was the one bewitching her. 

It was 9:59 when her phone dinged. She couldn't suppress her smile. Elain was beginning to learn that Azriel was never late, and never too early. He arrived precisely on time wherever he went, even when he was harrowed.

He had sent her one short text: I'm here.

She responded to him, I'm on the roof. I left a key for you under the mat. Please lock the door when you get in!

She put her phone down again, assuming if he had any trouble getting in he would text again. She waited, her nerves getting the better of her, for two minutes, until movement drew her gaze to the opposite end of the roof. Azriel emerged from the stairwell, and Elain momentarily forgot her nerves when she saw that his arms were full carrying a giant gift bag.

Elain stood, her eyebrows raising, as he wordlessly crossed the rooftop and placed the huge purple bag tied with ribbons on the table.

"Good morning," she said lightly, wondering if his mental breakdown had taken on a new form.

"Good morning," he answered, nudging the bag towards her. Elain sat down and warily pulled the bag in front of her. Azriel took the seat opposite her. He still looked haggard, unshaved, sleepless. But his eyes were a tiny bit clearer. He looked determined, rather than hopeless.

"What's all this about?" Elain asked, eyeing the bag with shiny white tissue paper emerging from the top.

"A sorry attempt at further apology," he said. Elain blinked.

"You didn't have to buy me anything, Azriel."

He waved a scarred hand in dismissal. Elain noted briefly that he must have left his helmet and gloves downstairs.

"Just open it," he said gruffly. "Please," he added more gently.

Elain just shrugged and untied the ribbons that held the bag's handles together. She moved aside a bundle of tissue paper and reached in, extracting a bar of 75% dark chocolate.

"I'm sorry," Azriel murmured as she placed it gingerly on the table. Elain tried to answer, but he gestured to the bag for her to continue, so she did. This time she pulled out a bar of chocolate with espresso nibs. She placed it on top of the first bar.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his eyes hard and serious.

Elain swallowed and reached in once more. Her fingers closed around a bar of chocolate that ended up containing praline and caramel.

"I'm sorry."

Again and again, Elain reached into the bag, until a pile of fifteen chocolate bars—all different types—sat before her, and Azriel had said "I'm sorry," with total earnestness, fifteen times.

She looked up at him, her heart straining. She thought about that knight giving that princess a square of rare chocolate—all that he could afford—in her very first vision of them, and her eyes pricked with tears. Even in this life, in the short time that they had known each other, he had noticed her propensity for chocolate. Had listened when she had told him that chocolate helps with everything. She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it.

"There's more."

She sighed somewhat exasperatedly at this spectacle and moved aside some more tissue paper to reveal a plastic container filled with chocolate chip cookies. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"I tried baking for the first time in my life for you," he explained, and Elain's heart cracked further. "I'm sorry," he added. And then he nodded to the bottomless bag again. A small smile bloomed on Elain's lips as she set the container of cookies next to the bars of chocolate and reached back in. She pulled out a cardboard box, and opened it to find a set of ornately designed glass vials and jars. They were beautiful, with flowers etched into the glass and cork stoppers.

"For your—shop things," Azriel explained. "And I'm sorry." She placed the four little glass containers next to the cookies. She met his eyes, and the corner of his mouth tipped up. God, there was more.

She reached in and her hand closed around something soft and plushie. She extracted a teddy bear of all things, fuzzy and brown and complete with a little bow around its neck. She lifted her brow at Azriel. He only shrugged and supplied, "It was cute. And soft. It reminded me of you." Elain felt a blush blaze over her face and she hugged the bear against herself on her lap instead of placing it on the table. Azriel smiled genuinely at that. "I'm sorry," he said.

Elain looked at her table littered with thoughtful and sweet gifts from him. And once again, before she could say anything, he spoke. "There's one more thing on the bottom. It's small."

She threw him an exasperated look, but he only returned her gaze with earnest eyes. She shook her head and reached in, fingers scrabbling through bundles of tissue paper until they finally closed around a small velvet box. Oh god...it felt like a jewelry box. If this man bought her jewelry...

She slowly pulled the item out of the bag, and eyed the box that most definitely contained something shiny that was meant to be worn.

"I..." she said, trailing off. But Azriel just reached over, his fingers closing over her own. Her eyes briefly fluttered shut at the feeling of his large, scarred fingers, warm and rough against her skin, but she blinked them open again as she felt him guiding her fingers to pry the box open.

A quiet gasp escaped her as she saw what was inside. A thin golden chain of a bracelet rested on the black velvet interior of the box. A tiny charm hung off the gold chain, and Elain lifted it out of the box to hold it to the light and better view it. Another gasp left her. The charm was a perfect rendering of a major arcana of Tarot—The Sun. Goodness. Truth. Beauty. Elain felt her eyes well once more. Azriel, who had claimed he thought her profession was "bullshit," who believed in nothing beyond the rational, had chosen this for her. Because he knew it meant something to her.

"Azriel," she said gently, still clutching the bracelet and meeting his gaze. His hazel eyes were soft now, the gold in them glimmering in the morning sun.

"I'm sorry," he said one final time, placing his large hand over his chest. "I'm sorry I walked out on you so many times. I'm sorry I told you it was a mistake. I'm sorry I kicked you out. You have always only been a kind friend to me, tried to help me, and as much as I don't deserve your forgiveness or your friendship...I'm sorry."

Azriel waited for Elain to say something, his heart hammering. He had been up since 5 AM orchestrating all of this. He burned the first batch of cookies, and forgot the baking powder in the second batch. But he had tried the third batch, and they were good, he thought.

"I can't accept this," Elain breathed, looking back at the bracelet that was clutched in her soft hand.

"If you can't accept my apology, that's fine," he answered, willing his voice not to shake. "But you can accept the bracelet."

"Azriel," she said again, her voice hushed. "It's too much, it's—"

"It's not too much," he interrupted. "Nothing is too much to show you how sorry I am."

Elain swallowed.

"Do you like it?" he asked, hoping he hadn't picked something she hated. This was unfamiliar to him, this…groveling. Caring what someone else thought. Not that he ever wanted to hurt anyone, but he generally never engaged with anyone long or deeply enough to hurt them. He remained aloof and removed. But this…he knew deep in his soul that he would beg for her forgiveness. He wouldn’t demand it. But it might break him if he didn’t get it.

She blinked rapidly. "I love it, but—"

"Then let me put it on you."

Elain swallowed, but finally nodded, holding her wrist out to him, the bracelet still clutched in her fingers. He plucked it gently from her hold and opened the clasp, fastening it slowly around Elain's wrist. He let his fingers linger lightly on her pulse, meeting her gaze again.

"I do accept your apology," she said in a hushed voice. Azriel felt his chest loosen a bit more, and he grazed his thumb over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist before dropping her hand, pulling his own back to himself.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Elain smiled at him with more warmth than he had felt in weeks, and it lit something deep within him. Then she gazed at everything piled on the table and shook her head. "You're insane," she said with a laugh. Azriel only shrugged. "Consider it also a thank-you gift for helping me."

She pried open the plastic container and plucked out a cookie. He swallowed. "I don't know why I thought baking for you was a good idea...obviously they won't be anywhere near as good as everything you make, and they were made with just regular flour and not special-order dick-crushing flour, but—"

Elain was already chewing, her eyes growing wide. He waited nervously. When she swallowed her bite, she asked, "Did you try these?"

He nodded, his brow furrowing, worried that he had replaced the sugar with salt or something and somehow hadn't noticed. "Are they...okay?"

"These are amazing, Azriel!" She said it with such genuine joy and enthusiasm, Azriel felt a grin of his own stretch across his tired face.

"Yeah?" She only nodded and ate the rest of the cookie, humming and licking her lips. He just watched her enjoy it, feeling warm and bolstered.

"Oh my gosh," she said once she had finished the cookie. "I'm so rude. Please, have some tea and a muffin, if you're hungry."

Azriel just chuckled at the prospect that Elain could ever be rude, but he did pour himself a cup of tea. And he did take a muffin, because he would eat anything that she made.

"Cranberry orange," she supplied. He took a bite, and it was fucking incredible.

They sat and drank tea for a while in comfortable silence, until Elain started fidgeting.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, noting some extra strain to her shoulders and mouth despite their eased affinity.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before answering him. "I have to tell you some things about myself, and about...well, the world. And I'm not sure how you're going to take it all. Or if you're going to run from me again. But I need to, in order to help you."

Direct honesty. That was how it had to be between them. Azriel took a fortifying breath.

"I cannot promise you that what you say to me won't...rattle me. Or that I will take it at face value. But I can promise you that I won't run again. I'm in it, Elain. It may be difficult, but I'm willing to try."

Elain looked at him with searching eyes for a few quiet moments. "My friends often call me Lain, you know," she murmured quietly.

Azriel's lips tipped up. Lain. Her friends. The warmth in his chest grew. "And my friends call me...well, they call me Azriel," he answered stupidly. He wasn’t about to tell her that his brothers liked to irk him by calling him Azzy. "But you can call me whatever you want."

Elain's own mouth twitched at his answer. "So if I wanted to call you Ri-ri as a nickname, you'd let me?"

Azriel cringed at that, his brows furrowing. "If it would make you happy..."

She laughed and waved a hand, the charm of her new bracelet glinting in the sun. "I'm just kidding. I love your name."

He grinned at her. "I love yours, too." She blushed.

Keep it in friend territory. "Alright, Lain, tell me whatever it is you're so stressed about."

The lightness faded from Elain's face. She chewed on her bottom lip this time. "Alright," she breathed. "Well, the thing is..."

He blinked at her, waiting. She didn't continue. "The suspense is killing me," Azriel said dryly, and she huffed a breath at him.

"Fine. The reason the shadows don't scare me, the reason I think you somehow knew to bring me to visit your mother, the reason for all of it is...I am a magic wielder."

Azriel's hand froze in midair as he was reaching for his tea mug. His brain rewound in a cartoonish manner and the moment that had just passed played once more. "I am a magic wielder."

His hand slowly dropped onto the table. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You're what?"

Elain grimaced, wringing her hands where they rested along the teddy bear's fur. "A magic wielder," she answered quietly.

Azriel stared at her for possibly twenty seconds, his brain short-circuiting. He finally forced his mouth to move and began, "That's not r—"

But Elain cut him off, her face shining with determination now. "Don't you dare say it's not real, Azriel Dolan, because you are one, too. So are my sisters, so are my best friends, so is sixteen percent of this damn city."

Silence as Azriel stared at her, most definitely thinking she was crazy. He blinked a few times before shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. Finally, he spoke.

"You're not magic," he reasoned. "You're just—you're a fortune-teller. It's your job, right? Like, a gimmick? Or a spiritual thing?"

Elain felt herself go cold at his words. "It is not a gimmick or a spiritual thing. I was gifted with the power of Sight, and when people come to me for readings, I use my Sight to see their futures and help guide them."

Azriel shook his head again. "But that's impossible."

He looked like his brain was breaking. She sighed, trying to remain patient and understanding. He wasn't trying to hurt her, he just didn't understand. He wasn't Graysen. She repeated it for a few seconds before answering him. Not Graysen. Not Graysen. Not Graysen.

"And I wield earth magic, as well," she finally added quietly. Might as well rip the whole Band-Aid off at once. Azriel looked like he wanted to get up and bolt, but that he was trying to keep his promise to her. He was probably regretting that he slept with someone who he clearly now thought was crazy.

He ground his jaw back and forth a few times, but then surprised her when he opened his mouth and asked, "What is earth magic?"

Elain drew in a deep breath. He was trying, for her. This was going better than it had with Graysen. Not Graysen. Not Graysen.

"I can show you, if you'd let me..." she offered tentatively, gesturing to her garden. His brow furrowed, but he just nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to her flowers and plants.

"Alright," she said, and she slid off her chair, approaching a patch of carrot tops that had just sprouted recently, only an inch tall. Azriel turned his body in his seat to watch her, his eyes narrowed and his face guarded. But he wasn't running. So Elain knelt down in front of the green sprouts, placed her hands around the patch in the dirt, and closed her eyes. She drew her magic up from within her, calling it to do her bidding. She felt her palms heat and her blood quicken, a prickling sensation moving down her arms and through her hands into the dirt. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and pulled her hands away. The sprouts were five inches longer, leaves thick and luscious.

She glanced over at Azriel. He was standing, eyes wild, lips parted, staring down at the patch of plants. Silent.

"These carrots will now carry magic specifically meant for healing torn skin, when harvested," Elain said quietly. "I will dry them, powder them, and add them to other healing mixtures."

Azriel looked between Elain and the carrots, his expression unchanging. She waited. Not Graysen.

"How did you do that?" he finally rasped, his voice strained.

"Earth magic," Elain whispered back.

Azriel stared and stared some more, and Elain's stomach clenched. He began to move. He was going to leave. He was surely horrified. But instead of turning towards the stairs, Azriel slowly approached her, until he was right next to her. And then he wordlessly sunk down onto his knees, his eyes glued to the carrot leaves. He reached out a quivering hand and extended it towards the plants. Elain's breath caught. He paused just before touching one leaf, as if contemplating something, and then he made up his mind. He ran his beautiful, scarred hand over the leaf, gently caressing its fronds, thinking quietly beside her.

When he met her eyes, his hand still lingering on the leaf, a sob that Elain had not anticipated nor could she stop broke from her. Tears sprung from her eyes and she covered her face in her hands.

"Elain?" Azriel asked her, his voice gentler now. His quiet, tender voice only made her cry harder.

His broad hands were suddenly covering her own on her face, gently prying her fingers away from her eyes. She forced herself to meet his gaze through her tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, keeping one hand over both of hers in his lap and using his other to wipe away tears from her face.

"I'm sorry," Elain cried, her emotions overtaking her still. But Azriel's hand felt so warm, so steadying on her face, that she was able to draw in a shaky, if watery, breath.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes warm and kind. Not horrified. Not running.

"It's just," she said, shuddering through a cry, "When I showed Graysen this, my ex, he..." Azriel's hand tightened around her own. His fingers still stroked her face gently, still wiped away her tears. "He...well, he was horrified, and he...for our whole relationship, he forced me to suppress my magic, to try to turn it off. He...hated it. Feared it. And it nearly broke me."

Rage flickered over Azriel's face, and then he was pulling her into his arms right there in the dirt of her garden. He held her gently to him, her face resting on his strong chest, as he ran a hand down the back of her head, the other encircling her waist.

"I'm so sorry, Elain," he murmured into her ear as she tried to breathe through the onslaught within her. "I can't lie and tell you that I'm not scared. But I promise you that I won't run, and I promise you that I won’t try to change you.”

His words strengthened her. She sat up, pulling out of his gentle hold, and wiped her face, sniffling. She met his eyes and nodded at him slowly in acknowledgement. “So you see,” she said shakily, gesturing towards the carrots. “With my earth magic, I can grow things, sometimes conjure plants, and imbue them with specific intents. I always pour positive things into my plants—healing, balms for heartache or loss—but I have the ability, if I want to, to make them dangerous, as well.”

Azriel rose, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it and walked back to the table, wiping her hands on the sides of her skirt. They sat once more, and Azriel gazed at her, running his fingers over his lips in thought. 

“I don’t understand how it can be real,” he said. Honesty. Vulnerability. “Nature has laws—physics, energy, atoms—I don’t understand how this could possibly fit in.”

Elain took a steadying sip of her tea. “Magic has laws, too. Magic really just comes from nature, and it follows the laws of nature. The energy of magic has to come from somewhere, and it has to go somewhere. Just like you understand, things cannot be made from nothing and disappear into nothing. There is always a cost. A balance.”

He studied her. “What is the cost?”

Elain blinked at him. He really wanted to know. “Well,” she started, pushing around cookie crumbs on her plate. “For one, the magic-wielder must expend energy to do such things. Our energy, along with our magic, can be depleted.”

He nodded, as if he could wrap his mind around this part. “And when you…conjure plants,” Azriel began, looking like it physically pained him to use the word conjure, “where does that material come from? Plants are made out of molecules. Cells. DNA. None of those things can just appear from nothing.” 

Elain dipped her chin. He really did want to understand. She realized, then, that Azriel was a self-proclaimed believer in logic. Rational explanations were all he accepted. So maybe, if he had rational answers to all of this—answers that satisfied his questions of the impossible—maybe he could believe this, too. Accept this.

“You’re right,” she answered. “There is always an equal and opposite force—a balance. I told you my magic comes from the earth. So when I conjure a plant from seemingly nowhere, or make one grow rapidly, those molecules must come from elsewhere in the world. There is said to be a place, deep in the mountains far away, where the core of magic resides. It is from that place that energy—atoms, cells, all the rest—is borrowed and returned. That is what keeps the balance. Magic-wielders can only use so much magic, take so much. And it all must be returned.”

Azriel’s face had grown more and more contemplative as he listened. He absentmindedly sipped his now-cold tea, seeming not to notice. “What happens if someone takes too much?”

Holy shit. He believed her—or was trying to decide whether to believe her, at least.

“Well,” Elain answered thoughtfully. “That does happen. Some magic wielders are stronger than others—my sister Nesta, for example.”

She meant to continue, but Azriel interrupted with a question. “What magic does Nesta do?”

Elain suppressed a cringe. She did not think that mingling with the dead would go over as well as earth magic did today. “Maybe we save that conversation for another day?”

He frowned a bit but nodded hesitantly. 

“The stronger the magic wielder, the more energy they typically use from the core. It can cause conflict—wielders hunting each other, threatening each other, trying to take more than their share or eliminate those who do. But there is always a limit. The core can run dry, and resources must be returned.”

Azriel remained silent, looking for all the world like he was trying to do a calculus problem in his head. 

“So the fortune-teller part,” he said, waving a hand towards her. She bit her lip. This was a touch more difficult to explain. 

“That’s a little bit different. It’s…immaterial. It still requires energy—from me—but no transfer of material from the core. It was a power gifted to me at birth, so my father always told me. Even I don’t fully understand it.”

His frown increased. “Do you actually read Tarot cards?”

Elain nodded. “Yes—they help guide my Sight, and provide somewhat of a cover for my profession. But I don’t need them. My Sight is always whispering to me, reading what’s around me, and sometimes it thrusts me into complete visions.”

His brow raised in question, so she continued. “My body stays here, in this realm, but my mind travels to the Void. I typically see something that will occur in the future. But the magic is not perfect, and the paths of fate can always change. Occasionally I can see into the past, or what is happening in the present elsewhere.”

Azriel blinked rapidly. “Have you read me?”

Elain felt her cheeks darken. “If you want my complete honesty, I have tried to. But you’re…difficult to read.” 

He looked obnoxiously proud of that fact. She rolled her eyes despite the tension in the air. He was silent once more, frowning again. 

“I don’t understand the fortune-telling part.”

Elain gave him a soft smile. “We call it Sight, and that’s okay. Ask me whatever questions you’d like, whenever you’d like.”

He nodded slowly, blowing out a long breath. “This is a lot.”

“I know,” Elain answered. “Thank you for not running.” 

He met her gaze. “I promised you I wouldn’t. I don’t believe in things without proof, and, well…” he gestured towards her carrot plants. She smiled at him tentatively. 

Azriel started suddenly, and she tensed. “Wait–” he began. “So when you do Tarot readings, and when you sell people your ointments and things…you’re doing magic on people without their consent?”

Elain grimaced slightly. “Well…yes,” she answered nervously. “For the non-magic folk, at least. It sounds worse when you say it like that. It’s always to help people.”

He blinked at her as she brought her own cold tea to her lips. “So you’re saying I jerked my dick using magic salve every night for weeks without knowing it?”

Elain coughed and spluttered, setting down her tea cup and trying to right herself. “I—it—” she could feel her face blazing red. 

Azriel raised his eyebrow at her. “Has it been making my cock bigger little by little or something?”

“What?” Elain squeaked, her blush creeping down her chest. “No! It only had healing magic for small bruises and scrapes.” She considered a moment. “It probably made your…activities…more pleasurable, considering there was no way for painful abrasions or rawness to occur.”

Azriel blinked at her again. Silence swelled between them. And then he barked out a laugh, drawing his hands down his face in a helpless gesture. Elain began giggling as well, relieved for anything to cut the tension. And then she registered that Azriel had been pleasuring himself with her salve for weeks. Oh, god. She did not need to know that. But it only made her laugh once more, overcome with the absurdity of it all. 

Her relief coursed through her in waves. He was sitting here, in her garden, laughing with her. He wasn’t bolting for the door, or calling her crazy, or looking at her like there was something wrong with her. He might not accept all of it full-stop, but he wasn’t rejecting it either. 

Azriel allowed his laughter to run its course through him. He was feeling a bit hysterical, definitely overwhelmed, but also strangely relieved. There was an explanation for those shadows, however absurd it might be. And he wasn’t the only one experiencing the absurd. Apparently, sixteen percent of the city was. Including this woman who had stolen his heart, sitting before him. 

That thought sobered him, though, as he replayed it in his head. This woman who had stolen his heart. Is that what had happened? He supposed he didn’t know how it felt to have his heart stolen…to feel as Elain made him feel—confused, obsessed, frustrated, delighted, desperate, yearning. His laughter ebbed away from him as he studied her smiling face. 

“What is it?” she asked softly. 

He shook his head, wondering if the insidious shadows would not have awakened had he not met her. He wondered if they would have anyway, and he already would have ruined his life anew, killed someone else he loved, made a pariah of himself. He wondered if he would feel so wrung out, so raw, had he never met her. 

He offered her a small truth, because he could not yet offer her the whole truth. “You’ve made a mess of me, Elain Archeron.” 

She blushed and looked down. That damn teddy bear—which he was beginning to be more and more embarrassed about giving her—was back in her lap, and she was running her fingers over the soft fur on its belly. She said nothing in response.

Azriel took a deep breath in, and asked the question he knew he must face eventually. “So what about me?”

Elain looked back up at him. 

“I don’t know,” she answered gently. “I have never heard of magic like yours. I have scoured my books as well as Feyre’s books, and can find nothing useful. But we can find out together.”

Together. He liked the sound of that. His lips parted at the sheer irony, the audacity of the universe, the shamelessness of chance, to send this woman to him. This woman, who was everything he dreamed of, with her soft eyes and soft heart and soft skin, with her stunning beauty and her unbarred kindness, with her strength and humility. And that she not only held a mere profession that he once would have sneered at and run from, but that she had an entire side to herself that he would have gone to his death denying…up until today. 

And god damn it, he still wanted to kiss her. He would never not want to kiss her, he thought. 

Elain’s cheeks flushed once more as if she could read his thoughts. He mentally shook his head. 

“You said there are other places we can look?” he asked, if only to deter his rampant thoughts. 

She blew out a little breath and nodded. “I don’t suspect Nesta or my friends to have anything of use, at this point, but I will go to them alone and search. I assume you wouldn’t be open to telling more people about this.”

Azriel swallowed. She assumed right. “Well,” he answered, reaching for a second muffin if only to occupy his hands. “Based on what I saw at the end of last night, I don’t think I want your sisters knowing about me yet. It’s not something I’m ready for my brothers to learn, especially when I don’t understand it.”

Azriel had left the bar after making sure Elain and Feyre had a safe way to get home. He had given Elain a gentle goodbye, reassured that he would see her again the next morning, and had turned to say goodbye to his brother only to find him running a hand up the side of Feyre’s neck, his eyes blazing as he brought his lips close to hers. Azriel had looked away, but smiled slightly. Good for Rhys. 

Elain smiled at the memory as well. “Ironic that my sister and your brother now have something going on between them, isn’t it?” 

Azriel chuckled. “Let’s hope Nesta and Cassian never meet,” he said wryly. “The world might implode or something.” He considered what he knew about Nesta so far. “Or they may kill each other.”

Elain laughed as well at that. “Alright,” she said once her chuckling had subsided. “Well, there is someone else we can go to, who you wouldn’t have to worry about spreading your secret. My parents sought out a teacher for my sisters and I when we were young.”

Azriel cocked his head in silent question.

“Our parents had magic, too,” she explained, “but theirs was just simple magic. Unlocking doors, lighting candles, cleaning messes—just basic things.” Azriel felt his eyebrows raise. Simple magic sounded fucking convenient. 

“You can imagine their surprise when they gave birth to not one, but three daughters gifted with quite rare and powerful magic.” 

Azriel’s blood heated just a touch. Was it…oh god, was it sexy to hear Elain talk about her magic in such a confident and knowledgeable way? Fuck him.

“They could guide us in the basics, but they called upon a master of the rarer magics to teach us about the intricacies of our powers. I’m sure he can help you, too. He’ll be a very old man now, as he was already old when he taught us, but from what I hear, he is still alive. I don’t know when the last time he taught a pupil was, and it might take some convincing, but…”

“I’ll try anything,” Azriel said, his determination welling up in him. Anything to make him feel less hopeless, less lost. Anything to help him find control again. To help him avoid killing someone again. 

Elain’s eyes brightened at his tone, but then she bit her lip. “The only thing is, he lives…far away. Our parents actually sent us to stay with him to train for three months when we were girls.”

That distracted Azriel. “Your parents sent their three young daughters away to live with a strange old man—alone—for three months?” His pulse quickened. He was filled with rage at just the thought of something despicable happening to Elain as a young, vulnerable girl.

Elain shrugged a shoulder. “They were not very attentive parents.” 

Apparently not.

“Rodrick was kind to us, and we weren’t alone with him. He had a wife who took us in and, truth be told, she loved us better than either of our parents ever did.” 

Azriel’s chest loosened at that, despite the sadness he felt when he thought about Elain having shitty, self-centered parents who didn’t give her the love she deserved.

“She’s dead now,” Elain added sadly, but snapped herself back out of it. “Anyway, we could go and see him, learn what he knows of your powers and you could possibly even spend some time training with him. He’s the most knowledgeable magic-wielder of the past several generations. But like I said, he lives quite far away. We would have to make…a trip out of it…I suppose.” 

Azriel blinked at her. “How far away does he live?”

Elain cringed slightly. “A couple continents away?” 

Shit. He blinked at her again. A flight. Staying somewhere, with Elain. For an extended amount of time. Learning about…magic. Shit. 

“So…” he started, trying to wrap his mind around this new development. “We would be going for like…a week? Maybe more?”

Elain shrugged again. “Whatever you’d be comfortable with. I could contact him and make sure he’s willing and able to take us, of course. He lives in this huge mansion—castle, really—along the sea. It’s beautiful. And until then I can help you with the basics, like learning to focus on the magic and—oh god, I’m rambling.” Her cheeks had turned pink again as she spoke. 

Azriel ran a hand through the hair on his forehead. “I mean, I don’t know if I can just drop everything—take off work and all that—to go halfway around the world for a few weeks.” 

Elain raised a brow at him. “You’re telling me that you—the workaholic I’ve come to realize you are—don’t have a mountain of PTO hours just sitting there that you have never touched?”

He tilted his head. Well, that was true. 

“Like I said—no pressure,” she added, glancing down at the teddy bear before looking back at him. And then her eyes sparkled slightly. “But I bet you could use a vacation.” 

Azriel huffed out a laugh, running a hand down his face. Fuck it. All in. 

“Alright,” he finally answered. “I’m in. Let’s go.” Oh, god. What had Azriel just agreed to? Was he desperate, or just an idiot? Probably both. 

Elain’s eyes brightened further. 

“I’ll work on contacting him this week,” she said, straightening her spine and reaching for another of his cookies. 

“Until then, for the rest of today…let’s get to work on your magic.”

Chapter Text

Sweat beaded on Azriel’s temple as he bunched his eyebrows in concentration. He was sitting on Elain’s sofa, his eyes closed and his body taut. After another few moments, he sighed and allowed his eyelids to raise. 

“I don’t understand what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Elain was next to him, watching him intently. She smiled reassuringly at him. 

“Just reaching down to feel the magic. It’s there, within you. If you can learn how to access it, to be aware of it, you can start to learn how to control it.”

He felt his eyebrows crease further. “But I don’t want to access it. I don’t want to have it at all.”

Elain gave him an understanding but slightly pitying look. She placed a soft hand on his forearm. 

“I don’t think you really get that choice,” she said gently. “The magic is in you, Azriel, whether you like it or not. Believe me, I know from experience that trying to deny it will only end in disaster.”

He wiped his brow, huffing a bit. Elain removed her hand from him but continued to look at him intently.

“When I was trying to suppress my Sight," she said, "I started reading people accidentally. I would speak to them in riddles, alarm them. Or my eyes would shift white suddenly and I would have to get my friends to alter their memories.”

Azriel held a hand up, his lips parting. “You just said so many things that I need to process.”

Elain cringed a bit. 

“Your eyes turn white? Like…literally?”

She nodded. “When I enter a vision, they shift.”

He let that information settle inside himself before he moved on to his next question. “And…altering their memories…?”

Elain chewed on her lip. “My best friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, are twins. They’re also witches. They can do a number of spells to affect the world around them.”

Azriel’s brain felt like it was going to explode. He had been at Elain’s place for hours now, listening carefully as she further explained magic to him, gave him a pile of books to take home, and started instructing him to feel his magic. But Azriel couldn’t feel anything but his own heartbeat and grating nerves when he tried to concentrate. 

“Witches?” he finally asked faintly. Elain nodded again. 

“It’s a little bit different than having powers that come from the earth. They need other magical objects, specific spells, things like that, to make their power work. We really don’t have to get into it right now.”

Azriel rubbed his temples. “And they can just walk around changing people’s memories?” That thought horrified him almost as much as the shadows did.

Elain’s eyes got bigger. “Well, they don’t just do that to anyone! They only use spells on people in dire circumstances, to protect them or others. They…they altered Graysen’s memories, when he left me. They didn’t make him forget me—only my magic.”

Azriel ground his teeth. He already hated that piece of shit Graysen. If he was a violent person, he’d be looking him up to pay him a visit and a broken nose. Caring about Elain made him feel like a violent person sometimes, he realized. 

“Try one more time,” Elain encouraged. “And then let’s take a break.”

Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was reminded of the time Cassian had convinced him to try meditation with him, and all he had been able to think about for the entire five minutes was how hungry he was, how itchy his right calf was, and how stupid meditation was.

He jerked slightly as Elain’s delicate fingers landed on both of his temples. She shifted closer to him on the couch as she held soft fingers against the sides of his head, stroking him slightly. He wanted to purr under her touch as he felt his shoulders and neck relaxing. 

“Imagine your mind as a long, complex maze,” she murmured, her voice soothing and caressing his senses. He tried to picture it, the maze of his mind, but was also distracted by how warm her body felt leaning over him and how good she smelled.

“The maze is intricate,” she continued. “Filled with twists and turns, dead ends and long tunnels. All of your memories, all of your thoughts.”

Azriel tried and tried to focus on that maze, to visualize it, but he lost it again and again as his mind wandered and his thoughts flew. 

“At the center of the maze though,” Elain said, “Once you can get to it, there’s a well there. I don’t know what it looks like for you. For me, it looks like it’s filled with glowing golden light, the color of dawn breaking over mountains.”

Azriel felt his lips tip up at that image, because that was exactly what Elain was at her core.

“That well holds your power, and that’s what you need to find, to access, and to draw from.”

He tried to imagine himself running down the maze of his mind, turning corners and drawing closer and closer to the middle. He forced himself to breathe slowly as Elain continued to rub gentle circles on his temples, quiet now. But he could only see flitting images, only cartoonish, stupid renderings that made him feel like an idiot. After a few more moments of struggle, he let his eyes fall open with a resigned sigh.

Elain blinked. She hadn’t realized she had drawn so close to Azriel as she had tried to guide him, and only seemed to notice when his hazel eyes opened and met hers. Their faces were inches apart, her fingers still lingering on his temples as she leaned over him. Heat flooded her as she took in Azriel’s strong jawline, his high cheekbones, his sweeping, dark lashes. And his lips that she knew were too soft for her own good. 

She dropped her hands and scooted away from him towards the other side of the couch.

“I can’t do it,” Azriel said flatly, and his voice sounded so defeated, so empty, that she almost reached out to touch him again. She caught herself though, instead offering him a warm smile.

“It’s okay,” she answered gently. “I imagine it’s much harder to learn as an adult. You can keep practicing on your own, and you have the books to read in the meantime too.”

Azriel glanced at the pile of books on the coffee table like he would rather burn them, but he fixed his face and gave her a little nod.

“Let’s take a breath,” she offered, and he exhaled in relief. 

Right on cue, Elain’s stomach rumbled loudly. She felt herself blush, and Azriel finally cracked a grin. 

“Hungry?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Starving. Let’s get out of the house.”

Azriel and Elain stepped out onto the sunny streets of the Rainbow and began to walk in search of lunch. Or was it dinner time by now? Elain checked her watch and saw that it was already 4 PM. 

“I didn’t realize it was so late!” she said with an alarmed look at Azriel. “I wasn’t trying to starve you.”

He chuckled, shrugging in that annoyingly aloof and attractive way of his. “I’m good. I didn’t really notice either. But I do feel like I could eat a feast now.”

Elain smiled at him, and her fingers itched to hold his hand. But she couldn’t do that, because they had boundaries she was determined to respect, regardless of how her body screamed to throw them to the wind. 

“Me too. What are you in the mood for?” 

His eyes met hers, and she saw his expression heat, as if he wanted to say, You. I’m hungry for you. She broke his gaze and looked down at her feet as they walked slowly down the street. If Azriel was looking at her like that, then he really was taking this all better than she thought he would. She was proud of him, she realized, her chest swelling. And she was proud of herself, too.

“Whatever you want,” he finally answered. She gave him a dry look. He only gazed innocently back at her.

“Fine,” she huffed, and he chuckled again. She led him towards one of her favorite little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, her eyes darting back and forth, suddenly afraid they would run into Feyre. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, missing nothing. 

“Oh,” she answered, trying to relax. “I’m just being paranoid that we’ll run into my sister. She was already asking me so many questions about you last night.”

The corner of Azriel’s mouth curved upwards. “Oh?” he asked, feigning innocent curiosity. “Like what?”

Elain grimaced. “Like if we were sleeping together, and why I was acting so mad at you, and what we had been talking about when they interrupted us. And she called you absurdly hot.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked further. “And what did you tell her?” he asked, his voice nearly dripping with seduction now. 

She drew in a steady breath, determined not to look him in the eye. “I told her the truth. That we’re just friends, and that I was mad at you.”

She expected that answer to pour a bucket of cold water over them both, but Azriel only reached out and gripped her wrist lightly, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She slowly looked up into his eyes, to find them dark, green and gold rippling with intensity. 

“And is that the truth, Elain?” His voice was dark, too. Dangerous.

She gazed at his lips for a moment too long before drawing her arm out of his grip and continuing to walk, looking away. 

“Why are you torturing me?” she asked, turning to irritation to try to dampen the burning heat within her. “You’re the one that set the stupid rules again. I’m just trying to follow them.” That had done the job. Azriel reached out and took her shoulder this time. When she stopped and turned, he dropped his hand. His face had lost its lecherous desire.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, his eyes turning sad. “I really appreciate you agreeing to these boundaries. It’s like I can’t fucking help myself with you. I’m sorry,” he added once more. 

Elain felt herself soften at his words, his earnest eyes. “It’s okay,” she sighed. And then wickedness overtook her. 

“But have you wondered why you can’t access your magic?”

Azriel frowned at the abrupt change of subject. “What do you mean?”

Elain made her eyes go as large and as innocent as she could, let her tongue drift over her lip. She watched in satisfaction as Azriel’s pupils dilated. “Well,” she simpered, “the only times you have been able to access your magic lately were when you were overcome with anger and the desire to protect me, and…when I was pleasuring you. In the middle of all your sweet nothings I think you called it…hmm…the best blow job of your life?” His perfect lips fell open at her words. “Maybe that’s how you access your magic,” she finished, and then she turned away from him and continued walking, letting her hips swish just a little more than they had to.

This woman was going to kill him. Azriel stared after Elain for a full ten seconds, his fucking cock hardening in his pants at her words and that look in her eyes and the way her flawless ass moved under her skirt as she walked away. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, and reached down to subtly adjust himself, making sure no one on the street was watching. And then he jogged to catch up with Elain, who hadn’t looked back once.

“Are you being serious?” he asked as he matched her pace, walking beside her once more. Elain only shrugged and threw him a sultry glance. And this was his punishment, he realized. If he was going to torture her, she would torture him back. She liked to play games.

“Who knows?” she finally said, without even looking at him. “Maybe control isn’t what you need. Maybe what you need is to let go.”

Azriel could not fucking figure out if she was being serious, just flirting with him, or both. He lowered his voice. “So, what—you’re going to suck my cock again until the shadows burst out, and then what?”

Elain’s cheeks reddened, but she kept her shoulders back and her face forward as they walked. “I didn’t say that. They’re your rules. I’m only giving you other options.”

Azriel was dumbfounded. He decided the only safe option in that moment was to thoroughly change the subject.

“I’ll need to go see my mother before we leave for this little…adventure.”

Elain finally looked at him, her face softening.

“I haven’t been to see her since…” he started, but trailed off as shame coated his tongue.

She only nodded at him. “Good. I’ll come with you. I promised her I would garden with her and I have some seeds I’d like to share with her.”

They turned a corner and stopped outside of a little hole-in-the-wall Azriel had never even looked twice at. He tried to keep track of the restaurants in the area given his investment hobby, but he had never heard of this one. 

“Alright,” he answered finally. Elain gave him a decisive nod and they entered. 

Much like when they had visited Azriel’s favorite investment, Elain was greeted by name at this restaurant. She hugged a dark-haired and dark-skinned woman behind a counter, and then introduced her as Cerridwen. The witch, Azriel remembered. She looked normal and nice enough.

“This is my friend, Azriel,” Elain said casually, motioning to him as he stepped forward. He shook Cerridwen’s hand as she gave him an assessing look up and down. 

“Cerridwen is one of my best friends—the twins I told you about,” Elain explained.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, inclining his head.

Cerridwen blushed and then raised her brows at Elain. “Is this what had you so distracted the other night?” she asked, waving her hand in Azriel’s general direction. He hid a smirk.

But Elain crossed her arms and wore a determined look on her face. “No. We’re just friends.”

The mental smirk slid off Azriel’s face. Well, he had earned that. And then he stiffened as a young man walked out from the kitchen area, opening his arms to Elain. He was fit and good-looking, with tilted eyes, golden skin, and silky straight black hair. His muscles flexed as he swept Elain into a thorough hug. 

“Thesan!” Elain laughed into his shoulder, squeezing him back. Azriel’s hands flexed at his sides as he watched them hug and hug. He ground his teeth. He didn’t care who this asshole was—he already hated him. 

“I was hoping you’d be in today,” she said as the guy finally took his hands off Elain, but continued to smile at her broadly with his stupid, perfect face. 

Azriel could feel a vein bulging in his neck. He had no right to be jealous. He had no claim on Elain, and she had told him with her own words that she had no interest in anyone else. But he couldn’t help the searing envy that scorched his chest as he watched the easy way she spoke to this man, the sparkle in her eyes, the bright smile that spread across her stunning face. 

“Lain,” the man said, and Azriel again bristled at the use of her nickname. They knew each other well, then. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

She continued to smile at him broadly, freely. And Azriel continued to clench his jaw so tight it hurt. He noticed Cerridwen staring at him and he tried to loosen his shoulders and face. 

“I’ve been good,” Elain answered. And then as if she remembered Azriel was there, jumped a bit and exclaimed, “Oh, I’m so rude—I’m sorry. Thesan, this is my friend Azriel.” She gestured behind her and Azriel stepped forward. “Azriel, this is Thesan, one of my oldest friends.” 

Thesan extended a hand toward Azriel and he took it, shaking it stiffly, flexing his muscles a bit as he did. Thesan only flicked his eyes towards Elain with an amused smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel,” he said, and then turned to Elain.

“I have to get back to the kitchen, but I’ll try to catch up with you in a bit. We should get together!”

Elain gave him a huge, breathtaking smile, and nodded. “Definitely. We’re going to get some food!”

“Enjoy,” he said, throwing her a wink before disappearing again. 

Elain looked back at Azriel and narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s go sit down,” she said, leading him to a table by a window.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked as they sat, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he ground out, busying himself with pouring and drinking some water from the pitcher that was on the table. 

She studied him for a few moments. “You’re jealous,” she said decisively.

“I’m not—”

“After everything we talked about, after everything we’ve shared, you don’t trust me?”

Azriel’s mouth opened and then closed. Elain waited, staring at him. He tried to speak again.

“It’s not a trust thing, Elain. I trust you. I’m just…yeah, I’m jealous.”

He could feel his cheeks darken as he spoke. Elain scanned his face. “Why?”

They were interrupted by Cerridwen and sidetracked putting in their order, but as soon as she was gone Elain looked back at him, determined. “Why are you jealous of Thesan?”

He huffed a bit and crossed his arms. “Is it so wrong that I find your smile so flawlessly beautiful that it hurts a little bit when I see you give it so freely to others? When there is so much complication with smiling at me?”

She blinked at him, some of the annoyance falling from her face. 

“I wish you could smile at me like that,” he said quietly, uncrossing his arms. “Free and sparkling and sure. But I fucked it all up.”

“Azriel…” she said, searching his gaze for something. 

He waved a hand in the air. “And yeah, I was jealous, because that dude clearly knows you well and happens to be very good-looking.”

Elain bit her lip before a giggle escaped her. Azriel’s brows raised. “What?”

“Well, for one, Thesan is gay. So you don’t have to worry about any history or secret longing between us.”

Azriel hated himself for his muscles relaxing at that. 

“But are you going to be able to handle me having male friends?” she asked, crossing her own arms this time. “Because we are not together, and I don’t know if I can deal with you being—”

“Possessive?” He interrupted. “Jealous? Protective? Obsessive?”

Elain’s face grew pink. “Well, yes.” 

“What if I can’t help that that’s how I feel about you?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “I would never try to control you, Elain. To tell you what you’re allowed to do, or wear, or who you can see and where you can go. But I feel…” he looked into her eyes, then let his gaze roam the planes of her face, scan her nose, her line of freckles, her lips, and then dip to her throat before returning to her eyes. “I feel.”

Elain’s gaze softened further. “I know,” she answered quietly. 

“And I hate that I’m in this fucked up mental state, dealing with all of this shit. But even without it…I’ve never even been in a relationship, Elain. I don’t know how to do that. I still think all those things about what you want that I’m not sure I can give you.”

She searched his face with her doe eyes. “Maybe what I want has changed.”

Azriel fell quiet at that, and they just gazed at each other, the still moment interrupted by the arrival of the food.

Their conversation moved onto easier topics as they ate. Azriel asked her more about her childhood and her sisters, and learned that she had not always had positive relationships with either of them. They had all dealt with the trauma of their parents’ neglect and deaths in different ways, and it had driven them apart before it brought them together. 

Elain told him about her favorite plants and made him laugh with stories of eccentric patrons. Azriel told her about the time that he and Cassian were caught trying to steal $1500 worth of electronics as children and how Cassian had fake-cried his way out of trouble for them. He cringed while recalling some of the truly stupid things they did when they were young and desperate, but found himself wanting to tell Elain all of it—enjoying the way she reacted to his stories, hanging onto every word of hers, basking in her attention and her friendship. 

Their conversation eventually returned to their upcoming plans as they were scraping their plates clean. 

“So…how are we going to go on an international trip without letting people know we’re going together?” Elain asked Azriel, toying with her napkin. “Or…if we are going to tell them, then what are we going to tell them it’s for?”

Azriel frowned for a minute, thinking. “Elopement?”

Elain nearly choked. “You absolutely had better be joking.”

Azriel smirked a bit at her. “You don’t want to do a whole fake marriage cover up for what we’re really doing?”

Elain felt her face grow hot at the prospect, however ridiculous it was. “No," she insisted. And then she added, “God, have you been reading romance books or something?”

