Azriel is sitting out on the back porch of the cottage style home that him and Elain moved into right after they got married three years ago. The backyard is currently filled with kids running around and chasing each other, well all but one child that is.
Next to Az on the porch is his four year old nephew, Emerson who’s the oldest of Cassian and Nesta’s children. He’s a lot like his mom and isn’t much for people or social events. So he just watches the three families gathered at Az’s house with his uncle.
It’s the last weekend of the summer before sending the kids back to preschool and kindergarten for Emerson. Elain had decided to host a cookout as a last little get to getter before all their lives got crazy again. Not that Elain’s business hasn’t been keeping her very busy.
When Elain finally opened her shop a few years ago she already had a waiting list of orders and the business has only grown since. Last year she opened a second location in another part of Velaris and now she’s working on another location in the capital of Winter, where Vivianne moved two years ago to be with her boyfriend recently turned husband.
Due to the growth Azriel decided to step back from Rhy’s law firm and focus on new goals that he started to grow passionate about alongside Elain. Now he runs a non-profit Rhys helped him build from the ground up and at the beginning of the year they finally were able to open up the office.
The charity focuses on helping victims of abuse whether it’s with a partner, parent, or even a stranger. Az even hosted the first event for the charity in the spring where they held an auction and donated the proceeds to several women’s shelters in Velaris. In October he’ll host a Halloween party filled with rides and haunted houses and games for all ages. Then in December he’ll partner with Rhys at the Starlight ball as well.
On top of all the success Elain and Az have both accomplished in their work lives there’s also been rewards in their personal lives. A few months after they got married Elain discovered she was pregnant with their daughter, Hope. Then six months ago they welcomed their second little girl, June.
Currently Hope is running around playing with Rhys and Feyre’s oldest, Hunter. The two were born three weeks apart, Hunter being the older one and since then they’ve been inseparable. As for June she’s currently playing with the other babies by their mother’s.
Feyre is pulling a car toy out of her daughter, Rose’s mouth while Nesta is yelling at her third child who takes after her father. Marley is currently two years old and in the middle of her first prank war of many with Cassian. Oliver, Nesta and Cassian’s youngest is laughing as he watches his troublesome sister.
Azriel chuckles as he watches the failed prank Marley attempts on Cassian who likes to call himself the King of Pranks. When he catches his daughter she shrieks and runs away only to have her father race after her. Those two are going to be trouble, Az thinks as he takes a sip of the mixed drink Feyre had made for all of them.
“Mom’s going to lose her voice again,” Emerson says, watching his little sister be caught by their dad. “She just got it back too.” Nesta had always been the one to yell when she gets mad and ever since Marley learned to crawl Nesta’s been losing her voice every few weeks.
“Yeah but it’ll only get worse if Oliver takes after those two,” Az responds. He can only imagine how much Nesta will start drinking if she ends up with two meddlesome kids, especially considering Cassian is trying to convince her to have another baby within the next year.
“That’s why Marley won’t be allowed to influence my brother,” Emerson says sternly. He’s definitely like his mom, Az thinks as he watches the young boy next to him. Emerson may act like his mother but he looks just like his father. He has the say dark hair, skin tone, and grin as Cassian the only difference is the eyes, those are grey like Nesta’s.
Rhys, who’s been manning the grill calls out that the burgers and hot dogs are done. The kids rush to their seats, even Emerson who has the same love for food as Cassian. Azriel walks over to his wife and takes June from her so she can run into the house and grab the side dishes.
There’s already potatoes and corn out on the table but Elain had made a salad and chopped up some fruit before everyone came over. Az puts June in her high chair they had set in between him and Elain’s seats. Strapping her in putting a bib around her neck Az shakes out a bag of cereal for her to snack on.
His wife comes back out and adds some fruit to June’s tray as well before sitting down and grabbing her own food. Bowls and trays of food get passed around the table as they all make their plates for themselves and their children.
Once everyone is settled the conversations start. There’s talk of the kids which is everyone’s favorite topic. Then there’s talk of work and some charity events Az hopes to do throughout the next year. They also talk about the little things that have taken place throughout their lives.
“Sometimes I wish we took a page out of Amren’s book and waited to have kids,” Nesta tells her husband as the conversation switches topics once again. Amren who is Nesta’s closest friend has spent the past year travelling the world with her fiance, Varian before getting married and settling down.
“If you went the Amren route you probably would never have kids,” Rhys comments knowing his former partner. When Amren got back together with Varian she decided to leave Rhys’s firm and work at a different one in Adriata.
