TRIGGER WARNING: Gwyn has a non-graphic talk about her assault with Azriel. Parts of this chapter may be heavy.
"Nightmare?" Azriel asked, enclosing her in his powerful arms, grounding her to reality before planting a peck on the crown of her head. She needed this, his body strong against her own after reliving the horror hounding her subconscious since the night at the river house. To realize that he was alive for herself. To see the warmth in his eyes, not a damning gaze condemning her, striking her guilty of doing only the Mother knew. Before Azriel inevitably…
"You too?" Gwyn finally gained the determination to ask, and he admitted to her in an answering nod.
"Yes. Even though I sleep little. Never have." Insomnia; yet something else they had in common. Weren't they a pair? The difference was her lack of slumber had not begun until Hybern's commander started making his return in her nightmares. Before Sangravah, when it was her and Catrin? They slept like babes in their mother's womb. Sound and secure. Since then? All noise in the dark of night made her shiver, compelling her to breathe deeply and use those mind-stilling techniques.
But Azriel? How long had he been continuing with no proper rest? Months? Years? Decades? Centuries? She wasn't sure. He had not been forthright with his past either, besides disclosing the stories of the five centuries pining and Distraction Girl. Other than that? Nothing. Despite this, Gwyn remained patient. She would not push, even though she wished to peel it off layer by layer, hoping it might be cathartic for him.
Gwyn sighed, brushing her nose against his chest, the cotton of his black shirt soft against her skin. "You ready to get your ass kicked, Shadowsinger," she mumbled over his heart, Azriel's chuckle rumbling through him.
"Bring it, Berdara."
More often than not, their bouts of dueling blades or fists lasted nearly till dawn—when both of them fled to creep in a few minutes of rest in their exhaustion, only to meet again at training shortly thereafter.
Yesterday, or rather very early this daybreak, Azriel had dropped the news while he dried sweat off his brow with his forearm.
"We canceled training today."
Gwyn's head cocked in question. "Is it?"
He nodded, his mouth curling up on one side. "Today's the Summer Solstice, Berdara. A holiday, remember?" Azriel strode up to her, sweeping back the hair that fell forward out of her braid, sticking to her sweat-damp skin. "And we have a date."
"We do?" Her tone sounded squeaky in her own ears. "Are we spending the day with the Inner Circle or—"
"Just us," Azriel replied, his lips moving against her forehead. "Us all day."
"Indoor? Outdoor? Where are we going? Please tell me," Gwyn prodded, hopping up and down on her toes.
"Outdoors. I know you have service first, so I'll meet you up here this afternoon, okay? I would prefer to come and hear you sing. But I have dispatches to go over before we leave." He said, pressing his lips to hers. "Today, I'm all yours, Berdara." Gwyn felt his grin against her throat, echoing those same words before he'd agreed to their initial excursion into Velaris. "It's going to be hot, so keep the leather at home." Az playfully smacked her leather-clad bottom, kissing her jawline. Gwyn angled her head as his mouth kept skimming over her sticky skin, down her neck. A giggle crept out as his lips blazed a scorching trail.
"Shadowsinger, you need to—" Gwyn squealed as Azriel nipped the side of her neck. "We need to go." She shrieked as he wrapped his arms around her, spinning her around, his lips never leaving her collar.
"Sorry," Az chuckled, setting her back on her own two feet. "I'll see you in a little while."
Gwyn left dizzy and flustered, eager for the surprises ahead.
"Shadowsinger, get out here!"
Azriel raised his head to the shout, and what he found nearly knocked him over. Gwyn stood out in the waves, ankle-deep, where he noticed the water should be deeper. Apparently, the crafty priestess had discovered the wide sandbar. The fabric of her saffron Night Court attire clinging to her shape in a manner that made him wonder if she noticed. If she even cared anymore. And each time Az bore witness to her so loose, shining from within, he felt a fraction of that burden, the regret, burned away in her light.
Ever so slowly, the priestess had been coming out of her shell. Overcoming insecurities. And with every full laugh and smile, he declared a victory and relished in the reward.