He chuckled in that way of his that made her simultaneously want to hit him and kiss him, but then he sighed. 

“You’re right, we do need a plan. What if I tell my brothers I’m…going to a conference. And that I got a plus one? And you have always wanted to go to…Wait—where are we going?” 

Elain realized at the same moment that she never actually told him the location of Rodrick’s place. 

“Oh—Scotland,” she answered. He blinked at her and then shook his head a little. “A couple continents away,” he muttered. “Okay, so you’ve always wanted to go to Scotland.”

She gave him a flat look. “What?” he asked, oblivious. “It’s a good plan.” 

“I’ve already been to Scotland! For three months. With Nesta and Elain, so that story won’t work on them.”

“Oh,” he answered, rubbing his temple. “Right. Okay, so I have an international conference somewhere else—Australia—and you tell your sisters you just want to pay Rodrick a visit. Brush up on some magic or something. I will just go to Scotland instead of Australia.”

Elain considered. “Don’t you think it will be weird if your conference and my trip are on the exact same days?”

Azriel shrugged. “I really don’t think any of them will think too hard about it. Nesta and Cassian have never met, so they won’t compare notes. Feyre and Rhys might, but hopefully they’ll be too distracted with each other to really notice.”

Elain hummed, tapping her finger on the table. “Do you go to conferences often for work?”

He licked his lips in an annoyingly distracting way, leaving them glistening and inviting. “Not really, but it’s not unheard of. I have before, a couple times. Do your sisters speak to Rodrick often? Will he tell them that I’m there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think either of them have spoken to him in years. I hope they don’t try to piggyback on my trip to go see him…”

Azriel crossed his arms as a server whisked their empty plates away. He thanked her and then looked back at Elain. “You’ll just have to not let them, if they try. Do that whole cute planting your feet and looking stubborn thing you do.”

Elain’s mouth dropped open. “I do not do that.”

Azriel grinned at her. “You’re doing it right now. You may be sweet as sugar, but you’re also stubborn as hell. You can hold your ground.”

She once again felt her face burning under his words. “If being with Graysen taught me anything, it was how to stand up for myself. I wish I had learned while I was with him, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

Azriel’s face darkened at her words and she wondered if she had made a mistake bringing him up again. She would probably hate it if he was constantly talking about his ex. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t keep talking about him, it must be—”

“It’s not that,” he answered with unexpected tenderness, his scowl dropping. “You can talk about him as much as you want or need to. It just makes me pissed off to hear about how he treated you. I’m glad I don’t know what he looks like or his last name, because I have a strong desire to put him on his ass.”

Elain had never heard Azriel speak with any kind of violence, save for when he had reacted to the stranger at the bar, and she was halfway horrified that she felt…liquified by it. She sucked in a breath as she watched his hazel eyes churn with viciousness toward a man he had never even met. Her blood heated further. 

“It wouldn’t be worth it,” she finally breathed, aware that her chest was rising and falling visibly rapidly. Azriel noticed too, his eyes wandering down to the neckline of her blouse before shooting back up to her face. He drew his lip into his mouth and slowly released it, moistening it once more. Elain swallowed. 

“I’m starting to think that almost any consequence is worth it…for you,” he murmured back, his face calm but his eyes edging on dangerous. 

Elain blinked her eyelashes at him slowly, and watched him tracking the movement. “Could you, if you wanted to?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Put him on his ass? He’s tall.”

Azriel smirked arrogantly, and damn the way it made her core tighten. “I’ve learned almost every kind of martial art that exists. I never wanted to feel helpless the way I did as a boy again. My muscles aren’t just for show, you know.”

Elain dragged in a long, slow breath, chewing on the inside of her lip. He tracked that, too, his gaze dipping to her mouth and lingering there. She fought a shake in her hand as she reached out and picked up her water, sipping it in an effort to quell her overpowering desire. 

He mirrored her, never taking his gaze off her as he drank his own water and set it down, hands steady. 

“We should go,” Elain managed to get out, starting to open her bag to dig her wallet out. 

“I’ve got it,” Azriel said, already dropping cash onto the table as if it had materialized in her hand. 

“We can split it—” she started, but he waved a hand dismissively as he stood. 

“This is the least I can do,” he insisted. She thought to herself about his huge bag of thoughtful gifts including the very expensive-looking bracelet that now sat clasped around her wrist, but she just thanked him and led the way to the front of the restaurant. 

Azriel liked to take care of her, it seemed, in whatever way he could. So she let him. 

They walked back to Elain’s building in mostly silence, and Elain wondered if Azriel was also trying to shake off the unexpected lust that had overtaken them. At least, she thought that he had experienced it as well, but she wasn’t about to make herself look like an idiot by asking. She focused on moving her feet instead of the feel of him next to her, counting her steps until they had reached her door. She looked up at him, staggered as she always was by his dark beauty. 

“Come in to get those books?” she asked. He nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

“Are we done practicing for the day?” 

She looked over her shoulder at him as she unlocked her door. “Do you want to be?” 

He considered, stepping into the shop behind her. “Can you show me more of your…magic?” he asked, his face completely neutral. 

Had she heard him right? She turned slowly to face him. “You want to see more?”

He nodded, his eyes giving nothing away. “I want to understand it. Can you show me the other thing? The…Sight?”

Elain’s chest warmed at his effort to use the right words and to learn more. “Alright,” she answered softly. “I can’t force myself to have a vision, but I can show you a reading. I don’t have to use cards, you know. Sometimes just a full name, or an object that belongs to someone, will work.”

He followed her up the stairs silently. Elain flicked on the light in her kitchen and then moved to her living room, lighting candles as she went. He just quietly followed her, sinking down into an armchair when took a seat on the sofa. 

Elain gazed back at him, waiting patiently. Maybe he needed more of a suggestion. She was about to offer an idea when he put his hand into his pocket and extracted his wallet. He pulled out a tiny slip of paper from the interior and slid it across the coffee table to her. 

“What’s this?” she asked. 

Azriel swallowed. “It belonged to my father. It's the only thing of his I still have.”

Elain felt nervous suddenly. “May I look at it?”

He nodded, lacing his fingers over his knee. 

Elain’s heart pounded, feeling like she was crossing a line she could not uncross with Azriel, while also aware that he was trusting her on a deeper level than ever before. She reached out and took the slip of paper that looked so old she was afraid it would disintegrate in her fingers. 

But it didn’t. She unfolded it to see a long-faded message scrawled in ink, and her heart stopped at the words she read. 

Chapter Text

“What is this?” Elain asked, her voice hushed and shaking. Azriel cocked his head at her.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know why I took it. I found it in his pocket once when I was rummaging through his stuff after he died. I couldn’t even read at the time. I have no idea why he had it.”

Elain looked up at him, the slip of paper quivering between her fingers. 

“Are you alright?” Azriel asked her, concern etching his features. 

Elain cleared her throat. She didn’t know how to explain everything to Azriel yet, or what this meant. The whole past life thing…she couldn’t get into that now. 

“Why do you still have it?” she asked instead. 

He thought for a moment. “Not because of the words on it,” he answered quietly. “I guess I just wanted to keep one thing of his to remind myself of my goals in life.”

Elain watched him, waiting for him to elaborate. She wasn’t sure that he would, but then he spoke.

“I keep it to remind myself that I will always take care of my mother, and will never let her suffer like she did at his hands and after his death again. To remind myself that I have the ability to be a monster like he was, and of all the things I do to avoid that outcome. I keep it to remind myself to be better, stronger, than he was.”

His voice was quiet, his face neutral. Like he was trying not to give away too much of what was in his heart despite the personal words he spoke. 

“And you want me to…read your father?” Elain asked, glancing back down to the slip of paper, wondering what it meant. 

Azriel shrugged, even though his eyes glinted slightly at her words. “Maybe you’ll be able to tell me why he was such a piece of shit, and what we ever did to deserve him in our lives.”

Elain felt her eyes soften. “Azriel,” she said gently. “No one does anything to deserve that.”

His eyes fell closed, but he just murmured, “Please.” And his voice sounded so broken in that moment that she couldn’t possibly deny him. 

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. “What was his name?”

Azriel opened his eyes again. He grimaced before biting out “Jeremiah Dolan.”

She nodded, reached over to squeeze his hand, and then held the slip of paper between her palms. She closed her eyes and let her Sight sweep through her, opening the gates to the past.

Show me Jeremiah Dolan, she requested, keeping perfectly still as she cupped that little piece of paper between her palms. Azriel made no movement or noise next to her, and she imagined him sitting still as death, watching her intently. 

See, see, see, her Sight seemed to whisper into her ears, and colors and sounds started churning behind her eyelids. 

And then she saw him. At first it was just flashes of his life before Azriel, and everything she saw was bleak. A fair boy barely into his teenage years grimacing as he drank vodka straight from the bottle. He looked wealthy, but bereft in every other way. A funeral, and then another funeral. The boy as twenty-something, collecting a diploma at a graduation where no one was there for him. The man a few years older, standing at the altar with a beautiful blonde-haired woman. The man screaming at the woman, raising his fist to her. 

And then the images slowed down, as if her Sight knew that what Azriel really wanted her to see was Jeremiah’s life with him. His misdeeds against Hope and her son. 

And now Elain could really study him. Jeremiah was slightly older than Azriel was now. He was not quite so tall or broad, and his skin and hair were both lighter shades than Azriel’s. He did not boast the strong jawline or sharp, high cheekbones that Azriel and Hope did, but his eyes…those hazel eyes were almost the same as Azriel’s. Or they would have been, had pure hatred not been shining through them. 

Elain shivered on the sofa as the eyes she had come to trust and cherish stared at her with nothing but violent disdain. And then the images flew, her Sight enveloping her senses. 

Jeremiah pointed an accusing finger at a very young, pregnant Hope, spitting as he shouted at her. “You told me you were on birth control, whore!” Hope’s hands shook as they protectively covered her belly, just barely swollen with child. “I was! I don’t know what happened—it didn’t work.” Tears streamed down her face.

He sneered at her in disgust. “I’m not leaving my wife. I’ll tell her you seduced me, tricked me. She’ll get over it—she always does.”

“Please,” Hope begged, tears still running. “We don’t have anywhere to go. I have no money.”

“You should have thought about that before spreading your legs.” 

He threw a beer bottle at her feet and Hope sprung back with a cry, acrid beer and shards of glass flying as it exploded.

He dissolved, and reappeared. Hope was no longer pregnant, and even though she looked barely older, her eyes held years of pain and fear behind them. 

“Let him out!” she shouted at Jeremiah. “He’s only three.”

“He can come out when he’s learned his lesson about being a brat.”

A little boy screamed and cried from behind a locked door on the other side of the room. He banged on it with little fists. Hope ran to the door, pulling on the handle with all her might, but it was locked. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” she called through the door, her voice shaking as she held back tears.

“Jeremiah,” she pled, whirling around. “You can’t lock up a little boy. He’s a toddler. He doesn’t know any better.” She was shaking, consumed by her need to protect her son and her heartbreak at his anguish.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jeremiah hissed. He advanced on her a step, pointing a finger accusingly. “You’re a terrible mother. He would be potty trained by now if you knew what the fuck you were doing, and he wouldn’t have to be punished.”

She screamed in rage and shoved him in the chest. “Let him out!” 

He raised his hand and smacked her across the face with the back of it. 

The little boy wailed and wailed.

Again, they dissolved away. 

Jeremiah reappeared, Hope screaming behind him. A little boy that was undoubtedly Azriel, with the same soft black curls and beautiful hazel eyes and brown skin, also screamed. He screamed as his hands burned. Two older boys, light-skinned and light-haired but also bearing hazel eyes, stood before him, laughing as he burned. One held a can of oil, the other a lighter. 

“Do something!” Hope screamed at him. Jeremiah rolled his eyes but approached the boys. “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled at them. They both stopped laughing, dropped their items, and ran away as fast as possible. 

Jeremiah threw a towel over the little boy’s hands as he wailed. He couldn’t have been older than five years old. “Shut up,” he growled at his son, who just screamed and screamed. “The neighbors are going to ask questions.”

“Azriel, baby,” Hope started, approaching to comfort him, but Jeremiah pushed her away. The flames had finally died, and Elain wasn’t able to see the damage to his hands under the towel, but he didn’t stop screaming. 

And then they were gone. And Elain knew somehow that the next time they reappeared, it would be the last.

Little Azriel’s hands were bandaged, and he looked no older than he had in the last image. “Don’t hurt her,” the little boy said to his father, voice shaking. 

Jeremiah barked a terrible, hateful laugh, and then shoved Azriel aside so hard he went tumbling to the floor, the air knocked out of him. 

“Don’t touch him!” Hope cried, starting to run to his small form. 

Jeremiah raised a closed fist towards Hope’s face.

And then Azriel screamed. The scream was all-consuming. Wretched. Finite. 

He continued to scream in fear and panic as his tiny form shook, and ropes and ropes of dark shadows flew from him, seeming to be born from under his skin and erupting through it like it was nothing. 

Azriel watched in horror, still screaming, as the shadows shot straight toward his father, coiling around his arm and blocking him from striking his mother. Hope fell back in shock, her own scream leaving her, as his father swore and stumbled, a terrified look falling over his face. 

More and more shadows spilled from Azriel, arcing towards his father. The shadows coiled around Jeremiah’s body, dragging him to the ground as he began fighting and bellowing. The little boy just cowered, wrapping his arms around his legs. And then the shadows began streaming into his father’s nose and mouth, choking off his screams as he turned purple, unable to breathe. 

Tears began rolling down Azriel’s face as Hope scrambled back from him, still shrieking. And then there was a snap, and Jeremiah’s head fell at an unnatural angle on his neck. He slumped to the floor, his eyes open wide and staring at the little boy in horror, his mouth still open in a silent yell of terror. The shadows uncoiled from his body, creeping back towards Azriel in dark rivulets. He tried to recoil from them, but they bled back into him, sinking under his skin.

Hope was still pushed away from him, looking between him and his father in horror. 

“Mama,” little Azriel cried, reaching out to her in desperation. 

The final image dissipated, and Elain blinked her eyes open, the slip of paper fluttering from her fingers as tears rolled down her face.

“Azriel,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. His face was completely impassive, as if he knew what she had seen but refused to let it affect him. She couldn’t stop her tears as she looked into those same hazel eyes of the little boy that had endured so much pain, so much hatred, for nothing. 

“What did you see?” he asked quietly. She shook her head, unable to form the words to tell him about the horrid things she had seen his father do and say. 

“He was evil,” she managed to choke out through her falling tears. And then she was moving, wrapping her arms around Azriel’s neck and drawing him to her, burying her face in his shoulder. 

Azriel let Elain hold him, wrapping his own arms around her waist and squeezing her to him. It had been cruel, making her see those horrible things his father had done. But it was the only way he could think of proving to himself that she really was able to… see. Because no one could fake that reaction to his father’s misdeeds. No one could use their imagination to come up with just how horrendous he really was—not without seeing it for themselves. 

So he held Elain as she cried into his shoulder—cried for him, he realized, as he drew her closer. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent through his pain. He hadn’t had to see what she had, but he could guess that she had seen the worst of it. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered into her hair as she wept. 

“It’s not,” Elain cried onto his shirt, squeezing him more tightly, as if her hug could heal him. And maybe it could. 

“I’m sorry you had to see any of that,” he murmured, stroking her back as he held her. 

She took a shuddering breath and spoke, her voice muffled as she refused to lift her face from his shoulder. “Stop comforting me—I’m comforting you.”

He shook his head slightly and kissed her hair where his face rested. “I should have warned you that it wouldn’t be pleasant.”

Elain finally drew back, but tears still streamed down her face. “Those horrible things he did to you…to your mother,” she whispered, taking his hands in her own. She looked down at his scars and stroked them… lovingly. 

Something cracked within Azriel.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, even as his voice wobbled. “I’ve had a long time to get over it.”

She frowned at him, but it lacked any kind of strength under her tears. “Those are not things someone gets over.”

He studied her. Let her hold his hands, stroke them. He shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’m okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You saw the worst of it, didn’t you?”

Elain finally dropped his hands to wipe at her face, stemming the tears a bit. “You believe me…” she finally said in wonder, searching his face.

He just gazed at her. “Tell me what you saw. Please. If you can.”

She wiped her face one more time, and Azriel’s heart strained to see her in such pain.

“I saw him and Hope, when he found out she was pregnant.”

He felt his eyes widen just slightly. He had never heard that story—his mother had always sheltered him from those things he did not have to remember or learn.

“I saw how he punished you as a little boy,” she whispered. He raised his hand and drew a gentle thumb across her cheek. 

“I was so young I don’t remember it, really,” he told her. “I remember missing my mother, and I remember darkness, and a door.”

“He locked you up,” she answered, voice quivering. He only nodded, encouraging her to go on. 

“I saw,” her voice trembled. He kept his hand on her face, stroking it softly. “I saw what happened to your hands. The fire. The boys. Your mother screaming.”

He nodded again, his breath hitching. This, he could never forget. “My half-brothers,” he said quietly. “From my father’s real family, he loved to remind us.”

Elain placed her much smaller hand over his on her face, and looked into his eyes. “And I saw him die.”

Azriel dropped his hand, pushing an inch or two away from her on the couch. She had seen him murder his father. 

“You saw me kill him.”

She shook her head, her eyes sad and loving and depthless. “I saw a terrified little boy, protecting his mother.”

Azriel’s eyes burned, and he blinked, looking away from her quickly. They were enveloped in silence for a few moments before he spoke softly.

“I believe you.” 

Elain let out a slow, low breath. 

“Thank you.”

Azriel felt too raw, like the world was chafing at his skin. “Are you going to be okay?” he finally asked Elain, because it was all he could think when he focused his thoughts.

She nodded at him, her eyes still red and puffy, but dry now. “One day I’ll find a way to show you what haunts me, too,” she said, hushed and solemn. 

Azriel had long forgotten any of his stupid rules, and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind an ear and then cupping her cheek. “Tell me about it whenever you want,” he answered. 

She gave him a small smile. “When did you get so sweet?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Elain.”

And he wanted to kiss her. He wanted so badly to just lean over and brush her lips with his, to ease her pain however he could. To tell her with his body how much he needed her, appreciated her, cared about her. 

But he remembered himself, and released her face. He couldn’t have her. Not yet. And not when he asked her to respect his boundaries. 

“I think I should go before I break my rules too many times,” he murmured. Elain’s eyes slid shut, but she nodded. He sighed and fought with everything he possessed not to reach out and touch her face again. Her hair, her hands, her waist. He wanted to touch any of it. All of it. He wanted to sleep in her arms again, limbs tangled with hers, sharing a heartbeat. 

Instead, he sucked in a breath and stood. Elain’s eyes opened and she followed him off the couch.

“Azriel,” she started, and he stopped moving. “Thank you for trusting me. For letting me see that. I know it must not be easy to share those parts of yourself with others.”

He lowered his chin in quiet acknowledgment. “Thank you for sharing the load,” he answered softly. “I’d be happy to share yours too, you know.” 

She gave him a sad smile. “I know. Another time.”

He nodded. “I’ll take the books, and I’ll keep practicing. Let me know when you talk to Rodrick.” 

Azriel slipped the scrap of paper back into his wallet and gathered up the pile of books Elain had selected for him. 

“I will,” she said as she followed him down the stairs onto the main floor. 

He was pulling on his gloves as Elain added, “And you let me know when you want to have another practice session.” 

The corners of his lips tipped up. “I will.”

“Do you have everything?” Feyre asked Elain, slinging a bag over her sister’s shoulders. Elain nodded. She was wearing a simple brown shift with a dark blue cloak and laced up walking shoes. Her hair was tied into a long braid down her back.

They were standing in an open-air corridor shrouded in darkness near the north exit of the castle grounds.  

Nesta handed her a coin purse stuffed with gold.

“Nesta!” Elain protested, trying to push it back to her. Nesta just shook her head.

“I have no use for this,” she snapped. “You’ll need it more than me.”

Elain bit her lip, looking between her sisters, the other two princesses of the realm. Nesta, fearsome and hard-headed and ever-strong. Feyre, the dreamer who was willing to do anything to see those dreams come true. Her throat constricted. They were the only two she told of her plans, the only ones she trusted. 

Nesta rubbed her temple. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

Elain squared her shoulders. “It’s the only way for us to be together. Mother and Father will punish him if we are discovered, and I will no doubt be chained and sold like cattle to the Duke.” 

Feyre shuddered slightly, and then looked Elain over with pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Elain,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of your fate when I made my own choices.”

Elain shook her head, grasping her younger sister’s hand in her own. “You followed your heart, and now I must follow mine.”

“But running away with him—” Nesta began, gesturing in frustration. “It’s rash. Where will you go? How will you live? Earn money? Escape your title and duties?”

Elain just smiled at her elder sister. “We will have each other, and the rest we will figure out as we go. The first thing we will purchase is a mount. Azriel will most likely be a mercenary.”

Nesta scoffed, crossing her arms. “And if anyone finds out he’s a disgraced knight? And what will you do, if he is away at war constantly?” 

“Nesta,” Elain said gently, reaching out for her hand as well, so that all three sisters were linked, Elain their keystone. “We will be alright. He will protect me with everything that he possesses—of that, I’m sure. We love each other. The title doesn’t make me happy. Nor does the duty, nor do Mother and Father and their rules and expectations. I don’t need the castle or the beautiful gowns. I just need his love…and love from both of you.”

Feyre squeezed her hand. “We will find you again,” she said, as if she was reassuring herself instead of Elain. 

“Of course you will,” Elain answered. “I will find a way to write to you both. And you will find a way to visit. And maybe one day, when Mother and Father no longer have such control over us, we’ll come home. Maybe when you’re queen, Nesta.”

Nesta scoffed, but her eyes welled. “Shall I kill them to speed the process?”

Feyre nearly choked, but Elain just said, “Oh hush. You will do no such thing.” 

She looked between her sisters. “I love you both very much, despite the differences we've encountered,” she whispered. 

“Find us again, Elain,” Feyre pleaded. Then she dropped Elain's hand to wrap her arms around her in an embrace. “I love you, as well.” 

Elain squeezed her tight before stepping back. She turned to Nesta. 

“I hate you for this,” her elder sister grumbled. Elain just reached out and embraced her, too. 

“No you don't,” Elain said into her ear. Nesta squeezed her. 

“I don't,” she said in a choked voice. “I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

They broke apart and Elain held each of their gazes in turn. “Remember, you knew nothing of this. You only had an inkling that there was something between us.”

Elain had wanted to ensure that her parents would eventually accept that they ran away together. They may still search for them, but she couldn't allow them to believe that Azriel had done something nefarious with her, absconding away with her in the darkness. 

Nesta and Feyre both nodded at her. Feyre, feminine and strong and sure. Nesta, fiery and fierce and all steel. 

“Goodbye, sisters,” Elain said, squeezing their hands once more. “I will see you both again.” 

Nesta said nothing, but Feyre gave her a soft goodbye. 

She dropped their hands, kissed them each on the cheek, and then turned, walking away from them and towards a new future. 

She walked towards the northern gate for a minute or two, and then he was there. Her knight. Her love. Her Azriel. He walked out of the shadows behind a trellis, eyes immediately finding her. 

He strode to her. He was no longer wearing his knight's armor, nor his blade and shield. He now wore simple commoner armor—plain chainmail, a thick leather vest and gauntlets at his wrists. An unceremonious short sword hung at his belt. He too had a satchel thrown over his shoulders. He looked no less beautiful for the changes.

He approached her gracefully and silently, stopping just a breath away from her. He slid a gentle hand under her chin, cupping it and raising it to look into her face. 

“The north gate guard is unconscious for the moment. Ready, princess?” he asked, his face solemn. 

Elain nodded but smiled sadly. “You can no longer call me that, Azriel. I am a princess no more.”

He scanned her face, still cupping her chin tenderly. And then his hand slid down her neck to the strap of her satchel. 

“You will always be a princess to me,” he murmured, before carefully drawing the strap over her head, taking her bag and slinging it across his own shoulders, crossed with his own. 

She drew the hood of her cloak up over her hair, spilling shadows over her face. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Azriel asked her, his eyes warm but hard. “It’s your last chance to change your mind. My fate is doomed, but you can still have the life you deserve.”

Elain clicked her tongue. “Wed to a man I do not love nor desire? That is no life for me.” 

He opened his mouth to no doubt argue again, but Elain simply stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. 

Azriel’s hand came to rest on her lower back, and he kissed her back so tenderly, so softly, that she had no doubt in her choice. 

“I'm ready,” she said as she broke away from him, slipping her hand into his. 

“Not quite,” he answered. She prepared herself to argue with him once more, but he only reached into a pocket and extracted a small square wrapped in tan paper. 

Elain's heart ached as she dropped his hand to take the little parcel, unwrapping it to find a square of rich chocolate. 

“One day it will be a ring,” he promised her, his gaze full of determination and loyalty and love. Unending love. Desperate love. 

“This is all I need,” she answered. And then she bit into the sweet and slightly bitter chocolate, savoring its depth. As the bite melted on her tongue, she lifted the other half to Azriel’s face. 

“It was for you,” he insisted, trying to nudge her hand back down. But she shook her head. 

“Everything mine is yours, Azriel. My heart. My soul. My blood. Even my chocolate.” 

A smile finally graced his beautiful mouth, and he succumbed, opening his lips for the chocolate. She placed it inside his mouth, and he caught her hand, kissing the tips of each of her fingers before lacing them in his own. 

“Now you're ready,” he said after swallowing. And so they walked, their hands and souls intertwined, through the darkness of the castle grounds. 

And then they walked clear off them, leaving the turrets and the spires and their duties and pasts behind them. Leaving with nothing but a few bags and each other. 

Elain lurched forward in her seat on the sofa, where she had been curled up under a blanket and researching the phrase she had discovered on Azriel’s keepsake. It had been a few days since she had seen him, and couldn't get that phrase out of her mind. Knighthood lies above eternity.

She placed a hand on her chest, breathing through the turbulent emotions coursing through her. They were running away together, that princess and knight in their past life. And while it was breathtakingly romantic, Elain knew deep in her bones that it would not end well. 

She shuddered as that ominous feeling assaulted her without end, her chest aching. And god, it hurt. 

She tried to shake it off, sighing as she noticed her laptop overturned on the floor. 

“Shit.” Her visions really could be inconvenient. 

She picked it up gingerly and examined it to make sure it was still intact. And then she got back to her research—anything to drive away those wretched gnawing feelings. 

Her search for the phrase scrawled on the paper had not been very fruitful. It was a quote from a book, and was used as a slogan for a few different organizations that she found, but none seemed relevant. 

Next, she searched for Jeremiah Dolan. What she found was sparse but bleak. He had a handful of arrests documented, mostly related to drunk driving and aggressive behavior. There was a two-line generic obituary released by the funeral home that dealt with his remains. But she could find nothing else that sparked her Sight. 

Still, it seemed to command her to keep looking, keep searching, keep seeing. So she widened her search, looking up Dolan family trees and the Dolan family name. It was an Irish name, related to having dark hair. Well, that was accurate for Azriel, it seemed, but not entirely helpful. 

Elain paused when she came upon the Dolan family crest, which included a crescent moon, a feather, two lions, and…a knight's helmet. Her blood chilled.  

The name Dolan had connections with the words “defiance” and “challenge” as well. Apparently it could also mean a descendent of or “little unfortunate one.” Well, that was…ominous. And then a shiver passed through her when she saw a lesser-known translation: descendent of the dark one.  

She swallowed, staring at the translation, her Sight bursting into supernovas throughout her. This was something important, surely. 

And it could not be good. 

It had been a week and Azriel was nowhere closer to accessing his magic. He was becoming more and more frustrated as the days went on, with both his inability to find whatever well of power he was supposed to be able to see, and with his ever-growing desperation for Elain. 

They had only spoken briefly over the past week, just a text here or there. Azriel had no updates for her, nor her him. He still felt raw from the reading she had done, the images and memories she had seen of his father. And the way they had held each other after, the care they had poured into each other…it had left him with more than just lust for her.

It had left him with a bone-deep ache for her, gnawing and razor-sharp and unending. And there was still the lust, of course—that feral, searing lust that he didn't dare indulge with her or with his own hand. But her words haunted him. “Maybe that's what you need. Maybe you need to let go.”

But he couldn't bear to lose control in that way again, not before he knew how to control those shadows. So Azriel was sitting on his bed in his boxers one night, trying and trying to run down that maze in his mind, when his phone rang. 

He considered ignoring it, but was already sufficiently distracted from his practicing, so he opened his eyes and glanced at the screen. It was Elain. 

“Hey, you,” he answered, hoping he sounded casual enough. 

“Guess what?” her soft voice came through the line. 

“Hmm,” he answered, falling back onto his mattress. “You got a puppy.” 

She laughed, and it was the best sound he had ever heard. 

“No.” 

He grinned. “You found the lost city of Atlantis.”

She sighed, and his grin grew. “What?” he finally asked.

“I finally got in contact with Rodrick, and he is very excited to host us and help you.”

Azriel sat up at that. “Oh, shit.” His heart raced. So it was really happening. “I haven’t been able to accomplish shit by myself, by the way,” he added. “I’m not convinced whatever power you think I have is really there.”

He could almost see Elain glancing down at her phone thoughtfully. “It’s there,” she assured him. “Rodrick will help you. I’m pretty sure he’s like…one hundred and ten years old. He knows everything.”

He sighed. “Alright. I trust you. When did he say he can take us?” 

“As early as next week. He said he is available for the next month before he goes on his own travels.”

Azriel thought for a moment, and then stood to stride out of his bedroom and collect his laptop from the kitchen island. He sat down on his leather sofa and pulled his phone away from his ear, pressing the video call button. 

It rang three times, and he wasn’t sure Elain was going to answer. But then she did, and it was like she had grown somehow more beautiful in the last week. Her hair was down and loose over her shoulders, and she wore what looked to be like flannel pajamas buttoned up only partially, hanging open at her chest. 

“God, your apartment is bright!” she said by way of greeting. “Isn’t it like 11 PM?”

Was it? Azriel could never keep track of time these days. He just shrugged. “You look cozy,” he said with a grin. 

“I’m in my pajamas,” she explained. And from what Azriel could see, she was in her bed, too, her blankets pulled up to her shoulders and her head resting on fluffy pillows. It was an ungodly endearing sight. “What are we doing?” she asked. 

“I’m buying our plane tickets to Scotland.”

She sat up at that, her hair falling in front of her chest and her eyes large. “I can buy my own ticket, Azriel!’ she said. 

He shrugged at her. “I’m not flying internationally unless I’m in first class. And I’m not flying to Scotland without you next to me. So unless you want to buy your own first-class ticket, I’m buying yours, too.”

She sighed at him in frustration, a beautiful little scowl on her face. “That is too much.”

Azriel grinned again. “I don’t know how to put this honorably or whatever,” he answered. “But I’m rich as hell.” 

Elain’s mouth dropped open for a moment before she snapped it shut again. “And how do you know I’m not rich as hell also?” she asked stubbornly. Fuck, he loved it when she was stubborn. 

He rolled his lips between his teeth to keep from smiling more broadly. “Well, then you would know that a couple thousand dollars between rich as hell friends is nothing,” he replied. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was starting to love playing these little flirtatious games with her, if only to see her defiant face that he adored so much. 

“Fine,” she eventually ground out. “That is very kind of you. Thank you.”

He grinned at her truly then, having won this round. “Great.” He opened his laptop and began to search for flights. “When do you want to go?”

“I’m my own boss,” she answered, snuggling back down into her pillows. He could have cried for want of being there with her. “How long do you need to get time off and all that approved?” 

He thought for a moment. “I’ve worked at my firm for a decade. Briar has been my assistant for half that time. I think they’ll manage without me. I’ll give them a week’s notice, and if they don’t like it they can fuck off.”

Elain chewed on her lip. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t expected him to notice the change in her face. “Oh, nothing,” she said quickly. But Azriel gave her a look until she continued. “Briar’s very pretty,” she finally answered quietly. 

Azriel felt his lips twitch despite himself. “Now who’s jealous?” he teased, winking at her. Elain scoffed and seemingly tossed her phone. He chuckled. 

“Come back, beautiful!” he called over the line, staring at her ceiling through the screen. “Let me see that angel face again.”

He heard rustling and then watched as the image moved, until she was holding the phone in front of her again, scowling.

“There she is,” he said, grinning. “There never has been and never will be anything between Briar and I,” he assured her. “I don’t mix business with pleasure, and we’ve never had that spark between us.” 

Elain’s face evened out at his words, but just for good measure, he added, “Besides, there’s no one in this universe I could possibly find as stunning as you.” He watched her cheeks darken in the dim lighting of her room, and felt his chest warm in turn. 

“So now that that’s settled,” he continued. “Should we buy some tickets to Scotland?”

Chapter Text

They were going to Scotland in two days, and Azriel was losing his mind. He still had not been able to access his magic, and he felt like he was going to look like an idiot when he showed up at a master’s doorstep with nothing to offer. He was used to being good at things—he was good at school, he was good at most athletic endeavors, he was good in bed, and he was really good at beating his brothers every time they played cards or other stupid games. He wasn’t used to failing so profoundly.

For this reason he had asked Elain to do another practice session with him two days before they left for their red-eye trip. It was also an excuse to hash out some travel details. It was also an excuse to spend time with her alone once more. 

She had come to him this time, and they were currently sitting at his dining room table, eating Chinese takeout while they talked over their plans. 

“So we’ll meet at the airport at 7 PM?” Elain was asking him, twirling some lo mein noodles around her fork. He fucking loved that she could put away food around him without being self-conscious. Or if she was, she didn’t show it. He loved watching her eat. And he hated society for making women think they couldn't eat around men.

He nodded as he chewed and swallowed a bite of egg roll, chasing it with a sip of beer. “Cassian’s gonna drop me off. You have a way to get there?”

She nodded as well. “Yeah, Nesta is taking me.” Elain, surprisingly, was also drinking a beer. He had offered her one thinking she would refuse, but she had accepted with a shrug. 

“That will be awkward if they pull up at the same time,” he answered. 

She laughed against the mouth of her beer bottle. “I’ll be ten minutes late,” she told him, throwing him a wink. His stomach dipped. She had such easy command over him—the slightest gesture, the tiniest sound, and he was like putty in her fingers. 

They finished eating, talking about what to expect when they got there and what they might do in their free time. Azriel was equal parts terrified and thrilled to be going on this journey with her, and to be facing two weeks of time away from their real lives with just her…and one-hundred-year-old Rodrick. He didn’t dare ask what the living quarters were like at his house or where they would sleep.

Azriel began washing their dishes and cleaning up their food as soon as they were done. Elain watched him, a hand on her curved hip. “You need to do that right now?” she asked, as if she would have preferred just leaving the dirty plates and containers of food out. Psychotic.

“I like to keep my living space clean,” he told her over his shoulder as he rinsed plates and utensils and then stacked them in the dishwasher.

“So you’re a neat freak,” Elain murmured under her breath. Azriel turned with his brows raised, lifting his wet hand and flicking some water at her. 

She squawked at him in protest, and then she snagged a forgotten noodle from the table with those ungodly quick hands and chucked it right at him. Azriel’s mouth fell open as it hit him in the chest and stuck to his shirt for a few moments before sliding down to the counter. It left a little oil stain on his dark grey T-shirt that he knew wouldn’t come off. 

“Did you just throw food at me?” he asked in disbelief, shutting the water off and plucking the noodle from the counter, tossing it into the sink with a splat.

Elain shrugged mischievously, wiping her hands on a napkin. 

Azriel was overcome by a silliness he hadn’t experienced since…probably since he, Rhysand, and Cassian were young boys together, causing trouble at school. He cranked the water pressure higher and pulled on the retractable hose, pointing it right at her and turning on the spray before she could react. 

He laughed as Elain shrieked and jumped out of the way far too late, as he had nailed her square in the chest. 

“How dare you!” Elain exclaimed, and then lunged at him to snatch the hose, getting a face-full of water in turn. Azriel laughed louder, but his laugh was cut off as Elain slipped in the puddle he had made on the floor and started to tumble. 

“Shit,” he cursed, jumping forward to try to catch her. But his own feet lost traction in the wetness and he slid right into her. He wrapped his arms around her to try to cushion her fall as they both went crashing down to the tile kitchen floor in a mockingly familiar scene.

Elain clung onto him with a yelp as they fell. They landed on the floor with Elain underneath Azriel, his arms wrapped under her back and head to take the brunt of the impact. He had braced his arm and ab muscles to avoid crushing her, and chuckled as he looked down at her. 

“Why does this keep happening to—” he started, but his voice cut off as saw her pinned beneath him, looking up at him with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Her chest was heaving and her light blue cotton tank top was now soaked and see-through, clinging to her breasts and peaked nipples (of course, braless). 

Elain remained silent, her chest just a hair from brushing his with every inhale, her eyes scanning his face. He breathed heavily as he let his gaze roam over her face, lingering on her perfect lips before drifting down to study the curve of her neck, her rounded breasts and rosy nipples. 

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, unable to stop himself. She sucked in a little breath, and his head went quiet as he leaned his face down towards her. She gave him a little nod and let her eyes fall closed, her lips parting further. 

Elain waited for his kiss, waited for whatever mess and strings and complications came with it. But his lips never met hers. Instead, she heard him gasp and jerk a bit, and her eyes flew open as he rasped her name. 

“Elain,” Azriel croaked, and she met his wide, shocked gaze. 

“What is it?” she asked, her arms still wrapped around his middle. 

“I can feel it,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with shock. “The magic.”

Elain gasped and pushed on his chest to move him off her. He unwrapped his arms from her and crawled off her, sinking back onto his knees and blinking rapidly. Elain rose to her knees as well, painfully aware of her completely see-through tank top and the fact that she had been two seconds away from doing god knows what on Azriel’s kitchen floor with him. She lost her mind so damn easily around this man.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded gently, and he did. “Can you see the maze?” 

“I’m already at the well,” he answered, “and I can feel it—the power—but I can’t…” 

Before Elain could think better of it, she reached out and ran a hand down the side of Azriel’s face, drifting to his neck. He shivered, but said nothing, so she added her second hand. She let her fingers run over the hard, broad planes of his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat thudding beneath them. “Keep looking,” she whispered. 

She drifted her fingers down over his ribs and then the rigid muscles of his abdominals, and Azriel shuddered under her touch. 

“Let go,” she whispered. She was moving on pure instinct now, letting her Sight help guide her, following its lead. “Let go for me.”

Azriel’s heaving chest picked up speed as Elain’s fingers danced down to his hard lower stomach, skirting the waistband of his pants. She watched as a bulge grew below his belt, his hand clenching the fabric of his pants at his thighs.

“Relax and let go,” she whispered. 

And then he took a deep, shaking breath, his fingers relaxing and his neck rolling as some of the pressure in his body ebbed. 

“Yes,” she whispered, tiptoeing her fingers over the bulge below his belt, feeling his hardness, her mouth watering. He let out a long, low breath that sounded halfway between desire and tranquility. But then she froze as his hands turned over on his thighs, palms up, and his scarred skin there began to ripple. Elain stroked his hard length again as she watched tendrils of shadows slowly unfurl from his palms, and then she removed her fingers from him. 

“Azriel,” she murmured. “Open your eyes.”

Azriel was somehow relaxed despite his throbbing cock pulsing under Elain’s soft touch. She had mesmerized him with her gentle strokes and quiet words, and he had found his muscles and mind letting go. 

And now, at her command, he opened his eyes. And his mouth dropped open. He hadn’t even felt the shadows at his palms, but he did now. They felt cool and churning, and they were just hovering above each open palm, gently wavering as if billowing in a breeze.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his erection ebbing away under the awe and terror and—somehow—pride he felt at the mild display. He glanced up at Elain, and she was beaming at him, her eyes shifting between the shadows and his face. 

“You’re wielding,” she whispered, cheeks flushed and mahogany eyes lit like a thousand suns. 

Azriel started to answer, but that’s when he heard the whispers. He couldn’t understand them—they just sounded like garbled nonsense drifting into both ears. He stared down at each of the tendrils of shadows, coiling there from his palms, in turn.

“What the hell is that?” he murmured, flicking his eyes back up to Elain.

She frowned slightly. “What is what?”

He felt his own brows knitting. “Don’t you hear that? The…whispering?”

The crease between her brows grew. “I don’t hear anything…”

They simultaneously looked down at the shadows hovering above Azriel’s palms again. He felt his blood run cold as he realized that whatever he was hearing was most definitely coming from them, and that he was the only one who could hear it. As his heart lurched unpleasantly, the shadow in his left palm responded, shooting out from him and through the kitchen, careening into a standing lamp in the living room and sending it crashing to the floor. 

Elain jumped up as Azriel swore, falling from his knees back onto his ass. And just like that, the shadows dissipated, whisked away into nothingness. 

Azriel slowly, silently rose from his still-wet kitchen floor to his feet, gaping at his hands until he finally dropped them by his sides. His gaze found Elain’s, and they just stared at each other for a few tense, quiet moments. 

“I fucking knew it,” Elain whispered finally, the grin returning to her face as she stood too. “I knew you were a magic wielder.” 

Azriel cocked his head at her. “Well, yes,” he said dryly. “You were right there when my mother told the story. And then you saw it. Twice.”

Elain’s grin grew as she shook her head. “I knew it before that. I felt it when you first came into my shop.”

Azriel’s heart dipped. “You suspected that I had this power for that long?”

She shook her head. “I had no idea what kind of magic you possessed. I just felt something…something stirring and powerful coming from you.”

He couldn’t suppress the shudder that moved through his body.

“Azriel—” Elain began, but a knock came at his door. Shit, he had forgotten about the lamp crashing down. 

“Hell,” he grumbled, and strode to his door to open it. A middle-aged woman in sweats and a T-shirt who he vaguely recognized as living in the building was standing outside his door. 

“Everything alright in here?” she asked in place of a greeting. “I heard quite a loud crash and was worried something had happened.”

Azriel nodded at his nameless neighbor. “Yeah, sorry—we’re all good. Accidentally knocked over a lamp is all,” he explained, gesturing behind him to the lamp he still hadn’t righted.

The woman’s eyes darted from the lamp to the wet kitchen floor to Elain standing behind Azriel, crossing her arms over her completely see-through wet tank top, and then back to Azriel. He just looked back at her impassively.

“Well okay then,” the woman finally conceded.

“Thanks for checking, Meg,” he said. “Good night.”

The woman looked utterly confused as she vaguely nodded and he swung the door shut again. 

Elain looked between Azriel and the door. “I don’t think her name is Meg,” she murmured quietly. Azriel could already hear the woman’s footsteps retreating down the hall toward the stairs.

“Oh, it’s definitely not,” he agreed, finally making his way to the overturned lamp and putting it back into position. “I just made my best guess.”

Elain gaped and then stifled a laugh behind her hand. 

“What?” he asked, lifting the corner of his mouth as he moved to grab a hand towel and started wiping up the mess on the kitchen floor. 

“Do you do that often?” Elain wondered, still giggling as she moved out of the way and took a seat on one of his island stools. “Just make up names for people when you don’t know them?”

He cocked his head in thought. “Kind of?” She laughed harder, throwing her head back and putting her dimples on full display. He grinned guiltily at her. “Is that a dick thing to do? The worst of my crimes was definitely when I fucked this guy and called him Mickey as I implied that he shouldn’t spend the night. I found out after that his name was Jason.”

Elain’s eyes widened and she clutched her side laughing. “My god,” she wheezed through her laughs. “Poor Jason! He must have been heartbroken.”

Azriel sighed dramatically. “He was really hot, too. It was because of you, you know.”

