SUMMARY: Azriel pampers Gwyn on a special day. The Valkyries have plans for Gwyn.
NSFW
Okay, so why it's late... I shared this on Tumblr, but I'll also share it here: "Guys, I am *really* working on it, and *really* struggling. Mercury in retrograde is making me its bitch and pretty much everything is like trying to go up shit creek without a paddle. Work, kids, other family stuff going on. Mentally, I'm taxed...I am grateful to all the readers and I apologize for the delay." AND all that stress ended with me with a migraine yesterday. But, I forged on. So, here it is. Hope you like it!
The last three weeks have sailed by like the turbulent waters of the Sidras in the aftermath of a storm. Nearly every night, he held Gwyn in his arms. The long years of sleep deprivation Azriel had endured still made it difficult for him to fall asleep at night, despite her alluring form in his bed. But, he did not care.
He preferred to settle by her side rather than head for the training ring, listening to each gentle breath leaving her. Here, he could rescue his girl from the nightmares. Observe the way her brow creased while she dreamed. Appreciate the way her fingers pressed into his side as if to surrender him would be painful.
Azriel wasn't leaving. Not after what he revealed in a heated moment.
Love.
Cauldron damn or bless him. Azriel loved Gwyneth Berdara. Even though admitting, accepting, was terrifying, denials ended. No more hiding the truth behind one of his many veils of avoidance.
As if he had finally come to terms with his existence, Azriel sensed clarity. In his veins, a brilliant light faded the stifling darkness. He could not describe it other than...
In his memory, he relived the moment he first captured an updraft. Frozen. Terrified. His boots' toes on the precipice. Wind and sleet pelted his face like shards of glass, virtually impossible to see. Rhysand's benign advice and Cassian's taunting were the sole sounds above his thundering heart.
Azriel's methodical nature drove him to go over the directions they wanted him to follow a million times over for something that should have been second nature to him. But flying wasn't.
The moment he finally mastered his posture and spread his wings, his feet lifted. In awe, he hovered over the ground.
"Wings up!" Rhysand shouted.
"Go! Go!" Cassian hollered above the wind. "Harder! Stronger, Az! Pull your shoulders in! Use your back!"
Azriel summoned all the spirit a young teen could muster. The soaring cheers of his brothers below accompanied the dramatic snap of his wings as he rose.
His flight took him higher and higher. Far from Illyria. Away from the misery of his past.
A roaring current swept through his ears. His hair became a tangle of waves. As he raced faster, the flurries became long ribbons of white. A joyful chorus of shadows sounded. Happiness filled the air.
Freedom was in the sky. He had laughed openly for the first time in years. Pure joy, intense and sweet. The first time in Azriel's life that he truly felt free. He practically wept.
And now?
That sentiment wasn't purely when he was soaring high above the clouds. It was in every one of Gwyn's melodic laughs. Each cutting remark often had him smirking. Her absurd often pointed remarks. The way she taunted and jested, always poking at him until she gained—and earned—his mirth. In each sly grin, he sent her just to see her blush.
Every aspect of life had transformed since the Solstice. The bedroom was no exception. Although he kept the dialogue open, explicit about her comfort and consent. Despite the turmoil of the night, he confessed his heart to her when he had taken her harder than he intended. Thankfully, there had been enough blood in his brain to ask Gwyn if she truly wanted to be with him.
And afterward? When Gwyn said she liked it? Mother, save him.
Since then?
His lips twitched.
Everything was fucking perfect. And Gwyn's tenacity to try new things? He'd say they were compatible. Seeing her pursue her pleasure without fear was inspiring. Meet those teal eyes scintillated with adventurous glee.
Soft shadows caressed her cheek. Gwyn stirred. She smoothed the back of her hand against the edge of her cheekbone where the shadows touched. The shadowsinger frowned at them; he signaled for them to guard the door. For he had plans today.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she stretched, sending her fists skyward and almost directly into his face.
"Oops, sorry," she said, smirking.
Az did his finest to appear unamused. "No, you're not."
Her palm cupped his face as she gazed at him. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Enough," Azriel offered in return. Now wasn't the occasion to add worries. Plus, since she'd been in his bed, his insomnia had never been better. That simply meant more hours spent awake with her.
