So...we have her learning some spy techniques, but it leads to some light spice. Probably NSFW. ️
I honestly wasn't meant for this to lead to a spicy scene but the more I wrote and thought about the tension, it just had to go there. Or at least it did in my mind. It is what it is. Enjoy! LOL
Gwyn and the Spymaster had been training for many weeks now, analyzing strategies. How to trail your mark without detection.
"You have the upper hand in the library," Azriel stated, pacing in front of the desk in the personal library of the House she sat with a blueprint of the institution dating many centuries. She noted various stack locations on a copy, but little else had changed. "You are familiar with every corner, which brings me to dead drops."
"Dead drops don't sound like a good thing. Am I expected to assassinate someone and dispose of the body?"
Azriel sputtered and laughed, shaking his head. Clearing his throat, he answered, "Although quite enjoyable to imagine you stuffing a body somewhere in the library, that's not what I was getting at. A place to hide documents or to exchange messages."
She tapped her chin with the quill for a moment. "Like inside a book? What if you wrote something and stuck it in an exact book on a specific page? That's precisely what I'd do in a library. Should I also include some type of code if the message is highly confidential?"
He gaped at her, confounded.
"Despite what you may think, Shadowsinger, many of the novels I read do not contain smut. I also enjoy adventure and spy dramas."
His eyes flared like chips of amber as he wore a roguish grin. In an instant, Azriel had reached the desk where Gwyn sat. She swiveled her chair to face him. His scalloped leathers and chiseled face suggested a warrior as he prepared to leave with Cassian to quell yet another rebellion in Illyria. Unrest and uprisings were becoming too frequent.
Azriel placed his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. As his warm breath brushed against her ear, Gwyn shivered as she leaned forward. "Oh, I'm betting those spy stories were indecent, Berdara." Her mouth was dry as she gulped hard. "Were you thinking about fucking the spy?"
Sweet Mother above. Her face grew hot at the boldness and accuracy of his words. She saw what game the Spymaster was playing right now. Cloak-and-dagger intelligence often involved using high emotions to one's advantage. He admitted to her several times, explaining that sometimes he must use whatever means necessary to get information. His body included, in the past. A lust-addled brain was as loose as a drunken one.
Even as her thighs pressed together under her robes, Gwyn told herself to focus.
"Well, Berdara? Have you?"
Her expressionless smile told nothing as Gwyn looked him in the eye. "Can't say I have." Leaning away from him, she sat back. "Because the spy could try to get me to reveal something I don't want to... Spymaster."
Azriel shook with amusement, holding back his laughter. "Fair enough," he said, tapping her playfully on the nose, which had her batting his hand away. "But if you ever come across a book with a sexy priestess, you let me know. It might intrigue me enough to read your genre."
"The smutty priestess genre is woefully underdeveloped," she replied with a half-grin.
"Well, maybe you should compose one. I bet your mind has a good deal of dirty ideas you need to put down on paper."
"You wish, Azriel." Gwyn shook her head, turning back to focus on the proper task of mapping out the library. Over the last few weeks since Shelah's death, the library had once again been deceptively calm. After the consecration service and honoring of Shelah's invoking stone in the temple's inner sanctum, there'd once again been nothing. The same as after the dark shrouded figures had appeared. She persisted, paying more attention to the surrounding sounds. Of the names addressed. This posed a challenge since not everyone in the building spoke. Gwyn worked around it, however.
She often seemed like a ghost moving around the various areas of the library, her robes streaming behind her. But that's exactly what Azriel told her to do. He instructed her not to even carry paper on her, clarifying, "Paper crinkles. This seems inconsequential, but depending on the location, handkerchieves are a better form to inscribe on or send intel. And easier to offer someone as well. Less suspicious to hand someone a handkerchief if they sneeze than a fragment of paper. For as many years as I've been doing this, I've memorized locations now. But a map sketched on silk? Better than paper."
So true and so... simple. No wonder he had the top job.