Her laughter died at that, and she tilted her head at him in question. “How in all the world was it my fault that you couldn’t remember the name of a random hot man that you fucked? I don’t think I am the asshole in this situation.”

Azriel grinned at her and tossed the towel onto the counter, approaching her slowly. God, he could flirt like this with her all day and night and never get tired of it. She swallowed as he approached her. 

“It was after that first night of ours. I tried to hook up with other people after that,” he said, just before her now. Elain’s cheeks were already turning that lovely pink again. “But every time, I was so fucking distracted thinking about you and how you made me feel.” He bore into her with his eyes, lingering for far too long on her plump, parted lips. “Every time I was pounding into someone else all I could hear were your moans and your screams, all I could see were those perfect fucking nipples and round, juicy ass. Not to mention those eyes and lips.” She breathed heavily as his eyes traveled down to those nipples he could never get out of his head. He reached out and was mere millimeters from brushing his knuckle against one when he dropped his hand, stepping back. Elain let out a whooshing breath. “I had to work so fucking hard to come, and it wasn’t even satisfying,” he finished, looking back at her face. “And then I forgot their names, because the only name I could remember was yours. So yes, it was your fault, sugar.”

Elain’s cheeks were blazing red in the loveliest way imaginable, her blush extending down her neck and splashed over her chest. He wondered what his cum would look like splashed over her chest like that blush, soaking her gorgeous breasts.

“Sorry for making you seem like an asshole,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving his. He waved a dismissive hand.

“I am an asshole.”

She shook her head slowly, and then looked back at his hands. She opened her mouth and then shut it again, and he cocked his head. “What is it?”

She shook her head as if she was making a decision. And then she said, “I’m sorry for touching you without permission before. For crossing your boundaries.”

He waved a hand in a forget-about-it gesture. “Whatever you were thinking, it worked. Fucking shadows came out of my hands.”

Her eyes lit again and she stood, approaching him. “May I?” she asked, reaching for his hands. He nodded and extended his palms to her. 

Elain took Azriel’s palms in her hands, studying them. “It was utterly magnificent,” she breathed, stroking his scarred skin lightly. Azriel remained still and silent before her. “And you heard something coming from them?”

Azriel blanched slightly, as if he had forgotten, but then nodded. “I heard…whispering,” he answered slightly gruffly. “In like a creepy, non-words way.” 

Elain hummed in thought. “Like the shadows were speaking to you,” she wondered aloud, more to herself than to Azriel. He shivered at her words though, and then he was shaking all over. 

“Whoa,” he mumbled, as his body was wracked with shudders. 

“It’s okay,” Elain said soothingly, taking his hand and leading him to his sofa. She guided him to a seat and he just sat there shaking, his teeth clattering, his face pale.

“It’s alright,” Elain told him again. 

“What’s…happening?” Azriel asked through his shudders.

“Sometimes people react to wielding truly—intentionally—for the first time,” she explained. “It's a lot for the body to go through. It will be okay.” 

Elain ran a soothing hand up and down his arm as Azriel shook on the couch, his muscles taut and his jaw clenched. She had read about this in several of her books. It simply needed to pass, and she was happy to wait it out with him. 

“Once when we were little girls,” she began, seeking a way to distract him, “Nesta dared Feyre to break open a beehive.” 

Azriel looked at her through his shudders. “That's…sadistic…” he chattered. 

Elain shrugged. “Well, Nesta and Feyre never got along. They're both stubborn and hard-headed.”

“Must…run in…the family.” 

Elain chuckled and laced her fingers through his, holding his hand steady through his shaking. He clenched her hand tightly. 

“Feyre has also never been able to back down from a challenge. It's like, a problem. Anyway, I tried to get Nesta to stop daring her, because my Sight was showing me what would happen if she broke it open, and Feyre was too young to understand. When Nesta refused to stop, I tried to get Feyre to let it go. But neither of them ever listened to me.”

“Why…not?” 

Elain huffed a slightly bitter laugh. “I was always the soft one. The one that needed to be sheltered, protected. My mother never thought I had anything to offer besides a pretty face and useful magic, and my sisters took that to heart. No one ever took what I said to them seriously, unless it was advantageous to them in some way.” 

“Sounds…rough,” he got out through the shudders. 

She shrugged again. “It was what it was. Anyway, they both just ignored me, so I ran and broke the beehive myself before Feyre could get hurt.” 

Azriel’s shaking was slowing, his eyes refocusing on her. “Fuck,” he answered, his jaw unclenching slightly. Elain continued to grip his fingers.

“I got 219 stings. My mother made me count them with a mirror to punish me for being foolish.” 

Azriel winced, his body calming further. 

“Feyre and Nesta were close enough that they still got a couple stings, even as they ran away.”

“Neither of them stopped to help you?” He asked, his lip curling in anger. His shaking had subsided entirely. 

She shook her head. “My father heard me screaming and ran out to help. But I'm glad they didn't.” 

“Why?” he asked, slowly stroking his thumb over the back of her hand now. 

“Because Feyre had to go to the ER for the two stings she got. It turned out she's allergic to bees. If she had broken the hive, she would have died.” 

“Holy shit,” Azriel breathed, turning on the couch to face her fully. 

Elain nodded. “That's what my Sight was showing me, and why I acted so desperately.” And then she raised her shoulders thoughtfully. “But I also just knew they were never going to listen to me.” 

Azriel stared at her with something like wonder in his eyes. She gently released his hand and turned to face him as well. 

“Feeling better?”

He nodded. “That was…unpleasant.” 

She patted his arm. “Apparently that reaction is not uncommon. It shouldn't continue to happen.”

“Thanks,” he said, running a hand through his tousled curls. 

Elain cocked her head at him thoughtfully. “What did it look like?” she asked. “The power in your well?” 

Azriel thought for a moment, his eyes raising to the ceiling like he was trying to remember. 

“It looked like glowing blue light. Cobalt light.” 

Elain hummed, raising a hand to gently stroke one of the small hoops with cobalt gems hanging in his earlobes. “Like these,” she said quietly. 

“Yeah,” he answered, equally softly, his eyes searing her own. “Weird.” 

Elain was overcome with the need to lean over and kiss him, to finish what they had almost started on the kitchen floor, so instead she put distance between them, pulling her hand back and sliding away a couple inches. 

He studied her like he was thinking about asking something, but nervous. She just sat and waited.

Finally, he spoke. “Do you think I'll be able to access it again…by myself?” 

She smiled at him gently, wondering if he was also thinking about calling her up to ask her for some heavy petting any time he wanted to practice his magic. His cheeks were flushed dark gold. 

“I know you'll figure it out,” she answered. “It seemed like…relaxing…helped.” 

He scoffed a bit, his blush lingering. “And what do I do with them once the shadows are there? Give them a command like a dog?” 

Elain couldn't help but giggle. She could have sworn his lips twitched in turn. “Rodrick will help you figure it all out,” she assured him. “And so will I.” 

She stood, preparing to resign to the ever-more-painful separation from him for the night, but he caught her hand before she could walk away. 

“Thank you, Elain,” Azriel said, with nothing but deep sincerity in his eyes and voice.

She smiled at him once more. “Of course.” 

Two days later, Azriel and Elain made a trip to Rosehall to visit his mother before they left for Scotland that night.

Azriel’s guilt for having avoided his mother was beginning to eat him alive, and it gnawed on his insides as they parked on the sprawling grounds. They dismounted and pulled off their helmets, and Elain quickly re-braided her hair. 

“How do you do that without a mirror?” Azriel asked her, trying to distract himself. 

She laughed lightly, adjusting her canvas bag over shoulder. “Practice, I suppose.” 

“Thanks for coming with me again,” he murmured as he led the way up the path to the large front door. 

Elain shrugged. “I think I invited myself, so thanks for having me.”

He grinned sideways at her as he rang the doorbell. “I don’t know how anyone could you think you meek or not bold.”

Elain glanced at him briefly. “It’s a newfound boldness, I’d say,” she answered quietly. He made a mental note to ask her more about that later. 

Alice opened the door a moment later, and was immediately assaulting them both with hugs and kisses, which Elain accepted gracefully and warmly. 

“Azriel, my boy,” Alice said, hands on her plump hips as she looked up at him. “You brought your stunning friend back again.”

Elain just grinned at her before cutting in, “I promised Hope I would garden with her.” 

A grateful smile broke out over Alice’s full face. “Good. It’s a good day for her, she’ll enjoy that.”

Azriel felt his tense body relax slightly at that news. But then Alice frowned at him as she ushered them both inside.

“Where have your brothers been, boy? Have you replaced them with this lovely young lady? Your mother has been asking about them.”

He waved a hand in a not-to-worry gesture. “Just busy, I think. Don’t worry, Alice, they still seek me out nearly every day to see how much they can annoy me.”

She laughed heartily at that. “You were always the quiet one amongst them, weren’t you?”

She led them to the dining room, where lunch already awaited them. 

“I think Rhysand mentioned that he and Cassian are planning on coming by next week,” he added, pulling out a chair for Elain, who took it with a smile.

“And why won’t my son be with them?” His mother’s voice cut in from the doorway, making Azriel’s heart swell with love and clench with pain simultaneously. He was immediately striding to her, finding her clad in actual clothes—a simple cotton dress, with her hair brushed—and stooped to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Hi, Ma,” he murmured as she embraced him. “I’ll be away on a business trip next week.”

She tutted, but didn’t argue. He didn’t like lying to her, but if his brothers really did plan on coming to visit her like they said they were, he didn’t want to risk her letting it slip that he was off in the Scottish seaside with Elain. 

Elain was already out of her chair and crossing the room to where they stood by the threshold. “It’s nice to see you again, Hope,” she said while extending a hand for a shake. “Elain,” she added kindly, in case his mother didn’t remember. His chest nearly cracked at that small kindness so few would consider for his mother. 

“I remember who you are, you beautiful girl,” his mother said, and wrapped Elain in a hug instead of taking her hand. Elain smiled and embraced her back, before they all took seats around the dining table. 

They shared a relatively normal meal and conversation, Elain telling his mother all about the seeds she brought to share and what they might do in the garden. Azriel mostly stayed quiet, ashamed of himself for having put off this visit for so long. He liked that he could provide his mother comfort and safety in a home with staff to take care of her, but he knew that she got lonely, and what she really wanted was to spend time with him and his brothers. 

It also gave him a sense of peace, though, watching Elain laugh and chat with his mother. He smiled as he watched them make easy conversation. Hope seemed so lucid, so herself, that he was tempted to pretend this was how she always was. He hated to think about when she would fall into another one of those lost periods, and if she was alone when it happened. Where she went. What memories haunted and caged her. 

After lunch, Azriel insisted that his mother and Elain get started on their gardening projects, and also insisted to Alice that he would help her clean up. Alice cursed him for being too gallant for his own good, but eventually accepted his help. 

As they cleared the table, Alice snuck him and herself pours of sherry in small tulip-shaped crystal glasses, and Azriel grinned indulgently. She had been doing this for the past ten years, and he never refused. Maybe it was because he paid her salary, but Azriel had a suspicion it was her way of telling him he was her favorite of his brothers. It was also perhaps because she knew that he spent more time listening than talking, and therefore tended to have good gossip for her. 

“So,” Alice started in a familiar non-subtle segue as they carried leftover green beans and chicken kebabs into the kitchen. “You’re smitten with that stunning young woman.”

Azriel’s mouth fell open, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he snapped it shut again. Alice looked at him sideways and cackled. “You cannot even deny it. I see the way you stare at her.” 

For some reason, Azriel wanted to punish himself by hearing it. “How do I stare at her?”

Alice took a sip of her sherry as she looked at him meaningfully. “Like she can save you.” 

He swallowed, finding his throat dry, and took a sip of his own sherry. When he was finally able to speak again, he supplied the same answer they gave everyone. The one that was a blatant lie. 

“We’re just friends.”

Alice raised an eyebrow as she began rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. Azriel was scooping leftovers into plastic containers. 

“Just friends,” she repeated, her voice full of suspicion. He remained silent. 

“The last time you were here,” she started wryly, and Azriel could already feel his cheeks heat as he guessed where this was going. “I found it so interesting. You both requested two bedrooms to be made up, but when I went to clean up, I found only one bed that looked like it had been slept in.”

Azriel avoided her gaze as he ushered roasted corn into a container. 

Alice clicked her tongue at him. “You are a grown adult, son,” she said to him. “You can’t give me a little bit of gossip about the two of you sharing a bed?” 

He sighed in exasperation but finally met her eyes. They shined with mischief, and he couldn’t help but crack a grin. Alice could always get him to gossip. 

“Elain and I are…more than friends.”

“Aha!” Alice exclaimed triumphantly, but Azriel held up a stilling hand. 

“But it’s complicated. We’re more, but we’re not actually…anything. Or we’re too much. I don’t know. And we shared a bed, but we didn’t…we don’t…”

He didn’t want to say “fuck” or “have sex” to Alice, and could feel his cheeks blazing. He wasn’t about to explain to her that they had hooked up once, exchanged orgasms since then, and wanted to fuck each other senseless but had agreed not to. 

She took pity on him and simply clicked her tongue again. “Bring me those dishes, and promise me you won’t break that girl’s perfect heart.”

Elain and Hope knelt in a patch of newly weeded and turned soil in a corner of Hope’s resplendent gardens, planting the marigold seeds that Elain had brought. She had noticed that Hope’s gardens would benefit from a pop of orange, and now was the time to seed the cheery blooms. Marigolds always made Elain smile, and she hoped they would do the same for Azriel’s mother. 

They worked in mostly comfortable silence, Elain noting that Hope, much like her son, had no problem existing quietly, and that it was a thoughtful, safe silence that she could easily fall into with both of them. Hope wasn’t completely silent though, as she hummed various meandering tunes. Elain occasionally pointed out interesting insects she came upon, and Hope graciously inspected all of them. 

It was peaceful and comforting, kneeling in the sun with Hope, planting something beautiful together. Elain had the fleeting thought that she could do this regularly. That she could come to think of Hope as her own mother, too. That she wished she had shared even a day like this with her own mother. 

But Elain’s mother would never have sat in the dirt with her. She always told Elain that her gardening hobby was a distraction from mastering her magic, and that no man would want a girl covered in dirt stains and with cracked fingernails. She had died when Elain was only eleven, yet she had still thought it necessary to teach Elain how to win a man at that young age. Any time she had caught Elain outside picking flowers or digging holes in the yard as a young girl, she would force gloves on her hands and a hat on her head, telling her that she would be unwanted if her skin was freckled and pink from the sun, if her nails were dirty and her hands scarred by thorns. 

Elain glanced at Hope now, her skin weathered and beautiful from her decades of gardening, the evidence of her time in the sun lingering in the spots and lines on her arms. It was beautiful, Elain thought. She believed that if you really loved doing something, you should do it as best as you could. And that meant getting dirty sometimes, getting pricked by thorns sometimes, and keeping the evidence of hours in the sun etched onto your skin. She hoped that she would grow old to look like Hope, face lined and marked not only with age but with the fruits of her labor in the garden. Elain knew how growing things could help heal someone, as it had helped her.

Her thoughts were cut through by Hope’s voice. “My son is in love with you.”

Elain froze where her hands were patting down the dirt she had just placed over a row of seeds. She wasn’t sure how to proceed, but her heart thudded dramatically as the words washed over her. 

“What makes you say that?” she finally asked, looking at Hope with a face that she tried to make innocently curious. 

Hope just looked back at her shrewdly. “I think you know. But I’ll still tell you.” Elain’s heart raced faster. “He’s been my son for thirty-five years, you know. He’s never brought another person besides Rhysand or Cassian to come meet me. He’s never told me about a love interest or a girlfriend or boyfriend or even a crush. But mostly…I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Elain swallowed, sitting back on her heels. “We’re just friends,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands guiltily. She didn’t know why she felt guilty—maybe it was because she knew that was a lie. And she knew she wanted it to be a lie. 

“Maybe out loud,” Hope conceded. “But not in here.” She reached out and touched Elain’s chest lightly. Elain just watched her with wide eyes, at a loss of what to say. 

“Have you been helping him?” Hope asked her. Elain nodded quickly. 

“I have been. And I’ve been meaning to ask, were you aware of any kind of…unusual abilities…of anyone else in Azriel’s bloodline? You or his father—or grandparents?”

Hope’s eyes flickered, but her lips flattened. “No,” was all she said, and Elain fought a shiver. But she gave Hope a kind smile and nodded gratefully. She couldn’t help but feel like Hope wasn’t giving her the full truth, especially after she had sounded so sure Elain could guide Azriel and his magic the last time she had seen her. 

Hope reached out and squeezed Elain’s hand. “Do me one favor, my dear,” she requested gently. 

Elain nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

“Try not to break my son’s heart. He has suffered enough for one lifetime.” 

Chapter Text

Elain was more than ten minutes late. She cursed under her breath as she stuffed items from one suitcase into another, her original bag ripping at the seam of the zipper at the last minute. She had had to tear apart her basement looking for a different suitcase. 

Nesta stood in her doorway, tapping her foot. “You're going to be late,” she said. 

“Shut up,” Elain answered. “And no I'm not.”

She was secretly panicking though, and didn't have time to investigate her Sight for whether she would miss this flight or not. God, she didn't want to miss this flight. Not with the promise of sitting next to Azriel in first class for eight hours. 

Not only had her bag broken, but she had also realized at the last minute that her garden hose was leaking and had to find a way to take care of it lest she kill her entire rooftop garden and flood her building while she was gone. Nuala and Cerridwen were taking turns checking up on her garden, but they wouldn't be coming for another two days because they were currently off camping and doing witchy things. 

Elain didn't have a moment to answer her ringing phone, and didn't want to make Nesta suspicious, anyway. She knew it was Azriel wondering where she was. 

“Okay,” she said, flustered, finally wheeling the newly-packed suitcase to the door where Nesta waited. “Thanks for waiting. Let's go.” 

They made it into Nesta’s car and were shooting down the highway towards the airport an hour later than she had planned when Elain finally took a moment to look at her phone. She had one missed call and a series of texts from Azriel. 

7:12 PM You here? I'm by bag drop. 

7:20 PM Traffic?

7:45 PM Where are you? 

7:58 PM Missed call from Azriel Dolan.

8:00 PM Getting antsy, gonna go through security. Tell me if you're ditching me…

Elain grimaced and sent a text back. 

So sorry. Disaster after disaster. I broke my bag! We're on the way! I'm going to sob if I miss this flight. 

Azriel responded in less than a minute. Don't cry, angel. Flight got delayed by an hour and a half. You're one lucky klutz. 

Elain’s panic subsided as she twisted her hair into two braids. She was wearing plain black leggings and an oversized dark green hoodie bearing the logo of Feyre’s gallery. 

“It looks like the flight was delayed, thankfully,” Elain told Nesta, who eased up on the gas. 

“Thank god,” her older sister answered dryly. “I didn't know how I was going to deal with your meltdown if you missed that flight.”

Elain rolled her eyes and ignored her sister’s jab. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't gotten a chance to eat amongst the chaos of trying to leave. 

“Passport?” Nesta asked shortly. Elain nodded. 

“Phone and charger?” She nodded again. 

“You have a way to get to him once you land?” 

“Nesta,” Elain said lightly. “We're not going to another century. There will be cabs and things. Don't worry about me.” 

“What do you mean we’re not going?” Nesta asked shrewdly, cutting her a glance. 

“Oh,” Elain answered with a nervous giggle. “I didn't mean to say that. I meant I’m not going. Maybe my brain got confused and thought you were coming with me.” 

She had to get better at lying. She was very good at keeping secrets, but she was less skilled at outright lying. 

Nesta only raised an eyebrow and said, “Okay, spaz.” 

They finally pulled up to the arrivals doors and Elain lugged her suitcase, carry-on, and backpack out of the car, getting all her things situated. Nesta stepped out and gave her a sideways hug. 

“Be good and be safe,” her sister told her. This was generally how she said goodbye to Elain, and Elain knew it was Nesta’s way of saying she loved her, so she smiled. 

“Bye Nesta, love you! Thanks for the ride!” 

And then she hauled and rolled her way into the airport. 

Azriel sat at the bar closest to their gate, monitoring his phone and nursing an old fashioned. He had begun to think Elain had for some reason completely changed her mind and ghosted him, giving him a taste of his own medicine, when she had finally texted him back. It was sheer dumb luck that their flight was delayed, or Elain would be sprinting through the airport right now trying to make it. 

His phone buzzed and he looked down to a text from her, unable to stop the smile on his face at her name. 

In security line. Have to pee so bad! So hungry!  

He chuckled and snapped a picture of the menu that sat beside him, shooting it off to her. 

What should I order you? 

He waited a couple minutes, sipping his drink, until his phone buzzed again. 

Oh my god thank you. Do we have time? The fig and bacon flatbread and a glass of red wine please!

Fuck, why did it feel so good to take care of her? 

You got it, princess. We have time. 

He put her order in with the bartender, adding in an order of roasted Brussels sprouts for himself. 

Another fifteen minutes passed. Their food came, but he waited to eat, just slowly sipping his drink. 

Finally, his heart lurched as he heard her sweet voice. “Azriel!” she called, and he turned to see her looking ungodly gorgeous for someone just wearing leggings and a hoodie. But the way her leggings hugged her hips and ass…god damn. 

He grinned at her as she approached with her carry-on slung over an elbow and a backpack over her shoulders. He patted the barstool next to him and indicated their food and drinks. 

“Your dinner awaits, sunshine.” 

She batted her long doe eyelashes at him and slung her bags to the floor, dropping onto the seat next to him. 

“Thank you,” she said with a heavy sigh, and then proceeded to gulp down a third of the wine at once. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You alright?” 

She nodded, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before picking up a slice of her flatbread. He dug into his Brussels sprouts. 

“That was so chaotic. I thought I was going to miss our flight.” 

He patted her on the thigh in a friendly gesture and said, “Well, you made it. Congrats. I'm surprised your cards didn't tell you our flight was delayed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It doesn't always work like that,” she answered. “And I was a little preoccupied.”

“Your insanely priced food okay?” he asked. 

She nodded, chewing on another bite. When she swallowed she said, “Please let me pay for it.” 

Azriel shook his head at her. “A few bucks between rich as hell friends, right?” he replied, winking. 

She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. “What are you going to do on our long red-eye?”

Stare at you. Hope you fall asleep on my shoulder. Smell your perfume. Obsess over my arm touching yours. 

He shrugged. “Hopefully sleep eventually, but I doubt it.” 

Elain eyed him. “You don't sleep much, do you? How do you function?” 

He chuckled. “Honestly I don't know. I can't remember a time when I slept more than five or six hours a night.” He looked at her sideways, omitting what he wanted to say: except the time I slept with you in my arms. Instead he said, “You should sleep, though. I can entertain myself if I can't sleep. The flight will have movies, and I've got books.” 

“What books?” Elain asked curiously, and they discussed what kinds of books they enjoyed and were currently reading as they ate their dinner and finished their drinks. 

An hour later and they were boarding the plane, Elain adorably delighted by everything flying first-class had to offer (which honestly wasn't much, but he loved seeing her excited regardless). She marveled over the shitty blanket and pillow they provided everyone in first class, and squealed a yes when offered champagne while everyone else was getting seated in the rows behind them. 

“Oh no,” Elain said as she extracted her water bottle from the side pocket of her backpack. “I forgot to fill my bottle!” She literally could not get any cuter if she tried. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Azriel murmured, sliding out of the seat before Elain could protest and squeezing his way to the front of the plane past onboarding passengers, apologizing. This was madness. Elain could wait thirty minutes for the plane to take off and acquire water then, but he couldn’t stop himself from acting on her every need. 

He reached the area where flight attendants were preparing refreshments for first-class passengers and stuck his head into the vestibule. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” he said with his best cool charm. The younger flight attendant with pin-straight blonde hair looked him up and down, immediately blushing. He let the corner of his mouth tilt upwards in a small grin. “My friend flying with me is in desperate need of water. Would it be okay if I snagged a couple bottles?” 

The young woman was instantly flustered, and Azriel had to pat himself on the back for still being able to turn his charm on. “Oh, of course,” she said, picking up two bottles and dropping one nervously before giggling a bit and retrieving it from the floor. “You’re in first class, right? I just served you champagne.” 

He nodded and took the bottles of water from her. 

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, biting her lip. “Any snacks or anything?”

“No thank you,” Azriel answered. “But thanks a lot for these.” 

She mumbled something or other, and then he was pushing his way back to his seat a few rows down. When he got there, though, a man somewhere between his and Elain’s ages was seated in the previously-empty aisle seat in their row, chatting with Elain. Azriel lost any semblance of sanity as he saw the way the red-haired man was looking at Elain. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes hungry, and he was laughing and gesturing enthusiastically. He knew that look. He couldn’t blame the stranger—Elain was perfect in every way. Anyone would look at her with desire. But he also could not fucking allow it. And his head nearly exploded as he saw the man’s arm brushing Elain’s as they sat side-by-side.

He schooled his face into cool neutrality as he gave a joking knock on the side of the stranger’s seat, nodding his head towards his empty window seat. 

“Oh, sorry man,” the stranger said. “That your seat?”

Azriel nodded and slid out of the way for the man to make space for him to take his seat once more. Elain just curled herself into a tiny ball for him to scooch past, and the stupidly adorable gesture only made him want to act more unreasonably. 

Once everyone was seated comfortably again, Azriel held out a bottle of water to Elain and said, more loudly than necessary, “Here’s your water, babe.”

Elain rose an eyebrow at him but reached out to take the bottle. “Thanks,” she answered at a much more appropriate volume. 

He smiled at her and rested his hand on her thigh as she opened the water to take a sip. “I can’t wait for our trip,” he announced loudly. “It’s going to be so great to see the wedding venue we picked in person.”

Elain coughed on her water but recovered quickly, whipping her head to look at him. He grinned and leaned over, planting a gentle kiss against her cheek. “Just go with it," he breathed into her ear. "Play with me.”  

When he pulled back, he glanced at the stranger who had been flirting with Elain. The man’s cheeks had grown even redder, and he trained his eyes forward, clearing his throat. Success. 

“Yes,” Elain replied uncertainly, letting her hand fall atop his, to his delight. He rubbed his thumb against her palm. “It will be so romantic. And nice to get all our plans finalized.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, raising his other hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Elain’s ear. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he crooned (again, too loudly). The man on Elain’s other side shifted uncomfortably. 

Elain gave him a half-smile as her own cheeks blazed a deep red. “And I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Even though the words were a lie, Azriel’s stomach twisted unexpectedly at them. He knew he would never hear those words in real life, and it had never bothered him before. But coming from Elain’s lips, they meant something different than he had always thought they did. He forcibly ignored the clawing sensation in his guts. 

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Azriel continued, running his hand up and down Elain’s thigh now. She shivered slightly next to him. “To be marrying a woman who is so beautiful, and smart, and funny, and caring.” He leaned over once more and pressed a kiss to her forehead this time.

The stranger cleared his throat once more and stood suddenly, striding to the front of the plane past the row of boarding passengers. 

Azriel removed his hand from Elain’s thigh with a smug grin. 

“What the hell!” Elain hissed at him, leaning away from him. 

He just shrugged. “He was flirting with you. I was jealous.”

Elain’s mouth dropped open and he nudged her with his shoulder. “Thanks for playing. That was fun.”

She snapped her mouth shut. “Well now we’re going to have to pretend for the rest of the flight!” 

He winked at her. “I don’t think so,” he murmured, then nodded his head toward the front of the plane. The man was returning, his mouth in a grim line. He grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment and mumbled something about being informed of a seat change, and then shuffled away to a row somewhere behind them. 

Elain did not know where this stupid, gorgeous man found the audacity to act the way he did. He had observed approximately three seconds of her interacting with their row-mate before he put on some ridiculous show to claim her. 

“You made him so uncomfortable he changed seats!” she whispered to him, crossing her arms.

Azriel just shrugged. “Yes,” he answered dryly. “That was the goal.” 

Elain could not believe him. “What is wrong with you?” 

He lifted only one shoulder this time. “You tell me, sugar.” 

She hmphed and looked away from him, her arms still crossed. She pretended to be mad at him for his behavior, but really she was trying to school her blazing blush and racing heart. It should not have felt that good, to have Azriel putting his hands on her, calling her babe, pretending he couldn’t wait to marry her. She should be repulsed by a man needing to lay claim to her that way. But…she wasn’t. Her traitorous body screamed for him to touch her some more, and her stupid, weak heart begged to hear more sweet and seductive words from him. 

It didn’t help that she had never seen him looking casual the way he was, in dark grey joggers and a tight black cotton T-shirt. It should be illegal for men to look the way he did, she thought. Men like Azriel shouldn’t be allowed to put on sweats or joggers or tight, soft T-shirts that showed off their muscles and tattoos. It wasn’t fair to everyone else. 

“Elain,” Azriel said, drawing her from her thoughts. She begrudgingly turned her head to look at him. 

“Stop scowling, wifey,” he murmured, tugging her arms down from their crossed position. She scoffed and wanted to frown harder, but a little laugh broke from her instead. 

The corner of his mouth tilted up. 

“You are insane,” she told him, buckling her seat belt. 

He only winked at her again. “Don’t I know it,” he answered, buckling his own belt. “But now we have a row all to ourselves, so not bad, right?” 

Elain stacked their blankets and pillows on the extra seat, marveling at how much more space there was in first class. “Yeah, yeah,” she answered, and then froze as Azriel drew a warm, textured finger down her cheek. 

“You’re blushing pretty hard, you know,” he observed quietly. 

She shook him off and busied herself with digging through her bag, pretending she was looking for something. He just chuckled and leaned back in his seat, far too satisfied with himself. 

Their plane was finally taking off, and Elain felt the familiar unpleasant lurch of nerves as they lifted into the sky. Azriel noticed, as he noticed everything, and touched her arm. 

“You okay?” 

She nodded. “I just don’t like the taking off part. After this I’ll be good.”

They remained mostly silent as the plane picked up altitude. Azriel had extracted a book and read quietly, while Elain mindlessly scrolled through all the movies and shows available on the flight. 

When they had reached cruising altitude and the pretty blonde flight attendant who had served them champagne began to move towards them with a cart of refreshments, Elain saw her opportunity to pay Azriel back. Play with me, he had said. Good thing she liked playing. 

The minute the flight attendant was pushing up to their row, Elain leaned over, giggling and planting a kiss on Azriel’s neck. He had been engrossed in his book, and he now froze, his eyes shooting up from the page and his muscles tensing. 

Elain just gave a sultry little laugh and ran a hand up his chest, planting another light kiss to the side of his neck. She ignored the fact that his skin tasted like fresh night air and his cologne drowned her in feelings of equal parts danger and safety. Azriel’s body became as taut as a bowstring, the air rushing from him in a whoosh, his hands clenched on the edges of his book. 

The flight attendant cleared her throat, and Elain jumped as if she had no idea they had an audience, swinging her head around to face her. 

“Oh my,” she giggled, a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you there.”

The young woman blinked at Azriel as if she recognized him, her cheeks darkening. It only made Elain more bold. Yes, he was gorgeous. And no, she didn't get to ogle him. He's mine! her heart screamed, even though he was not hers in any way.

“Can I get either of you anything to drink?” the attendant asked them both. 

Elain ran her hand up the back of Azriel’s neck into his curls, rubbing his scalp. “Do you want anything, honey?” 

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, like he was unable to form words. Elain smiled at him sweetly. 

“I’ll have another champagne,” she said brightly to the attendant, who nodded stiffly. As her drink was being poured, Elain laced her fingers through Azriel’s and brought his hand up to her mouth, planting kisses across its back. Azriel kept his mouth shut tight as his breath hitched, and Elain knew she had bested him. 

The plastic cup of champagne was set before her. Elain thanked the attendant and then looked back at Azriel. “Are you sure you don’t want anything, baby?”

He shook his head again. Elain giggled once more and looked at the attendant. 

“Sorry,” she said wryly. “We’re getting married next week and I think my fiancé is a little bit overcome with his emotions about it all.”

The flight attendant’s blush deepened. “Congratulations,” she told them, and then pushed her cart to the next row. 

Elain kept gripping Azriel’s hand as the attendant was just behind them, still with a clear view of them. She brought it back to her mouth, and this time pressed kisses against each of his fingers. She watched him sideways, and didn’t miss his eyes fluttering shut as she turned his hand over and kissed the tip of each scarred finger. She made it a slow job, letting it last until the cute blonde was a good number of rows away. 

She dropped Azriel’s hand, taking a triumphant sip of her champagne. She snuck a glance at his lap and rolled her lips together to avoid smiling at the bulge he was now subtly trying to hide as he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

He slid his eyes to hers. 

“What?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes. “I thought you wanted to play.”

A strangled sound left him. “You are an evil woman,” he finally managed to get out.

She flicked her eyes down to his lap once more in a way she knew he wouldn’t miss. “I think you deserved that,” she said with a shrug. He stared at her, speechless. “Anyway, let’s watch a movie.”

It took Azriel a full ten minutes to convince his erection to leave him be. He was pathetic. A few touches, a few innocent kisses to his hands and fingers, and he was ready to drag Elain to the bathroom and fuck her as hard as he could while everyone listened to her scream. 

His cock roused right up again when he wondered if Elain had grown wet at his own touches, and he silently cursed himself for letting his mind wander. They were playing a game that was too dangerous, but it already felt like an addiction. 

He needed to focus on something else. He reached over and snagged Elain’s glass of champagne, downing the whole thing in one go. 

“Hey!” she cried, looking adorably devastated. 

He shrugged. “You’re a lightweight. I can’t let you get sick on this flight.” In reality, he needed the champagne to calm his raging body, but he wouldn’t admit that. 

“You’re a menace,” she seethed at him, and it only spurred him on. His lips tipped up. 

“That’s what they say to me in bed, too.”

Elain nearly growled at him, swatting him on the arm. “Shut up and help me pick a movie.”

He chuckled and leaned his head towards hers to better see her screen. “What kind of movie are you feeling?”

“Horror,” she said without even a pause to think about it.

Azriel looked sideways at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s my favorite genre.”

She would never stop surprising him. And why was it so hot that she loved horror? “Huh,” he answered thoughtfully. 

“I live to surprise others,” Elain said flatly, and a laugh burst out of Azriel.

“I guess so. Let’s check out the horror films, then.”

Elain began scrolling through them, clicking her tongue at all the movies she had already seen. Azriel enjoyed horror movies as much as the next person, but Elain seemed to treat them like oxygen. 

“The scarier the better,” she muttered as she scrolled, until she finally stopped on one that seemed to please her. 

Azriel pulled his corded headphones out of his pocket, checked to make sure they weren’t covered in earwax, and handed her one before plugging the end into her armrest. 

“You could just watch the same movie on your own screen,” Elain grumbled. Azriel grinned lazily at her. 

“What would be the fun in that, when I can annoy you so much more this way?”

Elain let out a low stream of what seemed to be every curse word she knew, causing a belly laugh to explode out of Azriel, startling someone seated across the aisle. He knew she wasn’t really mad at him. She was probably just pissed that he had recovered so fast after her round of winning their little game. And maybe she had gotten wet when he had touched her, and now she had to sit with that reminder.

Fuck, don’t think about that.

The movie started and they sat back to watch. Elain hardly flinched at the jump scares, and didn’t look away from any of the gore. It was hard for Azriel to focus on the movie when her face was so much more interesting to watch. And when their arms and thighs were pressed together as he leaned over to see her screen. 

About halfway through, Elain started to shift like she was uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. 

“I’m cold and my back hurts,” she whispered back. And like always, Azriel was powerless to sit back and not take care of her every need. 

He reached over to their pile of pillows and blankets and placed one of the flat pillows on his chest, unfolding a blanket and lifting his arm. 

“Come on, princess,” he encouraged, nodding to the cozy spot he had made for her against him. 

Elain crossed her arms. “I thought our games were over.”

“No game here,” Azriel answered, trying his best to sound genuine, even though he was screaming inside with the prospect of Elain laying against him, cuddling into him under a blanket. “This is purely for physical comfort. Think of me like your favorite armchair.” 

Elain still hesitated though, like she didn’t trust that he would only touch her innocently. That was probably a good call, on her part, but he wasn’t about to admit that. 

“Come on,” he encouraged again, patting the pillow.

She sighed and leaned down onto him, resting her head on the pillow and relaxing into his chest. He hitched the blanket over them and then folded his arm around her. Fuck, it felt too good. He pretended they really were just friends, though. A different, equally pathetic kind of pretending.

“Here,” he said, and reached a long arm over her to pull the headphones out of her armrest and plug them into his own. He paused the movie on her screen and pulled up the same one on his, scrolling until he found their spot. It would be easier for her to see his screen now that she was all cuddled onto him. 

He pressed play and tried with all his might to focus on the movie and not the way her breaths moved her gently. Not the way her hair and perfume smelled. Not the way his fingers rested lightly on the outside of her arm. Even with the sleeve of her hoodie separating their skin, he could still feel the warmth of hers against his fingertips, and he could imagine too easily how soft and silky it was. He reclined his seat so they were closer to laying down, and Elain snuggled into him further, her leg bending and pressing against his tightly. 

Azriel rested his chin on Elain’s head and breathed her in, only taking in about half of what was happening onscreen. After a few minutes, Elain’s arm eventually came to rest on his stomach, her fingers lightly pressed against the fabric of his shirt, lifting and rising with each breath he took. Whoever made her perfume should be given a life sentence, he thought. And then he suppressed a chuckle as he realized she probably made her own god damn perfume. 

Azriel was devastated to realize he had to pee after about ten minutes, but Elain seemed glad to take the opportunity to use the bathroom herself, too. He was unreasonably nervous that they wouldn’t resume their positions when they arrived back at their seats, but when Elain sat back down against him, she snuggled into him so deeply and almost aggressively that he could have cried. 

She wrapped her arm around his middle tightly, rubbing her face into the pillow on his chest before turning to watch the movie. He ran his hand up and down her arm before squeezing it gently, pressing his face into her hair. He only allowed himself one moment like that, to bury himself in the essence of Elain, to hold her so close it was like he was trying to shove them into one body, before he eased up and sat his chin on her head again to watch the movie. 

About fifteen minutes before the end of the movie, Elain pulled away to rustle around in her backpack, extracting a baggy of what seemed to be dried apricots. She turned her head to whisper in his ear, and Azriel shivered as her breath coasted over the sensitive skin. 

“Grown with magic to aid sleep,” she said into his ear, taking one out and chewing it. She offered the baggy to him. Azriel didn’t normally bother with sleeping aids, because they tended to only make him feel worse, but he trusted Elain. He reached in and pulled one out, popping it into his mouth. It tasted like a regular dried apricot, which he had always liked. She slipped the baggy into her backpack once more and reclaimed her spot against him. 

Within a couple minutes, Azriel was already growing drowsy, and with it came a loss of inhibition that he might later regret but couldn’t possibly avoid in that moment. He began to run his hand up and down Elain’s arm again, and she pressed herself into him further, tightening her hold around his middle. He dropped his face into her hair as he slid his arm behind her and around her hips, his hand landing on the outer swell of her far hip. 

He hummed a contented sound into her hair as he let his hand drift in circles against the soft fabric of her leggings, hitching her hoodie up a bit so it wasn’t in his way. Elain breathed an echoing sound, her own fingers drifting up and down over his abdomen, caressing him torturously softly and slowly. 

Azriel had no idea what happened in the last ten minutes of the movie. All he knew was that the world was fading around him until there was nothing left but him and Elain, and their hands moving in slow strokes against each other. His eyelids were too heavy to consistently keep open by the time the credits rolled, and he gently pulled his headphones out of both of their ears and punched the screen off. 

Elain snuggled into him further, her eyes already closed, pulling the pillow off his chest and tossing it aside. She scooched closer up against him so that she could nuzzle her face into his neck, and he was mildly aware that a small, wounded sound escaped him as she did, his own eyes falling permanently closed. 

“Elain,” he breathed into her ear, and he didn’t know if it was a plea or a wish or a worship. 

“Mm,” she answered back, as his hand drifted up her thigh in a slow stroke and settled in the crook where her leg met her torso. 

“What if we kept playing?” he asked sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper. “It could be like…a game just for Scotland. We keep pretending, just for a couple weeks.”

He sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. He was desperate. Anything to keep touching her like this. 

“Don’t want to pretend,” she mumbled into his neck, her voice heavy with impending sleep. His heart sank. Yeah, that was fair. Pretending would only hurt them both more in the end, when the facts might be fake but the feelings were very much real. 

“Then don’t pretend,” he whispered, his other hand coming up to stroke her hair as her breathing deepened. “Maybe we can just forget about the rules on this trip. Just for Scotland. Try to not pretend.” His words were becoming a garbled mess as sleep threatened to pull him under, the apricots doing their job. He barely knew what he was saying—he only knew that he wanted.  

Elain didn’t answer for a few moments, and he thought she had fallen asleep completely. But her voice came out breathy and hushed as she just said, “Can’t.”

He sighed and continued to stroke her hair, her soft breaths against his neck sending him somewhere he couldn’t name. “Why not?” he asked, aware that he was seconds from being taken by sleep. They probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation the next day, so he pushed. 

Elain hummed again in near sleep, her breaths slowing even more. “Princess,” she mumbled. “Knight. It hurts.” 

Azriel had no idea what that meant, but was asleep before he could contemplate it another moment. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Azriel registered when he woke was the blinding fluorescent light suddenly filling the plane as the overhead announcement declared preparations for landing. The second thing he noticed was the painful crick in his neck from sleeping at an awkward angle in a plane seat for so long. And the third thing, of course, was Elain. 

She was still cuddled into him. He had reclined his seat back as far as it could go, and her head was on his chest. Elain’s arm was banded over his torso and one leg was curled over his outstretched legs. They were sharing one blanket pulled up to Elain’s chin. 

The thing that really threw Azriel, though, was that his fingers were against the skin of Elain's hip, tucked into the waistband of her leggings. He didn't remember putting his hand there—he must have done it in his sleep. But it was something so heart-wrenchingly intimate that he didn't know how to react. He wanted to pull her in closer to him. He wanted to run his fingers over her silky-smooth and disturbingly soft skin until he memorized how her pores felt. He wanted to roll his head to the side and kiss her hair. 

But Elain began stirring with the light and sound, so Azriel quickly pulled his fingers from beneath her waistband and let his hand rest respectfully on her waist. 

She grumbled in the cutest way possible and rubbed her face on Azriel’s shirt, pressing her nose and cheek into his chest. His heart cracked further. But Azriel had a good poker face, so he pretended he was just waking up too and stretched his long legs as much as he could. 

Elain lifted herself off him, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, and he extricated his arm from around her, letting her reclaim her own seat fully. She took the blanket with her, leaving it laying across her lap. She looked over at him with a sleepy, slightly embarrassed smile, complete with a perfect pink blush across her cheeks, and said a light, “Good morning.” 

Azriel stretched his arms in front of him and gave her a little grin back. “Those were effective apricots. I don't think I've ever fallen asleep so quickly.” He didn't mention their cuddles or their half-asleep words exchanged that he barely remembered. He only remembered somewhat desperately asking her to try being with him, and a rejection that made sense and that he respected, but that still bore a hole through his heart. 

Elain drank some water as she smoothed down her braids and looked at him sideways. “Did I…sleep on you the whole time? Were you comfortable enough?” 

Too comfortable. He rolled his neck and a loud crack sounded. Elain winced but he waved a hand. “Comfortable enough. Just a sore neck. How about you?” 

Her blush got a little darker. “I was comfortable. Thank you.”

Azriel opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly stupid when his stomach growled egregiously loudly. Elain covered her mouth as she giggled. 

“Fuck, I'm starving,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair and hoping it didn't look idiotic and messy. “We must have slept right through the meal service.” 