Gwyn stretched again, her pert nipples poking into the thin white sheet covering her.
He lowered his head. For just a moment, he pressed his mouth to hers. Azriel's lips moved against the tapestry of her mouth as he said, "Good morning, Berdara."
This had become a morning ritual for him.
"Mmm, good morning, Shadowsinger." Her gaze briefly flashed to Azriel's clock, then back again to him. "Oh no. Did we miss training?"
"No. Cassian gave us a day off."
Her copper hair flowed like molten metal over the pillow as her head angled in question. Slanting his mouth over hers, he let his hand slide beneath the heavy fall of hair up to her nape. Unlike the last kiss, this one wasn't brief.
Eventually, drawing back, he answered, "Yes, Gwyn, the whole day.".
Azriel's awareness was rapidly enticed by the way she licked her lower lip. His immediate concern was something else.
"Roll over," he instructed Gwyn, who glared at him.
"I'm not a dog, Azriel."
True. Gods, his words were terrible.
"Roll onto your stomach," he asked. Her eyebrows curved upward in anticipation. "Please."
Under the sheet, she twisted onto her stomach and peered over her shoulder. "Dare I ask?" Her mischievous, otherworldly eyes were full of suspicion.
Az motioned her to face forward with his finger. Gwyn followed suit and sank into the pillow. His hand slipped over to the nightstand to retrieve what he'd hidden.
"Now I am really curious what you found in that drawer, Shadowsinger."
Laughing, he snorted. "I'm going to massage you, Berdara…" He wavered, swallowing down his nerves. "If that's all right with you?"
Azriel never received a massage. Nor given one. But, he wished to do something different today. Something he'd given no one else.
One evening last week, as he greased the whetstone for Truth-teller, he glowered at his wrecked hands and heard Gwyn's dulcet voice in his head.
"Your hands are so unique, Shadowsinger. Each definitive as a unique fingerprint." And squeezed them tenderly.
"Azriel, I'm so grateful for your hands. Never hide them from me." And kissed the center of his palm.
"I love the way your hands feel on me." She clasped his hands over her breasts.
"How are your hands? Any pain? Numbness?" Gwyn took his hands in her own, kneading away the pain without hesitation.
Those memories prompted him. The shadowsinger craved touch but shied away from placing his hands on another. Centuries of fretting about how they felt upon others' bodies. Would his partner recoil at his touch? Would the other pity his physical differences?
Gwyn did not fear him. She never had. He could never pull away from the fiery redhead if he tried. She reminded him every day how wonderful the ruined skin felt against her own. His touch was precious to her. Cherished.
He could do this. Azriel was as capable of making bold moves outside his comfort zone as she was.
"That sheet has to come off," he said, watching as she unceremoniously threw it over the side of the bed until she lay sprawled before him in all her freckled bare glory.
Suddenly, his fingers trembled. Drown him in the fucking Cauldron.
'Breathe, Shadowsinger,' the shadows whispered from their post in the corridor.
He wanted Gwyn to melt multiple times this morning. As he scooted down the bed toward her feet, he rubbed the oil between his palms.
His first touch was on her heel. His fingers glided slowly along the delicate arch, brushing like feathers across the surface. She drew a deep breath. He smiled with smug satisfaction as he slowly kissed up her calves. Fingers chasing his lips at the backs of her knees, torturously. His tongue flicking as he kissed her there, her body jerking, breath catching.
"Massage, huh?" Gwyn quipped before gulping.
He chuckled. "Yes."
Azriel was familiar with the parts of the body that offered pleasure and pain.
On a mission of discovery, he started up her torso, avoiding some areas for the sake of others. The nape of the neck was especially sensitive, as was the spot beneath her ear. These he was already well acquainted with. He wanted to find more.
She arched up slightly like a cat as his fingers floated down her spine. Then, massaging the sore muscles of her backside, he purposely slid his thumbs under the crease below. The thumbs of his hands drifted to the center, sliding along the insides of her thighs. In the shining morning sun, her moan sounded vulgar.
"Is this okay?" Azriel asked, his voice gruff, dropping an octave.