Her robes helped her maneuver the library freely, acting as she normally would, but as he pointed out, you need to blend into the shadows at a moment's notice. Upon hearing the word shadows, they ran smooth caresses over her shoulder, causing her to giggle.
"I didn't mean," Azriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you leave her alone, please? She doesn't need support right now."
Gwyn chuckled when they set on her intentionally as if thumbing their transparent noses at their master. "I told you I don't mind, Azriel The few you spare with me to the library do as they're told."
"They send themselves." His eyes fixed on the shadowy wisps. "And, right now, they're distracting you."
Sweetly batting her eyelashes, Gwyn smiled up at him. "So is a particular broody spymaster who keeps pacing as I'm trying to finish this map on silk for you. If you'd so kind as to sit down..." Her pen pointed to a well-loved, navy armchair in the corner. "Not on the edge of the desk like you're thinking. Over there until I finish."
Azriel twitched his lips as he made his way over, and she watched him walk all the way. Her antics were evident from the darkening of his eyes as he sat. Damn him. Under Azriel's heavy stare, she centered on her task, trying to remain calm and focused.
He couldn't save himself. Watching her as she worked, nibbling on her lower lip every so often, her forehead bunched in concentration as she finished up the map before moving to work on forgery.
When he saw her at the desk, his mind strayed into dangerous territory. He realized they shouldn't be roaming. He was supposed to be her teacher right now; the Spymaster teaching the pupil. But she ordered him to sit on the chair until she told him to. A part of him that was long-neglected sparked within him. What would she think if she learned? Did any of her books touch on these topics? If Gwyn realized he'd fantasized about this before; her telling him what to do. She wearing Valkyrie leathers, with him on his knees in utter surrender. At her mercy.
He adjusted in his seat as his cock pushed painfully against his leathers. The wood of the armrest creaked under his solid grip. His siphons flared in his gauntlets.
"You alright over there?" A bright mischievous voice asked over the table. When those teal eyes peeked under half-lidded lashes, he bit back his groan.
"You almost done with those copies so I can review and you can be…" Azriel paused, tapping his fingers on the wood. "Finished?"
"Not quite," she replied, her tone breathy as if… as if she knew what she was doing to him.
Azriel sat back, watching every single motion with patience. There. She made a modest shift as if she were moving her legs. Was she enjoying this as much as he was? Was desire pounding through her as heavy as his
The scene playing in his mind involved her, him, and that wooden desk after he swiped everything off the godsdamn thing. She seated on one corner, directing him to kneel until she pushed up her robes, baring herself to him. Ready and glistening. And he'd wait, his hands at his sides until she gave him a command. Until Gwyn told him to bring his mouth to her sex and pleasure her. Gods, he was fucking dying to savor every part of her.
But was she ready for something more?
For several weeks now, Gwyn had become more relaxed in his chamber. Around him. Intimacy hadn't evolved beyond what they'd already done. Semi-clothed, her pleasuring herself while he worshipped her with his hands and mouth. Whether he orgasmed wasn't the point. Worshipping Gwyn like a goddess under their mutual caresses, watching her topple over that pinnacle repeatedly, was worth every raging hard-on and ice-cold bath.
Yet he dreamed, wondered on rare occasions, what it might be like one day. To be inside her, to feel with every part of him. He'd experience many before but, with Gwyn?
"Shadowsinger." He cleared his vision, finding her with her chin propped up on a fist, grinning fiendishly.
"Yes?"
"Are you over there fantasizing about me?"
He swallowed hard and shifted. His shadows left the room, lingering just outside the private library door.
She clicked her tongue. "Well?"
"Yes."
"Hmm...how does it feel?"
He wet his lips. "How does what feel, Priestess?"
"To be teased mercilessly until you ache? Just like you were taunting me earlier." Her eyes narrowed, and he followed suit.
"So this is some kind of game for you?"
"You started it. Seems I can use my feminine wiles to get answers, Spymaster." Lifting a shoulder, Gwyn rose from the chair, striding over to him, forcing a piece of paper in front of his face. "Here you go."