Elain's face brightened. “I have snacks!” she announced, and went digging away in her backpack. Azriel grinned. Of course she had snacks. 

As the plane continued descending, Elain pulled out baggie after baggie of snacks that were all somehow homemade—cookies, granola, dried fruit, and on and on. “We can eat real food when we get off the plane,” she said. “But hopefully this will hold us over.” 

They dug into her snacks and discussed the movie they had watched on the plane, both of them pointedly ignoring the fact that they had spent the last several minutes lost in each other and their caresses. Neither one of them had fuck-all to say about the ending. The villain could have ended up the hero and Azriel wouldn't have known. He got the feeling Elain felt the same way. 

By the time the plane landed, a panic was growing in Azriel’s chest. He feared he would never feel her again the way he had felt her during that flight—would never experience her soft skin under his fingers or her curls on his lips or her heavy, slow breathing moving her atop him. He would never get another chance to pretend she was actually his, or to ask her to be his. He knew that the moment they left this liminal, non-real space of the plane, everything would be complicated again. 

So as everyone was packing up their things and unbuckling their seatbelts, Azriel moved on instinct alone. He said, “Wait,” as Elain reached down to her backpack. She stopped and looked up at him in question. 

His heart hammered as he rested his hand against her soft, round cheek, his fingers dark and burnt and scarred and horrible next to her perfect, pearly skin. She swallowed but remained silent, staring at him with those doe eyes. 

And then Azriel leaned in and pressed one tender, gentle kiss to Elain’s other cheek, letting his lips linger for just a moment on her silky skin, his thumb sweeping slowly over her jaw. 

When he pulled back (much too soon and with a fresh swell of pain through his chest), Elain's eyes were closed. He removed his hand from her face and she fluttered them open, revealing tears shining over the mahogany brown. She blinked them away quickly and asked, “What was that for?” 

Azriel shook his head at her, unable to say all that was in his heart. “Just a goodbye to the flight.” 

She gave him a sad little smile, like she somehow knew what he meant, and then she bent down to gather her things up. 

Azriel was not normally a sentimental person. He had kept his more volatile emotions—love, hatred, hope, despair—locked away so deep in his never-ending battle for self-preservation since he was a young child that he had begun to forget how to access them. He wanted to shut them away again, to preserve himself like he had to when he was a desperate child living in dangerous situations. 

But Elain was making it harder and harder. And somehow on the duration of this nine-hour flight to Scotland, Azriel had come to the debilitating realization that he wanted too much from Elain. He didn't just want to fuck her, or share pleasure with her, or even to be her friend. 

He did want those things. But he also wanted to love her. He wanted to keep her. And he wanted her to love him and keep him, too. And nothing could be less in the interest of self-preservation than that. 

Could it?

By the time Elain and Azriel had made their way through customs, baggage claim, each used the bathroom, and scarfed down some more overpriced airport food, Azriel had been able to shake off some of his morose heaviness. He just continually reminded himself that he wasn't here to make anything happen with Elain. This trip was about learning about the shadows, mastering them, practicing and growing strong. 

As they made their way to the airport exit, Azriel looked towards Elain and asked, “We probably should have made a plan before, but how are we getting to this mysterious castle on the shore?” 

Elain grinned at him, not breaking her stride towards the doors. “Either by taxi, or a very long…”

She trailed off, her voice growing misty before quieting completely. Her steps faltered and she swayed a bit. Her eyes grew distant and unfocused. Azriel, alarmed, thought she might be feeling dizzy and grabbed her elbow in support. 

“Whoa,” he said calmly, steadying her. But Elain just shook her head, and the ghostly aura seemed to fizzle away from her. She went right back to her regular self like nothing had happened. 

“I believe someone is actually here waiting for us,” she commented, her voice still slightly unearthly despite her return to normalcy in every other way. 

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine as he released her elbow. She must have had so much control over her power, if she could go about her daily life with strangers and suppress reactions like that. 

And while it still scared him, it also thrilled him—knowing that magic had coursed through Elain in that moment. Knowing that she was seeing things no one else could. Knowing that she knew how to interpret and read those visions. It shouldn't have been sexy. But it was. Even the otherworldly, slightly spooky aura that surrounded her was sexy. 

He shook his head and followed her out of the doors to the cloudy Scottish air. Elain was looking around for whatever had been indicated by her Sight. Azriel, though, didn't need his power to know exactly what she was looking for. He nudged her with his elbow and pointed toward a young man leaning against a car holding a sign that said “Archeron.” 

Elain smiled at Azriel triumphantly and led the way towards the car. 

The man, who seemed to be right around Elain’s age, with light blonde hair that curled over his ears, pale skin, and bright green eyes, was studying Elain with far too much interest. Azriel fought the way he bristled, but it was no use. 

How many fucking men were going to ogle Elain around him? 

All of them. Look at her. She's fucking perfect, even after a 9-hour flight.

Elain stopped in front of their driver, Azriel by her side, and then her mouth dropped open as if in recognition. 

“Benji?” she cried in delight, before hugging him. 

Who the fuck was Benji?

“Elain Archeron,” The stranger-but-apparently-not named Benji answered in a lilting Scottish accent. “It can't be you. The last time I saw you we were ten, sneaking out of the castle to swim in the ocean.” 

Azriel just stood there silently watching their exchange, growing more irritated with this Benji by the minute. Why did some childhood friend of Elain's with beautiful green eyes and perfect hair have to be the one to pick them up? 

Elain laughed, giving him one of those easy, uncomplicated, glittering smiles, and Benji continued. “I obviously knew you grew up, as we're the same age, but…”

And then the asshole looked Elain up and down brazenly, as if Azriel wasn't even standing there, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“I wasn't expecting to pick up such a stunning woman.” 

Elain blushed up to her fucking hairline but ignored the comment, squeezing his arm (fucking hell), and saying, “It's so good to see you. I can't believe it's been fifteen years.” 

Azriel pretended something tickled his throat and turned to cough into his elbow. Anything to break their fucking eye contact and endless smiles and her touching Benji’s arm. Benji who called her stunning. Benji who she used to run away to swim in the ocean with. Fucking Benji.

“Oh!” Elain exclaimed, as if she had indeed forgotten Azriel had even been there. “I'm so rude. Benji, this is my friend Azriel. Azriel, this is Benji, Rodrick’s grandson. He lived with his grandparents when we stayed there.” 

Azriel extended his hand and nodded silently at Benji in greeting. 

“Welcome!” Benji greeted him jovially, shaking his hand with enthusiasm. “Nice tae meit ye! The wee bairn magician, ye must be.” 

Azriel blinked at him, having little to no clue what he had just said to him. “Uh,” was all he managed to say back.

Elain giggled. “You’ll get used to the language,” she assured him, and then began wheeling her luggage to the back of the car. Benji grinned again at Azriel with stupid, perfect teeth, and popped the trunk. He lifted Elain’s bag into the car for her and Azriel grumbled indistinct words under his breath. He should be the one loading her heavy luggage, not toned-arms Benji over there. 

Benji moved to lift Azriel’s bags into the car as well, but Azriel muttered, “I’ve got it,” and boxed him out, lifting his own bags into the trunk with his more-than-toned arms. 

Fucking hell, he was not okay. He was being ridiculous. But then he thought about Elain’s sparkling, easy smile again and was sucked right back in. 

They stood outside the car and Azriel nodded to the front seat. “You take the front,” he told Elain softly. “Catch up with your friend.” He might be jealous, but he wouldn’t be an asshole to her. 

Elain frowned at him. “Are you sure?” she asked, and then glanced at his long legs. “You had to sit all that time cramped in the plane. Don’t you want to have room for your legs?”

He grinned at her as Benji took the driver’s seat. “I honestly don’t think I would understand two-thirds of what Benji said to me, so you go for it.”

Elain suppressed a laugh with her hand and nodded at him, turning away to slide into the front seat. Azriel took a steadying breath and slid into the seat behind her, which was pushed up further than Benji’s (who was not quite as tall as he was, Azriel had noted). 

“We’re about an hour and a half from St. Andrews, where granddad lives,” Benji told them. Azriel noted with hopefulness that he said his grandfather lives there, not where we live. 

Elain seemed to be thinking along the same lines because she asked him, “Where are you living now that you’re all grown up?”

Benji chuckled. “I’m still on the estate, just not in the castle.” Damn it. “I live in the old cottage that used to be the guest house. I work in town as an actuary, so it’s a convenient place to live.” And then he turned his head to look at Elain, throwing her a fucking wink. “I couldn’t stay in the big house and have granddad witnessing the ladies I bring home, ay?” 

This little fucking shit. He was flirting with Elain right in front of Azriel, already bringing up sex and hookups. Azriel clenched his jaw as Elain just chuckled and looked out the window. 

They were soon driving through Scottish countryside, rolling hills and rolling clouds and rolling conversation between Elain and Benji. Azriel did his best to tune it out, trying to focus on the reaching mountains in the distance and the woodlands and farmlands they drove past. It was a beautiful place, but Azriel just couldn’t relax and take it in with the way his jealousy was searing his insides. 

He had to get a fucking grip.

Elain had honestly forgotten about Benji over the last fifteen years. Of course, when she had seen him standing there, she recognized his mischievous green eyes and golden locks immediately, and the memories of their little adventures while she was in Scotland came back to her. He had been her first crush, and she had suddenly remembered crying over him and writing in her journal about him for weeks after their return to Velaris. 

Benji had grown into a very handsome man, and Elain welcomed the distraction of his charm and conversation from her roiling emotions related to Azriel. 

Azriel. That flight. When she had allowed herself to lay against him while they watched the movie, Elain had first thought that maybe something sensual and exciting was going to happen between them. Over and over again she imagined his fingers drifting just a little further up her ribs, a hand sliding under their blanket and wandering up her thigh, warm breath on the shell of her ear…. But then they had eaten the apricots, and Elain had fallen into much more dangerous daydreams. 

Daydreams of laying like that in Azriel’s arms, but in a bed instead of a plane. Daydreams that turned into actual dreams as she slept. Dreams of Azriel kissing her, telling her he loved her, asking her to be with him forever. Dreams of Azriel the knight, lifting the princess’s hand—her hand—and sliding a ring etched with ivy onto her finger. Dreams of them whispering their vows to each other under starlight. Dreams of Azriel as he was now, but with great shadowy wings stretched behind him, flying through the skies with Elain in his arms. Taking her home. 

She vaguely remembered him asking something of her as she had drifted off—something about pretending, or maybe not pretending. She couldn’t be sure, but she could tell by his general energy that her response had not been what he had hoped for. She had kept her head on, then. Just barely. 

She couldn’t allow herself into Azriel’s arms like that again. It was too perfect, and too painful. So she let herself be chatted to and flirted with by Benji, just to have anything else to focus on. Azriel had a good poker face, but Elain was more perceptive than the average person, and she knew he was raging with jealousy inside. 

And she hated herself for loving it. 

Even though he was like a stone statue on the outside, Elain could feel him bristling and reigning in his reactions and clenching his jaw behind her, and it made her feel…well, it made her feel a hell of a lot more aroused than it should have, for one thing. Her pulse raced at the thought of all that pent up frustration inside Azriel. She imagined it bursting from him when he could no longer contain it, shouting that he wanted her and wanted no one else to have her or look at her or touch her. She imagined him crossing the room in a windswept fury, yanking her into his arms and crushing his lips to—

No. She wasn’t imagining that. She was talking to Benji. Elain bit the inside of her lip and refocused on whatever he was telling her about the countryside. They discussed their jobs, Rodrick and his late wife Anna, and talked at length about magic. Benji didn't have any of his own magic, but was fully inundated into the culture, having grown up with a renowned master of the arts. 

Azriel remained utterly silent for the entire car ride. She knew he was generally a quiet person, especially in groups, but it truly was impressive how long he could go without talking. It didn't help that Benji didn't direct a single question towards him, seemingly forgetting that he was even in the car with them. 

But Elain could never forget. His presence was always so there, taking up all the space and oxygen and drawing her to him like a magnet. 

Elain let her mind wander as the country views turned into seaside views, white and blue waves crashing onto rocky shores. It was devastatingly beautiful, and Elain's Sight seemed also excited to be here, swirling through her and telling her where to look just in time to see a shorebird diving into the waves or a particularly beautiful cloud before they had passed. 

As they drew nearer to the shore, Rodrick’s abode finally came into view. It could be described as nothing less than a castle, complete with ancient stone walls, turrets, and a spire. 

Elain felt a certain peace fill her heart as they passed through a wrought-iron gate that was waiting open for them and she looked upon the ancient keep. The three months she had spent here were a welcomed escape from a father who loved her but hardly had a moment for her and a mother who did nothing but criticize her and turn her into the prettiest doll she could. She had been free here in a way that she had never experienced before. Of course, she and her sisters studied hard and (mostly) followed Rodrick and Anna’s rules, but she had also felt the weight from her father’s neglect and her mother’s overbearing vigilance lift from her shoulders. She felt herself smiling as they pulled up the gravel drive and parked. 

She opened her door and stepped into the overcast but warm air, excited to reacquaint herself with this magical—literally—place. She felt Azriel’s ever-overpowering presence near her as he appeared by her side, looking up at the building, and finally broke his silence. 

“Damn,” he murmured under his breath as Benji lugged Elain’s baggage from the car. “And I thought I was rich.” 

Elain laughed and slapped his chest with the back of his hand, relieved to hear his cool, dark, soothing voice once more. “No idea where he got his money from,” she half-whispered back under her breath, “but he has a full staff in there, too. At least, he did fifteen years ago.” 

“Still does,” Benji interjected brightly, making Elain jump slightly. She felt a pang of guilt as she realized she had completely forgotten he was there. 

“Left yours in the boot, mukker,” he directed at Azriel, who stiffened again and gave a solitary nod before moving to pull his own luggage out. 

They were making their way to the great front doors of the keep when two people that did indeed appear to be staff, complete with uniforms that made them look like they jumped out of a period piece on TV, met them and whisked all their bags away into the house. 

“Thank you!” Elain called after their hurrying forms. 

Benji led them to the door and swung it open, calling loudly upon their entrance, “Granddad, we’re back!”

The place looked exactly the same. Rich, gleaming wooden floors lined the entry room, which featured a lush crimson rug and panelled wood walls boasting intricate filigree trim. Arched windows let light shine through stunning stained glass panels, and a chandelier spread more light over inviting crimson sofas and dark cherry wood coffee and end tables. 

“Stunning,” Elain breathed in awe, taking in the gorgeous and familiar room. But then she heard an ancient but unwavering voice—the voice of a very old but clear-minded man—answer, “Not nearly as stunning as the young woman you have grown into, my girl.”

Another smile broke over Elain’s face as she turned to a hallway and saw Rodrick there, leaning on a cane, wearing a purple crushed-velvet robe over black silk lounge clothes. He looked, for lack of a better description, like an honest-to-god wizard from a children’s story, with long white hair and twinkling blue eyes. He was already old fifteen years ago, and now he looked positively venerable, though not weak.

“Rodrick!” Elain cried, and rushed over to him. He opened his arms for her and she stooped—for he was even shorter than she was—to embrace him. She nearly staggered at the powerful magic emanating from him. But it was familiar, comforting magic. And it enveloped her along with his arms. 

When Elain pulled back, she felt tears pricking her eyes. “It’s so good to see you, and I’m so sorry that I did not have another chance to see Anna before her passing.” 

Rodrick gave her a warm smile and squeezed her shoulder gently with his free hand. “I am honored that you have come to me now for help, and indeed sorry as well for what befell your parents. You know I didn’t think too highly of them, but no girls should grow up without parents. Now, where is this mysterious shadow-man that desperately needs guidance?”

Elain giggled and turned to see Azriel blank-faced behind her. She waved him over and stepped back to make room for him. Azriel slid into the space next to her with all of his effortless, cool grace and lowered his head in greeting. 

“This is my friend Azriel,” Elain introduced him. “Azriel, this is Rodrick, who taught me nearly everything I know about magic.” 

Azriel extended his left hand, noticing Rodrick was holding his cane with his right, and Elain was once again struck by his quiet thoughtfulness and inability to miss even the tiniest detail. No wonder he was so good at his job. 

“I’m honored to be here, Rodrick,” Azriel said seriously. “And I appreciate any guidance you’re willing to give. I’m new to this whole…magic thing.”

Rodrick beamed at him and took his hand, shaking his cane at Elain. She quickly took it, and Rodrick covered their clasped hands with his other hand, as well. 

“My boy,” he said, despite Azriel’s very adult age. “This is what I do. Any help I can be is an honor. Helping a new magic-wielder learn to navigate his powers helps the entire magical community, after all.” He kept holding Azriel’s hands and narrowed his eyes up at him, scrutinizing him. “You have an awfully strong magical presence about you, young man. Staggering, I would say.”

Azriel maintained a neutral face as Elain chimed in, “That’s what I thought, too! Incredible, isn’t it? I felt it from the moment we met.”

Rodrick finally dropped Azriel’s hands, and Azriel took a step back, probably grateful for a bit of distance. Elain guessed he must be feeling overwhelmed. 

“Now,” Rodrick continued. “Lunch?”

Elain studied Azriel’s stiff body language and his masked face. She could tell he needed a breather. 

“Lunch sounds lovely, Rodrick,” she answered. “But we’ve been flying all night and I think both of us could desperately use showers.”

She watched Azriel’s shoulders sag just an imperceptible touch at her words. 

“Of course, my dear.” Rodrick then looked between them with a hint of a wry smile on his ancient, lined face. Elain already felt a blush threatening as she guessed what was coming.

“Now,” the old man said. “I couldn’t quite tell from your phone call the…nature of your relationship.” Azriel was suddenly overcome by a cough. “So I asked the staff to set you two up in one shared suite that contains two separate bedrooms.”

Elain could feel her face burning bright scarlet. “We’re just friends,” she said, though it came out mostly as a rushed squeak. 

Rodrick raised a wispy, overgrown brow, looking between them once more. Azriel’s face gave away nothing, but Elain knew she wore her emotions on her own. Rodrick released a “bah,” sound, waving his hand at Elain to give him his cane back. She did so in a hurry, hoping he would just move on. But unfortunately, he kept talking. 

“Kids these days,” he grumbled. “You are all just friends and you’re all lovers. I’m too old to try to work it out, and frankly—I don’t care to.” And with that he inexplicably tapped his cane on the floor in a specific rhythmic pattern. 

Elain blinked at him in shock, but Azriel released a fizzing sound beside her, and she turned to look at him in time to see him throw his head back and laugh heartily at Rodrick’s comment. Elain bit her lip and smiled as well. Benji (who she had, again, forgotten) chuckled behind them. 

And then a staff member appeared to show Elain and Azriel to their quarters. Elain said a quick thank you to Rodrick as they walked down a gilded hall over a plush cream carpet. She realized his tapping pattern on the floor was his way of alerting his staff that someone was needed. 

The silent, lanky man in a pristine uniform led them to a suite behind the door that was, Elain was relieved to discover, much less opulent than the entryway to the castle. It was more cozy than anything, with tall, curtained windows framing a sitting room with a sofa, armchairs, and several low tables. Refreshments sat out waiting for them, including sparkling water, a bucket of ice, and fruits and nuts. The floor was covered in a thick shag dark blue rug that was incredibly soft underfoot, and blankets of all colors and materials were draped over the furniture. A brick fireplace sat along one wall and a writing desk sat against the other. 

Their luggage was already there waiting for them. The butler-type man pointed out doors to the bedrooms and restroom and then took his leave, Elain and Azriel finding themselves standing there together in silence. 

Azriel opened his mouth and then closed it again, deciding against whatever he was going to say or ask. Instead, he strode to the doors and opened all of them so they had a view of both the bedrooms. Finally, he spoke. 

“You go ahead and choose whichever you prefer,” he told her—all business, serious and solemn once more.

I prefer whichever one you’ll be in, Elain thought, but didn’t say. She crossed the room as well and peered into both bedrooms. They were similarly decorated in shades of cream and light blue, but one had a view into stunning gardens while the other overlooked the sea, so she picked the former. They wheeled their luggage into their respective bedrooms and Elain clumsily muttered something about going to take a shower. There was a door connecting her bedroom to the bathroom, so that was convenient—she wouldn’t have to bring all her clothes and things in with her every time.

Elain took her time brushing her teeth and showering the long journey off herself, trying not to think about all the places in that sitting room where she could find herself with Azriel between her thighs. It was utterly useless, as all she accomplished was envisioning all the different positions they could get into on the various furniture. On the hearth before the fire. In this very shower…

She shut the water off aggressively and stepped out, wrapping her hair up in a towel. She dried her body off with another and then wrapped that one around her body, and muttered chastisements to herself as she aggressively swung open the door to her bedroom again. 

But she froze as she stepped out, because she was not in her empty bedroom. She was in Azriel’s bedroom, and he was in it, staring at her. Not only was he in it, but he was laying sprawled out on the bed. Not only was he laying on the bed, but he was in absolutely nothing but his boxer briefs, all those ridiculous muscles and tattoos and golden-tanned skin on display. 

Azriel jerked up onto his elbows and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. 

“I—” Elain mumbled, looking behind her. There was his door, and there was the bathroom, and—shit. The bathroom conjoined both of their rooms. She had been so distracted trying not to think of Azriel that she had accidentally opened the door to his room instead of her own. The god damn fates had to be laughing at her. 

“I came out the wrong door,” she said in a rush, her cheeks heating as his eyes began to rove over her towel-clad body. “This was an accident,” she added unnecessarily. 

Azriel raised one cool brow. “Was it?” he asked in a voice that was far too silky. It pissed Elain off, for some reason. All this back and forth with him was grating on her. 

“Yes,” she answered, gripping the towel tighter around her chest. His lips twitched, and she frowned at him. “You don’t have to be such a jealous asshole to Benji, by the way. You have no claim over me.”

She watched his face as her words landed, and only saw the briefest flash of pain, for which she immediately felt guilty for, but it was gone in an instant. 

“I know that,” he answered smoothly, rocking up to his haunches and resting his elbows on his bare knees, doing absolutely nothing to hide his stupidly massive bulge in his shorts. 

“Then why must you act so jealous?” she seethed at him. She wasn’t really angry at him, she was just frustrated beyond belief and felt the need to let it out somehow. 

He cocked his head at her, his eyes traveling to her throat now, where they rested. “I thought that was obvious,” he answered, his voice lowering. 

Elain couldn’t stop her swallow, and she saw Azriel’s pupils dilate just a bit as he tracked the movement through her throat. 

“Well, it’s not,” she threw back at him (even though it was). She crossed her arms over her chest and he wrenched his eyes back up to her face. 

“No?” he asked, running a thumb over his perfectly-shaped lips. 

Elain didn’t know why she was challenging him. She could just turn around and leave. But he was aggravating her. “No,” she answered. 

And then Azriel slid to the end of his bed, perching on the edge, his hands on the mattress behind him.

“Then drop the towel and I’ll show you.”

Chapter Text

“Then drop the towel and I’ll show you.”

Azriel held his breath as Elain stared at him, the pulse in her neck fluttering. He hadn’t planned to say something so completely…absurd in that moment, but Elain was getting so riled, and it was filling him with lust and need and raw desire. She wanted a challenge, so he rose to the occasion before he was able to stop himself. 

He stared back at her, wondering if she was going to be pissed, or simply run away, or something horrible like cry. But maybe she would—

Every muscle in Azriel’s body froze as Elain’s fingers twitched where she held the towel around herself. Holy shit. Holy fuck. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her fingers curled around the edge of the towel and—

A knock came at Azriel’s door. Elain jumped and then shook her head as if a trance was lifting. And then she was gone, scurrying back into the bathroom, through her bedroom door, and pulling it shut behind her. 

Azriel slid from his bed and walked to the door, his head suddenly swimming, and cracked it open just enough to see who was there. The same lanky man who had shown them to his room stood there holding a pile of towels. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I realized I only left you both one set of towels while the others were being laundered. Here is another full set.”

Azriel unclenched his jaw enough to mutter a thank you, grabbed the towels, and shut the door again. He dropped the bundle onto the floor, threw himself onto the bed face down, and groaned, frustrated and desperate, into a pillow, clutching it to his face. 

Drop the towel? What the fuck had he been thinking? Elain had just rejected him twice on the plane—both the idea of just pretending they were together and the idea of actually trying to be something were bad enough to her that she couldn’t entertain either. And Azriel was so fucking weak-willed when it came to her that all she had to do was stand in front of him in a towel and he was losing his shit. He must have imagined that she was actually about to unwrap the towel from around herself, because there was no way. 

Her eyes had gone glassy, though. And her pulse had been racing. But that didn’t mean anything—Azriel knew she was physically attracted to him, that they had undeniable chemistry. That clearly didn’t change the fact that Elain did not want to be with him in any way, or that she at least didn’t think it was a good idea. 

He pressed his face into the pillow and let out one more muffled bellow of frustration before pulling himself together and rolling off the bed. He grabbed one of the towels he had dropped on the floor and strode to the bathroom to take an ice-cold shower. 

But no matter how frigid the water was on his skin, his want and need and desperation couldn’t be quelled, and he found himself fisting his cock while imagining Elain indeed dropping that towel. He imagined how perfect her skin would have looked, warm and pink from the shower, how smooth and soft it would have felt under his fingers. How she would have walked to him on the bed, and he would have run his hands up and down her back, pulling her closer to him. How he would have planted kisses against her neck as he unwrapped her hair, burying a hand into her wet curls. How he would have tugged that hair back gently, arching her neck, running his mouth over her beautiful breasts. He imagined it all, grimacing in unbarred, painful desire as he pumped and pumped himself. 

Elain sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands. Nothing had happened, so she could have lied to herself. She could have sworn she wasn't going to do anything, that she was going to say no and tell Azriel off for crossing boundaries. She could tell herself her hands were moving to tug that towel closer to her. 

But that would have been blatant bullshit, because Elain was going to drop the towel. She groaned into her hands, wondering what on earth was wrong with her. It was like she lost any semblance of control around Azriel. Right after she had told him that nothing could happen between them, she was ready to give everything to him again. 

It seemed that Azriel was also sitting in silence in his own room, for she heard nothing after the brief interruption about towels, until her breath caught at his footsteps. He was walking towards the bathroom—towards her room. Was he going to come back? She sat there frozen, clutching her towel, her heart hammering madly. Did she want that? Yes. Was it a good idea? No.  

She sat as still as a statue until she heard the water turn on, and then she sighed and stood to get dressed. He was just taking a shower. But Elain had only gotten so far as tugging on panties, her hair still wrapped in a towel, when she heard a muffled moan come from the bathroom. 

Absolutely not. She could not be hearing what she thought she was. She tiptoed to the bathroom door and pressed her ear against it, waiting. The sound of rushing water in the shower was loud, but underneath it…there was another low groaning sound. And then she heard a distinctive fwap-fwap-fwap.

Oh fucking hell, Azriel was jerking off a few feet from her. Elain suddenly felt heat fill her entire body, searing her almost painfully. Her heart thumped madly and an undeniable hunger consumed her. She backed away from the shower, her chest heaving with shaky breaths. Her blood pounded in her core and she felt swollen and slick between her thighs. She needed to do something. She couldn’t even think. 

As quickly as she could, Elain dug out her sparkly purple vibrator (willingly ignoring the brief wonderment she had about whether Azriel had brought its pair), and slid her panties right back off, climbing onto her bed. She only had minutes before Azriel would be done with his shower, and she was throbbing and aching with need. She closed her eyes and slid her fingers down her stomach, imagining Azriel pumping himself dry in the shower. 

And then, as she slid her fingers lower, she imagined what would have happened if she had dropped that towel. She ran her fingers over her entrance, gathering wetness, and circled her clit, imagining Azriel’s face as he beheld her body. Imagining how his hands might have clenched and how hard he would have become in his shorts. She dipped her fingers into herself, biting down on a whimper, as she imagined him tugging her towards him, widening his thighs for her. Running his hands over her ass. Taking a nipple in his mouth. 

Elain turned on the vibrator and brought it to her clit, imagining Azriel standing and turning them, sitting her down on the bed and dropping to his knees between her legs. 

She came in only a few moments, legs shaking and holding a pillow over her face to catch her moan as she fell over the edge thinking only of him and them together. 

Azriel emerged from his room, no longer with a raging erection but still with raging confusion and frustration, to find Elain's room and the sitting room empty. She must have already gone down to lunch. So she couldn't even stand to be alone with him now that he had acted so idiotically. 

He had had to come twice in the shower to relieve himself of that consuming arousal, and he had done his best to hold in any sounds. When he thought of Elain, though, it was nearly impossible, and he had ended up covering his mouth with a hand and even biting his flesh to try to muffle his moans and groans. He could only pray that it worked and that Elain didn't for some reason hear him fucking himself in the shower. She was going to see him for a true pervert, one of these days.

Azriel bitterly checked his reflection in the large standing mirror by the writing desk. His dark curls were still damp and he wore plain dark blue jeans and a purple v-neck T-shirt. He hoped he looked casual but respectable. He probably looked like a fucking asshole. 

He shook his head and made his way to where he thought the dining room was. He did indeed find a decadent room already containing Elain, Rodrick, and—unfortunately—Benji, all seated and talking around a rosewood dining table laden with food. 

Azriel allowed himself one look to take Elain and all her beauty in as the room’s attention went to him. She was wearing a loose, flowy cream dress, and her hair was resting damp on her shoulders. She became somehow infinitely more beautiful each time he laid eyes on her. 

Elain broke their shared gaze first, blinking down at her glass before taking a sip of water. 

“Sorry, everyone,” he tried to say casually. “You didn't all have to wait for me to eat. I got stuck with the second shower.” He hoped he sounded like he was making a light joke, but it fell flat. 

“Don't worry, my boy,” Rodrick answered jovially, and waved at the table for Azriel to sit. He took the empty spot next to Elain so he could breathe in her perfume and torture himself. 

“Can we eat now?” Benji asked, and his grandfather rapped him on the calf with his cane. 

“Ow, Granddad!” Benji cried, and Elain snickered lightly, as if this was a scene she had watched play out many times as a child during her stay here. 

“Don't be rude to our guests,” Rodrick commanded, but then he indicated the food. “Eat.” 

They all served themselves from the hearty food that had been prepared—shortbread, poached salmon, mashed potatoes, and various other foods that Azriel had never seen or tried. He was a partner at several restaurants, but none of them served Scottish food. 

Benji explained all the foreign dishes with pride as they ate. Azriel found that he enjoyed the cullen skink and scotch pie, could do with never eating haggis again, and liked Benji better when he didn't talk. Actually, he liked him better when he wasn't around at all. All of Elain's lovely wind-chime laughs and easy smiles towards the blonde Scot grated on Azriel. Benji was getting all of her smiles while Azriel just fucked up again and again. 

He knew these thoughts were useless and toxic, but he couldn't stop them as they pummeled him. 

Rodrick interrupted Benji's constant jabbering to explain, “Now, we won't share meals together all the time. I'm a very old man and can't keep up with the schedules of you young kids. But the cooks downstairs can prepare you any meals you like at any time, all you have to do is ask. And the kitchen on this level is available for you to use whenever you wish, if you prefer to do your own cooking.” 

Elain looked positively delighted at that offer, and Azriel felt a small smile break over his face despite his sour mood. He loved seeing her excited. 

“If you need to go to town, I have a driver who can take you. Again, you simply may ask any staff person and they will help make your request known.”

“Or I can drive ye, if I'm not workin,” Benji interjected with a wink at Elain. Azriel's smile slid off his face. The fucking prick. 

Rodrick looked directly at Azriel then, and he felt his spine straighten. “Now you've had a long journey, boy, so you two take the day to relax and explore. But tomorrow, we will begin your lessons. We will train for four hours every day at nine o’clock sharp.” 

Well goddamn. It was what he was here for though, right? So Azriel nodded and replied, “I look forward to any guidance you are able to provide. I only hope I don't disappoint you with my lack of knowledge or control.” 

Rodrick waved a hand. “Nonsense. It takes hard work to master knowledge and control over magic. I trust you're a hard worker?” 

Azriel nodded again, but Elain answered before he could. 

“Azriel is the hardest worker you'll ever meet. It's a problem, really. He has to be practically dragged away from his office back home and convinced to relax.” 

Rodrick gave Azriel a sharp grin as he felt his cheeks heat with Elain's comments. “Excellent,” the old man said. “Then we shall have some fun together.” 

“I would love to work in your gardens while you are training,” Elain commented. “You have beautiful grounds already, but perhaps I can start some new produce beds or add something else lovely to the landscape. Or just help the staff with whatever they may need outside.” 

Rodrick looked lovingly at Elain, and Azriel wondered if he often found her as a ten-year-old, bent over in the dirt, digging for worms and picking flowers. He hoped so. 

“Of course, my dear,” he answered. “Simply let the staff know and they will help you get set up.” 

“And,” Elain added, suddenly fidgeting slightly nervously. “I would like to check in with you about my magic as well, Rodrick. I have some questions about…something new I have been experiencing.” 

Azriel's curiosity was piqued, and grew further when he noticed how carefully she didn't look towards him. 

“I will be free to offer you whatever guidance I may in the afternoons,” Rodrick answered, and Elain sagged somewhat in her chair as what looked like relief swept over her. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. “It will be immensely helpful, I'm sure.” 

The rest of the meal passed in easy chatter, Azriel of course staying mostly silent. He couldn't stop wondering what Elain was experiencing, and why it had made her look so worried and nervous. He wondered, too, if it had to do with why she didn't think they should be together. Not that she needed a reason—maybe she just didn't like him that much or didn't want to be in a relationship anymore. But he suspected this had something to do with it. 

Elain felt a measure of hope at having a plan to discuss her visions with Rodrick, as well as what she had (or hadn’t) discovered about Azriel’s heritage. She tried to forget about the whole towel incident as she made plans with Benji to show her and Azriel around the grounds and beach. Azriel was being somewhat sullen again, but Elain was beginning to suspect that it might just be how he was always going to act around Benji. She sighed internally. Why did she have to like his jealousy so much?

A little while after lunch, Elain found herself walking along the beach with Benji and Azriel, Azriel trailing a few paces behind them with his hands in his pockets like a morose little boy. Benji was as talkative as ever, jabbering about fishing experiences he had had in these seas and making Elain laugh with stories of their adventures during her time here as a child. 

This beach felt peaceful and familiar to her, and she breathed in the warm sea salt air gratefully. It was nice to have a break from city life and return to this place that held such a special spot in her heart. 

They had walked for quite some time when Elain realized she didn’t feel Azriel’s constant magnetic energy behind her. She turned around and scanned the beach, finding him several yards back. She blinked, stunned. He had removed his shoes and socks, and he was standing at the edge of where the waves lapped up on the rocky sand, facing the water. His face was tipped up towards the sun and his beautiful eyes were closed. 

And Azriel’s face looked…peaceful. Or at least, more peaceful than she had ever seen it before, besides the morning she woke up in his arms at Rosehall. Elain felt a smile break over her face as she took in this surprising and lovely scene, and she began to walk towards him, tugging her own sandals off and dropping them in the sand. 

She was a few paces away from him, though, when the colors in her vision began to melt away, replaced by white—everything and everywhere. Elain could sometimes suppress a vision if she had to, when she was in public or in a particularly dangerous situation for having visions (like when she was riding a bike). But this one was so overpowering that she could do nothing as she stopped, swaying on her feet, and then felt the world tilt around her as she began to fall. 

Elain rested her head against Azriel’s back, her arms around his middle, as they rode through the ocean-breeze streets of Adriata. Azriel had one hand over hers and the other holding the reins of the mount they had bought. She was a beautiful thing, a black-tipped dapple grey named Veritas. Elain had fallen in love with her instantly. 

They had been riding for four days to get away from the castle, stopping only to sleep at small, rundown inns where Elain would unlikely be recognized as princess. But today, they had finally crossed the border into the neighboring kingdom, and Elain felt more at ease. They were unlikely to be discovered here, and its people had no obligation or reason to report to the King and Queen of Velaris that their princess resided here. This kingdom was neither ally nor foe to Velaris, keeping neutral in most conflicts that arose. 

“Tired, angel?” Azriel asked her, gently caressing the hand held beneath his. Elain was still getting used to him being something other than a knight. Being allowed to touch him as she pleased. Seeing his face and his hands and the shape of his muscles at all times, rather than his shining armor. Sleeping next to him at night. It was a delight, and an astonishment. A small, silly part of her missed him being her knight.

She sighed against his back and then raised her head. “Only a bit tired of riding—meaning no offense to you, of course, Veritas. You have done beautifully.”

Azriel chuckled and squeezed her fingers. “I know, love. As am I. We can slow down now we’re here. Take time to explore. And then we’ll be able to take a ship to the Continent, and we’ll really be free.”

Elain’s heart hammered at the thought. She had never been to the Continent. Her parents had always spoken of it as an evil place, full of enemies and not worth seeing. But Elain was well-read and knew that the Continent had much beauty to offer, despite its negative relationship with Velaris and the whole of the Prythian island. She had read of its rich spices and bewitching flora and fauna and the diverse cultures they would find there. She was nervous, and excited, and a little bit sad.

Azriel seemed to read her mind. “Are you not sad to leave Prythian, princess?”

He wouldn’t stop calling her that, even though they had both left their titles behind. 

Elain thought a moment before answering. “Only because I fear I will never be able to return here in peace.” She squeezed her arms around his middle. “But I would make that choice again and again to be with you.”

She felt him shudder slightly in her arms, his breath hitching, as if he was still shocked to hear her say such things. 

“We will come back one day,” he answered quietly. “I swear it to you.” 

Elain grew quiet behind him, thinking about their future and what they might make of it. 

“Do you want children, Azriel?” she asked, and then laughed before he could answer. “I suppose that is something we might have discussed before running away together.” 

She heard a soft chuckle come from him, but he paused before answering. 

“I have never thought myself worthy of being a father, before,” he finally said. “So I cannot give you my honest answer, my love. What do you want?”

“I love children,” Elain answered. “But I would like for us to have adventures together before we bring any babes into this world.”

“I would like that very much, Elain,” Azriel replied. And then he steered their horse to the left suddenly, down a path that took them towards the glittering sea in the distance. 

“I thought we were trying to move covertly, love,” Elain wondered, prodding him lightly. He turned his head to glance at her face, and she was gifted a glimpse of a rare, mischievous smile that sent her heart fluttering. 

“Come swim in the sea with me,” he said. 

“Swim!” Elain answered in shock. 

“Were you taught?” he asked. 

“Well, yes, of course, but—do you not think it’s improper?”

Azriel threw his head back and laughed, the afternoon sun shining on his raven waves. “My love,” he said through chuckles, “I think we have left propriety behind.”

Elain found herself grinning because, truly, it was a ridiculous thing for her to say. 

“Alright then,” she answered with a smile. “Let’s swim in the sea.” 

And they did, leaving Veritas to paw in the sand on the shore. They shed their outer layers, leaving Elain in just her chemise slip and Azriel in his braies and a bare chest. They held hands and walked over the wet sand towards the waves. Elain squealed as the chilly water lapped over her ankles, but Azriel laughed and scooped her into his arms. 

He carried her deeper and deeper into the sea, to where the waves were calm and only his head and shoulders emerged from the water. Elain wrapped her legs around his waist, letting herself drift into the sparkling waters around her, and hugged him close. 

“Tell me you’ll marry me, princess,” he begged of her, like he had done every day for the past four days. Usually it was in bed before they fell asleep, after exploring each other’s bodies and pleasures. It was different, hearing it under the sun, seeing his earnest face in the wide-open air and water around them. Elain’s heart lurched.

“I’ll marry you, Azriel,” she promised him. “And live happily ever after with you. For however long we might have on this earth.” 

Azriel smiled, wide and open and true. And he kissed her there under the sunshine, in the wide open blue of the vast sea, as saltwater embraced them from all sides.

Even though no noise had sounded, something compelled Azriel to open his eyes and turn towards where Elain had been. She was no longer walking with Benji, as it appeared she was making her way back to him. But his stomach lurched as he watched Elain, a few paces away, sway on her feet. His blood went cold as he watched her warm mahogany eyes bleach of all color, turning a milky white that seemed to glow. He was glued to the spot as she swayed again, and then fell sideways. 

“Fuck,” Azriel swore under his breath, and ran towards Elain. Benji was also running, and got to her just a moment before Azriel, leaning over Elain and grabbing her shoulder. Not even a second passed before Azriel was dropping to his knees beside them. He shoved Benji aside with a gruff, “Move,” accidentally pushing him with enough force to knock him over. 

Benji swore and got to his feet, but Azriel was only looking at and listening to Elain. Her eyelids were fluttering open and closed over her ethereal white eyes, and her fingers were clenching and releasing. 

“Elain,” Azriel said quietly, brushing some stray hair from her forehead. She made no indication that she heard him. 

“It's just a vision,” Benji’s irritating voice came from behind him. “Used to happen all the time when we were young. You just have to wait for it to pass.” 

Azriel's lip curled at Benji's familiarity with Elain and he ignored him completely, his heart still racing. She was on her side on the sand in a crumpled position that did not look comfortable in the least. Azriel snaked his arms under her and tugged her to him, standing up and cradling her to his chest. 

“I'm just going to…” Benji mumbled, and Azriel was vaguely aware that he was shuffling away down the beach. Bye, Benji. 

Azriel gazed down at Elain. She still seemed to be lost in whatever vision she was seeing, but her lips were now moving, forming a word that looked all-too-familiar. His heart raced as he bent his head down to her ear. 

“Azriel,” Elain was whispering, like she was asking for him. Again and again. Azriel's heart simultaneously swelled and then cracked into a thousand pieces. He clutched her even closer to his chest.

“I'm here, angel,” he whispered back. And then, to his astonishment, shadows began seeping through the skin of his arms. He tried not to panic as they swirled through the air around them. They weren't going to hurt her. They wouldn't. They were his shadows. He had to trust them.

He forced himself to take steadying breaths as Elain continued to lay limp in his arms, murmuring his name. The shadows began skittering across her skin, and he tried to will them to leave her alone, but then they were twisting around her arms and wrists, twining through her hair. They weren't squeezing or tugging or doing anything violent. They were…caressing her. Holding her.

Azriel took a shuddering breath as he realized his shadows were comforting and protecting Elain in a way that mirrored how he held her. And then his heart stopped completely for a moment as vines covered in tiny white flowers bled through Elain’s skin. His fingers dug into Elain’s skin slightly as the vines crept across her arms. They intertwined with the coils of Azriel’s shadows, tangling themselves amongst them until they were like one rope made of life and death. 

And for the first time in his life, Azriel looked upon that magic—his magic—and, wrapped around Elain’s magic the way it was, he thought that it was beautiful. 

The colors of the world were coming back to Elain around her. She became aware of the blue of the sea and the sun in the sky. She became aware of the sound of waves and bird calls up above. And then Elain became aware that she was not on the ground, but being held in Azriel's arms, and that shadows and vines encircled her arms and tangled in her hair. He was standing with his feet in the water again, holding her over the rolling waves.

“Elain?” came Azriel’s cool, steady voice. As her vision came back to her in splintered images, it was all she could do to throw her arms around his neck and bury her face into his chest. He squeezed her more tightly against him. She was vaguely aware that shadows and vines were circling her arms and intertwined with each other, holding her as he did.

She felt an overwhelming mixture of emotions. She felt the lingering deep, heart-achingly eternal love she felt for Azriel in that past life. She felt a tragic sense of loss that she didn’t share that closeness with him in this present life. And she felt that same foreboding something that she always felt after one of her visions of the knight and princess. 

Her Sight was aggravated, pummeling her from the inside-out, telling her to let go of Azriel, to run as far away as she could, that tragedy was coming to her in that life and in this one. But she didn’t want to listen to it. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him in this sea, too. She was so confused, and so lost, and so scared, and so longing. 