The back of her head moved vigorously in a hurried nod. Thumbs stroked and kneaded her inner thigh. Gwyn moaned again, a blend of relief and desire. The desire was tantalizing. He kept rubbing her until he could barely feel the increasing wetness on the backs of his fingers. The scent of her ascending arousal lingered in the air as her hips raised and moved.
His lips skimmed up her spine, kissing until they reached the shell of her ear. Careful not to put his weight on her, he hovered above.
"On your back," he roughly ordered.
Gwyn obeyed, her marine eyes gleaming as she gazed up at him.
Her lips parted as he began anew at her feet and began working up her body. Az saved the best for last.
Legs.
Arms.
Shoulders.
Scalp.
Neck.
The side of her torso, right under the curve of her breasts.
Slowly and attentively, Azriel worshipped Gwyn until she was wiggling and blushing. Her perfect chest heaved, her mouth fell open.
"Berdara, I love how you look right now," he said, lightly trailing his rough fingertips up her sides. She gasped when he nipped at her collarbone. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
As the tip of her tongue chased the tail of the ribbon tattoo, she stuttered, "Yes. B—but is there an end to this? Or—or are you simply torturing me?"
"Hmm, something you need? Sounds like I missed a few parts that are perhaps achy right now."
"Azriel," she groaned as he kissed her in the center of the chest, his hands pressing into the mattress. His mouth fell between her swollen breasts. "Well, aren't you going to do something, Shadowsinger?"
He chuckled darkly. "Have I not been doing something for the last hour, Gwyneth?"
While her eyes narrowed, Gwyn's lips twisted into a derisive little grin. "I enjoyed the massage very much, but it seems you have been teasing me. And, as it turns out, irritates me."
"Is that right? Maybe I should just stop then." She whined at him when he lifted his head. "No? Well then, I'll continue." And dropped his head back down.
His lips traveled from the center to her chest, following the contour of her right breast before his tongue lashed up straight over her nipple. He blew over the wet peak, watching the stiff pink rise and pucker as she shuddered.
"Azriel!"
The hand splayed across her abdomen. Impossible for her to move her hips against his mouth.
There had been so many orgasms he gave her she had lost count. Five? More? Neither her body nor mind could think anymore. Both were mush. Azriel had not even touched her below the waist the first time she climaxed. He'd drawn one out with his unrelenting mouth suckling and lapping at her breasts, gentle tugging with his teeth. Orgasm struck her so rapidly that her back bowed away from the bed. Cauldron above, Gwyn hadn't even realized one could find release only from that alone.
Then he explored her body further and further, traveling lower and lower. His tongue dipped into her belly button. His teeth nibbled at the ridge of her hips, leaving her boneless and whimpering. Until he, finally, was where she wanted him to be—and still there a good hour later.
Gwyn was close again. So close. And yet she yearned for him. She peered down, the sight of his night dark head resting against her quivering thighs, his wings gripping her lower legs, nearly sending her flying.
Azriel lifted his face as if he could sense her gaze, his lips swollen and glossy with her. Watching her expression, he slipped a single finger inside her drenched core. Her head slumped as he pushed inside before adding a second, working lazily.
"Got one more for me, Gwyneth?"
His fingers pumped a little harder, and she knew that if he curled them up, she would be doomed.
"I need you," she moaned, desperate to hold on.
"But you already have me," the shadowsinger chuckled. His mouth dipped, lapping at her until she gasped, fisting her hands against the sheet. "Be more specific."
Gwyn's head snapped up, slits of irritation emerged in her eyes. Slowly, she grasped the wrist of the hand thrusting into her.
"I want you inside me, Az."
"Hmm…," he hummed in mock contemplation. "Am I not inside you?"
Gods above. He was going to make her say it.
"I want your cock inside me, Azriel." Gwyn arched a challenging reddish eyebrow. "Unless you're not up to the task," she teased.
Under his black sleep pants, his impressive erection was now hard and long against her thigh. "What do you think, Berdara?"
Her core tightened. "I think you should take those pants off and get to it."
With a crooked grin, he withdrew his fingers from her sex and ran them down her thigh, dragging her slick wetness across her skin.