“That’s very true and why would you want to miss out on this cuteness?” Cassian says as he bounces Oliver on his lap, their son having scarfed down his dinner. Oliver realizing that people are looking at him, smiles and babbles as he looks up at his mother.
Nesta smiles widely at her youngest. “Yeah I guess you’re right for once,” she tells her husband as she takes Oliver from him. Hugging her son close. Elain is smiling just like everyone around the table who all know what Nesta went through to get where she is now.
“So does that mean we can have another?” Cassian says hoping he’s finally broken through to his wife.
“Ask me when he’s one,” Nesta responds, rocking Oliver who’s starting to doze off.
“Deal,” Cassian says lovingly watching his wife and son. Az knows his friend is also thinking about what he did in a past life to deserve this.
“Anyone else want more kids?” Feyre asks curiously.
“Maybe in another couple of years,” Elain says looking over at Azriel.
“Sounds good to me,” he tells his wife with a smile. Back when they had first started talking about a family Azriel had told her he didn’t care how many kids they had as long as she wanted them.
“You want another baby darling?” Rhys asks his wife using her nickname.
“I don’t know,” Feyre says honestly. Rhys nods, smiling.
“Well whatever you decide I’ll support you all the way,” Rhys reaches down into Feyre’s lap for her hand bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. Feyre smiles.
“Even if she asks you to get a vasectomy?” Cassian asks with a shudder.
“Yes because I actually listen to my wife,” Rhys combats.
“Hey I listen to Nesta!” Cassian argues.
“Rarely,” Nesta mumbles, causing Cassian to huff in annoyance mostly because he knows it’s true.
Az laughs as he watches his friends, his family and appreciating that this is his life. It’s a life he never thought he would get to hold. Then a woman with the kindest soul moved into his building and made him crave a life like this one.
Looking over at the woman that changed everything for him, his love, his wife, his Elain Az can’t hold back his smile. It’s a smile she reads easily and returns knowing that he changed her life just as much as she did his.
“I love you,” Elain whispers to her husband, all the unsaid feelings and emotions wrapped in those three words and he’s hit with it all as he grasps and squeezes her hand.
“I love you,” Azriel whispers right back with the same impact as Elain’s own whispered words.
They both hang on to each other as the banter between their family continues until it starts to grow dark and the children grow restless along with the dimming light. Saying goodbye they watch as Nesta and Cassian drive back to their home as well as Feyre and Rhys.
Elain and Azriel walked back into the house, hand in hand with Hope running ahead and June knocked out on her father’s shoulder.
Laughing Elain follows her oldest into Hope’s room while Az puts June in her crib. With the girls in bed they head to their own bed together.
“I still can’t believe I get to do this every night forever,” Az whispers into the darkness as he pulls his wife into his arms. She rests a hand on his chest and smiles at her husband.
“We have to be up early,” Azriel tells her as she continues down his body.
“I don’t care,” Az chuckles before pulling his wife back up and flipping her onto her back.
“Well then I guess it’s about to be a long night,” he whispers in Elain’s ear, rocking his erection against her sensitive core. Elain moans into a searing kiss.
This is the dream, Azriel thinks as he kisses his wife and pours all the love he feels for her and all the love she’s given him into one beginning kiss.
Azriel is sitting out on the back porch of the cottage style home that him and Elain moved into right after they got married three years ago. The backyard is currently filled with kids running around and chasing each other, well all but one child that is.
Next to Az on the porch is his four year old nephew, Emerson who’s the oldest of Cassian and Nesta’s children. He’s a lot like his mom and isn’t much for people or social events. So he just watches the three families gathered at Az’s house with his uncle.
It’s the last weekend of the summer before sending the kids back to preschool and kindergarten for Emerson. Elain had decided to host a cookout as a last little get to getter before all their lives got crazy again. Not that Elain’s business hasn’t been keeping her very busy.
When Elain finally opened her shop a few years ago she already had a waiting list of orders and the business has only grown since. Last year she opened a second location in another part of Velaris and now she’s working on another location in the capital of Winter, where Vivianne moved two years ago to be with her boyfriend recently turned husband.
Due to the growth Azriel decided to step back from Rhy’s law firm and focus on new goals that he started to grow passionate about alongside Elain. Now he runs a non-profit Rhys helped him build from the ground up and at the beginning of the year they finally were able to open up the office.
The charity focuses on helping victims of abuse whether it’s with a partner, parent, or even a stranger. Az even hosted the first event for the charity in the spring where they held an auction and donated the proceeds to several women’s shelters in Velaris. In October he’ll host a Halloween party filled with rides and haunted houses and games for all ages. Then in December he’ll partner with Rhys at the Starlight ball as well.