“I've got you,” he murmured into her ear, and she fisted the fabric of his shirt in her hands, shaking slightly as she pulled herself even closer to him. 

He just held her tightly. He didn't ask her what was wrong, he didn't ask what she needed. He didn't ask what had happened or what she had seen. He just held her and stroked his fingers over her skin, his shadows holding her, tangled up with her own white-flowered vines. 

“I've got you,” he said again. 

“Why are we standing in the ocean?” she whispered against his chest. It was eerily similar to where they had been in her vision, and she wondered if one had influenced the other, or if it was all just an uncontrollable random cosmic middle finger to fate. She had no answers anymore. 

He paused for a moment, and then he answered softly, “I thought you might like to hear the song of the wind when you came back around. This is the best place to hear it.” 

And Elain knew in that moment that everything that princess felt for her knight, she felt for Azriel, too. In this life. Here and now. And god, it hurt. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her gently. She shook her head against him. She didn’t want to talk about it. She couldn’t with him—not yet. She wouldn’t even know what to say. 

“Alright,” he said. If his arms were getting tired from holding her, he didn’t show it. She stayed held in them and listened to the song of the wind with Azriel, their shadows and vines circling them like they were being bound together for eternity. 

And maybe they were. 

Chapter Text

Azriel was nervous as he ate breakfast, thinking about his eminent first lesson from Rodrick.

Magic lessons, he thought derisively to himself as he swallowed down the last of his coffee, a book open but unread before him. If the version of himself from a month ago could see him now…

He was fucked up from the time difference and had woken early, his phone telling him it was 5:30 in the morning. He tried to lay around and read for a bit, but he was too anxious about his day and still keyed up from seeing Elain having a vision the day before. He threw on some workout gear and crept out of their suite, careful not to wake her, and went for a run on the beach. 

While he ran, breathing in the fresh ocean air, Azriel thought about what he had witnessed the day before on the beach. He passed the spot where Elain had fallen, and where he had held her in his arms, his feet in the waves. The spot where she had been murmuring his name in her subconscious. 

Azriel had stopped himself from asking about what Elain had seen, but his curiosity wouldn’t quit. He was certain now that it involved him, because why else had she been whispering his name? Was she seeing something between them in their future? When she had come back around, she had seemed so sad and shaken. He had held her until she asked to be put down, and then she had said she needed a nap. 

Elain had stayed in her room for a couple hours. Azriel had told himself to go out and do something—anything—while she was napping, but he had ended up simply waiting in their shared sitting room, catching up on work emails despite his out of office signature. He couldn’t help but worry about her and obsessively wonder what she had seen. 

When Elain finally emerged, she looked good as new, a bright smile on her face and a renewed lightness to her. Azriel had been prepared to question her about her vision, but didn’t have the heart to when he saw how happy she looked. He was so relieved to see that sparkling smile across her perfectly freckled face that he couldn’t bring himself to remind her of whatever pain plagued her. They had spent the rest of the day tooling about, avoiding the topic of her vision and the emotional aftermath completely. 

The time change seemed to have the opposite effect on Elain that it did on Azriel, as it had been three hours since he had awoken and Elain still had not emerged from her room. He was just ruminating on this thought, telling himself that 8:30 was a perfectly reasonable time to sleep until and that he did not have to go and knock on her door and check to make sure she was breathing, when the woman in question floated into the dining room in a cloud of honey and jasmine.

Azriel put down his book as he took her in, still rubbing at her gorgeously sleepy eyes. He couldn’t stop the way his gaze roved slowly and deliberately over her body, from head to toe, and back up. She stood before him, seeming only half awake, in teeny tiny sleep shorts covered in little strawberries and a baggy long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was a huge, curled mess, somehow seeming much…larger than it typically did. The overall effect was something unnamable that made Azriel simultaneously want to bite her all over her and just snuggle her until she couldn’t breathe. The woman was giving him cute aggression. 

Azriel hadn’t seen Elain’s bare legs enough times yet to be unaffected by them (though he doubted he would ever be, regardless). They were so…there was no other word besides sexy. Her hips were deliciously curved, her thighs wide and luscious, filling her sleep shorts in a way that could have been qualified as an act of violence. He didn’t even want to think about what her ass looked like in those bottoms that were so small they could barely count as shorts. Yet he prayed with all his might that she would turn around, or maybe drop something. Could he knock something out of her hand to make her drop something so she would have to pick it up? Wait—fuck—no. 

He was suddenly too aware that he was still in his sweaty workout clothes as he hadn’t wanted to wake her by showering before. He probably looked disgusting.

“Good morning,” she said, yawning the end of the greeting with a hand over her mouth. Azriel grinned at her and all her sexy-cuteness. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he answered, crossing one leg over another. “Just roll out of bed?” 

She nodded and seemed to try to smooth down her wild hair somewhat, with absolutely no success. “I woke up so hungry I couldn’t even be bothered to put clothes on.”

And thank god for that. What day was it? Monday? Benji better fucking be at work, because Azriel might punch him in the face if he laid eyes on Elain like this. He wanted this particularly perfect vision to be just for him. 

Azriel nudged some of the dishes laden with breakfast foods on the table and nodded at the seat across from him. 

“Your breakfast awaits, princess.”

He watched in confusion and slight horror as Elain's entire body stiffened, her jaw setting and her mouth hardening so abruptly that Azriel felt a cold dread cut through him. 

“Please don't call me that,” she seemed to force out through gritted teeth, before taking the chair he had indicated. He scanned his memory of their past conversations and arguments, and wondered if she was just mad at him for continuing to flirt with her. But she seemed genuinely triggered by the word, and he couldn't think why. 

“Alright,” Azriel answered tentatively, trying to keep his voice soft and steady. “I'm sorry.” 

Elain seemed to force her shoulders to relax slightly. “It’s okay.” 

He couldn’t keep up with her mood changes, he thought as he watched her fill her plate with breakfast foods. He figured if he stayed there watching her eat, he would either continue to flirt with her shamelessly or wouldn’t be able to resist asking her what was wrong when she clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so he made his exit. 

“I need to go shower before my first…magic lesson,” Azriel told her, his voice going flat on the last two ridiculous words. “I hope you enjoy your breakfast.” 

“Thanks,” Elain called after him as he was already striding away.

As soon as Azriel disappeared silently around the corner, Elain pushed her plate away from her with her forearms and let her forehead clunk onto the table between them. She groaned quietly. She was going to chase Azriel away with her erratic behavior, and she somehow both wanted that and didn’t want that. 

It had been childish of her to act like nothing had happened after her nap the previous day, even though she continued to be shaken by her visions of the past. The emotional upheaval and dread that filled her increased with every vision, and she was beginning to feel slightly mad from it all. 

She had laid in bed for a good twenty minutes that morning convincing herself to simply explain everything to Azriel, and had meant to do just that. She was so focused on rehearsing the words she would say to him that she had fully forgotten to change out of her pajamas into clothes. 

But when Elain had walked out into the dining room pretending to have just woken up, she was completely and utterly distracted by a whole new issue. Azriel had been sitting there, sipping coffee and reading a book, his hair slicked back with sweat and tight workout clothes clinging to his ridiculous muscles. Something about seeing an extremely built, sweaty man reading a novel at the breakfast table made her weak in the knees. He looked like every girlish fantasy she had ever had about a sophisticated, sexy older man sweeping her off her feet to love and care for her forever. She just had to continue to pretend to be barely-awake to avoid spluttering like an idiot. 

And then when she had been trying to refocus on her mission, he had called her that terrible nickname that made every irrational emotion come flying back, and it had spooked him into leaving. 

She sighed and picked her head up, sliding her plate back towards herself. She was actually very hungry—that, at least, had been honest. Elain ate her fill, tried to clean up after them but was ushered away by staff that appeared out of nowhere, and retreated to her bedroom to get dressed.

As soon as she walked into their shared sitting room, Azriel emerged, freshly showered and dressed, and that was somehow worse than sophisticated post-workout Azriel. The scent of his cedar cologne and his wet curls on his forehead nearly brought her to her knees, and she only managed to squeak out a little sound as he closed his bedroom door. 

“Eat your fill?” he asked, and Elain was dismayed to see that he was actively fastening his belt with his perfect arms. She could have opened her thighs and given him anything he wanted that very moment. But instead, she somehow achieved producing a sound somewhere between a “yes” and a “mhm.” 

Azriel grinned at her in that way of his, and finally finished fastening his belt, straightening his shirt down over his stupid abs. “Well, I’m off for my first lesson with Rodrick. Wish me luck.”

Elain pulled herself together for this bit of the exchange. 

“Good luck,” she said warmly. Because above all else, he was her friend, and she did care about him, and she did want him to find everything he was looking for with this trip. “I know you’ll do great, even if it’s hard at first.” 

Azriel’s smile warmed, and he walked past her toward the door of their suite. “Thanks, Lain,” he answered softly, the friendly nickname filling her heart with something fluffy and cozy. And then he left her there, gently closing the door behind him. 

Elain took in a deep breath, resolved to pull herself together and clear her head. She decided to start with the best possible medicine—getting her hands in the dirt. So she quickly put clothes on and went off in search of Rodrick’s mysterious staff members to offer (demand) that she help somehow with the gardens.

As soon as Azriel was walking down the halls of the manor, he realized he had no idea where or how to find Rodrick. He checked his watch to see that it was 8:57. Azriel hated being late. He had three minutes to walk around aimlessly and hope that he somehow ran into someone who could help. 

Azriel hadn’t made it more than a couple steps, though, when the same lanky man who took them to their suites the previous day appeared from nowhere and asked Azriel to follow him to the study. 

Azriel was led to an intricate room filled with little devices and whirring machines that were clearly magical in nature. He looked around, stunned, feeling like he had walked into another world. There were little constellations projected from a crystal in one corner, a fire that fed on nothing and sat in what looked like an un-burning bird’s nest in another, and all kinds of glowing and suspended and twirling silver objects that Azriel couldn’t begin to guess at their function. 

“I see timeliness is important to you,” Rodrick said, knocking Azriel from his stunned observation. The old man was seated behind a huge rosewood desk in the center of the room, his cane leaning against the desk’s edge. That surface was also crowded with little delicate-looking objects clearly magical in nature, and Azriel cringed to see that most were made of glass.

“I think an empty padded room may have been a better choice than your study,” he said to Rodrick as he stepped further into the room, approaching the desk. He heard Mr. Lanky close the door behind them. 

Rodrick chuckled and waved a hand to the chair on the opposite side of the desk, which Azriel took apprehensively. “We’re not going to be doing any wielding today, son,” he said with amusement. “Just talking.”

Azriel tried not to blanch. Talking? For four hours? Azriel was typically someone who tried to cut conversations off after 90 seconds tops, or more commonly just not engage at all. He cleared his throat. “Thank you again for agreeing to…guide me.”

Rodrick gave him a wry grin. “I can see this is difficult for you to accept. But buck up, because I am a fair but strict teacher.”

Azriel couldn’t help but grin back. “Good,” he said. “I work best under pressure.”

“Righteo,” Rodrick said cheerfully. “First I need you to tell me a little bit about your life. And I refuse to have these conversations without a good cup of tea.” He snapped his fingers and a tea pot and cups just appeared between them. Azriel tried not to flinch at the show of magic, but Rodrick missed nothing. 

He threw his head back and laughed jovially. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. Now. Share.”

Azriel was suddenly scrambling for words. “You don’t want to talk about…magic?” Azriel was wondering what Rodrick’s particular power was, but wondered if it would be rude to ask outright.

Rodrick tsked as he poured them both tea. “We are talking about magic. Now tell me about your life. Who were your parents? How was your childhood? When did you first see evidence of your power?”

Azriel was suddenly sweating. He realized that he would have to share this information with anyone who was willing to teach him, because he figured his history and what had previously occurred with his shadows would come up, but it wasn’t easy to admit out loud what he had done as a child. 

“My dad was a drunken asshole who knocked my mom up and then threw her out to be with the wife and children he called his real family,” he started flatly, deciding to just jump straight in. “My mother was a very poor, very young woman working at a laundromat in Illyria—that’s in Velaris where Elain and I live.” 

Rodrick nodded and blew on his tea, waiting for Azriel to continue.

“I spent the first few years of my life in a trailer park with my mom and occasional angry, drunken visits from my father. He would beat and threaten my mom constantly, and he did the same to me. I was often locked up for long periods of time in a closet in my toddler and young childhood years. He didn’t give me these scars,” Azriel added, lifting his hands between them, “but his other sons did.”

Rodrick paused with his teacup touching his lips. His face did not change, but something vengeful flickered through his eyes. 

Azriel took a deep breath, wanting to get past the hardest part as quickly and painlessly as possible. “When I was five,” he said, keeping his voice smooth and steady, pretending he felt nothing about the event. “My father came home especially drunk and especially angry. I woke up in the middle of the night to a bad fight between my parents, and tried to get in between them to defend my mother. My dad pushed me out of the way, and when he was swinging at her, that’s when the shadows first came.” 

Rodrick slowly lowered his cup to the desk, never taking his eyes off Azriel. 

“They shot from beneath my skin and bound themselves around my father, stopping him from striking her.” He couldn’t fight the slight shake in his voice now. “I had no idea what was happening, I was just crying and screaming. They began choking him, and then they snapped his neck.”

Rodrick sucked in a sharp inhale before lacing his fingers—which were slightly shaking just like Azriel’s voice. 

“The death was written off as a freak accident, but my mother always told me he had a heart attack. I buried the memory so deep with denial that I had come to accept my mother’s explanation, and had nearly been able to forget that any of it had happened. She has since told me that she noticed strange things that she thought had to do with my shadows for a brief period after that, but that they were always small and harmless and that I never noticed, so she never brought it up, wanting to protect me.”

Azriel paused to take a sip of his tea, wetting his dry mouth and throat, and then he went on. “My mother and I were homeless for a while, having fallen into even more poverty after my father’s death. We bounced from shelter to shelter and that’s how I met one of my adopted brothers. I have two brothers, but none of us are actually blood or even legally related.”

Rodrick nodded as if this made perfect sense. 

“We were able to get shitty housing for a year or two, but the authorities found out my mother was keeping us fed and housed through prostitution work, and we were taken from her custody. We were placed with a foster family who had a son at our school, and he became my second brother. We lived with them until both of his parents died in a car accident, and then we were reunited with my mother.”

Rodrick’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Azriel knew he was delivering this all grimly and dully and probably sounded unfeeling, but it was all he could give at the moment. If he let him feel all of that pain, he feared he would never come out of that dark place. 

“My boy,” the old man said gently, having nothing more to offer than two words of solace. 

Azriel released a long, slow breath before finishing his story. “Anyway, I buried everything—the bad memories, losing parents, the shadows, the shelters—as deep as I could, and walked around in denial about it all for over two decades. Until I met Elain.” 

Rodrick’s eyes closed and he gave a solemn nod. “That young woman has a way about her that is quite disarming.”

“Yes,” Azriel agreed. “When I became friends with Elain and started spending time with her, I started having nightmares about killing my father, and I finally confronted my mother to ask her about the truth of it all. That’s when I got the full story of my shadows and his true death. The shadows have reappeared a few times since then.” And then, only realizing it in that very moment, Azriel added, “They have so far only appeared when I’m in Elain’s presence.”

He finished speaking, and Rodrick was also silent, so Azriel just sipped his tea and waited, letting the upheaval from speaking all those terrible memories wash through and over him. He had told so few people of his history, and it was still not easy to do. 

Rodrick, too, sipped his tea, seeming lost in thought, until he murmured one hushed word under his breath: “Shadowsinger.”

Azriel didn’t know what it meant, but he felt a great force barrel through him at the word, like there was a magnet inside him drawn to it, pulling everything he was towards it. 

“Is that what I am?” he asked carefully, placing his teacup down. 

“Tell me something, my boy,” Rodrick said in answer. “Do the shadows speak to you?”

Azriel could not believe he was having this conversation. But here he was. “I heard them whisper…something I couldn’t understand for the first time a few days ago. Elain was there, and she didn’t hear it. Only me. I could tell it was coming from the shadows, but I had no idea what they were saying.” And it had scared the shit out of me and I had promptly acted like a buffoon. 

Rodrick nodded solemnly. “You will learn their language swiftly.” He put his teacup down as well and laced his fingers atop the table. “Shadowsingers are rare and powerful, boy. More rare even than the gifts of your Elain.” 

Azriel opened his mouth to say that she wasn’t his, but Rodrick waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I know— you’re just friends,” he said nearly mockingly, and Azriel felt his cheeks heat. “But would you be able to tell me why the shadows have appeared only when you have been with Elain? What you might have been…feeling…in those moments?”

Azriel snapped his mouth shut, feeling the golden blush he knew painted his face stretch to the tips of his ears. Rodrick only chuckled knowingly. 

“I have only known one other shadowsinger in my life, son, and she too felt her shadows awaken in moments of intense emotion and instinct—fiercely protecting someone, great fear, even great passion.” 

Azriel could have melted into a puddle and died. But his brain caught on what Rodrick had said and rewound. “You know another person like me?”

He shook his head sadly. “Knew. Adriana was a gifted and fearsome shadowsinger, but she kept those abilities secret. She is unfortunately no longer with us.”

“Why did she keep them secret?” he asked, and then remembered to add, “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rodrick leaned forward, his eyes going hard. “Yours are terrible and awe-inspiring powers, boy. They are not to be flaunted or tossed about carelessly. There are unsavory wielders who would kill for the power that flows through your veins.”

Azriel’s blood chilled. “So I am terrible,” he said softly, looking down at his scarred hands in defeat. He knew he was evil. Wrong. Elain’s earth magic…it was beautiful. It created life, made the world more colorful and wonderful. He felt only the ability to destroy.

Rodrick shook his head. “Your powers could be used for great darkness, if one desired,” he answered seriously. “But it is the wielder who chooses what kind of person to be, and what their power becomes. You have seen the deeds your magic can do.”

An image of his father’s frozen, lifeless face, caught mid-scream, flashed in Azriel’s mind. 

“But our sweet Elain could do the same with her earth magic, if she desired,” Rodrick continued. “If she wished it, she could send vines to restrain another, to defend herself, to harm, even to choke the life out of another.” 

Azriel couldn’t imagine Elain ever hurting another person—it was one of the things he admired most about her. But as he thought about it, what Rodrick said made sense. Perhaps he could choose what would become of his powers. And of himself.

“What do you know of the core?” Rodrick asked him, leaning back in his chair once more.

Azriel cleared his throat, feeling like a university student again. “Elain told me a bit about it. It’s the place deep in the mountains that serves as the source of all magical power.”

Rodrick nodded. “Indeed it is. And different wielders, as well as different powers, take unequal amounts from the core.”

Azriel nodded, listening carefully. 

“I can feel your power, son,” Rodrick said, his voice growing eerie much like Elain’s did when she was wielding her Seer powers. “And the well runs…very deep. Deeper than any I have ever felt. Except for my own, of course. The power you take from the core…it is staggering.”

Azriel fidgeted slightly in his seat at this appraisal. “And thats…a bad thing?” he asked, trying to bolster his confidence but finding it difficult. He wasn’t taking the power on purpose.

“It’s a dangerous thing,” Rodrick answered. “Others may feel it, and they may not like it.” 

Azriel felt dread building in him. “So this power that I don’t even want might cause people to…what…try to take it?”

Rodrick shrugged casually. “Take it, kill you, take you.” 

Azriel drew back in his chair. “But I’m not hurting anyone. At least, no one since my father.” 

Rodrick waved a hand in the air. “Let’s talk about this particular issue later. Now that you mention your father, I would like to know more about him.”

And Azriel and Rodrick did spend the entire four hour lesson talking. Azriel had never once talked to someone for that long in his life. They discussed what little Azriel knew of his heritage, Azriel showed him the one possession he still had of his father’s, and Rodrick told Azriel what he knew of shadowsinger abilities. 

Azriel learned that his shadows could act as corporeal beings under his control, doing any number of acts for him from closing doors to slitting throats (which—for the record—he was not interested in doing). But he also learned that they could be his ears. They could gather information for him in places that he couldn’t get to or see or hear, such as creeping under doors or squeezing into vents, and report back to him—once he learned their language, of course. Azriel did not have one fucking clue how that was supposed to happen, but Rodrick didn’t seem worried about it. Suddenly four hours a day wasn’t feeling like enough time for Azriel to learn how to wield the shadows, command them, and speak their language. 

By the time four hours had passed, Azriel felt a mental exhaustion dragging him down, but his body felt jittery and full of pent-up energy. He made himself a sandwich with items he found in the upstairs kitchen and then decided to go for a walk on the beach to try to clear his head and calm his body. 

Azriel was walking across the front garden on a stone path, sandwich in hand, and had just taken a giant bite when he spotted Elain. Elain, wearing a floppy sun-hat and braided hair. Elain, humming to herself as she weeded a patch of…some kind of flower. Elain, who seemed to have grown hot in the sun and removed her shirt, leaving her in a sports bra and spandex shorts. Her curving torso sported its own spattering of freckles, and the sunlight shone down on her cleavage, highlighting the curves of her breasts. Her hips stretched those spandex shorts thin, and he again cursed the heavens that she was facing towards him and he didn’t get to see the way she looked from behind, squatting there in the dirt wearing next to nothing. This outfit was so far from anything he had ever seen her in, and so unfairly, painfully attractive, that Azriel immediately inhaled part of his bite and began coughing. 

Elain looked up at him in surprise as he coughed into his free hand and thumped his chest, trying to clear the food lodged in the wrong pipe. 

“Oh,” she said, and then looked quickly down at herself. Azriel was both relieved and dismayed when she stood up, brushed off her hands, and quickly swept her loose shirt back on. He could finally breathe again and found himself standing there stupidly holding half a sandwich and staring at her. 

“First lesson done?” she asked, swigging some water from a bottle she had brought with her. He could only nod lamely at her, still stunned from the heavenly vision that she was. Her cheeks were already pinker and more freckled despite her floppy sunhat. 

“How was it?” Elain asked, approaching him. She had some dirt smudged across her nose and he wanted so badly to reach out and gently wipe it away, but he clenched his fingers to stop himself. 

“It was…a lot. I learned a lot. Honestly, I’m still processing it all. I was just about to go for a walk on the beach to try to clear my head a bit. Care to join?”

Elain gave him a somewhat strained smile. “No,” she answered. “You go clear your head. That would probably be harder to do with me chatting at you. I actually have to find Rodrick and discuss some things with him myself.” 

Right. The mysterious something that was clearly bothering her. He nodded. Elain gathered her things and started to walk away, but he called out to her. 

“Elain,” he said, and she turned towards him. “You never have to talk about anything you don’t want to with me, but…if you ever do, I just want you to know that I’m here. I’ll listen.” 

She gave him a smile that was far more sad than any expression on her face should ever have been, and she nodded. “I know,” she said quietly, and then turned and headed toward the house. 

Elain quickly washed up and found something to eat in the kitchen before heading off to find Rodrick. Getting her hands in the soil had felt so good, and she had found herself leaving little floral gifts throughout the area of the garden where she was working, despite the fact that it was her job to weed, not to grow. She simply could not resist bringing a little bit more color into the world when she was able. 

She felt slightly more clear-headed as she knocked on Rodrick’s study door, and was as ready as she would ever be to discuss what had been plaguing her waking and sleeping hours. 

“Enter,” Rodrick said, with a tone that suggested he had been expecting her. She took a deep breath and did so, and was immediately struck by the scent of Azriel taking up the space—cedar and something misty with that edge of danger. The mix was quickly becoming her favorite scent, which was probably a problem. 

“You wish to speak with me, my dear?” Rodrick asked, indicating the seat before his desk that Azriel had no doubt been occupying less than an hour ago. She nodded, sitting down and crossing her legs, staring down at her hands. 

“I can tell something troubles you,” he said to her, encouraging her to talk. “I see it in those big brown eyes of yours. Tell me how I can help.”

Elain bit her lip, unsure of where to start. “My Sight,” she began, fidgeting with the hem of the long skirt she had changed into. “It’s behaving…strangely.”

Rodrick frowned a bit, scratching at his chin covered in white stubble. “Strangely how?”

“Well, I have really only been getting clear visions of one event. Or rather…a series of events, but all in one continuous story.” 

Rodrick raised an eyebrow. “I’m not following.”

Elain sighed slightly. She would have to just go for it. 

“Instead of seeing the future, I have been seeing the past. I believe I am seeing events occurring in a past life of my own. The same past life, every time, coming to me like chapters in a storybook.”

“A past life…” Rodrick mused, furrowing his brow now in thought. 

“You see,” Elain continued, “I don’t normally have visions about myself, and my visions are typically of the future. But my Sight keeps showing me, again and again, what is clearly me . The visions are in my own perspective, and I am feeling and experiencing everything as if it is happening right there in front of me. Only, I believe it is a past life, because I’m…well, I seem to be some sort of medieval princess.”

Elain could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She was a grown woman, essentially having daydreams about life as a princess. But Rodrick did not laugh at her or brush her off. He simply responded with a thoughtful, “Hmmm. And why does this trouble you so?”

She looked around the office, trying to find something to focus on to ease her nerves and embarrassment, but it was no use. 

“Well,” she answered, “it feels like my Sight is trying to warn me about something. With each new vision, I am filled more and more with a feeling of ominous foreboding, and those feelings are…bleeding into my present life.”

Rodrick studied her with a shrewd eye. “In what way?”

Elain huffed somewhat. “Can I trust that this will stay between us?”

Rodrick raised his brow in slight surprise but dipped his chin. “Always, my dear. As a teacher and a guide I aim only to help, and have no business sticking my nose where it does not belong. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Elain nodded and drew in a steadying breath. “The visions are about a past life where…where Azriel and I are together. In love. And I can feel something horrible coming in that life, something heartbreaking, something irreversible and terrible.”

Rodrick studied her carefully as she spoke, but had no other reaction, so she continued. 

“And when I am around Azriel in the present, well…those foreboding feelings come back. It’s like I can feel my Sight swirling through me, agitated in his presence. Telling me to run, because something awful is coming. I don’t believe it’s warning me that he will hurt me, but…I fear whatever terrible fate is awaiting in our past lives will be mirrored in this one.”

Elain stopped talking, sure she was sounding as unbelievable and crazy as she was feeling. Rodrick was silent for a few moments, and then asked, “And the boy knows nothing of this?”

Elain shook her head, her cheeks heating once more. “We haven’t known each other for very long…in this life. A couple of months, that’s all. But in that past life…he was everything to me, Rodrick. I ran away from my home, my title, my family and kingdom, to be with him. And it’s starting to become difficult to separate these two realities. But he…he has no idea about any of it.”

“Ah,” Rodrick answered, nodding. “And this is why you two are just-friends-but-more?”

Elain looked down in embarrassment. “I fear I am drawn to him and at the same time constantly pulling back, because I am warned again and again by my Sight to be wary. Is that possible?” she asked, looking up at him again, desperation edging into her voice. “Could my Sight be telling me that something horrible is coming?”

Before Rodrick could open his mouth to answer, she remembered the cards. “And I pulled cards for myself, a few weeks ago. One of the cards was The Tower. Destruction. Pain. Terrible disaster. A fall of royalty. And it was shortly followed by The Lovers. As if my Sight was trying to tell me, pursue Azriel and something terrible will befall you. But how can that be?”

She finally stopped talking, leaning back and rubbing her heated cheeks to try to relieve some of the pressure in them. Rodrick looked upon her with kind eyes. 

“Your Sight is a mysterious and ever-changing power, dear,” he said gently. “But so is the heart. Of the heart, I cannot provide much sound guidance. You know I have only loved one, and that was a very simple love.”

Elain nodded, her heart heavy for Rodrick’s loss of his one true love. 

“Your Sight, though…” he said, steepling his fingers under his chin and looking up towards the ceiling in thought. “You may be correct about the intended message, but let me do some research. Let me read on it and think on it. I have some journals of Seers that you, too, might borrow, if you are interested.”

Elain felt a small hope grow in her at the prospect of doing something—anything—about her predicament. Even if it was simple research. “Yes, I will borrow them. Thank you, Rodrick,” she said genuinely. 

He nodded and then eyed her. “I may not understand all matters of the heart, my girl,” he began shrewdly, and Elain thought she knew what was coming. “But I can see how much that young man cares for you. It’s eating him alive, I’d wager. Remember that whatever feelings in a past life you had, so had he.”

Elain felt her heart squeeze painfully, somewhere between devastation and desperation. 

“You should tell him what you’ve told me, my dear,” Rodrick finished. 

Elain just looked down at her lap once more, and answered with a small, “I know.” But how? It had all gotten so…complicated. She didn’t even know if they had rules anymore, what they were, or if they were following them. The only thing she was sure of, from the bottom of her heart, was that she wanted Azriel. 

Rodrick gathered the journals he had spoken of and handed them off to her. She thanked him and then bade him goodbye, returning to her suite with her heart hammering. 

She did need to tell him. It wasn’t fair for either of them to have this between them, and it certainly wasn’t fair for Azriel to be in the dark about what was bothering her and making it so difficult for her to come to any decisions about him, to act on her desires. 

She opened the door and found none other than Azriel sitting there, typing away on his laptop near the fireplace. His eyes flicked up to her and roamed once over her body. 

“How many times in a day do you change?” he asked her lightly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You’re just mad I’m no longer wearing either pair of my tiniest shorts that you saw me in today.” 

His lips twitched as he gently shut his laptop screen. He put his hands up in an innocent gesture. “You said it, not me. Rodrick give you reading material?” he asked, eyeing her pile of journals. 

“Yeah, one sec.” She strode to her room, dumped them on her bedside table, and then rejoined Azriel in the sitting room. 

She needed to tell him everything, but first…yes, maybe a sip of liquid courage. Maybe something to help both of them clear their heads. A little detour of a distraction.

“Would you like to go into town and get a drink with me?” she asked him before she could think better of it. His eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“For someone who claims she doesn’t drink much, you sure like inviting me for drinks.”

Elain huffed at him with mock annoyance. “Maybe you and all your flirting make me need a drink every once in a while.” 

He gave her a wry grin that only set her nerves fluttering more dangerously. He stood and stretched his muscled arms over his head. Elain looked away from his tattooed biceps and rippling abs. 

“A drink sounds great,” he finally said. “Today was overwhelming for me. I could use one. I take it your talk with Rodrick had the same effect on you?”

Yes. “No, I just feel like exploring the town I haven’t seen in fifteen years,” she lied. “So let’s go find one of those mysterious staff people and ask for a ride to town.”

Azriel sighed but nodded. “I miss my bike,” he said morosely. She gave him a pat on the arm as they headed for the door, Elain scooping up her bag and Azriel stuffing his pockets with his essentials.

“I’m sure it misses you, too.” And off they went in search of a ride to the nearest pub.

Chapter Text

Azriel and Elain ended up at a cheery little pub in town, and it was exactly what Azriel would have guessed a Scottish pub would be, with a fireplace, polished brass everywhere, and heavy wooden furniture. It was mid-afternoon when they entered and took side-by-side seats at the bar, putting several stools between them and a few other patrons drinking together. 

Azriel was still pleasantly surprised that Elain had asked him out with her, even if she did seem nervous and overwhelmed. They each ordered a local ale per the recommendation of the bartender, tried their drinks (the best damn ale Azriel had ever had), and then he smiled at Elain, figuring he’d break the silence and ease her into whatever conversation she wanted to have. He was feeling nervous too, but nothing a little bit of friendly flirting couldn’t solve. 

“You look really beautiful this afternoon,” he told her sincerely, and reveled in the pinking of her cheeks. And she did, with her hair twisted into a bun on the back of her head and wearing a long, flowy pink skirt and one of her familiar cropped white tank tops. 

“I’m glad you brought along some of your cute fortune-teller outfits,” he added with a grin. 

Elain coughed on her drink. “My fortune-teller outfits?” she asked with a laugh. 

Azriel shrugged. “Yeah, you know, all long and flowy and intriguing.” 

Her blush returned, and she smiled down at her drink. “Well thank you, I suppose.” 

He pushed on. “Was it nice to get out and garden?”

He felt warmth spread through his chest as he watched Elain’s eyes light up and a truly wondrous smile spread across her perfect face. 

“It felt amazing,” she breathed, and then lowered her voice. “I was only supposed to weed, but I couldn’t help but add a little something as I went.”

Azriel grinned back conspiratorially. “With your—?” he asked subtly, gesturing towards her hands with his chin. Elain nodded and then put a finger to her lips. He winked at her. 

They drank a bit more, and he could see her relaxing some more as well. Good, the drink and conversation were helping. 

“So, do you wear those miniscule shorts every night?” he asked innocently, swirling the ale around in his glass a bit. 

Elain clicked her tongue and slapped him on the shoulder, and a laugh broke free from Azriel. 

“You’re such a cad,” she chastised him, though he didn’t miss the way the tips of her ears went red. 

“A cad?” he asked, goading her. “What is this, medieval times?”

At that, Elain’s smile fell from her face and her shoulders slumped a bit. “No,” she answered dully. “It’s not.”

Azriel’s chest tightened. It was like he kept saying the wrong things to her, but he didn’t understand why they were the wrong things. 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “Did I say something?”

He watched Elain effortfully fix her face into something more cheerful, and he didn’t like that, either. Then she took several long gulps of her drink. 

“Not at all,” she said, and Azriel had to stop himself from pressing her further. 

“And for your information, no, I do not usually sleep in those shorts. If you must know, I enjoy sleeping without any clothes on at all, when I am in my own space.”

Azriel could have fallen off his barstool. This wicked woman. He cleared his throat and swigged his ale to be able to speak once more. 

“Are you just fucking with me?” he asked, and a sly grin crossed Elain’s face.

“Definitely not,” she said, her voice dropping low and her eyelashes fluttering. “I get warm while I sleep. I like feeling the cool sheets against my bare skin.”

Oh, fuck him. 

“You know,” he answered, his own voice dropping as he bore into her eyes with his own. “You could always feel me against your bare skin at night.” Elain swallowed as she maintained his eye-contact. “Just another option.”

Elain clicked her tongue but didn’t look away. “Wouldn’t that make me hotter, not cooler?” Her voice was far too breathy, and Azriel felt his cock twitch to life below his belt. 

He traced her body with his eyes slowly. “Are you saying it would make you hot to be naked with me?”

Elain swigged her ale. “You know,” she answered with false innocence. “Body heat and all of that.” 

“Hmm,” Azriel answered, before swigging from his own glass. “What if I told you that I slept in the nude as well?” 

He watched in silent glee as Elain’s blush crept down her chest in that gorgeous way it did. She shrugged. “Like I said,” she answered lightly. “Body heat.”
Azriel chuckled darkly. For fuck’s sake, it felt good to flirt with her. He could make her squirm and watch her flush and listen to the way her breath hitched all fucking day. The rest of his life. He dared to reach out and trace the back of his scarred hand down her perfectly smooth and pearly arm, which now boasted a stunning sunkissed glow. He was delighted to feel Elain shiver under his touch. 

“Can I ask you something, Elain?” he inquired in a low, smooth voice. She pressed her lips together and gave him a little nod, his hand coming to rest on her forearm. His fingers tapped lightly on her skin, slow and teasing. 

“Were you going to drop the towel?”

Elain was so lost in Azriel, her entire body feeling like it was up in flames from the slightest touch of his skin on hers, that she couldn’t possibly lie. Her heart thundered as she managed to whisper a single, “Yes.”

Azriel’s fingers tensed on her forearm, digging in slightly but painlessly. She watched his face as his jaw clenched tightly. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. His chest expanded in one large breath that he released slowly and measured, like he was trying to steady himself. And then Azriel’s hand traveled back up her arm, drifting featherlight over her skin up, up, up, skimming the side of her neck, fingertips dancing onto her jaw. He held her face cupped in his large, warm hand, and looked at her with the most open sincerity she had ever seen. 

Elain closed her eyes and leaned into the way his hand cradled her face. His fingers stroked her jaw carefully. 

When Azriel spoke again, his voice was hushed, tender, and almost desperate. “What are we doing, Elain?” 

Her eyes blinked back open and she swallowed, unable to answer him. How could she give him an answer? This was it, she would have to tell him everything. Her palms grew clammy. She shouldn’t be so nervous—she had already rocked his entire world by explaining that magic existed and that they both had it, so he wouldn’t think she was crazy for this, would he? But would he run? Would it all finally be too much for him? What would he make of the warnings from the cards and her Sight? 

“Elain?” he asked, watching as she struggled to find words. 

“I—” she mumbled, and then poured the rest of her ale down her throat, shaking off his hand.  she swallowed it down, searching for courage. “I—I need another drink.”

Azriel dropped his hand into his lap, his face falling. She hated that he made that face because of her. But he just lifted the corner of his mouth in a little smile and said, “All right,” gesturing to the bartender to order them another round. 

Elain ordered a whisky this time, deciding she needed some stronger courage, and Azriel did the same. They drank in silence for a few minutes, Elain hating herself for being such a coward. All she had to do was talk to him. Elain, though, was a lightweight of course. And the more whisky she drank, the harder it became to remember the speech she had prepared. 

“Azriel,” she said, definitely feeling the effects of the drinks now. 

“Yes?” he asked, and she realized he had somehow drifted closer to her, or she him, without her even noticing. Their stools were pushed close together now, their thighs and arms resting against each other. 

He looked at her expectantly, and she suddenly wanted him so badly she thought she could die from it. The way his hazel eyes glistened with gold and green like a sunlight-dappled forest as he looked at her patiently, his long, sweeping black lashes framing them. The way his lovely curls fell over his forehead, softening the strong, straight lines of his face with boyish delicacy. The way his golden skin contrasted against her pale skin when he touched her. The way his straight nose and perfect, wide lips sat on his stunning face. 

Elain realized she was leaning her face towards him, tipping her head back and coming closer, closer to those delicious lips of his. Azriel made no argument, but rather slid his hand up her waist, then up her spine, then into the roots of her hair to hold the back of her neck as he leaned his own face down to meet hers. 

Elain’s thoughts suddenly cut through the haze of her desire and drinks, and she paused with her lips centimeters from his. 

“I need to tell you something,” she breathed in one long, run-together admission. 

Azriel cupped the back of her neck more fully and let his forehead drop down to hers, a breath that could have been frustration or relief leaving him. 

“Please, Elain,” he nearly whispered, stroking her neck with a thumb as he held her. “Just tell me whatever it is that I can see is eating at you. Let me in. Let me help.”

Elain drew in a slow, steadying breath and pulled away from him, as hard as it was. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted to listen to her heart and body and claim him, once and for all. She wanted to kiss him until her lips hurt and her legs were too weak to stand on. But she forced herself to take another few centering breaths (despite the fact that the drinks were making her feel anything but centered), and she began. 

“There’s been something happening with my magic,” she said under her breath, checking to make sure no one around was listening. Azriel took a sip of his whisky, folded his hands on the bar top, and watched her patiently, nodding. “My visions have been…different. I normally see the future, but lately—well, since meeting you—they’ve been showing me the past.” Her heart raced as she pressed on. “And, the thing is,” she said, struggling to find the words. “They’ve been showing me—”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite foreigner and her terrifying friend!” A familiar, much-too-loud voice interrupted her from across the pub. 

Azriel had never wanted to punch a person more. Benji had already been so punchable, and now he had ruined a moment that clearly had taken Elain a lot of courage and time to work up to. He gripped his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white as he looked over Elain’s shoulder to see the bumbling, too-happy idiot bounding across the bar towards them. 

Elain turned to see him as well, trying to compose herself. “Benji?” she asked, even though there could have been no mistaking his cloyingly jovial voice. “What are you doing here?” She gave him a smile that Azriel could tell was a bit forced. It secretly made him gleeful—maybe she would be annoyed with him, too. That would make his day.

“You two are in my pub,” Benji answered as he approached them, slinging an arm around each of them. Azriel had to fight not to shake him off. Benji was far too touchy for him. Pretty much everyone was, save for Elain. Even his brothers hugged him too much. 

They had to pick the pub that Benji frequented. Of course.

“Oh,” Elain answered, seemingly not sure what to say. And then, because she was one million times kinder and better than he was, she added, “Would you like to join us for a drink?”

Benji clapped them both on the backs simultaneously and then the bastard dragged a stool between them, forcing them both to scooch their own out of the way. Azriel was petty enough that he wouldn’t have moved an inch, but he couldn’t let Elain do all the work and be pushed out of the way by Benji. 

Without even asking what they wanted, Benji ordered three rusty nails, which Azriel had never heard of before in his life. They turned out to be very strong though, tasting of whiskey, honey, herbs, and more whiskey. 

He could hold his liquor, but Elain would most definitely be drunk by the end of this night. Azriel leaned over Benji to murmur quietly to her, “Do you want some water?”

She nodded, her cheeks red now from the drinks rather than embarrassment. 

Azriel ordered them all waters and then Benji, regrettably, turned to him. 

“So, Azzy—can I call you that?” Before Azriel even had a chance to say no, absolutely fucking not, Benji simply plowed on. “I feel like I don’t know a thing about you. Tell me what you do for fun, eh?”

Azriel bit back a hateful sigh, figuring the faster he answered this asshole’s questions, the faster the conversation could be over.

“I like to read, ride my motorcycle, go on runs, and practice martial arts.”

“A well-rounded man!” Benji laughed before swigging his drink. 

“Oh, and he loves restaurants!” Elain chimed in, giggling slightly. “He owns a bunch of them in the city.”

Azriel couldn’t help but grin at how excited and enthusiastic, though inaccurate, she was. 

“I don’t own multiple restaurants,” he corrected, still smiling dumbly at Elain. He broke the gaze to look back at Benji to answer him. “Though she’s right—I do enjoy the restaurant business, and I am a partner at a handful of establishments where we live.”

“He likes to pretend he’s not sophisticated and rich,” Elain added with a wistful sigh, and Azriel held in a chuckle. 

“Och! Pure dead brilliant, that,” Benji said, impressed. At least, Azriel thought it meant he was impressed. “And what do ye do for work?”

Azriel threw back some more whiskey-on-whiskey and answered, “I’m a director at a financial firm.”

Benji laughed and clapped him aggressively on the back again. “And I’m an actuary! Basically the same job, you and me, eh?”

No, it was not anywhere fucking close, but Azriel just silently raised his glass towards the idiot in response. 

“How was your day at work, Benji?” Elain asked, blessedly taking the heat off Azriel. Fuck, he loved her. 

Wait—did he just think the word love? He didn’t mean that. Thank god he didn’t say that out loud. 

Azriel quietly sipped his drink while listening to Elain and Benji chat, Elain thankfully chugging water along with small sips of her own drink. She could do whatever she wanted, of course. If she wanted to get hammered he would drink with her and take care of her after, but he would hate for her to feel sick the next day or feel pressured into drinking more than she wanted to. 

After they had all finished the drinks Benji ordered, the blonde buffoon asked them, “Why don’t we go find some scran, eh? Before this one,” he jerked his chin at Elain, “gets too mad wae it.”

Azriel looked at him blankly, and Benji sighed and then clarified, “Let’s get something to eat before Elain here becomes too drunk, aye?”

He said it laughing, nudging her with a shoulder, but Azriel didn’t laugh with him. He didn’t like the idea of the two of them laughing at her expense together. He prepared to say something in Elain’s defense, but she just giggled and answered, “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Azriel could have smacked his forehead down onto the table and screamed. Now they had to get dinner with the idiot? But he would do whatever made Elain happy, of course. So he gave them a tight smile and agreed. 

They found themselves at a new pub a few minutes later, seated at a booth and ordering food from a friendly plump waitress. Elain was glad to have some food to soak up the liquor she had drunk too fast, but Benji also ordered them more drinks. 