Azriel's lips twitched as he spread out the checkered blanket, double-checking he'd actually remembered everything. He reached into the pocket of shadows. Sandwiches and fruit salad from Sevenda's for lunch. Pastries from Sabra's, but not the same ones Gwyn had inhaled on their first night on the town. Sabra had also pitched in chocolate-dipped strawberries after he'd explained why the stunning redhead wasn't with him this time. White wine chilled to perfection, his shadows making certain all was perfect. He needed everything to be perfect. Unbeknownst to most, granted the excuse, Azriel could be rather romantic. Those opportunities an anomaly until now. And the very least he could do before leaving on another mission tomorrow.
His shadows were the ones that advised him as he headed out the door. 'Utensils! Napkins,' for which he was eternally thankful. Though, the thought of Gywn having to lick those fingers clean again…
"Why did you bring me to the beach if you will not join me," she yelled, stomping her foot with a splash.
Az choked back a laugh as the priestess put her hands on her hips, her auburn eyebrow going up.
"So I'm spending the day swimming by myself, Azriel?!"
"I'm not the one whose part water nymph, Berdara! Illyrian wings and saltwater don't mix!" Plus Azriel didn't mind watching. He'd found them a secluded spot where he could do just that; keep an eye on Gwyn without having to potentially murder any other males on the beach. His reputation helped, preceding him as the dreaded Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Court.
And Azriel truly couldn't criticize anyone for gawking.
He turned back to set up lunch when singsong words ensnared him. "Az-ri-el…"
His head lifted, his gaze drawn towards where Gwyn stood in the surf. "Az-ri-el," she repeated, his name sounding like the sweetest, enchanting melody. An undertow sweeping him out to sea. No breaking the pull, the impulse. She called to him, and he abandoned the task at hand. Her song. As his feet stirred the water, he found himself knee-deep, the bottoms of his wings swishing across the warm surface before the spell broke when she called, "Az, your wings!"
After blinking to make sense of the pulsing tide, he found himself soaked to the thigh in its waves. Azriel lifted his wings high, shaking them, before flying into the sky and landing near Gwyn on the sandbar.
"What was that all about," she asked, smoothing a hand down the side of his face. "You were staring straight through me."
Azriel waved off the concern, the unease. "Nothing, Gwyn. You…" He stooped to roll up the hem of his dark linen pants, his eyes taking in the broad scope of her body. The way the sodden fabric adhered to her like a second skin. The crop top gave away a tantalizing sliver of skin above her belly button. Az rose, folding an arm around her midriff, tugging so they were chest to chest. Heart to heart. A cool chill spread across him as the moisture of her clothes penetrated his. "You look radiant."
Gwyn offered a tight smile but dropped her eyes. He tipped her chin up, his other hand delving into her hair, gleaming copper ribbons in the sun wrapped around his restless fingers.
"One day you'll see, Gwyn."
"I don't see that ever happening, but you make me feel beautiful, Azriel."
"You should because you are," he started, lowering his head to hers as her hands closed around his collar, playing with the shorter hair at his neck. His mouth a hairsbreadth from hers, he said, "You should without me having to say a word. But I will continue repeating as often as I can until you accept it yourself."
Gwyn swept her lips to his in a soft caress, making his chest spark. "Coming from such a gorgeous male, I should believe." The priestess tapped his nose playfully as she dragged her teeth over his lower lip.
A growl rumbled in his rib cage as Azriel pulled her tight until nothing was between them but the barely-there wet fabric barrier. He was rougher than he meant to be, but that mischievous bite unlocked a part of him. To his wonder, Gwyn answered back with the greedy drags of her mouth, the enthusiastic tugs on his hair. With every new day, their intimacy shaped, shifted in the most pleasurable ways. Gods, if only—
"Get a room!" A thwack sounded from above. "Ow, Mother above!"
They tore apart as they were marionettes on opposite strings, hoisting their gazes towards the cloudless sky.
Cassian flew above, cradling Nesta in his burly arms. They must have been on the way to the river house and taken a detour. Azriel sighed.