On top of all the success Elain and Az have both accomplished in their work lives there’s also been rewards in their personal lives. A few months after they got married Elain discovered she was pregnant with their daughter, Hope. Then six months ago they welcomed their second little girl, June.
Currently Hope is running around playing with Rhys and Feyre’s oldest, Hunter. The two were born three weeks apart, Hunter being the older one and since then they’ve been inseparable. As for June she’s currently playing with the other babies by their mother’s.
Feyre is pulling a car toy out of her daughter, Rose’s mouth while Nesta is yelling at her third child who takes after her father. Marley is currently two years old and in the middle of her first prank war of many with Cassian. Oliver, Nesta and Cassian’s youngest is laughing as he watches his troublesome sister.
Azriel chuckles as he watches the failed prank Marley attempts on Cassian who likes to call himself the King of Pranks. When he catches his daughter she shrieks and runs away only to have her father race after her. Those two are going to be trouble, Az thinks as he takes a sip of the mixed drink Feyre had made for all of them.
“Mom’s going to lose her voice again,” Emerson says, watching his little sister be caught by their dad. “She just got it back too.” Nesta had always been the one to yell when she gets mad and ever since Marley learned to crawl Nesta’s been losing her voice every few weeks.
“Yeah but it’ll only get worse if Oliver takes after those two,” Az responds. He can only imagine how much Nesta will start drinking if she ends up with two meddlesome kids, especially considering Cassian is trying to convince her to have another baby within the next year.
“That’s why Marley won’t be allowed to influence my brother,” Emerson says sternly. He’s definitely like his mom, Az thinks as he watches the young boy next to him. Emerson may act like his mother but he looks just like his father. He has the say dark hair, skin tone, and grin as Cassian the only difference is the eyes, those are grey like Nesta’s.
Rhys, who’s been manning the grill calls out that the burgers and hot dogs are done. The kids rush to their seats, even Emerson who has the same love for food as Cassian. Azriel walks over to his wife and takes June from her so she can run into the house and grab the side dishes.
There’s already potatoes and corn out on the table but Elain had made a salad and chopped up some fruit before everyone came over. Az puts June in her high chair they had set in between him and Elain’s seats. Strapping her in putting a bib around her neck Az shakes out a bag of cereal for her to snack on.
His wife comes back out and adds some fruit to June’s tray as well before sitting down and grabbing her own food. Bowls and trays of food get passed around the table as they all make their plates for themselves and their children.
Once everyone is settled the conversations start. There’s talk of the kids which is everyone’s favorite topic. Then there’s talk of work and some charity events Az hopes to do throughout the next year. They also talk about the little things that have taken place throughout their lives.
“Sometimes I wish we took a page out of Amren’s book and waited to have kids,” Nesta tells her husband as the conversation switches topics once again. Amren who is Nesta’s closest friend has spent the past year travelling the world with her fiance, Varian before getting married and settling down.
“If you went the Amren route you probably would never have kids,” Rhys comments knowing his former partner. When Amren got back together with Varian she decided to leave Rhys’s firm and work at a different one in Adriata.
“That’s very true and why would you want to miss out on this cuteness?” Cassian says as he bounces Oliver on his lap, their son having scarfed down his dinner. Oliver realizing that people are looking at him, smiles and babbles as he looks up at his mother.
Nesta smiles widely at her youngest. “Yeah I guess you’re right for once,” she tells her husband as she takes Oliver from him. Hugging her son close. Elain is smiling just like everyone around the table who all know what Nesta went through to get where she is now.
“So does that mean we can have another?” Cassian says hoping he’s finally broken through to his wife.
“Ask me when he’s one,” Nesta responds, rocking Oliver who’s starting to doze off.
“Deal,” Cassian says lovingly watching his wife and son. Az knows his friend is also thinking about what he did in a past life to deserve this.
“Anyone else want more kids?” Feyre asks curiously.
“Maybe in another couple of years,” Elain says looking over at Azriel.
“Sounds good to me,” he tells his wife with a smile. Back when they had first started talking about a family Azriel had told her he didn’t care how many kids they had as long as she wanted them.
“You want another baby darling?” Rhys asks his wife using her nickname.
“I don’t know,” Feyre says honestly. Rhys nods, smiling.
“Well whatever you decide I’ll support you all the way,” Rhys reaches down into Feyre’s lap for her hand bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. Feyre smiles.
“Even if she asks you to get a vasectomy?” Cassian asks with a shudder.
“Yes because I actually listen to my wife,” Rhys combats.