Her plan had gone to utter shit. And Elain was a coward as she realized that she was relieved for the interruption Benji had provided, to put off the difficult conversation for one more day. So she happily entertained him, trying to drag Azriel and his grumpy ass into the conversation as much as she could.

When they were finished eating, Benji insisted on giving them a ride back to the castle, but Azriel was having absolutely none of it. 

“You just had multiple drinks in a row, and so did we,” he told Benji with a frown. “I’m not going to let you drive her when you’re intoxicated in any way.” 

Elain noted silently that he showed no concern for his own well-being, but only wanted to make sure she was safe. She ducked her head and smiled. 

“Come on, Benji,” she said with a tug on his arm. “Share our ride back with us. You can leave your car here.”

He protested a bit but relented, and Elain pulled out the card with the number their driver had left them with. 

As they sat in the car on the way back, Elain wondered if it was too late to still talk to Azriel. Could she salvage their conversation, or had they both had one too many drinks? He was sitting next to her in the backseat, and she wanted so badly to be pressed up against him, wrapped in his arm, her head on his shoulder. 

She glanced at him and saw him watching her back, his face filled with longing of his own. She swallowed and gazed at him silently, chewing the inside of her lip. She wasn’t about to ask him what he was thinking with Benji and their driver Rob right there in the front seat.

But before Elain could decide what she should do about the look Azriel was giving her, he reached his long arm over to her. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought he was going to rest his hand on her thigh, but instead it dropped down to her seatbelt, which he clicked open. Elain looked at him questioningly, but he only quietly slid the seatbelt off her and gently tugged at her arm.

Elain followed his wordless request with absolutely no desire to resist, sliding over until she was in the middle seat, pressed right up against him. Azriel reached over her to pull the seatbelt across her chest and lap, and then plugged it in with a quiet click. If either man in the front seats noticed, they made no comment. 

Azriel silently laid his arm across her lap, cupping the outside of her far thigh with his large, warm palm. Elain breathed a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding, and let her head drop down onto his shoulder beside her. She knew he had to be slinking down in his seat a bit so she could reach, as he was so much taller than her, and she smiled, her eyes dropping closed. 

Azriel turned his head and, without even the tiniest noise, planted one soft kiss onto her hair before looking back out the window. Elain melted into him, letting her own arm fall onto his leg as well. He smelled so good, just like him, just like everything she wanted to dive into and never come up from. He was warm and solid and safe, and she could have sat there with him forever.

They stayed like that, silently telling each other that they saw and they wanted, breathing in unison, until the car pulled up through the towering gates. Elain reluctantly straightened up off Azriel as they came to a stop, and both their hands came back to themselves. She instantly missed his on her. 

Benji was already chattering away as they exited the car. Elain, for one, was ready to be alone with Azriel, to figure out what they were doing and what they were to each other and to make every confession she had burrowed in her chest. But Benji was saying something, so she tried to focus for a moment. 

“Let’s go have a look at Granddad’s secret store. He’s got some priceless stuff in there—more than just booze.”

Azriel was rubbing the bridge of his nose but saying nothing, and Elain didn’t want to be rude. Benji was grinning back and forth between them, and Elain thought the least she could do for all his hospitality and friendliness was indulge him with one more little drink. 

“Come on,” he goaded her, winking. “Let’s go on an adventure like we did when we were wee bairns.” 

Elain sighed with a smile, too easily swayed with a few strong drinks in her. She glanced at Azriel and he only waved a hand, indicating that it was her call. 

“Oh, all right,” she relented. “But just one look and maybe one drink! I’m tired and clearly cannot drink as much as you two can.”

Benji guffawed loudly and led them into the house. They quietly crept in through a side door, stepping lightly down a hallway that looked mostly unused until they came upon a door in the floor. 

“To the cellar,” Benji whispered conspiratorially, and they followed him down the dark steps. As far as secret stores of liquor go, this one was not so secret, simply there in the cellar at the bottom of the stairs. It was huge though, with shelves and shelves of bottles, some looking to be over one hundred years old. 

They wandered the shelves, Benji pointing out different varieties of Scotch whiskey and bits of gossip about the families that made them. Azriel broke away from them at one point, headed to the darkest shelves at the very back of the dusty underground room. Only a minute or two had passed before she heard his voice calling.

“What are these back here?” he asked through the stale cellar air. “They look home-brewed.”

Benji and Elain followed Azriel’s voice to the dark corner he stood in before a low table. He was right—it was covered with little vials and bottles that Rodrick or someone else in the house had to have filled themselves. 

Benji grinned like a devil when he saw what Azriel was inspecting. “Oh, they are definitely home-brewed, but they’re not liquors.” 

Azriel’s eyes flicked up from the little bottle of purple liquid he was inspecting. Elain gasped, knowing exactly what Benji was implying. 

“Magic?” she asked excitedly. “I didn’t know Rodrick dabbled in tinctures like me!” 

Benji shook his head. “Grandmam,” he answered. “It was the only kind of magic she was interested in. She used to make me all kinds of brews for when I had stomachaches or growing pains or what have you.”

Elain gazed at the bottles in wonder as she approached them, picking one up gingerly. They seemed to all have very vague or no names at all. The one she was currently holding with a thick green liquid just said “To feel better.” Well, that could mean anything. 

She glanced over at Azriel, who was inspecting them as well. He hadn’t shied away from the idea that they contained magic, she noted proudly and warmly. He lifted a vial full of beautiful swirling pink liquid for Elain to see. 

“What do you think this one is for?” he asked, a sparkle in his eye. Elain arched an eyebrow and took it from him. The label simply read, “Make your night better.” She met Azriel’s eyes again. They were…mischievous. 

Benji shrugged next to them. “Could be anything, knowing those two. But eh—there is a whole bin of ‘em. You should take one and find out.”

Elain glanced down to see that, indeed, there was a wicker basket holding a good ten or more vials with the same pink liquid floating around in them, the same extra-vague label scrawled on their sides. 

“I can’t just take your grandfather’s things!” she protested, but Benji snorted lightheartedly. 

“Granddad never comes down here. I used to count bottles of liquor and such in some sort of attempt to cover my ass, and the number never dwindled. He doesn’t use them. I think it would make him happy that his dear Elain is making use of some of this. No one else does.”

Elain bit her lip. She did want to make her night better. She wanted to make it better with Azriel. She wanted them to have easy, open conversation, to be honest with each other about how they felt, to maybe end the night in each other's arms. 

Benji chuckled as he watched Elain contemplate it. “Just…take it to your rooms and use it there. Ye might want to be somewhere familiar, because who knows what it’ll do to ye.”

Elain eyed the bottle for another moment and then slipped it into her skirt pocket. Azriel’s smile slid off his face, apparently surprised that she would actually take it. 

“Well, I'm ready for bed,” Elain said decisively, taking Azriel by the arm and leading him back through the cellar. 

Benji laughed, following behind them and bidding them good night in the hallway, his own bottle of no doubt priceless whiskey under his arm. 

The moment they were back in their sitting room with the door closed, Elain pulled out the vial. 

Azriel took a step back. “Elain,” he started seriously. “You have no idea what's in that, or what it will do. Don't you want to…he gestured at her whole body with a hand. “Talk?” he finally finished. 

Elain took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said. “After I've made our night better.” And she uncorked the vial. 

“Lain,” Azriel said again, stepping closer to her to take the vial, but she hopped out of his reach, feeling defiant. 

“You don't have to drink it if you don't want to,” she answered with challenge in her voice. She lifted the vial and sniffed it. “If you're scared of a little potion that smells like lavender and roses.” 

She watched Azriel consider her challenge, and then shake his head. 

“I can't tell you what to do, but this seems like—” 

Elain cut him off and tossed half the contents of the vial down her throat. She giggled after a swallow, watching Azriel’s eyes go wide. 

She waited a few moments, and felt nothing. “I feel fine,” Elain said to him as he ran his hands nervously through his hair. “I don't feel any different.” 

She shrugged down at the bottle and moved to drink down the rest, if Azriel was going to be such a coward about it. 

“No—fuck,” Azriel snapped, and reached out to snag the vial out of her hand. Before she could protest he had tossed the rest down his own throat, and then blinked back at her like he wasn't sure why he had done it. 

She grinned wickedly at him, but he held up a hand. “I only did that to stop you from drinking the rest! I don't know what the dosage is on this stuff, I don't know if you can OD.”

Elain scoffed at him in disbelief. “Well you didn't have to drink it, you could have just kept it or poured it out! What if I need your help and now we’re both fucked?”

Azriel's mouth dropped open. “I thought you wanted me to take it!” 

“Well I did, but I wanted you to want to take it, not just to stop me from—”

Elain cut herself off as she felt something new sweep through her. It was heat, starting in her chest and then spreading to much more sensitive areas. Her breasts were suddenly aching, her core so hot it felt on fire. 

“Azriel?” she asked, her voice coming out far too breathy and quivering. “Do you feel, um…different?” 

She pressed her thighs together to try to quell the burning need between them, but it only made it worse. She needed him. She needed him—in her, on her, pounding her so hard she—

“No,” he said, frowning. Her hands were already reaching for him, and then she was running them down his chest, moving closer still to him, feeling his heart rate kick up under her touch. 

She felt good. No, she felt amazing. She felt like she would finally have everything she wanted from Azriel right here and right now. She started to tug at the collar of his shirt, standing up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his bare neck.

“Elain, what are you—” Azriel started, but he, too, cut himself off, and Elain grinned wickedly against his throat, knowing exactly what he was feeling.

Oh, god. Azriel did not feel normal any longer. Suddenly, the places where Elain’s fingers groped at his neckline and her lips pressed against his throat felt like they went up in flames, and he clutched her to him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, and her giggle against his skin sent his blood straight to his fucking cock, where it pulsed and throbbed, trapped within his pants. 

To make the night better. This was a—a fucking aphrodisiac. 

He suddenly needed to be buried in Elain, to make her feel every ounce of pleasure a person could feel and then more. More and more and more until she was begging him to stop, only she never would. They would keep going forever and ever and ever, him inside her and her atop him and nothing would ever stop them. 

Azriel moaned and rolled his head to expose his neck further as Elain continued to devour him there. His hands slid from around her waist to cup her ass, squeezing it and pressing her to his pelvis. 

A cry escaped Elain as she was pressed against his erection, and it only made him need her more, more, more. A miniscule voice was in the back of his mind, trying to remind him of something, but he fought against it. 

“Elain,” he breathed, running one hand up to grip the roots of her hair, pulling her gently off his neck and back so he could look at her face. What he saw there threatened to end him on the spot. Her eyes were starving. Huge and hungry and so, so needy as she slipped her hands under his shirt, drifting her nimble fingers over his bare skin. 

“I want you, Azriel,” she fucking whined, and a groan ripped from him as his fingers tightened in her hair. 

“Please,” she begged, rolling her body against his as her hand drifted up his bare back. “I need—”

He didn’t let her finish as he crushed his mouth to hers, holding her so tightly against him he lifted her off her toes. 

She whimpered against his mouth and then their tongues and lips were everywhere, devouring each other in a way he had missed and needed so, so, badly. 

Azriel walked as he plied her mouth with his own, until he felt her body press up against the door of their sitting room. He reached around her to turn the lock until it clicked, and then continued to deepen the kiss, roving his hands over her body, pawing at her breasts, needing to feel every inch of her until he drowned in her. 

Elain cried out and hooked a leg around his thighs, thrusting herself against him, and he hissed onto her lips, slipping a hand under her shirt. 

He broke away from the kiss to run his mouth down her jaw, behind her ear, and return the way she had devoured his own neck. 

He was going to do everything he ever wanted to do to her, he thought as he cupped his hand around a bare breast, thrusting his hips against hers in return. He was going to lick and bite and pound into her until she was screaming. He needed to. He had to taste every inch of her, or he feared they would both die from the need. 

Elain was writhing against him, mewling  and running her hands over every bit of skin that she could reach.

That tiny voice interrupted Azriel’s fire again, whispering wait, wait, wait, but he pushed it aside, taking her mouth with his own once more and running his tongue over every surface he could. Elain’s hands roved to his belt, unbuckling it with such deft precision he nearly came in his pants right then. It was only when she plunged her hand down, groping for him, that instinct took over and his hand shot down, gripping her wrist to stop her. 

“Wait,” he panted, bracing his other hand against the door beside her, panting heavily. 

“Wait,” he repeated, just to make sure he had actually said it out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Elain whined, her hand trapped but still trying to reach his cock, her fingers grappling where he held her. 

“This isn’t right, this—” Azriel groaned as he watched her lick her lips, feeling precum gathering on his tip, wanting nothing more than to sink his cock into her and fuck her into oblivion. 

“What isn’t right?” she pouted, pulling her hand out from his grip, only to fucking trick him and snatch his own wrist, plunging it under the waistband of her skirt and bringing his fingers straight to her fucking entrance, where she writhed on his hand. 

“Fuck,” he growled, feeling the way his fingers were drenched as they stroked her core, Elain crying out in pleasure and need. It took every single bit of willpower he possessed to pull his hand from her skirt, slamming it onto the door beside her head.

“Elain,” he begged. “We can’t do this. We—you—aren’t sober. This isn’t consent, you’re fucking drugged.”

Elain scoffed at him. “So are you!” she countered, trying to tug her shirt off her breasts, but he caught her hands and stayed her movements, even though his body screamed at him to let her remove every scrap of her clothing. 

“That doesn’t make it better,” he answered, his voice nothing more than a deep rasp, and took a step back from her. “We haven’t even talked, you haven’t told me what’s bothering you,” he forced out, pulling at his hair in his agony of need. 

“I don’t care,” she breathed, trying to follow him. He backed away towards their shared bathroom.

“You might care in the morning,” he said, still moving away from her but wanting nothing more than to be glued by skin and mouth to her for eternity. “You might regret it, like you did after sleeping with me at my mother’s.”

Elain’s eyes widened, and she kept advancing on him, this time fully tugging her shirt off so her breasts bounced free. Azriel outright moaned at the sight, throwing a hand over his eyes.

“Elain—fuck,” he grunted, his cock so tight in his pants it was painful, throbbing to be set free and buried in her. 

“I didn’t regret that,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry near-whisper. “I wanted to be there. I wanted more than just that, like I do now. I want all of you, Azriel. I need you.”

Azriel staggered back, still covering his eyes. He had to do the right thing, even though he so badly wanted to do the wrong thing. She would never trust him if he took advantage of her like this, and it would kill him if she woke in the morning and regretted it, or worse—felt that he had hurt or betrayed her in any way. 

He felt the door of the bathroom hit his back and he released his hand from his face, absorbing the sight of Elain in all her devastating glory. She stood before him, bare chest heaving, breasts swollen and lips swollen and probably her fucking pussy swollen, too. 

Then Azriel fucking whimpered, and claimed her mouth once more, kissing her as deeply as he could as he carefully opened the door behind him. She was about to be pissed. The minute he cracked it open enough to slip through, his other hand trailing lightly over her bare nipple, he broke away from her with a gentle little shove, shut the door, and crossed the bathroom in two long strides, leaping into his own bedroom and slamming the door behind him, making sure it was locked. 

“What the fuck!” he heard Elain call, and then of course she followed him to the bathroom, banging on his door. 

“That was fucking low, Azriel!” she yelled at him. Good, it was better that she was mad at him than trying to make him give in to every depraved and all-consuming desire he had. And then he heard her press her body against his door, her voice dropping again. 

“You don’t want to fuck me?” she purred against the wood, and he imagined what her bare chest looked like pressed up against the door. He ripped his belt off and shucked his pants down, relieving some of the pressure on his cock. 

“Elain,” he growled, coming to the other side of the door and resting his forehead against it, his hand traveling down to rub his cock from the outside of his boxers.

“I want to fuck you so badly, I would give anything to be inside you right now.” He listened as she moaned on the other side of the wood, then continued. “I want my cock to be buried so deep inside you that you can’t move. I want to feel every soft inch of you writhing against me. I want to give you more pleasure than a person knows what to do with. I want to fuck you again and again and again and again and never fucking stop.”

He heard more clothing being removed on the other side of the door, and blew out a frustrated breath. 

“Then why don’t you?” she simpered. “I’m naked now. I heard you take your own pants off. Just let me in and fuck me.” 

Azriel grit his teeth, his hand still moving over his cock but not outright fucking himself yet. 

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he bit out, hearing her moving on the other side of the door. “We are both extremely intoxicated with the drinks and whatever the fuck was in that vial. You can’t give me consent. And I know you needed to tell me something and I don’t want us to—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Elain growled at him from behind the door, and he fell silent. “Why do you have to be so fucking noble?” she asked. 

He thumped his forehead against the door, his hand finally sliding into his boxers. “I’m not that noble, Elain,” he murmured, gripping himself as hard as he could, reveling in the pain. “I have my hand around my cock right now, wishing it was yours.”

He listened to her make a desperate sound on the other side of the door. “I think—” she said airily, and he heard her breath hitch and prayed she was touching herself, too. “I think we may have taken an aphrodisiac."

“No shit,” Azriel ground out, ripping off his shirt and then tugging down his boxers, gripping himself once more. “Why the fuck does Rodrick even have that?”

He heard Elain draw in a sharp breath and then utter a little cry, and then go still. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Old people need to have sex, too!”

Azriel groaned and began to pump himself. “Don’t say the word sex to me right now,” he moaned. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, not wanting to waste any more fucking time.

“I am,” Elain cried out, and he heard her slide down to the floor. He imagined her leaning with her back against the door, her naked body open with her legs splayed wide, hand plunged into herself. He groaned once more and pumped harder, faster, imagining her there, her mouth on him, her hand on him, her cunt on him. 

“Are your fingers inside that perfect fucking pussy?” he asked, another groan slipping from him as he worked and worked himself. “Are you dripping down your thighs?”
Elain wailed out a desperate noise before answering with a broken, “Yes.”

“Good,” he answered, bracing one hand against the door so he could fuck himself as hard and fast as possible, needing the slight pain of it, letting his imagination run wild. Elain had her mouth around his cock, swallowing him down, then it was his mouth on her, licking every drop from her cunt, then he was fucking her breasts with his cock as she squeezed them around him. 

“Azriel,” she cried out, and he pinched the tip of his dick in response to hearing his name called out in that way, a moan breaking free. 

“Yeah baby,” he answered, moving back into a punishing rhythm with his arm. “I'm here. I'm fucking my hand with my cock so fucking hard, just how I want to fuck you.” 

“You could unlock the door and do just that,” she moaned, and he heard the slick sound of her fingers sliding in and out of herself, paired with the suctiony sound of her palm cupping herself again and again with every thrust. 

A garble of aggressive sounds escaped him as he worked himself, growling “No,” to her, unable to get out any other words. “But keep slamming your hand against yourself like that. It sounds—” he stuttered as a whimpering desperate sound came out of him, his body shuddering with an approaching orgasm. “It sounds so fucking good.” 

“I can do it harder if you want,” she called to him, and all he could do was groan out a muffled “yes.” 

And then he heard her hand smacking against her cunt as she cried, and another shudder rocked through him. 

“Fuck, Elain,” he panted, that rope of tension within him coiling and coiling, his dick already dripping. 

“Azriel,” she cried back, an endless string of moans following. 

He was seconds from coming, his cock pulsing in his hand, his vision tunneling. 

“Elain,” he cried himself, his desperation growing into something insurmountable. 

“Azriel!” She screamed back, and that was the final straw. He moaned loudly as his orgasm rocked through his body, his cock finally releasing in the way it had ached to, his cum spurting from him into his other waiting hand as he shook. 

“I'm coming,” he groaned against the wood, his forehead pressed into the door as his entire body spasmed. 

Elain let out a wail of a sound as he heard her head thunk back onto the wood behind her, and he knew she was coming as well. 

“Me too,” she confirmed, her voice a shaky mewl. 

When his shudders finally subsided and he had nothing left to expel, Azriel reached down to his discarded shirt, cleaning off his hand, his heart still thumping madly and his chest still heaving. 

“Fuck me,” he murmured mostly to himself, turning so his back was against the door and sliding down to the floor. He imagined himself and Elain, back to back with just a slab of wood separating them, both of them spent and naked. He could hear her breathing heavily, though her moans and cries had died away. 

And with his release, Azriel could feel the magic of the tincture draining away from him, as if it had done its job. It was replaced by a heavy exhaustion that claimed him suddenly and severely. 

“Elain?” he called softly to her, still hearing her breathe on the other side of the door. “Are you…alright?”

“Yes,” she answered in a small voice. “Just really, really tired all of a sudden, and a little embarrassed…” 

Azriel turned then, shuffling away from the door and opening it. Elain was caught off guard, falling straight backwards as her support was pulled away. She let out a little squeak, but Azriel caught her in his arms, only to realize they were both completely naked and…sticky. 

“Oh,” he said dumbly, looking down at her. She blinked back up at him before bursting into tears. 

“What—Elain,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. He reached behind him and pulled a throw blanket off the foot of his bed, covering her up with it to try to provide her with some sort of dignity. 

“Why are you crying?”

She was still in his arms, and she turned her head to bury her face in his chest as they sat there on the floor. “I just—today went so wrong,” she hiccupped, her tears sliding down his bare chest. “I was supposed to talk to you, and instead I was so much of a coward I ended up drinking way more than I should have, and taking some ridiculous lust potion, and then doing that,” she cried, gesturing wildly to the door and the bathroom beyond it. 

“Hey,” Azriel said, stroking her hair. “It’s okay. I’ll be ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk. And don’t be embarrassed about that,” he said, also nodding towards the door. “We were…under the influence.”

She blinked up at him in the dimness of his room, her eyes still brimming. He only realized in that moment that he had never turned the light on and that they were now sitting in the dark, though his eyes were adjusted enough to see her face clearly.

“But I meant every word I said, for the record,” he added, stroking her cheek with a thumb now. “I want you, Elain. But once we…figure things out, okay? Once we talk about whatever is going on, whatever has you so scared. Once we’re sober.” 

Elain sniffled and nodded. “Maybe we can talk now,” she tried, but even as she said it, the end of her sentence was swallowed by a great yawn showing all her teeth. Azriel chuckled until his own yawn followed hers. 

“Do you feel…insanely exhausted as well?” he asked her. “Like you couldn’t move if you tried?”

Elain wiped the rest of the tears from her face and nodded. “Must be…a side effect,” she said, snuggling into him as her eyes slid shut. 

“Oh no,” Azriel said, sucking in a great steadying breath as he forced his body to move despite the all-consuming fatigue that dragged him down. “You're not falling asleep on the floor.” He stood, tugging Elain up with him, but she swayed on her feet as soon as he put her down. 

“Mm,” she sighed, her head falling onto his chest. 

“Shit,” Azriel muttered, and silently screamed at his body to obey as he scooped Elain into his arms. He wasn’t going to fucking make it to her own room. He fought drooping eyelids as he staggered a few steps to his bed and dropped her as gently as he could. She only shifted onto her side and hugged a pillow beneath her head, already dead asleep. 

Azriel pinched his face to stay away for another few moments, finding a clean T-shirt and pair of boxers. He forced the shorts onto Elain, struggling with every movement, and then hauled her to a seat to wrangle the t-shirt over her head. He just didn’t want her to wake up naked and exposed or feel any kind of shame. He dropped her to fall back onto the bed, and she didn’t even stir. He tugged clean boxers onto himself, swaying on his feet. 

He fully meant to leave Elain in his room and go sleep in hers, giving her whatever privacy she needed to recover from their strange night and avoiding any more crossed boundaries. He swore he did. But he used every last ounce of anything he had in his body to tug the blankets from beneath Elain and pull them over her, and then his vision was going. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, wavering, and fell next to her into the bed. 

He wasn’t even aware of wriggling under the covers and pulling Elain close to him, his arms wrapped around her tightly, his face in the crook of her neck, before he was dead asleep, nothing but blackness in his mind.

Chapter Text

The princess spent three evenings in the knight's arms as they crossed the sea to the continent. The first night she spent emptying her stomach into a bucket while he held her hair and stroked her back. The second night she spent laying in the dark, whispering with him about all of their fears and hopes and deepest desires. The third night she spent making love to him, slowly and languidly, promising herself forever to him with her body, again and again and again. 

And in another lifetime, a not-at-all princess laid safe in the arms of a not-at-all knight, dreaming of their past life as she remained held tight in his arms through the night. 

Elain and Azriel stepped off the dock and onto the shore of the Continent, now truly embarking on their new life together. She squeezed his hand as their mount was brought to them, and gave the mare a grateful scratch for enduring the ride. 

“Well?” she asked vaguely, looking around before gazing up at Azriel, who watched her with a bemused face. “What now?” It was hitting her that they truly had no plan now that they had made it past their first obstacle: escaping Prythian.

Azriel chuckled and bent down to kiss Elain on the head. “I have contacts in an inland town. Shall we pay them a visit? Perhaps they can help us find a place to settle down.” 

“Alright,” Elain answered, and they climbed atop Veritas and took off, away from the water and their pasts.

Elain shifted as she came awake slightly, mumbling, until she felt Azriel’s warm arms squeeze her tighter to him, his lips pressing gently to the top of her spine. She allowed her body to relax again into his, and sleep claimed her swiftly once more.

Azriel’s contact turned out to be a cousin who lived in a little cottage at the base of a mountain range near the coast of the continent. He let them into his home graciously, and they were greeted by his lovely wife and their cherub of an infant daughter. Elain was delighted by the whole family, immediately asking to hold the baby and squishing her cheeks gently. 

Azriel smiled at the pair warmly as he thanked his cousin, who had offered them lodging for the night, for his hospitality. His wife made them tea and they spoke of their journey so far, regaling the couple with their tale of abandoning their titles and responsibilities and running away together.

The wife, whose name was Gabrielle, was enchanted by the entire story, constantly sighing at the romantic notion of runaway lovers. The baby, Amelie, bounced happily on Elain’s knee, chewing on the leather strap of her satchel, as they talked. She was instantly in love with the little pink thing with her chubby arms and legs and sparse black hair. 

The cousin, though, who was called Marcus, was intrigued in a different way by their tale. He asked many questions about Elain’s kingdom and family, their riches and relationship as a family. He wanted to know details about if they would be looking for her, what they would do if they found her. 

Elain began shifting uncomfortably in her seat, an ominous, itchy feeling eating at her that not even the sweet babe in her arms could quell. Azriel noticed her unease and took her hand, asking if she needed anything. 

“I think I am in need of a bath after that long journey aboard a ship, if I'm to be honest,” Elain produced as an excuse, and Gabrielle jumped up, taking the baby from Elain and passing her to Azriel, who held her awkwardly, as if he was afraid of hurting her. The sight was nothing less than endearing to Elain. Gabrielle ushered Elain into a bathing chamber and helped prepare a bath for her. 

Soaking in the water, Elain’s unease grew. By the time she emerged from her bath clean, her stomach was in knots. They ate supper with their hosts, and though Marcus asked her no other questions regarding her home and family, she still felt a sense of foreboding clamoring in her heart and twisting her guts. 

Elain began tossing and turning in her sleep, her legs thrashing and frightened sounds escaping her mouth, though she remained asleep, lost in her frightful vision. Azriel, however, woke at her disturbed movements and sounds.

“Elain?” he whispered, but she didn’t answer, too deep in the Void to hear. He sat up slightly, waiting a few moments to see if she would settle, but she remained agitated in her slumber. He snuggled back down beside her and pulled her onto his chest, stroking her back and ignoring her twitching limbs. 

“Shh,” he whispered, running a hand up and down her spine as he laid his chin on her head, trying to still its small frantic movements. 

“It’s just a dream, angel,” he murmured, squeezing her against him. “You’re safe here with me.”

Elain’s body relaxed slightly, and with its stillness, Azriel fell swiftly back into sleep, holding Elain against his chest. But if Elain had heard him—if she had truly woken and heard the words he spoke—she might have screamed, “It’s not just a dream! It’s so, so much more than a dream. And so much worse.”

When night descended, Azriel, who was also newly scrubbed clean from a bath, laid in bed and watched Elain as she fidgeted around their borrowed room, rummaging through their bags, organizing their belongings, refolding their spare clothes. 

“Come here, love,” he requested, patting the bed beside him. “It’s been a long journey. Just relax with me now.”

Elain sighed, trying to hide her agitation, and did as he asked, carrying the candle she had been working by to the bedside table and sliding under the blankets, into Azriel’s waiting arms. He kissed both of her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. 

“What’s bothering you, my soul?” he asked her, tucking a curl behind her ear. His own hair was still damp from the bath, and she pushed it out of his eyes where it so often fell, biting her lip for a moment before asking, “Do you trust your cousin?”
Azriel frowned a bit in thought, taking a moment before answering. “I find it difficult to fully trust anyone, as you are aware, but I think Marcus is a good, honorable man, if that is what you ask. He hasn’t done anything untoward, has he?” Vengeful anger flashed through Azriel’s beautiful eyes as he asked. 

Elain shook her head quickly, placing a hand atop Azriel’s to quell his sudden anger. “No, nothing like that,” she answered, and felt him relax beside her. “He just…well, he asked a lot of questions about my family and station.”

Azriel nodded thoughtfully. “As far as I know, he has never spent time around royalty. He’s probably just curious, as anyone might be. You are the daughter of a king and queen, after all.”

Elain nodded, unconvinced. 

“But if he says or does anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Azriel added quickly, “you tell me. All right? And we’ll go tomorrow, anyway.” 

She nodded silently once more. Marcus and Gabrielle had told them of a town some leagues away in a neighboring barony that needed mercenaries, and where Elain could most likely find work tending to gardens or doing laundry. Azriel had insisted that she did not need to work, that he would take care of them, but the thought of working excited Elain. 

She had never felt useful before, other than as a political bargaining chip for her parents. The prospect of setting her mind to a task and completing it, in order to provide both for herself and for the future she shared with Azriel, was daunting and compelling. She was finally able to forget Marcus and his questions for the time being, letting her mind wander about what she might do in her future, what kind of life she and Azriel might share, the family they would perhaps one day build, as she blew the candle out and settled down to sleep. 

Azriel had no idea what time it was when he blinked his eyes open to sunlight streaming through windows that had never been blocked by curtains the previous night. All he knew that was that Elain was still in his arms, and that he had slept like a fucking rock. He had vague memories of waking a couple times throughout the night, Elain disturbed by nightmares, but immediately falling back into sleep each time. 

He watched the way the morning sunlight glinted off her honey curls that were spread across her pillow, and wondered vaguely if she had undone her bun sometime in the night. She was curled onto her side facing him, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, her arm resting across his chest. The blankets had been shucked down with her tossing and turning, and were only pulled up to their hips. Her skin was so pearly and creamy against his own tanned skin, the contrast striking him as beautiful and mesmerizing. But nothing was quite so beautiful as her already soft face softened even further in sleep that finally seemed peaceful. He studied her sun-kissed cheeks, the smattering of freckles across them and the bridge of her nose, her long doe lashes sweeping beneath her shut eyes. 

Azriel’s gaze traveled down to her body clad in his own T-shirt and boxers, and fuck she looked good in them. He stretched his legs, trying to avoid his cock springing to attention as he remembered the previous night, how hungry she was for him, how she threw herself at him, begged him to fuck her. He thought about her pressed up against that door, her fingers plunging into herself as she cried his name. 

Oh, fuck, no—he had to think about anything else. He stretched again, trying to draw blood away from his dick, if that was even a thing, and Elain stirred in her sleep at his movement. His one arm was still trapped around and beneath her, and he squeezed her waist lightly as her eyes fluttered open. 

Elain blinked up at him, keeping her arm across him but moving her fingers a bit, as if testing to feel that it was actually him underneath them. 

“Good morning,” Azriel greeted her gently, and she blushed and scooched away from him a bit, drawing the blankets up to her chin. 

“Good morning,” she answered, as he rolled onto his side to face her, while allowing her the distance she seemed to need. 

“I’m sorry we ended up sleeping together,” he said sincerely, hoping she wasn’t uncomfortable. “Last night was kind of a blur what with…everything,” he continued, and Elain’s blush grew. “But you basically fell asleep standing up, and I was so tired myself from that fucking tonic that I could only get you as far as my bed. And then I meant to go sleep in yours but I guess I…fell asleep too.” He finished his explanation sheepishly, feeling one hundred kinds of stupid. 

“It’s okay,” Elain answered quietly, but it sounded honest. She shimmied around for a minute under the blankets. “Am I…wearing your clothes?” 

“Oh,” he replied dumbly. “Yeah, I guess I did that too before falling asleep. I just…didn’t want you to wake up next to me naked and feel embarrassed?” 

Elain hid her face slightly with the blankets, but he watched her face lift in a teasing smile. “Well which was it, Azriel? You planned on sleeping apart from me, or you planned on dressing me so that I didn’t have to sleep naked with you?”

Azriel’s own lips twitched at the way she called him out so blatantly. He hadn’t even realized his own fallacy in his logic until she pointed it out. “Uh…both? I…guess?” he answered, sounding more and more like the idiot he must truly be. 

Elain giggled and reached her hand out of the covers to lay it on top of his own, which rested between them on the mattress. He breathed a sigh of relief at her affection and entwined their fingers, curling his into hers. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, even though you were fucked up, too,” she said warmly, and he grinned at her. 

“Always,” he answered, and then hesitated before asking what was on his mind. “It seemed like you were having pretty intense dreams last night, or maybe nightmares?” He watched her smile falter as her face paled a bit. “Are you okay?”

Elain swallowed and kept looking into his eyes, but didn’t nod or say yes. “I need to tell you everything,” she whispered. 

Azriel straightened, sitting up in bed and pulling his knees in to rest his elbows on. “I’d like that,” he answered genuinely. 

Elain mimicked him, pulling herself to a seat against her pillow and crossing her legs. “Okay,” she said. “First, though, I have to pee, and make sure my hair doesn’t look insane.”

He flashed her a grin and his eyes roved over her hair. It did look a bit insane, but in the best way possible, wild curls framing her perfect face. “Go for it.”

Elain jumped up and dashed to the bathroom. “Don’t listen to me pee!” she squeaked out before pulling the door shut. He chuckled and then subconsciously ran his hands through his own hair, wondering if his looked insane, too. His own curls could get a bit…jaunty in the mornings. Before long Elain came back, and he quickly dropped his hands and pretended he hadn’t been arranging his hair. 

“Your hair looks fine,” she said as she climbed back into bed and under the covers once more, but remained seated. “Better than fine,” she added. “Actually annoyingly perfect, the way you always look.”

Azriel gaped but then chuffed her chin lightly with a chuckle. “Don’t deflect, sugar. Let’s talk.”

Elain swallowed nervously again, wrapping her arms around her knees as she took a deep breath. 

“Alright,” she finally answered, straightening her spine. “But please don’t run away from me again,” she added somewhat weakly. 

Azriel was about to tell her that no, never, he was done with running from her. But as he shifted his arms braced on his knees, his eyes skimmed down to the watch he had never taken off the previous night. 

“Oh—fuck,” he swore, throwing the blankets off him. It was 8:56. His lesson with Rodrick started in four minutes. “Magic lesson in four minutes,” he said quickly, scrambling for the bed and rummaging for pants in his bag. 

He hopped as he pulled them up over his boxers, speaking to Elain in stilted half-thought-out phrases. “Just—” he yanked a foot through one leg. “Hold that thought. I still want to hear everything and I—” he shoved his belt into his mouth as he buttoned his pants and then dug a shirt out of his folded clothes. “I—” he tried again but realized he had to spit the belt out, fastening it as quickly as he could through his belt loops. “I promise I want to hear it, and that I won’t run.”

Elain was just watching him with wide eyes as he yanked on his shirt, followed by socks and shoes, and then bound into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He walked back into his room, scrubbing furiously. 

“I’m sorry,” he said through a foamy mouth. “I really, really want to hear what you have to tell me. But—”

“No,” Elain answered, waving a hand through the air. “I get it, it’s fine! I’ll be here after.”

Azriel jumped into the bathroom and spit out the toothpaste, dropping the toothbrush before stepping back into his room, an eyebrow raised. “You’ll be here, waiting for me in my bed?”

Elain scoffed and pushed the covers off herself, sliding out of bed. God damn she looked so fucking good in his T-shirt and boxers. He almost pivoted and jumped right back into bed with her, but these lessons were what he was here for. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, striding to her and kissing the top of her head without much thought to the action, the goodbye gesture feeling natural. “I promise we’ll talk after.”

Elain nodded up at him, her large eyes flitting between too many emotions for him to track. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded again, but he was unconvinced. “Just come interrupt us if you’re not,” he said, walking towards the sitting room. “Promise me.”

Elain followed him, biting her lip but nodding once more. “I promise. But I’m okay, trust me. We can talk after, and I won’t get drunk or drugged this time.”

Azriel flashed her a smile and couldn’t help but stride to her once more and plant another kiss on her head before he turned on his heel, but Elain's voice stopped him once more. 

“Wait—Azriel!” 

He nearly had to skid to a stop to slow his momentum, but he looked back at her patiently. He hated to be late, but Elain was more important. 

“So…no shadows when you…?” She trailed off, a question in her voice, nodding to the bathroom door. 

It took Azriel a minute to realize what she was asking, but when he did, he sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “No shadows when I came, no.” 

Elain frowned at him. “Why do you look sad about that? Isn't that a good thing?”

He grabbed the door handle and said over his shoulder as he left, “It is, but I feel like a damn idiot for denying myself you this entire time because I was so pathetically scared of those shadows. We'll talk about that, too,” he promised.

And then he bounded out the door and towards the study.

The minute he was gone, Elain flopped back onto the bed and pulled the covers over her head, breathing in the overwhelming, intoxicating smell of Azriel in her little cocoon. Between his sheets, pillows, clothes, and his own arms being around her all night, he was all she could smell, and she wanted to swim in it. 

But she groaned as she remembered her visions, that looming bad thing coming ever nearer, threatening her in the present as well. 

Just tell me! She silently screamed at her Sight, head still covered in Azriel’s blankets. Tell me what is so terrible. Tell me if I'm dooming us in the present. Tell me what the Tower means.

Elain felt her Sight responding, but not with the answers she wanted. It just pushed back from the inside out, swelling inside her with a presence so great and terrible she began to shudder. It wouldn't show her anything until it was ready, she knew that, but she still felt the call all through her. Doom, doom, doom, doom. Run, run, run, run. Violence. Hatred. Broken. Wrong. Inescapable. 

Elain whimpered as she drew her limbs closer to herself. “But I,” she whispered, not sure anything or anyone could even hear her. “I think I love him. I want him.” 

Those words released some of the pressure holding her like a vice, a bit of the foreboding releasing its clench on her heart. But only a bit. A few stray tears slipped from her eyes as she lay there in her little cave of Azriel, lost in her anguish and confusion. 

Were they not meant to be together? To find each other in this life and every life? She asked herself and her Sight these questions again and again, until she exhausted herself once more and fell back into slumber on Azriel’s bed. 

When she awoke for the second time from a much more restful sleep, Elain dragged herself from the sanctuary that was both protecting and hurting her, and made his bed carefully. She knew how he liked to have his space neat. With each tug of a sheet and fluff of a pillow, she remembered the way he felt with his body curled against hers, and she thought she could also remember some softly whispered words of comfort and adoration spoken into the dark. 

Then Elain drifted into the bathroom and took a long bubble bath, cleansing herself of the evidence of their drug-fueled frenzy the previous night. She did not, however, return Azriel's clothes. Instead she folded them carefully and put them amongst her own things in her room, just the sight of them sitting with her clothes giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. 

Elain dressed, fed herself in the kitchen, and turned to the garden for further comfort, waiting for Azriel to finish his second lesson of the trip. 

Azriel’s second lesson with Rodrick focused on finding his well of power, which the old man described very similarly to how Elain did. Azriel could tell that Rodrick had trained her in the same way, and that she still relied on his teachings to this day. 

He was grateful that there was significantly less talking on his part required today, and he did his best to focus on following the maze in his mind to that deep well of cobalt magic. Azriel tried his very hardest not to think about the one time he had seen it, and what Elain had been doing with her hands when he did. Azriel was not going to be so pathetic that he required heavy petting by a beautiful woman to access his own magic, so he worked as hard as he could.

He followed Rodrick’s advice about breathing and visualizing, and did find that it was easier for him to see the maze in his mind’s eye this time. While Elain’s voice was soothing and mesmerizing, Rodrick was able to give his own an almost hypnotic quality, and Azriel was soon able to walk through that maze, searching for the center and the well it held, with some effort. 

Of course, the problem was that it was a maze, and he had to discover the way to the center before he could reach it. Azriel had no idea how he had done it so quickly under Elain’s touch, but he was nothing if not a hard, dedicated worker, so he set his mind to his goal. 

It took two hours to navigate the maze in his mind and find the center, and then Rodrick made him spend the second two hours committing the way to memory, walking it again and again until he could do it quickly and efficiently.

“What if the maze changes, though?” Azriel asked Rodrick, forehead sweaty and feeling out of breath from the intense concentration, despite not actually having done any physical activity. 

Rodrick just chuckled and conjured some tea out of nothing. “You’re a bright one, my boy,” he said gayly, shaking his head. “It will most definitely change. It’s magic, after all!”

Azriel opened his mouth and then closed it as Rodrick poured them each a cup. “Then why did I spend so much time memorizing the way to the center if it will just change?”

Rodrick’s laughter stopped and he picked up the cane that rested beside his desk, jabbing it at Azriel’s chest. 

“Ow,” Azriel muttered under his breath, rubbing the spot where he had been unceremoniously poked.

“I take it back,” Rodrick huffed. “You might be hopeless after all.”

Azriel just sipped his tea instead of answering, holding in a grumble. 

“We might need to get dear Elain to join in on these lessons,” Rodrick added, his face thoughtful, and Azriel felt his cheeks go up in flames despite himself. He had to force himself to swallow his sip of tea instead of spit it out.

“What do you mean?” he asked quickly, praying that Rodrick wasn’t implying what he thought he might be, and then praying that Rodrick's wing of the castle was far, far away from theirs with thick walls between. “Why would we need her presence?”

Rodrick raised an eyebrow at Azriel’s floundering and cleared his throat. “Whilst she may be a distracting presence for you—whatever in all that is good and holy you kids are getting up to—she also seems to be a grounding presence. She may have insights and guidance for you that I do not, seeing as how your powers align.”

That brought Azriel out of his embarrassed frenzy. “Align?” he asked, his curiosity sparking. “What do you mean?”

Rodrick steepled his long, thin fingers. “Well, you can hear the void, through your shadows. You can hear what no one else may. They can tell you of what is happening where no one else can see. And Elain—”

“She can see the void,” Azriel answered quietly, his heart racing inexplicably.

Rodrick nodded solemnly, a thoughtful hum sounding in the back of his throat. “Do I have your permission to invite her along to our lesson tomorrow?”

Azriel nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” he answered. “She’s the reason I’m here after all.”

Elain had her hands in the dirt, eyes closed, as she conjured a bed of clover from the earth, felt the roots dig and spread throughout the undersoil, the little green leaves unfurling in the dappled sunlight. 

When she opened her eyes again to gaze upon the patch of green she had brought to the corner of the garden she had been tending, she squeaked in surprise to see Azriel standing before her, gazing down at her, tray in hand. 

“My god,” Elain murmured, a hand on her chest. “I will never understand how someone as big as you can be so damn quiet.” 

He grinned at her in that crooked way of his—that beautiful but somewhat sad grin that showed he was holding back, that he was afraid to show a true, wide smile of joy—and gestured with the tray towards the clover bed. 

“That never stops being insane and impressive to me,” he said. Elain blushed and stood up, dusting dirt off her hands on the apron she wore over her dress. 

“Do Rodrick’s staff people know you're making their garden all…magical?” 