Her attention was riveted as she stood beside the bed. In a flash, Azriel slid off his bottoms, showcasing his unbelievable length. A rising heat permeated her body and her legs sawed together. As her gaze locked on his, she caught sight of his hazel eyes, darkened with hunger, and his luscious lips curled into a smirk.
His tanned, powerful thigh parted her legs further as he crawled up her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck once his head had finally risen above hers.
"I wanted this to be about you," Azriel said, his breath coasting over her cheek.
"And I want this to be about us." Gwyn's hand playfully swatted his rear as one would do to compel a horse to start. "So get going, Shadowsinger."
"Gods, you are so fucking bossy."
The moment he slid into her, they both gasped. Even before he moved, she conceded, "I'm so close."
"Same."
Curious, she eyed him.
He rocked his hips, pushing in. And in. And in. "I've been between your delicious legs for a fucking hour and hard as steel the entire time." Azriel groaned, lowering his mouth to speak into her ear. "I'm surprised I didn't come in my pants just from the sight of you. The way you yelled my name. How beautiful and glistening you are. The way you taste like sweet honey. You clench around me like you will never let go. You are stunning, Gwyneth."
At the images he was conjuring in her mind, her breath escaping in ragged pants. Keeping the pace slow and deep, he moved within her until she couldn't hold back any longer. Both legs wrapped around his waist as her hips lifted in a silent urge. Deeper.
"That's it, Gwyn," he whispered as she rocked with him.
That small encouragement was all Gwyn needed. The tension snapped. She found sweet relief in her release as she held onto Azriel for dear life. His erratic thrusts pounded into her over and over until he also found his pleasure, grunting against her ear as he emptied inside her.
In an attempt not to fall on her, Azriel braced himself on his forearms. Not the outcome she desired. Careful of his wings, she hugged him, tugging him so their chests were flush.
Against her neck, he murmured, "I weigh too much. I don't want to crush you."
"Perhaps I like when you crush me," Gwyn said, his lips smiling against her skin.
And she did. The idea of someone being on top of her, over her, sounded terrifying before. Smothering. But now? "I enjoy you like my warm, weighted blanket, Azriel. Comfort like no other—even more than the dagger under my pillow."
The shadowsinger huffed a laugh. "Good, then let me strive to be the best blanket you'll ever have, love."
Gwyn emerged from the bathing room wearing a gray sweater scented with the smell of cedar and mist. With the sleeves rolled up many times, the tunic reached her knees. His clothes were always oversized on her, completely swamping her. This soothed her somehow.
"Would you like any help?"
Her eyes lifted to the voice. Azriel leaned back against the headboard, moving his jaw slightly. A snort escaped her.
"No, I'm fine." Gwyn grinned as we worked his jaw again. "You?"
"I'll live. Even if I didn't, it would've been worth it." He smiled at her. Mother, would this smile always be enough to let her knees buckle? Make her so giddy? Giddy enough to…
With an impish smirk, Gwyn dashed across the room, bouncing onto the bed with both knees. Azriel laughed loudly, warming her heart with the deep, resonant sound. With his hands clasped around hers, the shadowsinger snatched her up in his arms, placing her back to her front. His lips grazed her cheek.
The two of them lay together while she played with his fingers, occasionally kissing a knuckle. Every time Az flinched as if he didn't expect anyone would do that. Which only made her kiss them more.
She cleared her throat. "So that was…"
"That was?"
"So that was..." As she glanced over her shoulder, her lips quirked up at the corner. "Nice."
The Valkyrie giggled and squirmed as the shadowsinger nipped at her collar as she laughed. "Nice? I believe it was more than nice, Berdara."
"How would you describe it, my male of few words, unless he's whispering dirty ones?"
He paused, as though in deep thought. "Profound."
"Mmm… how about exhaustive, Shadowsinger."
Azriel tsked, his voice dropping. "Oh, Gwyn, you have no idea."
She swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "So what was all this about this morning?" she finally asked.
"Just one of the many special things I planned to do today," he told her, kissing her neck. His hug was tight. "Happy Birthday."