“Hey I listen to Nesta!” Cassian argues.
“Rarely,” Nesta mumbles, causing Cassian to huff in annoyance mostly because he knows it’s true.
Az laughs as he watches his friends, his family and appreciating that this is his life. It’s a life he never thought he would get to hold. Then a woman with the kindest soul moved into his building and made him crave a life like this one.
Looking over at the woman that changed everything for him, his love, his wife, his Elain Az can’t hold back his smile. It’s a smile she reads easily and returns knowing that he changed her life just as much as she did his.
“I love you,” Elain whispers to her husband, all the unsaid feelings and emotions wrapped in those three words and he’s hit with it all as he grasps and squeezes her hand.
“I love you,” Azriel whispers right back with the same impact as Elain’s own whispered words.
They both hang on to each other as the banter between their family continues until it starts to grow dark and the children grow restless along with the dimming light. Saying goodbye they watch as Nesta and Cassian drive back to their home as well as Feyre and Rhys.
Elain and Azriel walked back into the house, hand in hand with Hope running ahead and June knocked out on her father’s shoulder.
Laughing Elain follows her oldest into Hope’s room while Az puts June in her crib. With the girls in bed they head to their own bed together.
“I still can’t believe I get to do this every night forever,” Az whispers into the darkness as he pulls his wife into his arms. She rests a hand on his chest and smiles at her husband.
“We have to be up early,” Azriel tells her as she continues down his body.
“I don’t care,” Az chuckles before pulling his wife back up and flipping her onto her back.
“Well then I guess it’s about to be a long night,” he whispers in Elain’s ear, rocking his erection against her sensitive core. Elain moans into a searing kiss.
This is the dream, Azriel thinks as he kisses his wife and pours all the love he feels for her and all the love she’s given him into one beginning kiss.
Elain woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee and what could only be homemade waffles. Stretching herself out she threw herself out of bed and headed for the kitchen. The kitchen she now officially owned with Azriel.
After they had unpacked some last night once their friends and her sisters had left Az had gone down to turn in the papers he had previously signed. Technically he was supposed to sign them this morning but he hadn’t wanted to wait so he went down to their landlord after they moved all of Elain’s stuff into his place.
Heading down the hallway that leads to their now shared bedroom Elain finds Az holding a bowl of batter that he’s pouring into the griddle. Smiling at her boyfriend she leans against the wall, arms folded and relaxed. It’s hard to believe that just within a week their lives have taken a complete turn for the better.
There was a time when Elain believed she would never get to feel this happiness with her best friend let alone anyone else. Yet here she stands watching Azriel as he makes them breakfast and there’s no doubt in her mind that he’s as much hers as she is his.
“You just want to stare at me all morning?” Azriel askss, smirking at her as he closes the waffle maker and let’s it cook. “I mean I don’t blame I’m a very attractive view.”
“And a very cocky one as well it seems,” Elain responds with a smile that Az returns. Pushing off the wall she makes her way around the counter and to his side where he tucks her in under his arm.
“How was your first night in our apartment?” Azriel asks as he plays with a strand of her messy hair.
“Very restful,” Elain responds, her fingers trailing the band of his grey sweatpants.
“I see you’ve also found my side of the closet,” Az says as he tugs on the shirt Elain had pulled on in the middle of the night when she got up to use the bathroom. It’s one of her favorites he notices as well. Most of his closet is made up of dark and plain t-shirts but this is one of the few graphic shirts he owns. It’s also the one Elain had talked him into buying when they went to a music festival last summer with a few friends.
“Well it is our closet,” Elain smirks, looking up at him with her innocent little face.
“So does that mean I can wear your dresses?” Azriel asks, teasing her. Elain laughs, still smiling up at him. The look fills him with warmth and happiness, something he hasn’t felt since before his mom passed.
“If you really want to,” Elain says just before the timer dings. She moves to the other side of the island as Az takes the waffle out and sets it on a plate. He pushes the plate in front of her along with the syrup, a fork, and a glass of fruit punch because it’s the only type of juice she will drink.
With a smile Elain starts cutting up her waffle as Azriel pours more batter to make his own. Once it’s done he sits next to his girlfriend and they enjoy a peaceful breakfast together. Elain cleans up breakfast once the waffles are consumed and Az goes to get dressed.
They’re planning on having dinner with some friends tonight but until then they have the day to themselves. Azriel pulls up the website for the local drive-in theater to see what they might be showing this afternoon.
Turns out today is a flashback theater today where there’s a showing of Gone with the Wind, which Elain hates. Then there’s The Wizard of Oz which is a favorite of his, and lastly Dirty Dancing.