Elain could now see from her standing position that Azriel was carrying a tray full of food, and her stomach rumbled lightly at the feast. Cheeses, various fruits, crackers, crusty bread, cured meats, a bowl of mixed nuts, olives, and on….

“I think they're all magic wielders, too,” Elain answered, unconcerned. “I didn't know you were a charcuterie connoisseur.” 

Azriel winked at her, and then led her to a glass-top table in a little alcove a few yards away. “I'm full of surprises, sunshine,” he teased, and pulled out a chair for her. There was already a pitcher of lemonade and glasses on the table, and Elain had no idea how he had left them there without her noticing or hearing. “I thought we could eat something and then maybe…talk? I'm sorry I ran out so fast this morning.” 

Elain felt her face heat once more. It was one thing to be snuggled up in bed, but it was an entirely different thing to be facing him and this and the events of the previous night out in the open daylight. Still, she gathered her courage. 

“I would like that.” 

“Good,” Azriel answered on an exhale. “I haven't eaten anything all day and I'm starving.” And then indeed Azriel began to eat at a pace and with a fervor she had never witnessed before, except of course, when he was between her legs, eating something entirely different….

Elain shook her head slightly to clear the image and memory, pouring herself some lemonade and taking a long draw. She ate a handful of nuts as Azriel viciously bit into bread laden with meat and cheese, and Elain tipped her head at him curiously. 

“What's your favorite color?” she asked. 

Azriel seemed to force himself to swallow before he was done chewing, chasing the gargantuan bite with a gulp of lemonade. 

“My favorite color?” he asked, already going back for more food. He really must have been hungry. 

Elain nodded, realizing she knew him, but very little about him. 

“I guess…well, the color of my magic. Cobalt,” he said, fingering one of his dangling earrings as he popped a slice of apple into his mouth. After swallowing, he added, “but I might be convinced of a change of heart, given a few more days.”

“A change of heart to what?” Elain asked. 

“Mahogany,” he answered, gulping some more of the lemonade. 

She furrowed her brow, not quite sure where that answer came from. Azriel grinned at her, recognizing her confusion. 

“Did you know the brown of your eyes is so rich and warm it looks like mahogany in the light?” 

Elain felt herself melt into a puddle at his words, and pressed hands to her cheeks to try to quell the burning in them. 

Azriel only chuckled affectionately and continued his onslaught on their snacks, gesturing to her to eat as well. 

As they ate, Elain gleaned a few more facts out of Azriel. His favorite season was fall, his favorite food was Nutella, and, if Elain was reading him right, he had a secret fear of bugs. 

Azriel, in turn, learned that Elain’s favorite color was rose gold, her favorite season was spring, and her favorite food—which he of course already knew and exploited—was chocolate. She told him of the ant farm she once kept as a child and he had actually shuddered, which amused Elain to no end. 

When Azriel had eaten the most insane amount of bread, cheese, and cured meat Elain had ever witnessed a person put into their body, and she had also filled up on the small feast, they both leaned back in their chairs, sipping at their glasses and gazing at each other with a vague sense of understanding that things were about to grow serious. 

“So,” Azriel started, his eye contact palpable. “We have the entire afternoon. No drinks or crazy potions to distract us, no lessons, no Benji.” He looked around at that last statement as if he might see the blonde Scot leap out of a bush, but no one appeared. They were in a semi-secluded little alcove in the garden, surrounded on three sides by ivied walls and seated beside a low fountain with a stone ridge and a statue of a doe drinking from it. “Are you ready to tell me…whatever it is you need to tell me?” he asked. But his voice was tentative, careful, soft. 

Elain took a deep breath and nodded, fighting the shaking in her hands, pushing away the thought that she wished they would be interrupted. It was time he knew. 

“My visions,” she began, her heart racing. “They usually show me the future, and almost never my own future. But lately they have been showing me the past—my past.” 

Azriel made a vague sound to show he was following, and Elain steeled herself. 

“But, they're not showing this past.” She watched his eyebrows furrow as he tried to work that out and quickly spared him. “I believe my Sight has been showing me visions of one of my past lives.” 

Azriel just blinked at her, as still as a statue otherwise. She could see his mind working behind those hazel eyes, and wished she could better explain it all. 

“A past life,” Azriel said in response, and she could tell he was actively trying not to sound skeptical. She took another steadying breath. 

“Yes,” Elain answered, fidgeting with her now-empty glass. 

“So you're talking about…reincarnation,” he said slowly, trying to understand. She thought about it for a moment. 

“I don't know. I don't know what happens after a person dies, and Nesta has been trying to answer that question for her entire adult life with her own powers. All I know is that what my visions are showing me did truly happen, but not in this lifetime.” 

Azriel eyed her carefully. “How do you know?” 

Well, this was it. “Because,” Elain answered slowly, gently. “They're not just showing me my past life. They're showing me…our life. Together.” 

Azriel thought his brain had nearly exploded when he had learned about magic, but this was something else entirely. Not only was Elain talking about some kind of alternate universe or timeline or something featuring herself, but she was also telling him that he was there. 

“How do you know the visions aren't just of the future?” he asked, wanting to rationalize it all immediately. And, he realized, wanting to know if it was simply that they were meant to end up together, and they were overcomplicating everything. 

But Elain shook her head, biting her lip as her cheeks reddened. “Unless you're planning on becoming a knight duty-bound to protect your princess—me—in some island empire called Prythian, I don't think that's possible.” 

Azriel blinked at her once more, replaying her answer a few times in his head. Her words became sluggish and scrambled in his mind, impossible to understand. 

“Maybe we get really into LARPing?” he managed to rasp out, and Elain let out a surprised chirp of laughter. But then she shook her head. 

“No, Azriel,” she said gently. “It is most definitely us, but it's not…this us.” 

Azriel didn't know what else to say, so he just cleared his throat and requested, “Tell me more.” 

And Elain did. She told him everything from the beginning, the budding forbidden romance between the knight and the princess, her hated arranged marriage to the Duke, the way she had begged Azriel to possess her entirely, the first time they made love, their plans to run away together, their journey to the continent. 

Azriel felt himself become enthralled in the story, sucked in by Elain's gentle voice and the way she told him of her visions with such passionate emotion, like she was reliving them as she voiced them. It was clear that Elain experienced each one as if it was happening to her directly, and that the Elain in the past was the Elain sitting in front of him. Azriel even found himself blinking back tears when she told him of how he had held her in the ocean, begging her to marry him. 

When Elain finally finished speaking, she sat nervously watching him, waiting for a reaction. Azriel knew he would have to process this for a while, but at that moment, all he could feel was a great warmth spreading through his chest. There was a time, or a place, or a plane of existence, where he and Elain loved each other openly. Where they deserted everything they knew to be together. Where there was only their devotion to each other. 

At some point during the story, Elain had moved to sit on the fountain ledge, running her fingers through the cool water. Azriel had followed, sitting next to her on the low stone wall. He now found himself reaching out beside him, covering her hand with his own, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“Elain,” he said gently, and she swallowed as she looked back at him, her wide eyes searching his for a reaction. He ran his fingers over hers, and she caught them, intertwining them with her own. 

“I don't understand what's so bad about all of this,” he continued, stroking his thumb over her palm. “You're telling me that…I don't know, that there's a reason we've always been so drawn to each other. That maybe we're…we're meant to be together.” Azriel couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth. He had never believed in fate, in destiny, or in anything like soul mates. He believed the world operated in random chaos that fit within the rules of nature, nothing more and nothing less. But staring into Elain’s mahogany eyes, the idea of fate was not quite so laughable as it once was to Azriel. 

“Is that what’s been scaring you so much?” 

Elain kept hold of his hand but let her eyes fall to her lap. “This part is more difficult to explain.” 

He squeezed her fingers. “Take all the time you need, angel. I'm listening.” 

“Why do you call me that?” Elain asked, distracted by the name that kept falling from his lips unintentionally. Azriel felt his cheeks heat. 

“I don't mean to,” he answered honestly. “But I guess, in a way…you feel like someone who fell into my life and made it better. You changed me. You showed me the truth. And, I don't know…you're so…” Azriel searched for the words, his face burning. “Beautiful and ethereal and graceful and otherworldly and kind and warm. Like I imagine an angel would be. If they existed.” 

Elain's own face blazed red, but she only gave him a warm look and then took another steadying breath. 

“Anyway,” she said, apparently as unequipped to respond to that statement as Azriel had been to make it, “each time I have a vision, I get this awful feeling. Like, the worst feeling I've ever had. And it's coming directly from my Sight. It's like it's screaming at me that something terrible will happen, and that I should be running.” 

Azriel nodded slowly even though he didn't totally understand. He just wanted to encourage her to go on, though he felt a pit forming in his stomach. 

“And it's partially the past life—I can sense something horrible and heartbreaking is coming for the princess and the knight—but it extends to the present. It extends to…” she trailed off, looking down again. 

“To me,” Azriel said softly, fighting his own ominous and sinking feeling within him. 

Elain looked back up at him, her eyes more sad than anything, and nodded. 

A thought struck Azriel. “That time at your place, after the…chocolate,” he ventured, remembering Elain’s sudden change in mood, the way she had looked at him in terror. 

Elain nodded again, and Azriel almost said that he wished she had just told him what was going on. But then he thought about it, and he understood why she didn't. He wasn't even aware of magic at that point, and they certainly didn't have any kind of relationship, complicated or not. 

“And I drew cards for myself,” Elain continued quietly. Azriel raised their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

“And what did they tell you?” he asked, beginning to dread the answer but needing to know anyway. 

“Well, Elain answered, her eyes trained on where he kissed her hand once more. Not to arouse, but to comfort. “I drew Strength, which I believe was suggesting that I could help guide you to accept and control your power.” A flash of surprise coursed through Azriel, and he grinned at her lightly, but said nothing, only wanting her to continue. “And I drew the Lovers card, which—well, you know what that one means.” Azriel's hope and grin grew. “And I drew the Tower.” 

He frowned a bit, having no idea what that meant. “What does the Tower stand for?” 

Elain looked at him with huge, unblinking eyes that were slowly filling with terror once more. 

“Disaster. Destruction. Doom.”

Azriel felt his smile slide off his face. Well shit, that wasn't good. He thought for a moment before responding. 

“I just want to understand, Elain,” he said carefully, cradling her hand in both of his own now. She placed her second hand atop his, so they were connected by all four. 

“What, specifically, is scaring you so much now, in the present? What are you worried will happen?” 

Elain mulled over his words until her bottom lip began quivering and her eyes turned watery and red-rimmed. “I am fairly certain,” she said in a small, shaky voice, “that my Sight is trying to tell me that if we are together—completely, truly, I mean—something horrible and irreversible will occur. I'm scared,” she drew in a sharp breath as the tears spilled over her eyes, and Azriel’s heart cracked for her. “I'm scared that any love shared between us would bring about terrible doom.” 

She was crying truly now, and Azriel had no words to comfort her in that moment. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, and she collapsed onto his chest and cried harder, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Azriel squeezed her against him with one arm and stroked her hair with his free hand, murmuring vague comforting sounds to her. He felt such an overwhelming combination of delight and dread within himself. He was shocked and relieved that she seemed to feel any measure of what he himself felt back towards him, but he was devastated that she was tormented in such a way by her own power. And of course, while he didn't understand it, he was not excited about the prospect of bringing doom upon anyone. 

Somehow, though, the hope he felt was overpowering every other emotion, despite the pessimistic person he had always been. 

“Don't cry, sunshine,” he whispered into her hair, and heard Elain sniffle against him, still breathing sharply. “I know I don't understand your magic, but maybe…maybe it's not all hopeless.” 

She lifted her head and looked up at him, though she still held him tightly. Azriel used a tender thumb to wipe away tears from both her cheeks. 

“Elain, I…feel strongly for you,” he managed to say, his own voice shaking slightly. “And maybe this—whatever past life we shared—is part of the reason why.” 

She just blinked back at him, looking as if she were holding her breath. So he continued. 

“I would hate to write off anything we could have together because of a possibility of something bad happening in the future. What if we…could try? We could be careful, watch out for signs of danger, and anything that comes our way, maybe…maybe we could face it together.”

Azriel's words were stilted and clumsy, his thoughts not fully formed, but he had said them. He held his own breath, waiting for Elain to say something, but she remained silent and still, just staring at him as her fingers gripped his sides tightly. 

“Please say something,” he nearly whispered, feeling as close to heartbroken as he had ever been, if she turned away from him. 

Elain finally parted her lips, her eyes never leaving his. “You're not running from me?” she asked just as quietly as he had spoken. 

Azriel’s heart nearly cracked again at that, but he shook his head as he tucked her hair behind both ears, his hands remaining to hold her face gently. “No, Elain. How many times do I have to tell you that I want you, in whatever way you’ll have me? Fuck the complications. Fuck the rules. Fuck the future. Just have me, here and now. Please just—please kiss me.” 

Elain let everything else wash away as Azriel’s last request sunk into her bones, her heart, her soul. She knew of so little in this life, but he was one thing she was absolutely sure of. And so Elain leaned forward and kissed him, fucking the rules and the complications and the future.

And this kiss was different than any other they had shared together. It wasn’t the frenzied, drunken kiss with the scarred stranger she had met at a bar. It wasn’t the mad kiss they had shared in the throes of anger and desperation as they tortured each other. It wasn’t an intoxicated, drug-fueled kiss demanded by unbridled lust. 

This kiss was tender and slow, their lips coming together gently, tentatively—like they were embarking on something entirely new together. And as the kiss deepened, as Elain’s lips parted and Azriel’s hands slid into her hair, Elain realized they had never shared a kiss that wasn’t driven by raw passion. She sighed as Azriel tilted his head, taking her deeper with his tongue, his lips, his hands, and knew this kiss was driven by something else completely. It was driven by a submission to their need for each other, and a promise to each other to try to be something more. It was driven by pure, unbridled emotion, and Elain succumbed to it.

And as they sat by the fountain and kissed each other more and more deeply, Elain felt no horrid proddings of warning, no Sight screaming at her to run, no doom creeping over her shoulder. She felt only rightness, and she sank into it like a stone in sparkling river water. 

Chapter Text

Azriel kissing Elain this way felt like the first time she had ever been kissed. Yes, she had been kissed several times, by Azriel himself, Graysen, and men before Graysen. But never had she been kissed like this. The kiss was filling her up, making her feel like she could fly, sweeping her away to another world. Azriel was thorough, taking his time tasting her from every angle, running his hands slowly over every curve of her body he could reach—her shoulders, her neck, below her breasts with his thumbs sweeping against the sensitive swells, her waist and hips. She was beginning to forget altogether that they were outside in broad daylight.

Elain was already lost to the rising heat in the kiss, and suddenly needed his mouth on her neck. Her throat was unequivocally Elain’s favorite place to be kissed, and she began to arch her neck, leaning away from Azriel to encourage his mouth in that direction. Only, she had forgotten entirely that she was sitting on a fountain ledge. At the same moment that she leaned back intending to put her hands behind her (though there was nothing to put them on), Azriel slid off the bench to his knees to do god knows what, proving that he also had definitely forgotten where they were. The laws of nature—gravity and inertia, namely—worked against Elain in devastating tandem with Azriel letting go of her, removing any support holding her where she was seated. She shrieked as she toppled backwards and into the fountain, landing with a thud on her back and water immediately flooding her senses. Although she had gone in over her head, the fountain was thankfully shallow and she immediately popped up, spluttering and wiping water from her eyes, her hair plastered to her head. 

“Fuck—Elain!” Azriel was leaning over the fountain, thrusting his hands into the water and around her waist to lift her out, even though it was unnecessary. “Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?” He helped her step out of the fountain and looked her over with concern.

A laugh that she couldn’t contain bubbled up from Elain’s chest as she tried to shake out her drenched clothes. Azriel kept his hands on her waist, steadying her and still looking her over for injury. He probably thought she had had a vision or something else much more interesting than just falling over. 

“I’m fine,” she giggled, leaning up and giving him a wet kiss on the cheek, trying to quell his worry. “I just…I forgot I was sitting on a fountain and tried to lean back.”

Azriel looked at her in disbelief for a few seconds before he shook his head with a relieved laugh. “Fuck,” he said, a hand on his chest. “You scared me. You really are clumsy aren’t you?”

Elain made a sound of mock offense and slapped him lightly on the chest. Then she felt her cheeks heat as she looked up at him through her lashes and asked, “Should we maybe go inside?” She wanted to ask if he was about to go down on her in broad daylight, but she couldn’t quite summon the words.

Azriel’s laughter slid away as he bit his lip, looking over her no doubt completely transparent clothing. “Absolutely,” he said darkly, and Elain felt heat build in her core once more. She wanted all of him, without the veil of alcohol or tinctures or frustration or uncertainty. She just wanted him. So she took him by the hand and led him back into the keep, silently apologizing to the staff for the trail of dripping water she left. 

They reached their suite and she pulled him in, shutting the door behind them. They stilled and looked at each other in the new silent privacy that surrounded them. 

“You’re soaked,” Azriel finally noted, slipping his hands into his pockets. Elain nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. And then a boldness found her that she could never have mustered with Graysen, and she decided to take what she wanted once and for all.

“Sit down,” she told Azriel firmly. His brows raised, but he did as he was told, taking a seat on the plush sofa in their sitting room and pulling his hands from his pockets. Elain came to stand before him, but not close enough to reach out and touch. 

“I need to take these wet clothes off,” she said demurely, plucking at the hem of her still-dripping shirt. Azriel only nodded wordlessly, his eyes growing more and more hungry. “I want you to sit and watch.” 

A small but punctuated groan rumbled from him then, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if saying a prayer. “Yes please,” he finally breathed as his eyes blinked back open. Elain’s heart was hammering wildly, but not from fear or trepidation. It was hammering from excitement, from feeling powerful, from finally taking what she so desperately had wanted. 

“What first?” she asked, still toying with her shirt. “Maybe…this?” She lifted the hem just a couple inches to show a strip of skin across her middle, but then let it go again. “Or this?” She slid her fingers into the waistband of her skirt, and watched Azriel’s chest move more rapidly in response. “Or maybe…these?” she asked coyly, slipping her hand all the way down her skirt and giving the elastic of her undies a little snap, loud enough so he could hear it.

She never took her eyes off Azriel’s face, and the look on it was enough to make her already swollen and slick at her core, throbbing for him. 

“Skirt,” he managed to rasp out, his fingers clenched around the material of his jeans, as if he had to physically restrain himself. 

Elain nodded with a little smile, suddenly feeling like a goddess being worshiped, and she liked it. She liked it a lot. She hooked her thumbs into the waist of the skirt and shimmied it down, the wet fabric clinging to her thighs as she pulled it off her legs. She dropped the skirt behind her and heard Azriel suck in a ragged breath as she turned back to him in just a wet shirt and lace panties (that were now soaked with both fountain water and her own arousal). 

Her eyes drifted down to his clenched hands and what lay between them. “Are you hard?” she asked, fully aware that he was. He nodded as a small, desperate sound escaped him. “Show me,” she demanded, and Azriel moved as if he was her puppet on strings, standing to unbuckle his belt and shucking his pants down off his hips with swift gracefulness, kicking them off his feet along with his shoes and tossing them to the side. Sure enough, as he sat back down, she saw that his boxers were tented with the evidence of a thick, long, hard as steel cock. Her mouth began to water. 

“Good,” Elain said lightly, running a hand over her heated neck. “Now what?” 

“Shirt,” Azriel nearly whispered, and his palm came to stroke his cock outside of his boxers as Elain slowly and deliberately peeled her shirt off, arching her back unnecessarily to lengthen her body before him. A much louder groan broke free from Azriel as her breasts were freed and he surveyed her in only her soaked lace panties, the rest of her damp skin on full display for him. 

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmured, his hand still languidly palming his cock, making Elain ache for it to be inside her. His words, too, sent an ache through her heart. Because she knew he meant them. Here was a man who truly treasured her, more than she had ever felt treasured before. And she wanted to reward him. 

“Only one thing left,” she said, hooking her thumbs under the band of her undies. “Shall I remove them, or would you like to?”

Azriel’s hand stopped moving at that. “God, please, let me,” he begged. This man—this six foot five man, covered in muscles and tattoos, who rode a motorcycle and practiced various martial arts—was begging her. Oh, Elain liked that very much. 

She gave a mock sigh like she was contemplating it, and then moved towards him. “If you insist,” she answered sweetly, stopping just before him. Azriel looked at her like she was his maker as he slowly reached out and placed both hands on her damp thighs. Another small sound left him as he made contact with her skin, and then he drifted his hands up her legs, to her hips, his beautiful scarred fingers dancing lightly over her skin. Elain sighed at the feel of those hands on her, her eyes falling closed under his warm touch. Azriel paused with his fingers just grazing her waistband on both hips, leaning forward and kissing the spot below her cleavage. That kiss was so tender, so sweet, that Elain could have cried. She almost did. But then he was hooking his fingers over her straps and sliding the panties down her hips, off her ass, until they fell to the floor around her feet. Elain’s eyes opened and she stepped out of them gingerly, watching Azriel take her in standing completely naked before him. 

“You are unearthly,” he whispered, and then slid his hands around to cup her backside as he planted more kisses across her stomach, between her breasts, along her collarbone. He was so tall, even seated before her as she stood, that he had to bend over to do so, and Elain’s hands moved into his hair, stroking the soft strands as he planted kiss after kiss against her bare skin.

“What do you want?” he asked between kisses, his fingers gently kneading her ass, his lips trailing down to the top of one hip. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

Elain’s breath was already catching, the wetness between her thighs growing. “I want you to fuck me,” she sighed as his mouth drifted right over the core of her, but only to move to her other hip, worshiping her with kisses there. 

“Mm,” he rumbled against her skin, setting her even more aflame as she clutched at his hair and pressed her body in closer to him, stepping between his legs. “I can definitely do that,” he said, and then looked up at her. “But not until you’ve come for me a few times first.”

An involuntary little whimper left Elain, her eyes meeting his. “A few?” she moaned, her hands moving down to his neck and caressing the sides of his throat. Azriel nodded and then gave her a surprise tug so she fell onto him in a straddle, her knees framing his thighs. He ran his hands into her hair again, pulling her mouth to his, and kissed her with abandon. This kiss was hungry and demanding and torturous, all tongues and teeth and noises being exchanged through open mouths. He paused only to rip off his shirt and throw it somewhere behind her, and then enveloped her mouth again.

Within seconds, Elain was involuntarily rolling her hips atop him, dragging her core over the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. Her hands roved over his bare, sculpted chest. A moan broke free from her, and Azriel’s fingers left her hair to dig into her hips, holding her against him, encouraging another roll of her pelvis. 

“That’s right, sugar,” he breathed into her ear. “Fuck yourself against my cock. Grind that beautiful pussy all over my lap until you come—I know you can.”

Elain cried out as she dragged herself against him again, the soft fabric of his boxers and the hard length underneath already driving her mad. Azriel then finally gave her what she wanted, burying his face into her neck and devouring her throat with sinful kisses. If anything could pull Elain to the brink, it was that, and she was soon grinding against him without thought, moans and mewls and gasps escaping her. He was giving her equal pressure, rolling his own hips against her to make it that much more intense, and Elain’s veins felt like they were on fire. 

She faltered, however, when Azriel’s lips stilled on her neck, and his grip on her hips grew lax as he stopped moving beneath her. “What’s wrong?” she moaned, desperately close to reaching that edge already. 

“I suddenly realized that we should maybe talk,” he said, trying to pull away from her.

Elain leaned back to look at him. “What?” she panted, but stopped her movements against him. “We just talked for so long. Talk about what?”

Azriel suddenly looked nervous. “Well, I—I mean, I’ve never done this.” Elain looked down between them, lifting an eyebrow to show him that she didn’t know what he meant. 

“Shit, no—I mean, I’ve had sex, obviously,” he corrected, releasing one of her hips to run a hand down his face. “But the relationship part. I’ve never been in one.”

“Oh,” Elain answered, barely able to think straight let alone form a coherent response. “You…want to talk about this right this second?”

“I mean,” he stumbled on. “I don’t know how to do it. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, and I know you want to fuck me in a relationship type of way—which I want as well, for the record. But I was just worried that maybe my understanding of it isn’t—”

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, cutting off his nervous ranting. He fell silent and looked at her sheepishly. Elain took his face in both her hands and looked into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Azriel had never been more relieved to be told to shut the fuck up in his life. He blew out a tense breath and brought a hand to the back of Elain’s head, gathering up her hair in a fist and lightly tugging to expose her neck again. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her skin, and got right back to work with his mouth. Fuck his stupid fucking anxious thoughts. He had to fix the mood. He moved his hips slightly underneath Elain, encouraging her to move as well, and lavished her neck with bruising kisses. 

“I’m a moron,” he breathed onto her throat, still lightly tugging her hair back, keeping her neck long and bared. “I just don't want to let you down. Ignore me. Back to you coming.” 

Elain giggled lightly but then sighed as she ground herself against him once more. He smiled against her neck, relieved he hadn't completely ruined the moment. Elain ran her hands up and down his abdomen, sending a shiver through Azriel as she ground down on him. 

Her breaths became loud and needy once more, and he moved his mouth from her neck down to her chest. As Elain dragged her sweet pussy across his dick, Azriel worked one breast with his mouth, kissing and licking closer and closer inwards until he sucked her nipple between his lips. Fuck, she felt and tasted so good, and he swirled his tongue over her as she cried out, grinding down hard on his cock. The sensations dragged out a muffled groan from Azriel, and he bit down lightly on her breast. Elain bucked on him, a whine leaving her. 

Azriel smiled against her before releasing her breast, leaning back just a bit to see her face. Elain’s cheeks and neck were flushed a gorgeous pink, her eyes were shut, and an anguished, desperate look of need graced her face. Fuck, she was perfect. 

“Look at you,” Azriel purred, unable to understand how something so unbelievably immaculate such as she existed. 

“Azriel,” Elain breathed, a plea in her voice. 

“You're close,” he answered, already knowing. She nodded and then cried out once more as she dragged herself against him, her limbs starting to shake. 

“Come on me, sugar,” he commanded, and then lowered his head to take her neglected breast into his mouth. At the same moment that he swallowed her nipple into the warm wetness, Azriel reached between them and flicked his finger against her bare, swollen clit, and Elain exploded. 

He held her close against him as she arched and dug her nails into his shoulders, her legs clamped around him. He worked his fingers gently against her as she rode the waves of her orgasm, wetness pooling below her and soaking his boxers. 

Through grit teeth, trying not to succumb to his own orgasm, Azriel praised her. “That's it,” he whispered into her ear as she shuddered against him, her head bowing down into his chest. “That's my good girl. Coming so well for me.” 

Azriel's cock was throbbing and pulsing below her, begging for release, but he fought it as he ran hands up and down Elain's back, kissing her head over and over. When she finally stopped shuddering and collapsed into him fully, Azriel held her close, stroking her scalp with steady fingers threaded through her hair. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” he murmured into her curls, one hand sliding down her back to give her ass an innocent little slap. Elain jumped a bit with a startled giggle and lifted her head to look at him. 

“How did you do that?” she asked, and Azriel raised an eyebrow. 

“I don't think I really did much there, angel. That was all you.” 

Elain sighed but leaned forward to kiss him softly for a few moments before pulling back and answering, “That's not what I meant. I was in charge, telling you what to do and what I wanted, and then suddenly…you had me doing exactly what you wanted.” 

Azriel grinned at her guiltily. “Sorry,” he said earnestly. “I'm used to being in charge in the bedroom. But I really, really enjoyed when you were as well. That was…unbelievably sexy.” 

Elain gave him a petulant little frown that made his balls tighten, and reached down to run a delicate hand over his cock. He sucked in a breath and tensed beneath her, already ready to give up control again. 

“Shit,” he breathed, feeling far too sensitive after experiencing Elain come against his dick. 

“I’m going to take it out,” Elain told him, completely unnecessarily as she pulled down the elastic of his boxers and gripped the base of his cock. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, leaning back on the couch to give her more room where she straddled him. She pulled his cock free and watched it stand at attention between them, licking her lips. 

“If you keep looking at me like that,” Azriel breathed, precum already gathering on his tip, “I won’t be able to take back control if I tried.” 

Elain hummed a little thoughtful sound and slid back on his lap until she was descending off the couch, nudging his legs apart and taking a seat between them. 

“I’m going to go down on you now,” she announced with utter sincerity, and a low moan escaped Azriel as he ran a hand down her neck. 

“If that’s what you want, angel.” 

She bit her lip and nodded, and Azriel could have sworn her mouth was watering. Jesus, fuck, he was going to have to try his absolute hardest not to explode between her lips. He only had a moment to brace himself before Elain’s perfect mouth was wrapping around the head of his cock, mirrored by a hand wrapping around his base. 

“Oh, god,” he moaned, already convinced that he had somehow found the woman who gave the world’s best head. Elain sucked him down further, swirling her tongue over the tip of his cock before running it up and down his shaft. Azriel shuddered and ran a hand into her hair, twisting her curls around his fist gently but firmly. 

“You are a goddamn queen,” he breathed, torn between letting his eyes fall shut and watching her swallow him over and over. He chose the latter, his gaze focused on the way her cheeks hollowed as she plied his dick with a suctioning sensation. 

Azriel gasped and bucked his hips involuntarily, lost to the pleasure she was drowning him in. Elain just moaned on his cock, increasing the vigor of her sucking and bobbing and pausing every few moments to swirl her tongue around his head and down the shaft. 

Azriel did close his eyes then, unable to watch her heavenly lips dripping with her own saliva, sucking him down, any longer. If he kept watching her, he would come within the minute, and he could not let that happen. 

He was moaning and sighing outright now, his hand still wrapped around her hair as he gently guided her head to slow down, his other hand still clenched tight next to him, trying to stave off an orgasm. When Elain ran her teeth lightly down his shaft, Azriel gasped and pulled back from her, dragging her head away from him by the hair. 

“Wait,” he panted, as Elain wiped her wet, leaking mouth delicately. “I can’t stand that anymore,” he groaned. 

She frowned at him like he had admonished her, and he realized his faulty words. “Because it was so fucking good,” Azriel corrected quickly, releasing her hair and stroking her head in a new form of praise. “So fucking good I was going to come before I was ready.” 

Elain smiled and rested her head against his thigh, kneeling there before him as he continued to stroke her head tenderly. She seemed to like praise very much, and Azriel would remember that and utilize it heavily. 

He ran a hand down the side of Elain’s face until he reached her chin, tipping her head up to meet her eyes. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he asked smoothly, stroking her jaw with a thumb. Elain nodded, kneeled between his legs completely naked, with wide eyes and a face that looked so eager to please. Shit, she was going to kill him. 

“And my good girl will let me eat her pussy until she comes again, won’t she?” 

She licked her lips and nodded again, a shudder moving through her body. 

“You’re still wet for me, aren’t you?” he asked, his thumb running over her swollen red lips now. His favorite lips. His favorite mouth. 

“Yes,” she whispered against his thumb, and then drew it into her mouth with a suck. Azriel blew out a breath as his thumb pressed down on her tongue, her warm mouth soaking his finger. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, releasing her tongue so she could run it over his thumb. “Stand up,” he requested, begrudgingly pulling his hand from her mouth. She did so, eyeing his tented boxers. Azriel grinned, his own eyes flicking down. “Don’t want to be naked alone anymore?”

Elain shook her head. “Please take them off.” 

He did so without hesitation, pulling his boxers down and kicking them off his feet, before scooping Elain into his arms without another pause. She squeaked as he lifted her off her feet, her arms wrapping around his neck. 

“Bedtime,” Azriel said, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. He was ready to be in a shut bedroom with a flat bed so he could fuck Elain in every position he knew. He chose her room for good measure, thinking she might be more comfortable there, kicking her door open and then closed once more behind him. He strode to the bed and laid Elain out, sprawled across the mattress. 

And then Azriel stopped to survey Elain—her still-damp hair spread around her head, her eyes huge and hungry, her perfect, soft stomach boasting the natural curves he loved so much. Her wide, luscious hips and thighs, delicious enough to bite into. She looked like Aphrodite spread across the mattress, like a goddess of lust and passion and love and beauty and everything that made him want to come inside her until she was invisibly branded as his. 

He opened his mouth to tell her these thoughts when Elain breathed an awed “wow,” as she gazed up at him, taking in his naked, aroused body in full daylight. “You are stunning,” she nearly whispered, her eyes roving across his face and body. 

Azriel had no idea how to respond and he felt his cheeks grow hot, so he just crawled up onto the bed before her, gently bending one of her legs and leaning over her. “You should see my view,” he purred, and then tugged her other leg to a bend. Elain blessedly let her knees fall apart on either side of him, a sigh leaving her, and Azriel had her exactly where he wanted her. 

“Mmm, so good,” he whispered, kneeling in the spot she had made for him and leaning down to kiss both her breasts repeatedly, licking across her nipples and lightly biting one for good measure. Elain’s back arched into his touch, and he replaced his mouth with both his hands, cupping her breasts tenderly, as his kisses trailed down her sternum, across her rib cage, and over the soft flesh of her stomach. He could feel Elain’s body getting keyed up beneath him, her hips wriggling and her sighs becoming further drawn out and longing. Azriel grinned against her silky skin and inched his body back, until he was laying down between her knees, face inches from her perfect cunt. 

He paused only to take a long, satisfied look at her core—the way it dripped for him, swollen and pink and gorgeous, a mound of soft honey curls above it. He ran a light finger straight down her center, and Elain gasped and bucked. He grinned again. Perfect, she was feeling good and sensitive. 

Before wasting another moment, Azriel leaned his head down and dragged his tongue across the same path his finger had taken. Elain’s hand flew to his hair as she cried out quietly, again arching into him. 

Azriel looked briefly up at her. “There’s that taste that was made for me,” he murmured, before licking a stripe across her opening again. This time he kept his tongue against her, swirling it over her entrance and then flicking her clit lightly. Elain moaned for more, her wetness growing. Azriel grunted in approval and moved his arms to hook them both under her legs, keeping her steady as he dove his tongue into her entrance, curling it and pulling it out, before repeating the motion. 

“Oh, god,” Elain whimpered, the hand in his hair clenching. Yes, this is what he needed. He needed to drive her crazy with pleasure, until she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, and then he needed to send her into oblivion, first with his mouth and then with his cock. 

Azriel moved to her swollen clit, flattening his tongue and lapping like she was his goddamn oasis in a desert. Elain released a low, desperate groan at that, her hips writhing again beneath his arms. Azriel made a satisfied noise in his throat, and repeated the motion until her groans became breathy and high-pitched. Yes, he thought as he worked her. Go so crazy you forget who you are.

He switched the flat, lapping motion to swift and light flicking with his tongue, and then he released one of her perfect, juicy thighs to slide two fingers inside her. Elain cried out as his fingers sunk into her all the way to the last knuckle with no resistance, and he moaned against her core. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he said against her clit, causing a shudder to rock her body, and then went back to flicking with his tongue. He curled his fingers inside her before starting a slow pump, working her closer and closer to that edge. He needed her to come on his face, to squirt all over him. He needed to drink her until there was nothing left. 

Azriel growled against her in encouragement, tightening his grip on her thigh, fingers digging in so hard he hoped he left marks. He pumped harder, faster with his fingers, while never letting up the way his tongue flicked and occasionally sucked on her clit. 

“Azriel,” Elain cried out, rolling her hips against his face and hand, grinding herself against him. 

“Mhm,” he answered, driving her higher and higher. 

“Oh god, don’t stop,” she moaned, and he answered her with a vague grumble as he never stopped, never let up, never gave her any relief as she climbed towards that edge. 

“I’m—” she started, before cutting herself off with a cry, her legs shaking around him. “I’m going to—” 

Azriel curled his fingers deep inside her as his tongue movements became frantic, and Elain blindly grabbed a pillow, throwing it over her face and screaming into it as he felt her coming against him. And sure enough, for the first glorious time he had experienced with her, her orgasm came with a gush of warm liquid bursting from her. Azriel opened his mouth as his fingers continued to stroke her through the waves of her orgasm, moaning as the liquid hit his tongue. He caught as much of it as he could as Elain quivered and cried before him, her legs stretching long around him as her body was wracked with pleasure. Azriel swallowed down every drop he caught, slowing his fingers as Elain’s body came down from its high and her screams and cries withered to weak whimpers that only made him harder. 

Azriel finally pulled his fingers from her, turning his head to kiss the inside of one thigh and then the other, slowly inching up over her. Every time his face pressed against her skin with a kiss, he left a wet mark from her own liquid that coated his lips and chin. 

“Thats,” Azriel murmured, a kiss over her belly button. “My—” a kiss against the lower swell of one breast. “Good—” a kiss for the other breast. “Girl,” he finished, with a kiss to the center of her throat, before finally bringing his face before hers, wiping the last of her sweet cum away with a hand as he grinned down at her like a wolf. 

The rapturous look fell off Elain’s face when he met her eyes, and her cheeks turned bright red. “Oh god,” she said in horror, watching the way he wiped his face. “I’m so sorry! I don’t always—”

“Do not,” Azriel said sternly, bracing both arms on either side of her head, gently lowering his body so that it was just resting against hers, “apologize for something as utterly magnificent as squirting directly into my mouth.”

Elain’s eyes widened before she hid them behind her hands, releasing a muffled, “Oh my god,” again, clearly horrified. Well, Azriel had to fix that.

“Look at me, Elain,” he said, nipping at her fingers with his teeth until she yelped and removed her hands from her face. Her eyes still held shame, and he could not fucking allow that.

“I don’t know what bullshit you’ve been fed before, but anyone who tells you that that’s an unattractive trait is fucking jealous. If it was a man, he was jealous that he’s never been able to make a woman squirt. If it was a woman, well I’m not sure, but she’s probably jealous she can’t do it, or she’s been fed the same bullshit from men. I swear to you, Elain, there is nothing hotter than what you just did. I have been fucking waiting for that.” 

Azriel could tell Elain was still troubled, so he rolled off her and rested on his hip beside her, facing her but giving her some space. 

“How can I convince you not to be ashamed of that?” he asked, tracing her lips with a scarred finger. 

“It was Graysen,” Elain mumbled with downcast eyes. Of course it was, that rat fucking bastard. That asshole that didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Elain, much less have ever had a chance to experience her at her most vulnerable.

Azriel felt his lip curl. “What did that piece of shit say to you?” 

Elain shook her head, unwilling to relay the words, which only made Azriel more angry at the trash. “I was so afraid it would happen when I was with him,” Elain breathed, holding her neck nervously with a hand, “that I would never let myself orgasm with him. The moment I felt it building, I would stop him, or turn the attention on him. He would get so mad at me that I wouldn’t come, would tell me there was something wrong with me.”

Was this perfect woman telling him she never got to come with the man she had sex with for years? The hatred in Azriel grew to new heights as he laid a slightly shaking hand on the side of Elain’s face, gently turning her head to face him, waiting until she met his gaze. 

“Listen to me,” he said, trying to keep the rage out of his voice, “Graysen was a fucking idiot and an asshole, and he didn’t deserve a single moment of your time or attention. No one who treats you like that deserves an ounce of your intimacy, a single chance to experience your beautiful soul and immaculate body, to receive a drop of pleasure from you.”

Elain’s eyes welled, and Azriel leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on the forehead before pulling back and meeting her gaze once more. “But you’re mine now,” he said, and fuck those words felt incredible to say out loud. “Right?”

She nodded wordlessly, and he nodded back. “So I want you to forget about whatever fucking bullshit that fuckface said to you. I want you to experience pleasure every damn day with me. I want you to feel so good you’re coming under my hands, on my mouth, on whatever part of me you want, and I want you so uncontrollably lost to it that you squirt all over me every fucking time.”

When Elain’s cheeks grew red again, he gripped her chin so she couldn’t look away from him. “Do you hear me?” he asked firmly, and she nodded again. “Say it.”

“I hear you,” Elain answered, voice shaking. But she released her nervous grip around her neck and inched her hand up Azriel’s forearm, until she pried his hand from her face and laced her fingers through his. “Did you really enjoy it?”

“Yes,” Azriel answered emphatically. “Fuck yes, I enjoyed it too much. You have no idea what you fucking do to me, Elain. The truth is that I’m putty in your hands. I would do anything to make you feel that good again.” 

Elain reached up with her free hand and traced the lines of his face, across his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, along his jaw, and finally lightly across his lips. Azriel’s eyes closed under her delicate, heavenly touch, and he pressed a hand flat on her chest to feel her steady heartbeat, to remind himself this wasn't a dream. 

“Then fuck me now,” Elain said in a voice that was steady and sure.

Azriel’s eyes flew open as Elain’s request reached his ears, a soft breath leaving him. 

“Yeah?” he asked, stroking her chest where he had laid his hand, his other coming to rest on the swell of her hip. 

“Yes,” Elain answered, completely sure it was what she wanted and needed. Never had a man made her feel the way Azriel made her feel—safe, cherished, worshiped, needed. And she needed him back now, wholly and completely, filling her up inside, moving with her. 

Elain rolled onto her back once more, tugging on his shoulder to encourage him to move atop her, though he was much too large for her to actually move. Azriel gave her a wicked grin and rolled on top of her once more, falling into the spot between her legs and dipping his head to kiss her throat. 

Elain sighed and arched her neck into his kisses, savoring the way he venerated that part of her body, like it was an altar to pray at. She slid her hands across his broad shoulders and down his sculpted back, marveling at the feel of his body. 

“I’ve waited for this for so long,” he breathed against her skin, lowering his hips so that his hard length dragged against her, causing a shiver to run up her spine. 

“Me too,” she answered, running her hands up to his hair and scraping her nails against the short, shaved portion of his hair. 

And then the last thing Elain wanted or had been waiting for happened—a horrible feeling crept into her gut, icing her insides. She tried to push it away, rolling her hips against Azriel and running her fingers into his curls. But the feeling only grew, Azriel completely unaware of what was happening within her. 

She felt him reach between them, gripping his cock to position himself. No, no, no, no, Elain screamed inside her head, trying to fight the horrendous feeling flooding her, the way her arousal was fleeing and being replaced by empty feelings of doom and horror. 

Leave me alone! Elain screamed at her Sight, trying to prepare her body for Azriel’s perfect cock. But it only slammed harder and harder into her, like it was begging her not to cross this line with him, not to doom them, not to bring about whatever destruction they would. And then her body betrayed her, and a whimper—one that wasn’t lustful or needy—escaped her as she began to scramble away from Azriel. 

“No,” Elain moaned in a weak voice, and every muscle in Azriel’s body seemed to freeze. He released his grip on himself and pulled his hand from between them as Elain backed up on the pillows, putting distance between them. His face was devastating—confused and horrified—as he remained frozen where he was. 

She knew that Azriel only needed to hear “no,” once, but it broke her heart that his face was telling him that he thought it was a no to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Elain croaked out, and then the terrifying feeling consumed her, and a sob escaped her as she curled up into a ball against the pillows, Azriel still half-laying before her. 

“Elain,” he breathed, finally breaking out of his stupor and scrambling up onto his knees. “What happened? Did I do something? What’s wrong?”

Elain only sobbed harder at that, burying her face in her knees. “No, it’s not you,” she cried, her heart feeling like it was cracking into hundreds of pieces. She had wanted this for so long, had waited for it for so long. 

She felt a tender, scarred hand come to rest on the top of her spine and took a shuddering breath, her tears still flowing. 

“Is it your Sight?” Azriel asked quietly. Elain nodded into the black space of her curled up body, and she felt the bed shift before Azriel’s warm, hard body was beside hers, gathering her into his arms. “Did it tell you to stop?” he asked, and she sobbed outright again at that, hating herself for succumbing to it so easily. 