Her heart stuttered. Cauldron, how had she…
How had she forgotten her…
"Gwyn?" She was suddenly on her back, Azriel leaning over her. His thumb brushed over her crest as he cupped her cheek. "What's wrong? Your birthday is today, right? January 15th? Unless I, godsdammit— "
"No, um… if today is January 15th, then today is indeed my birthday." Not only her birthday, though... "Well, I haven't observed my birthday since..." Since Catrin. The other half of her, the one who shared today with her, passed away.
Each inhalation ached her chest. A familiar ache grew when she thought of her sister's cheerful smile and wise eyes. Against the ebony sky of her strands, her skin had been as stark as the moonlight. She recalled the feel of the flaps of thin skin between Catrin's delicate fingers. Her laugh...
The music of Cat's laugh eluded her memory. Was her laugh the same as her own? Her twin's voice had always been huskier, but...
Three years.
Three years and so much went missing. Gone. Taken. Someone had ripped Catrin from this world just as she was entering her prime. Before she could unleash herself beyond the fences of Sangravah, fortified with kindness. With her courage. But before she could transform the world.
When Gwyn felt her lashes touching and her cheeks damp, she realized her eyes had sealed shut.
"Shit. Gwyn, I'm sorry. I didn't think—"
She refocused when she saw the bleak panic in his hazel eyes. Yes, she had lost Catrin. Gwyn lost a portion of her soul on that grim day. However, this male with dark wings had somehow saved her. And kept on supporting her through her darkest moments.
Fear engulfed her, holding her even still in moments of her life. Yet love found a way to her. Gentle and hard-fought. An uphill battle between wounded warrior hearts.
Is that possible, something so beautiful bloomed out of tragedy?
She sighed, sniffing and cleaning away tears with the back of his sweater. Azriel's dark brows knitted. Gwyn surprised him when she lifted and kissed him softly. "No, it's okay. And thank you. My thoughts were on Catrin. I—I miss her so much."
Azriel sighed, returning to lie beside her. "I know. I wasn't thinking."
"You certainly have a complex of blaming yourself for everything, don't you, Shadowsinger? How could you possibly predict my reaction?"
"I should've known this was a possibility."
Rolling her eyes, she laughed and changed the subject. "So my birthday present was the copious orgasms, or?"
He choked on a laugh. Good. "No. Truly, I wanted your day to start relaxing. Thus the massage but… well ." He hesitated, blushing adorably. He cleared his throat. "So, Gwyn, how does it feel to be twenty-nine?"
"I don't know. Fine?" She gave him a pointed stare. "How does it feel to be almost as old as Prythian itself?"
"Smartass."
Her shoulders shrugged. A thought occurred to her. "Where are your wispy minions?"
"I sent them outside to guard the door, I can—"
They rushed into the room before he answered, and she swore she heard whispers from them as they brushed her hair and kissed her cheeks as she laughed until she swatted. "Okay, enough." They backed away, leaving Azriel speechless.
He stammered, staring at them, "They love you."
"Hmm, and their master?"
"He loves you more every day," he said, sinking his face to hide the slight blush rising to his cheeks.
"Can I ask you an odd question?" When he barely nodded, she asked, "Do you ever use your shadows in your bedroom antics?" His eyes widened and his wings trembled. "Did I say something wrong? Are they like your wings? Is it forbidden to touch them? Or—"
"No. No, Nothing like that." He blinked in disbelief. "Usually, I send them away. The majority of people are... frightened of them." His head tilted. "Dare I ask what brought on this idea?"
Her hand reached out as a shadow snaked between her fingers and coiled around her arm like a hazy serpent. "How you touched my breasts earlier? Blew on them? I couldn't help but wonder about… the shadows doing that. They are so chilly and I would guess—"
He rolled her under himself smoothly. "Yes," he said, his voice rich as treacle. "We can try whenever you like."
The sound of banging fists came from the other side of the door.
"You've had enough time with the birthday girl, bat." Nesta.
Thud! Thud!
Laughing, Emerie yelled, "Open up and let her out before we come in swords drawn."
Suddenly, they heard the clicking door lock and they saw Nesta's imposing figure standing at the doorway.
Azriel lowered his face to the crook of Gwyn's neck, his wings blocking her from view.
"Good fucking gods, you could wait, Nesta," the shadowsinger snarled, Gwyn shaking from the laughter she was holding.
"I knocked."