Swiping the sheet out of her grasp, he scrutinized her work. Holy fuck. Her forgeries were... outstanding. Absolute perfection. If he hadn't done the first draft, he would have assumed these were the originals.
"The library has provided me with useful talents," Gwyn said. "Merrill's had me replicate master copies that are strictly for the stacks, while we put the original texts in a vault for safekeeping. So what say you?" She tipped her chin up, her fists on her hips.
"They're fine, Priestess." She tsked and rolled her eyes. "So, are you done now? The map?" The parchment rippled as Azriel waved it in the air. "These?"
"Yes, I'm done."
He moved for her, dragging her into his lap until her knees landed on either side of his hips.
"What," she gasped as he tugged on the collar of the white vestment. "What are you doing?"
"I'm doing what you said, Gwyn. I'm sitting here until you finish."
"Oh," she moaned as his lips moved from her collar up to her jaw. Her swallow was audible, her pulse rapid under his touch.
"Gwyn," Azriel murmured, stopping his mouth at her cheek. "You say no right now and we don't do anything."
She peered at him, her eyes glazed and pupils blown. "I know you would. What do you want to do?"
Azriel ran a hand up and down her spine. "Are you ready for more?"
He could see she was considering until she sighed. "No. I mean, I like all the stuff we've done but, touching certain places... I don't think I'm ready yet. I'm sorry."
"Never apologize. Anything is good with you, Gwyn." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "So, down to underwear okay?"
"Yes," she whispered as she gradually pushed her robes up her thighs. He continued with the soothing passes on her back. "I like when you kiss and touch my breasts."
He chuckled darkly, brushing his lips on her jawline. "Good, because I like to. Other than that, I'll keep my hands to myself."
"Oh, but I do like when you grab my ass too," she squealed with excitement, and he snickered, leaning his forehead against her chest. "That was probably way too loud." The way her back stiffened had him lifting his head. "We're in the library," she murmured.
"It's a private one, Priestess."
"But not from Nesta or Cassian! What if—" The door mechanism snicked, the lock sliding into place.
"What can I say, Priestess, the House loves you. And my shadows are standing watch right outside the door. But we can stop if you—" He couldn't get the rest of the words out as her mouth settled on his. Gwyn's hands sunk into his hair, tugging with gentle pulls until he groaned into her mouth. His palms still roved, tracing the alluring curve of her back until his hands landed on her ass and gave a solid squeeze.
She broke the kiss, leaning her head backward, her copper hair tickling his forearms as it fell. He peppered her jawline with kisses, following the length of her neck down to her exposed collarbone, tugging on the ties of her garment with his teeth.
Gwyn brought her fingers to her knots, gently undoing them. Seeing her work at them... fuck. Knowing she wanted this? Not only that, but she was trusting him in this room?
Azriel kept his eyes on hers, watching, as he removed a hand from her rear to his pants, being mindful to work the fasteners. He rose just enough to lower his pants to his knees, hoisting her giggling form as he struggled.
He didn't look away when she slipped the sleeves off her shoulders until she uncovered from the waist up, while he was almost fully dressed in his leathers.
"So what's the strategy, Shadowsinger?"
"Remember what you were doing on the bed that day? The one when Cassian showed up in the morning?"
"Yes," she replied, glancing at the bulge behind the black fabric. "When I was in your lap." She swallowed thickly. "Moving on you."
Az nodded eagerly, placing a hand at the nape while the other drew her down until he could sense the heat of her core through their thin layers of the fabric, against his throbbing cock.
"Yes." He kissed her lips hard, taking her lower lip between his teeth as he drew back. "Do it again."
He moved his hand on her lower back, slowly coasting to her tight ass again, helping press against him. She rolled against his hardness. But she was… she needed more motivation.
He pulled her head closer, his mouth against her ear. "Would you like to know what I was thinking?" He swept a thumb along her neck. "When you were at the desk?"
She whimpered, "Yes."
"I thought of how much I wanted to be in your favor, on my knees in front of you."