“I’m sorry,” she wailed, unable to look at him. “I tried to fight it, I tried to—”

“Hey, hey, angel,” Azriel said into her ear, kissing her hair and running strong but tender hands down her arms and then her back. “Don’t do that. It’s not your fault, Elain. And I never want you to fight against your instincts for me. I know you already did that enough for another man who didn’t deserve you.”

Elain finally looked up at him then, knowing how wrecked her face must have been. “You don’t think you deserve me?”

Azriel just looked at her, his eyes filled with equal parts defeat and desire. “Look at you,” he said quietly, still stroking her hair. “And I don’t just mean physically. You are everything, Elain. I don’t know how anyone could deserve you, but I’m willing to try my hardest.” 

Elain laid her head onto his chest, just breathing with him, letting his words wash over her. Her Sight was still agitated and swirling angrily in her, filling her with frightened adrenaline like she should run, but she only clung to him more tightly, until a thought occurred to her. 

"Don't you want—" her words were awkward and stumbling. "I—I don't think I can have sex feeling this way, but I can still—” she moved her hand towards Azriel's still-hard cock, but he caught her around the wrist before she reached it. 

"No," he murmured, drawing her hand to his mouth and kissing her knuckles gently. "Forget about me. I just want to take care of you. Would some space from me help?”

“No, god, please don’t leave,” Elain begged him, curling her fists against his chest and burying her face into his solid mass of muscle and soft skin, drowning herself in the scent of him. 

Azriel seemed to release a relieved breath and kissed her hair again. “Okay,” he said. “Just let me put some clothes back on. I’ll be right back.”

Azriel disentangled himself from Elain and went to find his discarded shirt and boxers from the sitting room, giving his dick another minute to soften. He fucking hated that Elain had to go through what she was, that she couldn’t feel carefree or sure about her decisions because of her power. It wasn’t fair for her to carry that weight of responsibility. He pulled on his clothes, wondering how he could make it better for her, and then reentered her bedroom. What he saw made his chest ache.

Elain was seated cross-legged against the pillows on her bed, wiping her puffy red eyes, and she seemed to be wearing the same T-shirt and boxers he had painstakingly wrangled on to her body the night before.

“You kept my clothes,” he said in a slightly ragged voice, taking a seat next to her and propping his elbows up on his knees. 

Elain nodded, her cheeks going slightly pink. “They were comforting to me. They smell like you.” 

Azriel grinned at her sideways, lifting a hand to tenderly rub where the neckline of his shirt met Elain’s perfect skin. 

“They look unbelievably good on you,” he murmured, but then felt his smile slide off his face. He turned to face her more fully. 

“Elain,” he started, hating what he was about to ask. But he had to give her an out. It wasn’t fair for him to expect her to try to be with him now knowing how much it affected her. “Are you sure you want to try to be with me? I mean if you’re going to feel like this all the time, if you can’t even relax enough to have sex—”

Elain drew in a short breath as her own face fell into devastation. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said quickly. “But if you’d rather be with someone less…complicated…then—”

“Fuck, no—that’s not what I meant,” Azriel answered emphatically, taking both of her hands in his. “I’m not asking for my own benefit. I want you and no one else, Elain. I mean it when I say that. I know I spent a lot of time being stupid and saying I wanted to avoid complication, but there is no world now in which I would give you up—unless you want that.” 

Elain shook her head, her eyes growing wide. “I want to be with you. I want to try, like you said.” 

Azriel desperately wanted to leave it at that, but he pressed her just a little further. “I don’t want you to suffer for me,” he answered, squeezing her hands. “I don’t want you to always have to be pushing back against your power, or feeling uncomfortable when you’re with me, or being on edge because you don’t know when those feelings will come back. I’m not worth that, and you deserve all the happiness and peace in the world.”

Elain shook her head once more, her huge eyes growing tender and, dare Azriel think it, loving. “It’s like you said, Azriel. It’s up to us to try. I want to try with you, because if the princess and knight have taught me anything, it’s that in some way, we were meant to find each other. And I’ve never felt so safe and understood as I do when I’m with you.”

Azriel had never shared words like this with anyone. No one had ever told him that they felt safe with him, or wanted him beyond carnal satisfaction or friendship, or that he was worth any kind of work. He fought a sudden burning in his eyes as he let go of Elain’s hands to cup her face. 

“May I kiss you?” he asked, and she whispered, “Yes,” letting her eyes fall closed and her lips part. Offer and permission. He leaned in and gave her the most devoted, promising, cherishing kiss he could, and she returned it all and more. 

When Azriel pulled back and opened his eyes, he found Elain smiling at him. Her smile was so sweet, so wondrous, that he smiled back before kissing her once more. And then he leaned back against the headboard, opening his legs wide and patting between them for Elain to settle in. She did so, and he wrapped strong arms around her as she lay back onto his chest. He pressed his mouth to the crook of her neck. 

“You know,” he said, savoring her steady breathing against his chest, “I’ve never really cuddled before. At least, not with a romantic partner. It’s so…nice.” 

Elain turned her head to look at him. “Azriel!” she said, her voice dismayed. “You’re thirty-five.” 

“I know,” he sighed, his face still partially buried in her neck. “I know it’s pathetic.”

“It’s devastating,” Elain corrected, running her hands up and down his forearms, “not pathetic. You deserve cuddles.” 

Azriel grinned but shrugged behind her. “I’m the one to blame. I’ve never even tried to have a relationship outside of hookups with strangers and the occasional repeated booty call. I've never even asked someone to stay the night.” 

“Why not?” Elain asked, sounding genuinely curious as she carefully traced a scar along his hand with a delicate finger. He shivered at the exquisite sensation. 

“I suppose I was always afraid that if I had something that was really mine, it would be taken away from me. I guess those thoughts were just trained into me after surviving my childhood.” 

Elain didn’t say anything to that, and Azriel let out a dry laugh. “But also, I’m not a people person. I’m shit at making conversation and people generally annoy the fuck out of me. I never wanted anyone to stay over after a hookup, because I genuinely didn’t know what to say to them or how to act, and I liked my space and privacy. Until you.” 

If he wasn’t mistaken, Elain sighed happily and snuggled further into his chest, still tracing his scars. And then a horrifying thought invaded Azriel’s mind. 

“Oh, shit,” he said, tensing, and Elain whipped around in response. “What is it?” 

Azriel felt his face burning with embarrassment. “I was just thinking that I have to…call you something.”

She frowned in confusion. “Like, Elain? I think you’ve been calling me that, and a lot of other names, for a good while now.”

He sighed in exasperation, his embarrassment growing. “No, like…” Oh god, you idiot—just say it! “Are you my girlfriend? My…lover? My partner? Are there other words?” He was downright cringing at himself now, so ashamed by his awkwardness. 

Elain, on the other hand, lit up and laughed, turning back around and leaning against him again. “You’re so cute,” she said, lifting one of his hands to kiss it, and Azriel was equal parts relieved and still embarrassed. “Do you want to call me something?” 

He thought about it for a moment. “Well, I would like to stop pretending we’re just friends, because that is and always has been bullshit.” 

She laughed again—thank god—and ran her hands along his thighs. “No, definitely not just friends. I’ve been dreaming of touching you like this for weeks.”

“Mmm,” Azriel responded, kissing the top of her shoulder. He could do this for fucking ever. “Should I call you my old lady?” he joked. Elain squawked and slapped his thigh. 

“Do not ever call me that.” Azriel chuckled and waited to see if she would make a suggestion, and she did. “We can try out girlfriend, if you want.”

Something in that invitation filled Azriel with a kind of proud, possessive feeling he had never experienced before. “This is my girlfriend, Elain,” he tested out loud, and she giggled at that. “That feels pretty fucking good to say. Does that make me…a boyfriend? Shit, that feels weird.”

She laughed again and nodded. “I guess so. God, I haven’t had a boyfriend for years!” 

Azriel grinned behind her. “How do you think I feel? I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

Elain turned around to smile at him. “I’m so honored to be the first.” Azriel’s breath caught at the sincere look on her face that was mirrored in her voice, and he couldn’t help but kiss her again.  How did he ever get so lucky? 

When they broke apart, Azriel rested his chin on Elain’s shoulder, hugging her close to him. He entwined their fingers against her stomach and asked, “Will you tell me more about the knight and the princess? Unless you don’t want to think about that.”

Elain drew in a deep breath. “No,” she answered. “I do. It would be really nice to have someone to talk to about it—they feel like such a big part of my life that no one else knows.”

And she did tell him more about them. She told him about the chocolate the princess loved so much, and how the knight would spend his meager earnings on rare varieties for her. She told him about kissing him in her private garden, and how silly they had been when they had forgotten it had no roof to conceal them. She told him about their horse Veritas that she loved so much. She told him about how nervous and awkward they both had been when they made love for the first time, and how she had stolen the keys to the chapel room to do it. Azriel tsked and nipped her shoulder at that confession. “Bold and brave in every lifetime, it seems,” he murmured, and she blushed a bit at his praise. Elain told Azriel about their rides through the castle grounds, and how they would find deserted corners and fields to explore their forbidden love. She told him how the knight was forced to watch another noble courting the princess, and how she would have done anything to rid herself of that duty. 

And Azriel loved every second of it. He hung onto her words, laughing and gasping and generally being more animated than he ever typically was, truly enthralled by everything Elain had seen and experienced about them. She only stopped when they realized several hours had passed since their snacks in the garden, and both of their stomachs were rumbling. 

They pulled on slightly more suitable clothes and emerged from their suite, prepared to cook some food for themselves. The staff, however, seemed to somehow anticipate that they would be hungry (or Rodrick could hear a hell of a lot more than he let on, Azriel thought with dismay), and a tray of food was waiting for them outside their door, still hot. 

They grinned at each other, pulled the food into their sitting room, and changed right back into their matching boxers and T-shirts. They chose the scariest horror movie Elain could find and watched while they ate, drinking the bottle of wine that was also left on the cart for them. As they finished their meal and Elain settled herself into the crook of Azriel’s arm, warm and soft against his side, he realized he felt more content in that moment than he ever had in his life. He would never stop being grateful for this angel that appeared to him, accepted him for what he was, held his hand through his darkest moments, and wanted him as he wanted her. 

It was only when the movie ended and Elain announced she was sleepy that he began to feel awkward and unsure again. 

“Um,” he said, shuffling his feet and looking between their doors. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, and I don’t know how these things work with couples. Do you want some space? Is sharing a bed something that has to be worked up to, or—”

Elain sighed like he was a clueless puppy and took his hand. “Azriel,” she said gently. “I don’t care how things normally work. There is nothing normal about you and I. And I don’t want space. I want to share my bed with you tonight, and every night that you’ll have me. At least for now, in Scotland, not sharing a bed seems stupid. You’re right next door and I’d rather have you by my side than a few yards away.”

Azriel blew out the breath he was holding as relief swept through him. “Thank Christ,” he answered, his cheeks heating once more. And so they stood side by side in their shared bathroom and brushed their teeth, and then Elain pulled him by the hand into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them. They climbed into bed together, Elain snuggling deep into his arms, and for the first time in his life, finding sleep wasn't a terrible or anxiety-ridden chore for Azriel. For the first time, he felt safe and comforted as he drifted into slumber, Elain soft and sweet and his in his arms. And for the first time, Azriel’s sleep was filled with only peaceful, happy dreams—dreams of all the stories of the princess and the knight that Elain had told him, of all the kisses he and Elain had already shared, of his beautiful sunshine enveloping him from every direction.

Chapter Text

The next three days were spent with Elain accompanying Azriel to his lessons with Rodrick, as the master requested. They also spent each afternoon and night together, Azriel was enthralled each time he was allowed to freely touch her, to kiss her, to hold her. He did not suggest or attempt to have sex again, making it clear to Elain that he refused to pressure her. Neither of them brought it up after Azriel assured her that he wanted it if and when she was ready, and that he would be there for her and with her regardless. Elain continued to have moments where her Sight overwhelmed her, but never like their first night together, and he was learning how best to comfort her when they occurred. She also had not had a vision since her night of dreams, which seemed to both relieve and aggravate her. 

Rodrick’s lessons moved to an empty chamber room as Azriel began working on wielding at will, and Elain provided input and examples to help with Azriel’s understanding of wielding. Rodrick was right—Elain’s presence was grounding for him, and by the third day Azriel had begun to be able to conjure shadows at will, though he still struggled to command them. Elain displayed her earth magic, sending flowered vines across the floor, up the walls, describing to Azriel what it felt like to command them. Azriel, however, was only ever able to send a shadow randomly careening through the room, crashing into walls, and he knew he had been right to assume these lessons would have gone very poorly in the study.

“I would like to try something new,” Rodrick said near the end of their current lesson. He was seated in an armchair that Elain had insisted staff move into the room, rather than allow him to stand leaning on his cane for the entire lesson. Azriel and Elain were seated cross-legged on the floor across from each other in the center of the room. 

“I’ll try anything at this point,” Azriel groaned, letting the shadow above his left outstretched palm dissipate. He was yet again feeling frustrated with himself that wielding seemed to be the only thing he was truly bad at. 

“Please hold hands,” Rodrick instructed. Elain turned pink, but Azriel held his hands out for hers without pause. 

Rodrick gave a derisive huff. “Missy, you think I don’t see you bairns all over the property holding hands and clinging onto each other for dear life?” Elain turned redder, though Azriel grinned as pride filled him at the suggestion in Rodrick’s words, and he made a beckoning motion towards her hands.

Elain sighed in embarrassment and placed her hands in his wordlessly. Instead of letting them lay atop his chastely and professionally, Azriel entwined their fingers in both of their conjoined hands, and rested them atop his knees. Elain became the color of a ripe summer tomato. 

Rodrick threw back his head with a throaty laugh, and Elain squeaked out a little desperate sound. Azriel only winked at her unhelpfully. 

Once Rodrick had calmed down from his fit of amusement, he looked seriously between them. “Alright,” he started. “Now, my boy, I want you to focus just on wielding.” Okay, well that was nothing new. “Elain, dear, I want you to wield as well. But instead of using your magic, I want you to try to pour your magic into Azriel.”

Azriel watched Elain blink, her face looking just as confused as he felt. “Is that possible?” she asked. 

Rodrick only shrugged. “Not usually. But I would like to try. Almost like you are reading him, but let your power seek his own out. And then pour yours in like you are tipping a carafe of wine into a fountain.”

“I—I’ll try,” Elain answered in a small, uncertain voice.

Azriel squeezed her fingers in encouragement, shutting his eyes and focusing on his magic like he was instructed. He moved through the maze in his mind almost instantaneously, arriving at the familiar cobalt glow emerging from the well. He drew power from the well, felt the now-comfortable cold darkness of his magic moving from the well into his body, extending through his veins until it reached his ruined hands where they held Elain’s. 

Azriel was about to conjure shadows from that well of power when a new sensation invaded him. It was somehow familiar, though nothing that came from him, and it was so very warm. Azriel gasped as glowing rays of white and rose light flooded into him, swirling into his own magic and surging through his body. His eyes flew open to see Elain’s own closed, her face drawn into a frown of concentration, one bead of sweat dripping down her temple. He didn’t dare say a word, or let go of her hands. He was feeling her—her magic, her warmth, her light—pouring into him, and it was the most intimate and divine sensation he had ever experienced.

Azriel was frozen, just staring at Elain in wonder, and would have completely forgotten they were not alone in this great, empty room, had Rodrick not whispered, “Now wield, boy.”

Without letting go of Elain’s hands, Azriel called forth his shadows, and they responded faster than they ever had, bleeding out through the skin of his arms, fingers, chest, until he was surrounded by hanging wisps of black shadows. They looked as they always did (though much larger and more numerous), but they felt somehow warm, when they usually chilled him to his bone. 

“Good,” Rodrick praised emphatically, rising from his seat in awe. “Elain, my dear, don’t let go. Azriel—command them.”

“I—” he tried to say he still didn’t know how, but Elain opened her eyes, mahogany brown meeting hazel, and she squeezed his fingers. With that small measure of confidence, and still feeling Elain’s magic embracing him, Azriel bade his shadows one simple instruction. Without understanding how or why, he knew that this time they would obey. And obey they did. 

Elain’s lips fell open as the shadows swirled around them and then spread upwards to the ceiling, flattening out and hanging there above them. 

Azriel could feel his own mouth drop open in disbelief. 

“Continue,” was all Rodrick stated, and Azriel commanded his shadows to spread throughout the room, gathering in the four corners like hidden ghosts before drifting back to himself and Elain and surrounding them in a dark cloud, blotting out the light of the room. All Azriel could see was the shine of Elain’s beautiful eyes, and she looked back at his, unblinking and perfect. 

“I feel you, Elain,” Azriel whispered, before he sent his shadows down to inch across the floor towards Rodrick. Rodrick belly-laughed with delight as the shadows spun around him like a vortex and then inched away once more. 

“Now, my dear, break the connection.” 

No! Azriel wanted to scream, needing to keep her this way forever. But Elain did as she was told and dropped his hands, sucking in a breath. Azriel gasped as well as all of her warmth and light were pulled from him, leaving him with only his frigid, dark shadows and their cold blue glow within him. 

“Hold onto them, boy,” Rodrick encouraged, and Azriel grasped at his magic, though it was difficult when he wanted to follow Elain’s presence right out of his own body. He managed to stay, though, and clung onto his magic enough to command his shadows around the perimeter of the room, listening to them whisper unrecognizable words into his ears. Once they had made a full rotation, he drew them back to him, and instead of simply banishing them, he pulled them into himself, watching as they seeped back through his skin and left the room empty and bright once more. 

Azriel and Elain were left staring at each other in wonder and silence, and Azriel jumped when Rodrick whispered one word into the cavern of a room. 

“Carranam.”

Elain released a shocked gasp, her head whipping to Rodrick where he was now once again seated. 

“No,” she whispered, and Azriel looked between them in confusion. 

“What is a—what was the word?” he asked them both, his eyes flicking between the two as he waited for answers. 

“Carranam,” Rodrick repeated, the rich, unrecognizable word rolling off his tongue confidently. 

“That’s just a story,” Elain pushed back in hushed tones. “It doesn’t exist.”

Rodrick shook his head at her. “It does, my dear. It is extremely rare—the world has not seen a pair in centuries—but it does.”

Azriel felt like he was watching a tennis match as he looked between them, if tennis was a game he had never heard of and couldn’t understand the rules to. Elain looked utterly shocked and disbelieving, but Rodrick seemed as sure as he always did. 

“Could someone explain to me what that is?” 

Elain drew in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. “Not very well,” she answered quietly, “considering I thought it was something that only existed in fairy tales. Rodrick?” She raised a helpless hand at the old man, and he nodded thoughtfully.

“Carranam is a magical bond between two wielders. Like I just said, it is so rare that most believe it to be myth. But you two have it, I am sure.” Azriel watched Elain’s eyes grow somehow wider, but he said nothing, waiting for Rodrick to continue.

“The bond allows wielders to share magic—something that no other wielders can do. They can make each other more powerful, communicate with each other in unusual ways. The carranam may be more common than we think, but discovering it also requires the two wielders to find each other in the world, which one can assume does not always happen.” 

Elain was staring between her hands and Azriel’s hands now, as if she was trying to see evidence of a bond or shared magic there. 

“And is this…a bad thing?” Azriel asked, still trying to make sense of the situation. 

Rodrick shook his head. “Not bad, no, but extremely powerful. Dangerous to enemies.” Did Azriel and Elain have enemies? He didn’t think so. “And the bond…” Rodrick continued, a slight hesitation in his voice. “It is the strongest bond known in magic.”

Elain swallowed, her arms coming around her middle protectively.

“The bond can be rejected mutually or by one wielder. It can also be ignored, or it can be…accepted. If wielders accept the bond,” Rodrick explained, “they are bonded forever. Their lives are tied together inextricably. If one wielder’s power is drained fully at any point throughout his or her lifetime…”

Rodrick trailed off, like he didn’t want to finish the sentence.

“What?” Azriel asked, on the edge of his seat with intrigue and fear and caution. “What happens?”

“The stories say the other wielder in the pair dies,” Elain answered weakly, her voice shaking. Rodrick nodded solemnly.

Azriel drew a hand down his face, unsure of what to do with this information. 

“Did we—did we just accept the bond?” he asked, once again ping-ponging his gaze between Elain and Rodrick.

“No,” Rodrick rasped, his own face still painted with shock. “That is not something that can be done accidentally. There is a ritual, and the decision is not to be made hastily. If a pair with an accepted carranam bond ever…part,” he said, looking between them meaningfully, “it would be more painful than heartbreak. More devastating than death. So say the legends.”

Azriel succumbed to a chill that raced through his body, shivering as Rodrick’s words sunk in. 

“But—but we just shared magic, or Elain shared hers with me, without accepting any bond?”

Rodrick nodded. “The carranam bond can be used without formal acceptance. But formal acceptance…enhances it. The bond and power it gives you is a mere weak imprint used the way you just did, in comparison with an accepted bond.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” Elain said, staring down at her hands once more. Azriel’s head, too, was swimming with questions and uncertainties and disbelief. He looked back at Rodrick.

“Do you think that this bond has something to do with Elain’s visions of us in a past life?” 

Rodrick only shrugged his hunched shoulders. “Perhaps,” was all he said in response. 

And then Rodrick stood and shuffled over to them on his cane. They both stood as well to meet him. 

“Let us end here today,” he said, looking between them with only care in his eyes. “Rest. Talk. Do not jump to any conclusions or decisions. We will continue our lessons, with the goal of Elain contributing to Azriel’s control over his power less and less until he has complete control without help.” 

They both nodded and parted ways with Rodrick in the hallway, walking the opposite direction. They were silent for a few moments before Azriel felt the need to touch her again. He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her to him, feeling her relax after a few moments. 

“Well shit,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “What now?” 

What now? Elain didn't have a clue. She had just been handed life-altering information, and didn’t know what to do about it. The web between she and Azriel only continued to become more tangled, between their past lives and their present relationship, her Sight’s warnings, and now a carranam bond…it was all awfully overwhelming to her in that moment. 

“I think I might need a nap,” she said weakly, and Azriel halted them in their walk down the hall. 

“Do you feel okay?” he asked, taking her by both shoulders and turning her to face him so he could survey her fully. 

“Yes, I think so,” Elain answered somewhat shakily. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, and drained from doing that during the lesson. I’ve never shared my power before—I think it took a lot out of me.”

Azriel frowned down at her in concern. “I was feeling the opposite. Keyed up like I need to on a good long run. But I can stay with you, if you prefer.”

She shook her head at him, wanting him to get what he needed as well. “No, you go for your run. I will literally never understand the desire to run, but you do what you need to do.”

Azriel chuckled lightly as some of his concern fell away, and he tucked her beneath his arm again, directing them back towards their suite. “I don’t know how anyone can fall asleep in the middle of the day, but I respect your choices, too.” 

When they got back to their suite, Azriel tucked Elain into bed (which was altogether far too sweet a gesture for anyone to do casually), and then changed and left the castle for his run. Elain, despite her swimming head, felt exhaustion overtake her the moment she landed on her pillows, and was asleep within mere minutes. 

She awoke later to the sound of running water, and turned over to discover a tray laden with food, orange juice, and tea on the table at the end of the bed. She checked her phone to see that she had been asleep for over two hours, and put her hands above her head in a massive full-body stretch. Elain took stock of her mental and physical state. She felt like she had replenished her body’s spent energy with her nap, and her head too felt clearer. She had no further answers about anything, but she just felt less…swirly. 

She smiled as she pulled the tray onto the bed next to her and started munching on the sandwich and salad Azriel had presumably made her, her stomach rumbling in thanks. A few minutes later, when Elain had finished the food and juice and was sipping her tea as she leaned back against the pillows, she heard the water stream change from the shower head to the faucet in the tub before one single, soft knock sounded on her door. 

She sat up a bit straighter and smoothed down her hair before calling, “Come in!”

And Azriel did, in all his just-showered, bare-chested, delicious-smelling glory, with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. His damp hair was extra-curly and disheveled from being toweled, Elain assumed, and his skin glowed golden from the hot steam of the shower. She swallowed, well-aware that she was in crumpled clothes and eating in bed like the sloppy person she knew she could be. 

“Hi,” she squeaked, relieved that she got any sound out at all. 

“You’re awake,” he answered in his dark, cool voice that never failed to lead her thoughts astray. His eyes trailed down to the near-empty tray and he gave her a crooked grin. “And you ate.” 

Elain felt her cheeks burning as she tried not to stare at his bulging biceps or the way a bead of water still clung to a spot on his neck. 

“Yes,” she answered, forcing her gaze away from him to look at the tray as well. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. It was really good. I hope you ate, too?”

He nodded and waved his hand dismissively. “I did before I showered. There’s a bath running for you, by the way.” 

That explained the shift in water streams. And this man claimed he didn’t know how to be a boyfriend?

“You just seemed so overwhelmed and exhausted. I thought you could use one,” he continued. 

“I would love one,” Elain answered, sliding off the bed and adjusting her askew clothing. “Thank you. Again.”

Azriel just winked at her and kissed her cheek before gathering up the tray and striding out of her room, ass muscles on full display under his thin towel. Elain had a brief mad thought that she would like to sink her teeth into one of those beautiful cheeks before she shook her head and retreated to the bathroom. 

The bathroom smelled of her own bath products (as she realized Azriel had somehow found her bubble bath and poured it into the running water) mixed with Azriel’s shampoo and cologne, and the combination was nearly intoxicating. 

Elain took a long, luxurious bath simply breathing in the delectable scent of the room, and then dressed in a light cotton dress. She left her hair piled in the high bun she had secured it in for her bath, and emerged from her room to find Azriel typing away at his laptop. 

“Did you seriously go on a run, make me lunch, and then work while I took a two-hour nap and then a bath?”

Azriel looked up at her, cracking a devastatingly beautiful grin, and Elain’s heart stuttered as she watched his eyes rove down her body slowly. 

“Well?” he asked, finally looking up at her face once more. “Do you feel better than you did before?”

“Yes,” Elain said with a sigh of relief, and took a seat next to him on the couch. She peeked at his laptop screen to see it full of spreadsheets and graphs she could never make sense of. 

“You do know that paid time off means you don’t work, right?” she asked him, teasing him just a bit. 

Azriel released a long-suffering sigh before clicking a few series of keys and then shutting his laptop decisively. “You know I don’t know what PTO means.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with her own. “Walk on the beach with me?”

Azriel’s gaze softened at her request. “Sure, princess.” Then he winced and put up his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. I didn’t mean to call you that.” 

Elain’s heart ached at his earnestness. “It’s okay,” she answered softly. “It’s not so bad now that I’m not keeping it all from you.” 

He gave her an uncertain smile, so she took his hand in hers and laced their fingers. “Let's go,” she said, tugging him towards the door. 

They walked along the beach in comfortable silence, Elain just loving being able to touch Azriel freely. His scarred hand felt so good holding hers. She loved his hands—their size, their warmth, their scarred texture that was proof of all he survived and overcame. Azriel’s hands. Her boyfriend’s hands.

Though they had barely stopped touching since that day by the fountain, Elain hadn't known how to broach the topic of sex or their physical relationship again. She knew Azriel was giving her space and letting her drive their pace, but the problem was that she would never be able to predict when her Sight would intrude on her emotions.

And she wanted him. Having his hands constantly on her was torture. Elain was becoming near-obsessed with Azriel’s hands—their feel, their heaviness, their strength, and good god the texture of them. She loved the rough, leathery scars that covered them. They were beautiful and magnetic. She wanted them inside her again. She wanted to fuck his fingers with her mouth until he came. She wanted to know if he could make her come with just his hands on her body without ever touching her core. She thought he might be able to. 

And she wanted to experience the carranam bond with him again. It had been so intimate, so intense, to share her magic with Azriel in that way. It had been like she was feeling him and entwining with him from the inside out, and she wanted more. 

Elain was shaken from her silent reverie when Azriel gently knocked his shoulder against hers with a slight stoop. 

“What's on your mind, girlfriend?” 

Elain huffed a little laugh. Azriel had taken to calling her “girlfriend” at nearly every opportunity, which was far too endearing. It turned out that the giant workaholic grumpy biker man Elain thought she was just taking for a one-night stand was quite…cute. It was as if he had waited his entire life to have somewhere to put his affections and attention and…cuteness. The same went for snuggling, because Azriel snuggled like no one she had ever met, and Elain loved the way he clung into her like he was physically preventing her from being taken from him, even if it did stem from a devastating past. 

“Lain?” Azriel asked, and she realized she had never answered him. 

“Oh,” she said. “Just thinking about…everything.” He nodded slowly at her with raised brows, encouraging her to go on. She sighed a bit, her cheeks growing hot. “I'm thinking about how cute you are, and how I still want to have sex with you, and how intense sharing magic felt, and how I want to do it again.” 

Azriel was quiet for a moment before he responded, “So I'm cute, huh?” 

Elain hip-checked him and he laughed, pulling her closer and wrapping a strong, large arm around her waist. 

“You want to use the bond again?” he asked quietly, stroking his fingers lightly against her hip. She shivered at the memory of just earlier that day, and answered with a quiet, “yes.” 

Elain felt Azriel's fingers tighten against her hip. He nodded towards a series of small beach side caves nestled into the cliff side in the distance, far up enough along the sand that waves never reached them. 

“Then let's go try,” he answered, and steered them towards the rock structures. Elain's anticipation sent her heart hammering, excitement growing within her. When they reached the caves, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. They walked along the rock outcroppings until they found one that had only a narrow opening. Azriel released his hold on Elain to duck his head step into the space, and she followed close behind. 

The narrow entry way opened into a dry, dim little cave with soft sand lining the ground. Elain dropped her shoes she had been holding in one hand and turned to smile at Azriel. 

“This is cozy.” 

He hummed in agreement and approached her, running his hands up her arms. “Very private,” he answered. 

Elain succumbed to him nearly immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him close for a kiss, rising onto her toes. Azriel hugged her to him and held her just as close with his arms braced around her waist, making a sound of contentedness as their mouths moved together. 

Elain broke away, panting slightly, when she realized that this wasn’t what they had come here for. “Sorry,” she said with a nervous giggle, taking a half-step away from him. He caught her before she could go any further, though, tugging her back to him and kissing her on the forehead. 

“Why the fuck are you apologizing for kissing me?” he asked, his lips still brushing her skin. 

Elain gave a limp shrug. “I don’t even know,” she answered with a sigh. 

Azriel chuckled and gave her backside a little pat that made her heart flutter. “Alright, weirdo,” he said warmly, and then stepped back from her and held his hands out. “Shall we practice?”

Elain took a deep breath and stood up straight, placing her hands in his. “Earlier, I poured my magic into you. Do you think it goes both ways?”

“I don’t see why not,” he answered, but then frowned. “Although I don’t know if I have enough control to send mine into you yet.” 

Well, that was true. The whole purpose of using their bond was to help Azriel gain control. 

“What do you think would happen if we both directed our magic towards each other?” Elain asked, her excitement at being linked magically once more with him growing by the moment. 

Azriel’s beautiful hazel eyes sparkled like stars as he answered her, that ridiculous crooked grin on his face that made him almost too nice to look at. “Let’s find out,” he said, and closed his eyes. A shiver of anticipation moved up Elain’s spine as she, too, let her eyes fall closed, and called upon her magic. 

Those rose and white beams of light began spilling from her well almost immediately, swimming through her body, warmth in their trails. “Are you ready?” she asked quietly, nearly buzzing with anticipation. 

Azriel drew in a long breath, and Elain knew it meant he was concentrated on drawing upon his power from his own well. She waited patiently, not moving a muscle as her magic swirled through her, seemingly begging to be released. 

After a few quiet moments, Azriel answered, “Ready.”

Elain let her power flow, trickling down through her arms and then into her fingertips. It was moving exactly towards Azriel’s hands with nearly no conscious directing from herself. Like it knew exactly where its second home was. Elain felt the moment when her magic seeped into him, his fingers tightening in hers as he drew in a sharp breath. 

“It’s so warm,” he whispered, rubbing a thumb over her hand. “Mine is so cold.”

“Show me,” Elain murmured, opening her eyes to scan his face. He looked calmer than he had the first time—tranquil, even. She watched his hard jawline slacken a bit and his shoulders drop slightly as he presumably sent his magic towards her, and then—

Elain gasped as she felt it seep through her hands. Cold. It was so cold, and dark. Exquisite. Powerful. A cobalt blue glow flooded her inside, twirling around with her own rose colored light. She shivered as she succumbed to the frigid, raw power, shuddering in delight at the feeling. 

“Azriel,” she whispered. “Open your eyes.”

He did so, blinking his long, dark lashes open to reveal those hazel irises once more. 

“I feel you inside me,” she breathed, clutching his fingers. “I feel both of us.”

He nodded, a look of disbelieving wonder etched on his face. “It feels…” he tried, seemingly searching for the right words. “Like I could do anything. And like I can feel every part of your soul.”

Elain’s eyes began leaking before she could stop it, she was so overcome by the exquisite feel of their combined magic coursing through her. 

“Wield,” she whispered, clutching his hands tighter. “Show me your shadows.”

Azriel sucked in a short breath, and the moment she felt his shadows seeping from them both, she too wielded her earth magic, and he gasped as flowered vines broke free from not only her skin, but his as well. Their shadows and vines coiled together around them, and Elain let out a yearning, keening sound she didn’t know she was holding in. 

“Azriel,” she nearly moaned, and he stepped closer, folding her into his chest as their magic flowed freely between them, and as shadows and vines crawled across the floor and up the walls of the cave like tapestries of magic.

“I know,” he murmured into her hair, running one hand up to the back of her neck. “It feels incredible.”

Elain’s mind was so clear. There was nothing but the two of them, here and now, in this little cave filled with flowers and shadows and magic. There was no past or future, nothing aside from this one little moment in time. 

“Kiss me,” she begged, and Azriel acquiesced without hesitation, burying a hand in her hair and taking her hip with his other, crushing his mouth to hers. Elain whimpered as she felt him on yet another level, meeting his kiss with her own ferocity, wanting him to consume her entirely. 

She kissed him as deeply as she could, aware that magic was still flowing between them and around their little cave. He groaned as she ran her tongue over his, gripping the back of his shirt desperately. When she lifted a leg and hooked it around his, he pulled back, taking heavy breaths. 

“Holy hell,” he panted, bracing her leg with a hand slipped under the hem of her dress, stroking the skin of her thigh where he held her. 

“I want you,” Elain heard herself say, nothing in her mind but the feel of him everywhere, inside and outside. 

“You have me, baby,” Azriel answered, bending down to kiss along her jaw and neck, drawing a quiet whimper from Elain as she arched into him. 

“No,” she moaned. “I want you inside me—your magic and your body.” 

Azriel stilled with his lips pressed against her neck, his grip around her thigh tightening. He pulled his head back to look at her. 

“Elain,” he breathed, his eyes full of longing and caution both. 

“Please!” she whimpered, rolling her pelvis against him in emphasis. “I need you.” 

Azriel groaned again as she writhed on him, but stroked her face gently with his fingers. “Are you sure?”

She made steady, insistent eye contact with him. “I’ve never been more sure in my life,” she breathed, and then it was like something snapped in Azriel. He hauled her to him so aggressively her feet left the ground, so she wrapped both legs around his middle and he braced her with his hands on her ass. 

Elain moaned as he kissed her with abandon once more, spinning them so he was backing her further into the cave. She gave him everything back with her kiss, nipping and sucking and sweeping her tongue through his mouth. And she swore she could feel magic passing between them through their open mouths, which only drove her passion higher. 

When Elain’s back met the wall of the cave, Azriel broke the kiss to run a hand up her dress as he once again worshiped her neck, pressing her body flat against the wall with his own. She felt the texture of vines and the cold smokiness of shadows against her back where they lined the walls. She rolled herself against him again, her fingers grappled in his hair, as she succumbed entirely to the sensations of his magic and body drowning her. 

“Elain,” Azriel moaned into her neck, his hand sweeping all the way up her dress to her chest, where he cupped her sensitive breast, rolling his thumb over her nipple. 

“Yes,” she answered, ripping his shirt up his back and running her nails up and down the bare skin there.

“Fuck,” he breathed, removing his mouth from her neck to slip his hands under the straps of her dress and pull them down, exposing her entire chest to him. Elain whimpered as she watched his hungry eyes zero in on her nipples, and she felt her core throb with need, growing slick with her desire. 

“I need you to touch me,” she whispered, and Azriel’s gaze turned feral. He unhooked her legs from around his waist, letting one foot land on the ground, but left her other leg braced around his hip. And then he bent forward and enveloped one breast in his warm mouth while he brought his hand straight under her dress to her entrance, sweeping a finger in a circle through her wetness. 

Elain cried out and her hand flew to Azriel’s cock, straining against his zipper. She gripped it as well as she could through his pants as he groaned and moved his mouth to her other breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as he drove a finger straight into the center of her. 

Elain was vaguely aware that their shadows and vines were still moving around them, beginning to form some sort of cocoon of swirling magic around their joined bodies. 

Azriel moved his finger slowly in and out of her as she writhed on his hand, grappling with his zipper with both of hers. She managed to lower it even with the distraction of Azriel’s finger stroking her inside walls, his tongue laving at one nipple and then the next. He let out a strangled noise as she then got to work on his belt, ripping it from his pants as she moaned at the way he worked her, feeling her wetness soaking his hand. 

And then Azriel was withdrawing his hand, lifting her off the ground once more as he pressed her against the wall, her head thunking lightly on the rock. She wrapped her legs around his middle again, pinned between his solid body and the solid wall of the cave. 

“Are you sure?” he asked once more, pulling his cock from his pants, which he shucked down as far as he could on his thighs. 

“Yes,” Elain insisted, her dress just a bunched cotton sheath around her middle, her chest and pelvis exposed. She was suddenly delighted that she hadn’t worn any undergarments this evening. They would have only gotten in the way. 

“Shit,” he said suddenly, his face falling. “I don’t have a condom on me.” 

Elain waved a hand, growing more desperate by the second. “I have an IUD, and a clean bill of health.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathed, and then added a quick “Me too,” pumping his dick a few times in preparation. Elain’s mouth watered at the sight. 

Vines with tiny white flowers started creeping up Azriel’s arms, twining themselves in coils around them as he stroked himself. Elain gasped as shadows, too, coiled around her own form. She still felt his frigid, stunning magic moving through her and over her, and it was all so deliciously overwhelming. 

Azriel paused, hand around the base of his cock, its head just brushing against her center. A small whimper left Elain as it slipped a bit in her wetness. He waited until her eyes met his, and she found one final question lingering in his gaze. 

Elain nodded, feeling clear and sure, and reached down to cover his hand with her own, guiding him to push himself inside her. She felt just his tip at her entrance, and then he pushed his hips forward, one hand braced under her and the other leaving his cock and coming to the wall beside her head. She drew in a breath as he slowly began to fill her, just an inch or so. Azriel pulled out again, and a quiet, desperate noise escaped her lips. 

“Patience, angel,” Azriel ground out, clearly concentrating on his self-control. “I need this moment to happen slowly.”

Elain breathed out steadily, forcing herself to relax despite the thundering need within her. He pushed forward again, taking her a bit deeper, stretching her so perfectly she could have wept. But out he pulled again, and her nails dug into his bare back once more in demand. He laughed darkly and nipped her jaw as he pushed in even deeper this time, whispering “Greedy,” into her ear as her pussy tried to clench onto him, to stop him from pulling out once more. But he did slide out almost to the tip, before finally plunging in one last time, his hips sinking forward, his cock pushing all the way into her until he was seated to the hilt, stretching her more than she thought possible. 

Elain cried out as he hit the deepest place that had ever been reached within her, letting her forehead fall down onto his shoulder. 

“Okay?” Azriel asked her, gripping her ass tightly in a broad, scarred hand, holding her pinned between him and the wall. 

“Yes,” Elain whimpered, rolling her hips, encouraging him to move. A moan escaped Azriel as he allowed her to command him, beginning a deep and steady rhythm within her. And suddenly Azriel was everything and everywhere. His cold, dark magic swirling within her was balanced by the warm, wet feel of his cock plunging into her again and again, and his heated hands and lips caressing her body were countered by the cool shadows skimming over her bare skin and cocooning them together in darkness. He was both corporeal and immaterial at once, as solid and there as the rock behind her, yet also existing in the bodiless soul of his magic. 

And god, feeling him this way was everything. Elain was crying out in a never-ending stream of moans and keens, and she was aware somewhere in the recesses of her mind that tears were streaming down her cheeks. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed, as Azriel’s hips rolled and rolled into her, his cock moving in and out of her, sending endless waves of pleasure through her body. “You’re everywhere,” she cried, plunging her fingers into his hair and tugging his head back so he would meet her eyes. 

“Fuck, yes, Elain,” Azriel answered as their gazes met. “You’re everywhere too,” he said, his words ending in a groan as he snapped his hips forward with more power, hitting a wall that had her eyes rolling back. 

“Are you crying?” he asked roughly, even though he wasn’t stopping, but building in intensity. 

“Good tears,” she answered, before a weak cry escaped her as her back arched into a hard slam. Her hands and feet were starting to tingle, her face growing fuzzy-feeling as well. 

As her body moved towards climax, Elain gasped as streams of cobalt and rose light erupted from their joined bodies, converging with the shadows and vines cocooning them, lighting their little cave so she could see Azriel’s face clearly. 

Azriel moaned and then melded his mouth with hers, slamming somehow deeper and deeper inside her, his tongue claiming her as thoroughly as his dick did.

“Azriel,” Elain moaned, breaking her mouth from his, her vision dimming as the rope within her grew so taut with tension she thought she might die. Could an orgasm kill a person?

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” she begged, succumbing to whatever was happening to her, unable to focus on anything except the sensation of Azriel on every plane and dimension. 

Azriel’s hand moved from the wall to the back of her neck, clutching onto her for what seemed like dear life. “I’m coming with you, baby,” he moaned, his thrusting becoming erratic as his body tensed. “I can’t hold on any longer.”

Elain was nearly screaming as she felt his cock grow somehow larger and harder within her, their shared magic twirling frenetically around them as they both neared the edge as one. 

And then all of Elain’s extremities were numb, her face buzzing, as her orgasm rocked into her. Her limbs shook and her face slackened as her scream caught in her throat. More rose light poured from her like a waterfall as wave after wave slammed into her, and then she heard a deep groan, and felt Azriel coming inside her. 

His movements became choppy and spasmed as a low string of curses left his mouth, his back bowing and his head falling onto her shoulder she felt his warm cum spill into her, dragging her own orgasm out even longer, or maybe prompting a second—she had no idea. Her pussy clenched onto him, squeezing and milking him, as his own cobalt light poured from him and filled the cave, shrouding them in a purplish, glowing light as it combined with her own. 

Inhuman sounds left Elain as she was finally coming down from the highest peak, and grunts and moans were still escaping Azriel as she felt him spasm with his last drops inside her. She was barely aware of her body and the space it took up again before he was pulling out of her and simultaneously turning them around while his knees buckled. 

Elain let herself be gripped in his arms as Azriel’s back slid down the wall, his legs apparently as useless as her own, until they were seated on the floor, and then she collapsed into his body fully. 

Her eyes were closed, but she could sense their magic calming, retreating, pulling back to their bodies as they both returned to their senses. She clung onto him for dear life as shudders continued to rock through her. He was like her lighthouse in a sea of darkness in that moment, and he clung back with equal strength.

It was a good three or four minutes of both of them coming down from whatever plane they had been on, their magic seeping into their bodies and their bond finally breaking as they stopped wielding, before either of them could move or speak. Elain’s cries slowly died down into high-pitched breaths and then weak whimpers before she finally was able to fall quiet and just breathe for a few moments. She had allowed herself to succumb fully, to drown in him, to trust him completely and irrevocably with her magic, her body, her heart. 

And drowning had never felt so damn good.