"And barged in."
"Again, my house, Azriel. Is Gwyn at least decent under your broody bat wings?"
While sending a glare Nesta's way, Azriel tucked the wings against his back to reveal Gwyn.
"I see," Nesta replied, crossing her arms over her chest and letting a wicked smile flit across her face. "I suppose you appear thoroughly debauched."
"Don't," Gwyn warned the steely figure in front of her as Azriel rolled off to his side. Tucking the blanket over her bare legs, she sat up in bed. Azriel grumbled something under his breath as Emerie and Nesta were holding smug grins.
"Happy Birthday, Gwyn," her sisters said.
Thanking them, she slipped a strand of hair behind her ear as her cheeks burned. "Thank you so much. Why are you currently in the room?"
Nesta inclined her chin to the stone-faced Illyrian in the bed. "He gave us the day. We gave him the morning and evening. Joint custody today, Berdara. Get up and get dressed." Nesta's returning grin was diabolical.
Emerie strode forward. "We have plans, Gwyn."
Plans? She regarded the two sisters' casual, comfy outfits of chunky cream sweaters and navy leggings, and she regarded them curiously. Nothing effortful or complicated. Noted.
Emerie continued, "But first."
The two unarmed Valkyries side-stepped from the doorway. Hooves and tiny wings were the first things she recognized. Wearing a pointed silver party hat, proudly displaying a sign around her neck proclaiming that she was too glad today was Gwyn's birthday.
Azriel moved over to Nesta, who was following the scene in front of them, smiling fondly at Gwyn's excitement.
"Peggy!"
His eyes widened when he watched the white miniature Pegasus whinny and prance over to the side of the bed. A pale nose nuzzled into her palm as Gwyn reached out for a pet.
Wow. And here Azriel thought their stories of short-winged conjured horses were merely drunken hallucinations.
"Is that thing going to shit on my floor?" he grumbled, dragging his hand through his messy hair. Nesta huffed hard.
"My floor, and she's from the House, and knowing how much it likes you..."
Gwyn rubbed noses with the miniature Pegasus. "You won't do that, will you, Peggy? Even if the House dislikes Azriel for whatever reason, she loves me." She paused, smiling as she pressed a kiss to the flying horse's muzzle. He clenched his teeth. It was official—the shadowsinger was jealous of a godsdamn pegasus. Pathetic.
Gwyn winked as she whispered into the pegasus' pointed, twitching ear. "So let's not do that." She scratched under the pegasus's chin.
His heart thumped when he saw Gwyn so happy. Her smile so vast.
'You make the Valkyrie happy,' his shadows hummed.
By the Cauldron, he fucking hoped so. For the way she made him feel was indescribable.
"Are we good for tonight?" he asked his sister-in-law.
Nesta nodded discreetly. "Cassian said he's going. Feyre and Rhys were planning to attend, but Nyx is being a crabby handful, so I won't be shocked if they stay home. Amren is Amren and went back to fucking Varian in a treasure bath as her full-time occupation.
"Though apparently, she is making herself useful by researching with the information Gwyn had gleaned on the High King. Mor will be here when she returns from her meeting with Keir. Oh, and I invited Deirdre, Ananke, Thea, and a few of the other priestesses."
Continuing to brush the mane of the tiny hoofed animal stomping beside their bed, Gwyn called out, "What are you two plotting?".
"Plans, Berdara," Nesta promptly replied, not deigning any further information.
Nesta looked at the shadowsinger with a strange searching in her eyes. She gestured for the hallway. Azriel followed, sending some of his umbrae to Gwyn, while the others surrounded Nesta.
Nesta stopped, spinning on her heel to face him. The shadowsinger felt like a general was assessing him. "Azriel, do you have a moment to talk?"
Crossing his arms, he covered his bare, broad chest. "No. I planned to work until this evening."
"Nuala?"
The spymaster nodded, his jaw tight. With the wraith still missing, he expected the worst. There were a few reports he wanted to go over again. Perhaps he missed something.
Her lips became tense, thin. "Fine. After the party tonight. We need to talk."
"About?"
"About Elain."
Chapter 48 teaser will be up on my Tumblr ( mystical-blaise) late Sunday/early Monday!