Despite her hips slowing, there was more force behind each movement. His dick twitched, pinned between them.
"You don't know how much I crave that, Gwyneth. On my knees, you wide and wet before me, ready for my mouth. But not until you tell me. Always. Not until you drag my head between your thighs. Does that sound good?'
Her breathing hitched, and she tossed her head back, her hands settling on his shoulders as a flush crept up her body.
"Yes, it does," she admitted. "I've thought about that...actually."
A shocked moan came out of him as he pressed himself into her, pulling her closer until he could nearly distinguish her folds beneath the soaked fabric.
"Tell me," he urged.
"I've read about that," Gwyn admitted in a whimper as he flicked over her chest. "I've thought about telling you to please me. And I've thought about the other way, but only with you."
He halted, reflecting on her words. That she trusted him, only him with that? Fuck him. He took her nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking as she rode him.
He leaned away, blowing over her skin until he had an aching peak at his mercy. Glancing up, he asked, "Did you get these ideas from your novels, Priestess?"
She chuckled, the sound huskier and earthier than normal. "Books have given me an unusually vivid imagination, Shadowsinger. And, many, many ideas."
Well, didn't he like the sound of ideas?
She continued surging into him as he matched her movements. Sweat sheened on her skin, but by the furrow between her brows and the twist in her lips, something was off. And fuck, it did not help that he could not touch her where he knew she needed.
Gwyn could certainly use her hands on herself, but Azriel's eyes rolled back with each tug at his hair. He was rock hard and there was a great chance he was going to come this go around. And he wanted to—with her.
A notion struck the shadowsinger when he glimpsed at her hips, matching his.
"Gwyn, press your panties in between your folds," he murmured over her beating heart as she moved.
"W—why?"
"Trust me."
With his eyes sealed as he planted open mouth kisses on her breasts, one hand leave the nape of his neck, slinking between them. He groaned as the back of her hand brushed against him. As the hand settled back to hair, Gwyn said, "It's somewhat…" Her genuine laugh made his heart sing. "... peculiar."
His lips twitched. "Oh, you won't be saying that in a second. Move on me again."
She did and moaned loudly as he hit her clit perfectly, the fabric's friction a bonus. He closed his eyes, fixating on how wonderful she felt, and readjusted her hips so she hit…
"Oh, Gods," she soughed, tossing her head back, gripping his shoulders now as she openly drove against him with vigor. He sensed the build in both of them, the tension right before everything unraveled so tight they could barely handle it.
"Come for me, Gwyneth. Please." Since it would ever be her who climaxed first. Always.
"Az," she panted his name in their shared breath before shuddering against him, crying out. With a firm kiss, he drew out Gwyn's pleasure as she ground against him and he against her until release rushed down his spine and he joined her over the edge.
And for those few precious fleeting moments, there was nothing to think of besides the female in his arms and he scorned all else. The crisis in Prythian and Illyria. The turmoil in his head. While her heart thudded with him, Azriel could believe he was worthy.
Gwyn's mind was a slurry, but she'd blocked him out permanently.
"Well, done," Rhysand said, sketching a bow. "You've blocked a daemati from entering your thoughts."
She bowed back, gasping, "Thank you, High—" He clicked his tongue. "I mean, Rhysand."
The edge of his lips tipped in a small grin. "My pleasure, Gwyn. A rare event when one charges me to enter a mind with permission. I hope I helped with your training."
And he had. After a few weeks of meeting after morning training, both were now confident the priestess could reinforce a stable mental shield in any intense situation.
The High Lord's eyes flitted to the clock on the mantle, an easy smile gracing his striking features. "I'm meeting my mate and son in the gardens for lunch."
"Oh, how nice. From the way Azriel describes them, the gardens are lovely."
"Would you like to see them? Azriel won't be back for a little while to pick you up, though I could send for him or fly you there myself."