"So you demanded to take the scenic route to pester them? You're an ass," Nesta scolded her mate, even as she squinted down at them. Gwyn offered her friend a wave, a pretty flush on her neck. Nesta waved back, whispering something to Cassian, who nodded.
"Sorry! Not every day you see an Illyrian out in a sandbar making out with an attractive redhead," Cassian yelled back with a wink. Gwyn buried her face in Azriel's neck, an arm draping over her shoulder. He was going to kill Cassian.
"Well, today's your lucky day, Cassian," Gwyn muttered, surprising Azriel with a kiss against his throat. Eyes wide, he watched as Gwyn pounced on him, pushing her lips to his with zeal in the presence of their friends. One arm around his neck while the other delivered a crude gesture towards the sky.
Cassian and Nesta exploded in laughter.
"Well, played, Berdara," Cassian shouted. "You've got your hands full, Azriel!"
Didn't he know it. His hands wandering down her dips and swells, resting on her lower back just before the alluring swell of her ass. His female was an endless delightful surprise.
Waves peaked and washed over the shore, bubbles joining the cry of the gulls soaring in the sky. The crackling of a smokey bonfire wafting downwind. A symphony of the pinnacle of Summer. Rough soil rubbed against her soles as she dug them in, the change from burning to cool a shock against her bare feet.
Azriel's chin propped on her shoulder as he leaned forward. Squeezing his legs closer to her, his coarse hair grazing against her exposed skin. They'd both rolled their pants up above their knees before they'd taken a seat in the sand. And though her Night Court fashioned tank top was sleeveless, and thankfully longer; she was still sweltering.
"What are you doing," Azriel asked, watching Gwyn bury her feet. With a devilish grin, she grabbed sand and started covering his own.
"Nothing. Are you going to get sand all over your wings now?"
"I'll take a bath later." Cauldon, the picture of Az in a bath? Naked from head to toe? Her mouth dried. She wiggled, and his arms tightened around her.
Gods, Gwyn adored being held by him. Cherished every kiss. That night of making up had led to touching. More exploring. And it didn't shock her anymore. Actually, Gwyn was finding it harder and harder to resist him.
She wanted to feel him. Wanted him to touch her. To kiss. To lick. To enjoy every inch of the male. Her male.
Her male?
She'd made it quite apparent when three fae females on the beach had been ogling Azriel, who had disposed of his shirt because of the hot weather. Which, for Gwyn, made her so much warmer. She'd growled a warning at the females and they scuttled away like hermit crabs. As they should. Azriel merely blinked, his lips twitching as he gripped her close and reminding Gwyn that he wasn't tempted by anyone but her.
Since then, they'd been quietly witnessing the sunset over the cresting waves.
"Remember when I told you the shore was the best place to view the sunset?" Gwyn nodded. "So I thought, why not enjoy the best day of the year to watch it," he'd said with a half-grin that caused her heart to stutter.
A lot of Gwyn's heart had been involved lately. And there was a conversation she'd been meaning to have, one that she'd set aside because it was bound to ruin any moments they had tonight. Her body stiffened.
"Gwyn, what's wrong," Azriel whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek.
She swiveled in his hold. His eyes showed like topaz in the radiance of the setting sun, his hair speckled with shades of blue highlighted in the deepest black.
The waves tumbled in time to her thrumming pulse.
"I need to tell you something…" The wind kicked up, sending a wave of sand over them. She spat, wiping her face. Azriel snorted as he tousled the grit out of her hair and then his own.
"You were saying," he smirked, shuddering his wings, sending grains flying.
A gust blew again, and Azriel quickly set her in his lap, encircling them beneath his wings, shielding them from the pelting sand.
"Thank you," Gwyn laughed, her cheek resting on his bare chest, his breathing ragged against her. Azriel swallowed hard, his chin bumping the top of her head in a nod. She lifted on her knees, placing them on either side of Azriel's hips, settling down—straddling him. Her lips parted on a gasp as the feel of him under her sent wanton heat rolling through her. This wasn't the first time he'd made her feel this way, but something was different about this, about them. Since she'd gotten hurt, since that nightmare. An edge of desperation behind each kiss. A boldness in her and him, similar to the notorious night outside of Sevenda's.