"Yes, I'd like to see them," Gwyn responded with a wide smile. He led her out his office and out the house, across the extensive rolling grassy hillside. The shimmering Sidra reflected the Autumn sun, the waves breaking against the riverbank. The Mother mercifully granted them a warm seasonal transition this year. So, though trees were changing, summer still lingered in the breeze. For now. Soon, the Steppes' winds would whistle in, heralding the end.
An ivy-covered archway greeted them as they entered the gardens. Blooms and foliage of every size and color dotted the scenery like a painting. In a way, it was as if the High Lady had envisioned the scene herself and magic had brought it into being.
"This is... beautiful. It's like a dream in here," Gwyn said, her eyes unable to focus on one singular flower. There was too much to look at. Gorgeous organized disorder.
"The nurseries are all Elain. She conceived them and brought her vision to life," the High Lord answered, his violet eyes twinkling as they reached hers. "She has many pet beautification projects around Velaris, but this garden is her masterpiece. The last few months she's taken on making sure there are flowers for every season."
Gwyn's eyes went round in awe. "Even Winter?"
Rhysand nodded, revealing how Elain traveled to the library to gather information months before on winter blossoms. And he had dispatched his courier to the Winter Court for seeds. When Gwyn inquired what genus of vegetation grows in the cold, Rhys merely suggested, "You should ask Elain."
Gwyn rolled her shoulders. "I don't think she likes me very much for me to ask."
Rhysand stopped at once. With his hands in the pockets of his dark trousers, his angled gaze in question, he asked, "Why would you say that?"
How did she know that? Even though she hadn't seen Elain more than a few times, she couldn't dispute that every chance they had been together, Elain had left in a hurry. As if the middle Archeron could not stand to be in the same room as the young priestess. And every single time their eyes met, something seemed wrong.
She brushed off the High Lord's question, claiming it was nothing. But was it?
"How goes it in the library, spy," he winked as he began walking again. "Which, by the way, Azriel is quite proud of your progress."
Shock zipped through her body. "He is," she said, her robes swaying as she turned towards the High Lord, who was nodding.
"Oh yes," he answered with a devious grin. "He sings your praises."
Now she was sure she was as red as Cassian's siphons. Azriel, the same Spymaster who'd been aloof and nonchalant in their training, was regaling the High Lord with her accomplishments? Oh, the shadowsinger was so getting a kiss when he picked her up this afternoon.
"The library is quiet." For now. "The priestesses seem in good spirits except—" She gnawed her lower lip. Was this something to bring up? "Except some are worried about the Great Rite this Spring."
"How so? That the ceremony won't happen because of Tamlin or…?"
She sighed. Normally, this was held only to those in the priestesshood, but with corruption from within, from the likes of Ianthe to what was occurring in the library, someone had to speak.
"Well, that is a concern, though there's no doubt someone would step into the role." They had to. Calanmai occurred on the Spring Equinox. If there was any court that needed to be bathed in the vital magic, it was Spring. She'd heard Lucien Vanserra had taken on responsibility once before, but who would next Spring? "The concern is…" she sighed. "Do you know how the priestesses who attend are chosen?"
Rhysand froze like one of the marble statues bordering the walls of the garden sanctuary. His hands balled in his pockets. "Chosen?"
She nodded, staring at the grass beneath her slippers. "The Mother's choice, that those elected should be celebrated to accept the magic and...the male who takes them." And other consequences, such as herself and Catrin's conception. "But, the ones you have given sanctuary to in the library are scared." She raised her gaze to his then, and she could see the unfettered rage darkening his eyes.
"I can assure them, they have nothing to fear."
"But the summons comes from the High Temple—"
"Nothing to fear. I will subject no one in that building to taking part in the Rite. We should pick no one at all. This is a conversation the High Lords will have before approaching the High Temple."
She nodded feeling as if for once she and her sisters had been blessed, for here was the High Lord, willing go against the High Temple for them.
"Thank you," she said, worry leaving her.
He nodded. "Come. Have lunch with me, Feyre and Nyx." And before she could argue, he added, "Nyx loves you and besides, I have many, many stories of Azriel while we were growing up I'm sure you are dying to hear."