Azriel was leaning back on his hands, his exposed chest heaving up and down as he stared at her, the gold-green of his eyes a slice. Gwyn let her fingertips trace the intricate swirls of the tattoos covering the shadowsinger's torso. The dips and curves of his toned muscles. His shoulders. His biceps. His body shivered with each featherlight pass of her fingertips.
She leaned forward as her fingers slipped over his collar and down his rib cage and lower, her fingers skimming the planes of his taut abs.
She felt him gulp. "Gwyn." His voice trembled as much as his arms were behind him. He was struggling to hold himself back. He wouldn't move until she told him, and part of her really, really liked it.
"Az," she sighed against his mouth. He groaned as her lips found his, lingering. Though she had yet to memorize them, Gwyn remained determined. Her fingers stilled below his navel, brushing the line of dark hair that led to places she'd merely read. Only fantasized about his body. When those hot kisses hadn't left her satisfied, pursued her down into the temple and her bed. Moved her own hands to take care of the ache herself, leading to a release that ultimately left her wholly unsatisfied. And wondering if Azriel was doing the same floors above. Thinking of her while he stroked himself.
And all that wondering led to more questions and soul-searching. Driven her to speak to the priestess who initially supported her after her abuse for guidance. Made her revisit her chats with Nesta about her emotions.
Azriel's body quivered under her, his hardness pushing up into her until she gasped against his mouth. But she didn't dare move her hand on his stomach. Fear. Fear held her from exploring down to where she wished to touch. Where she desired to touch Azriel. To experience him. For him to experience her. But fear was always in the background.
And for some reason, encased in his wings, just the two of them, the time was now to start facing the ones hounding her. Even if it meant tossing a bucket of cold water on all their heat.
She drew back, his heart beating as rapidly as her own.
"Azriel," she gulped, closing her eyes to focus. Push down the enduring worry.
"Are you okay," he asked, his head tilting. Azriel was always watchful of how much he pushed her. Cauldon, above, she really was a lucky female.
"I need to tell you something." That quick, she felt him go rigid under her palms. Perhaps those weren't the choicest words. "What I meant to say is there's been something on my mind and I need to talk to... with you..."
From the creases in his forehead, none of her words alleviating his apprehension.
She could do this. She could do this.
"Look, Gwyn," Azriel exhaled, lifting one hand to drive through his hair. "If something's wrong or you don't want to do this anymore—"
"What?! No! No! Not at all. Quite the contrary, actually." His hand froze in his hair, surprise hidden in his features. Had he been so ready for her to abandon him?
Gwyn drew a deep breath, shaking her head. "I don't know what you think I'm doing with you, Azriel. But I care about you, deeply. I like you a lot and...and the more we're together, the more I want to be with you. Really with you...if you get what I mean." She bit her lip, finding the shadowsinger staring at her in amazement.
Okay. Now the hard part.
'I am the rock against which the surf breaks.'
She'd been so engrossed in her mantra, the stroke of Azriel's fingers over the rise of her cheekbone was a shock. She jolted a little, and he ripped away, falling back onto her haunches, their knees touching.
"Sorry," he whispered, so much regret in that one word.
"It's alright. I'm just kind of lost in my head right now. I need to tell you something. Get some things out and...it's not all pleasant for me to do, but it's important." She paused, recalling the words she'd repeated in front of her mirror the last few weeks when she'd waited for the courage to bring them out in the open. "Things I need to be clear on for you. For us. Because there is an us, Az. And I like us." Gwyn brought his hand to her lips, placing a brief kiss in the center before setting them in her lap.
Azriel sat up straighter, his eyes fixating on her as if she was the sole being in the world. And in the cocoon of his glorious wings, tinging their space in deep peach in the gleam of the dimming sunlight, she'd never felt safer. More cherished.
"Okay," he said.
She nodded. "I trust you, Azriel. With my life. With my heart." Gwyn fought back tears, blowing out a breath. His hand skimmed up her arm slowly, coming to rest at the nape of her neck in a tender hold. A gentle squeeze.
Just like you practiced.
Her gaze met his, his piercing into her with focused intent. "I know what you saw when you rescued me from Sangravah. We skirt around and it's never been addressed before. And I don't want it to be a ghost or like one of your shadows lurking in the corner, ready to ambush. I need to be honest with you. Honest with myself. I'm scared. Anxious. Nervous. I need you to respond with kindness and empathy. This is really hard for me, so if for now, you could listen—and then we can talk.'' She fortified herself the way she did in front of her mirror enough times until her throat didn't close up at the thought of the words. The way she had let desperation steel her during the Blood Rite when she'd told the girls. "I was raped."
Azriel didn't take his eyes off her as Gwyn exposed her soul. His beautiful, courageous female. He imagined this is how she appeared at the base of Ramiel. Powerful, hesitant of the climb yet unwilling to give in. To surrender. To let the challenge break her. Define her. Inside her chest beat the pure heart of a warrior.
But godsdammit was like remnants of fragmented glass digging in his flesh to hear her say the words so detached. So matter-of-factly, as if she'd rehearsed the words. He considered if she indeed had. How her eyes dulled. How she warred against her shoulders slumping, against the urge to cave in on herself. Guilt clawed up from the depths, reminding Az how close he had been to save her from the attack.
"I'm sharing this with you because—" Gwyn paused, her eyes dropping, peering down to his maimed hand palm up in her lap, which she took in her own. "This is a real gamble for me to tell you. After all, we were just kissing and touching minutes ago, and...gods, it was nice. I figured you guessed what happened without me telling you...but there's a constant fear in the back of my mind, waiting for my breakdown with every kiss. What if I can't go farther even if I want to? What if I'm…" She loosed an unsteady sigh that wrenched at his insides, the shards burrowing further into him. "What if I'm broken?"
When Gwyn wavered, Azriel instinctively wanted to assure her with words. But he'd vowed to listen, so instead, he settled to caress the back of her neck and hand. "So I needed to be clear with what transpired. I don't know what my assault will do when it comes to doing intimate things. I don't know my triggers, as the priestess calls them, because I've never done anything except with you. Well, it's not true about the triggers." She took in a deep breath, letting it out low and slow. Mind-stilling. She hesitated, and he rubbed circles with his thumb into her nape.
Calming and soothing. Strong. That's what he had to be for her, even though every part of him demanded to fly straight to Hybern and massacre every single soldier. "I was facedown on the table for a while. I can't recall everything, but I remember that." Gwyn bit her lip, puffing a sigh. "The night of Nesta's mating ceremony? The male landed on me and when my cheek struck the table, I lost it. It was like it sucked me right back.."
And she had beat the shit out of the male who dared put his hands on her. The shadowsinger had never been prouder of his priestess.
Gwyn's copper strands swayed as she shook her head. "I'm not confident of any others. I don't know if I could ever do it...that way." She shrugged. "I really don't know. But." She met his eyes, and the sea depths captured him. "All I know for sure is I like you, Azriel. I want to do things with you I never wanted to do with anyone. The things I've read in those books. Fantasized. If we try things, I'm afraid something is going to trigger me, and I'm going to crumble. I'm nervous about everything, but I'm also excited to be with you. And now you know." She blew out a strong breath, her eyes never veering from his. The prolonged silence between them full of pleading hope and something inherently warmer.
"May I say a few words?" When she responded with a nod, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead and suddenly drew backward.
Her eyes watered. "Please don't go back to asking for permission every time, Azriel. I like when you kiss me and hold me. And while I appreciated you asking before, I'm okay with your embraces and kisses now." His lips returned above her brow in a soft press, idling. "Gwyneth Berdara, you are the bravest person I have ever met in my life. And I am so sorry that happened to you." She was going to interrupt. "You are. I heard you say you're nervous and scared in terms of moving forward. And I want to, gods, as bad as you do. But we do it at your pace, on your terms, okay?" Gwyn smiled tightly and bobbed her head in answer. Azriel smoothed his thumb on the nub of her spine, at the base of her tense neck. "Okay, about the triggers. The specific one you noticed? If you're ever ready to get to the point of doing…." He cleared his throat. "Things... we can avoid that. I can remember that."
"It's not an if, Shadowsinger." A ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's a when. I don't know when. But I know I want to."
"And if something ever triggered you, and you shatter, I will be there to pick up the pieces, Berdara."
'Always, Priestess,' his hidden shadows whispered in a solemn drift under his wing.
She beamed a genuine smile. "Turning my words back on me, Shadowsinger?"
His lips twitched. "They're good words. And when you said them, it was a promise, right? So I'm promising you. Anything you want, Priestess. I'll give it to you. So if you want to go on this journey, if you fall apart at any point, I've got you."
Gwyn exhaled, resting her forehead against his. "You don't know how much easier it is to breathe."
"Can I ask you a question?" Her nose bumped into his when she moved her head in a nod. "You mentioned a priestess you talked to?"
"We have one priestess who helps deal with trauma. I saw her initially afterward but...I went back recently after I had a chat with Nesta about stuff I was going through." Wait...Nesta? "I don't have a lot of friends to talk to that have been through anything like this, but Nesta is my sister. I can talk to her about anything. She suggested I talk with the priestess again to help me find my words to talk to you. How did I do?"
Azriel squeezed her small hand. "I am honored that you told me. I am amazed at your resilience. Your strength. And I will wait for however long you need."
"That's not fair to you," Gwyn said. "You're not used to celibacy and I've only had that so I can imagine it being hard the other way around."
Truth be told, there'd been almost a century while he pined away for Mor where he'd abstained before proceeding to binge in the flesh. Sometimes two or three females at a turn. But they meant nothing to him. Not like this.
"I will wait however long, Gwyneth."
She leaned into him and Az smirked, knowing she adored it when he used her full given name.
With another great breath, Gwyn proceeded until she reached the part where he'd saved her.
"So that's it. That's...everything." She loosed a slow exhale as if the weight of Prythian lifted off her shoulders.
"Gwyn...I…"
She didn't let him finish as she crushed her lips to his. A small kiss, but so rich with emotion, his chest ached. To think she'd been so close to dying? That she survived that cruel ordeal…
Gwyn snatched his hands, squeezing them. "Thank you for listening to me."
She twisted around and settled back against him, her head against his bare chest once more. Her soft red hair splayed like a halo of fire around her gorgeous features. Azriel kissed the top of her head as he leaned back on one hand, folding an arm around her waist. As the sun sank below the horizon, the blaze of more bonfires and the refrain of a song started further down the coast. The sea breeze chilled the air, and he wrapped his wings around them.
"Did I ruin tonight?" Her words astonished him.
"No," Azriel said, clutching her, kissing her cheek for emphasis. Even though it was rough to hear, a piece clicked inside.
Since even before Mor, his heart was blackened and a wall reminiscent of the one that divided Prythian from the Mortal realm stood in everyone's way. Somehow Mor made it to the wall through the dark, but neither allowed it any further. Not after the pain the first time. Elain had loosened the mortar with her compassion. But Gwyn? The priestess was forcibly taking it down stone by stone with her tenacity and truth.
Amazing. The female in his embrace was fucking amazing. And what the hell did he have to offer her? Peering down at the way her fingertips traced over his scars on the back of his hand, sketching them with such care. He needed to tell her his story, offer her part of his soul.
But not tonight. Tonight was Gwyn's. Allowing her truth space and time to absorb. The hurt had been reopened, raw and bleeding, and Azriel would be damned if he was going to pour salt in her wounds with his sob story.
Soon he would reveal those scars. His childhood. The Illyrian camp. And one thing he'd never confessed to another soul in his life. Not Rhysand. Not Cassian. No one. If there was one thing he could show her, it was his truth.
Okay, I did my fair share of research before delving into this chapter. I felt Gwyn needed to address this with Az. She needed to be clear on her feelings and her possible limitations going forward. So as much as it was hard to write at times, honesty was necessary for them to move forward.
Speaking of which... the next chapter, they unquestionably move forward...