“Feel like going to the drive-in theater for a showing of The Wizard of Oz?” Azriel asks, taking a seat on a barstool and watching his girlfriend in the kitchen. He can’t get enough of calling her that even if it’s only in his head.
“That sounds like fun,” Elain says as she hangs the towel she used to dry her hands once again. “You grab snacks and drinks while I go get dressed.”
“Deal,” Azriel says. With a bright smile on her face Elain runs off into their bedroom while Az grabs a couple of bags for snacks and drinks. Starting with the cooler bag he grabs some water and a few of the lemonade flavored sparkling waters that he knows Elain loves. He also adds some fruit from the fridge and an energy drink or two for himself.
Zipping that bag up Azriel heads for the small pantry in the corner of the kitchen. He tends to keep the pantry fairly stocked with a variety of snacks considering how Cassian is always radding his food supply. There’s a few snack sized caramel corn popcorn bags which Az grabs because how could they go to a movie without popcorn.
There’s also sour gummy worms that he adds to the bag. It’s a big bag but Azriel always finds himself craving the candy in the middle of the night. Lastly, he adds a couple big bags of unopened chips from a party he had gone to a couple weeks ago.
“Got everything?” Elain asks, walking out of the bedroom in one of her many sundresses. This one is yellow and white in a plaid pattern, which is her second favorite right after floral. She’s pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she walks back into the kitchen.
“Yeah, ready?” Azriel asks, shouldering both the bags onto his shoulders. Elain smiles with a nod before heading to the small entrance hall where a pair of brown sandals wait for her to slip on her feet. Elain then grabs her purse off the hook Az had installed on the back of the front door.
Opening the door they head out and down to the parking garage where they decide to take Azriel’s truck, having more room for them to lay out the blankets and pillows they had grabbed from Elain’s car beforehand.
It’s quiet for a bit as Azriel drives. The theater is on the outskirts of the city in the more rural area of Velaris. It’s a place he knows Elain is very familiar with as she gets antsy when she’s in the city too long.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Elain says, breaking the silence. Az turns down the music he had put on so he can hear her better. “Since I know longer have to pay full rent and with the bonus I’m expecting soon it might be time to start my business.”
“Really?” Az asked, a little surprised. Elain had been saying that she wanted to wait another year before looking into renting out a space in downtown Velaris for her floral arrangements shop. “You don’t want to wait any longer?”
“Some events have taken place recently in my life that are causing me to rethink things,” Elain says, smiling over at him. He knows she’s talking about their recent relationship status. “I don’t want to wait any longer and I plan on starting small.”
“What do you mean?” Azriel asked. He’s smiling, feeling the joy and happiness along with her at finally being able to kickstart her dream.
“I’ll start as an assistant with a local floral shop in order to learn everything else I don’t already know,” Elain says. “The owner wants to help me so she’ll help create my website and even let me start independent orders as I learn.”
“That sounds amazing,” Azriel says, taking the exit ramp that’ll lead to the drive-in theater. “What about after that?”
“Well I’m thinking I’ll do this through the winter and look for my own space to rent and hopefully by spring I’ll be set up in said space and ready for the summer season,” Elain explains.
“Also known as wedding season,” Elain smiles at him, loving that he knows that little tidbit.
“It’ll be the perfect time to start,” she says.
“Well I can’t wait to watch you succeed.” They’re both smiling as Azriel pulls into the drive-in and pays for the movie. Pulling into the lot where the movie is set up he finds a space right in the center of the lot.
Elain sets up the bed of his truck with the pillows and blankets while he unpacks the snacks and drinks. Settling down together Az kisses the top of her head as he tucks her into his side.
The movie starts and Elain’s focus is on the black and white opening scene while Az watches her intently. A part of him still doesn’t believe that she is his and yet here they are finally in each other’s arms. And all he can think is that he can’t wait for more moments like this throughout the rest of his life.
No, it’s not like she left him or anything drastic like that. Yet, he yearned to be accepted and loved by her as Fenrys was, and even Ruhn. With them, their little chaotic girl came alive. They were part of her little nebulous world, which she occupied and which Azriel wanted to visit, and stay in forever.
What he’d learned in the past week–their first week of marriage, was that Elain Archeron King was a beautiful, unexpected chaos. Or, as she called herself Elain Marie Paige Azriel King. Which was weird, but while he tried to argue with her, and explain that it was just Elain King, or, if she so insisted, Elain Marie Paige King, she wouldn’t hear of it and was convinced that the correct way to say her name was Elain Azriel King. When he tried again, and suggested that maybe she meant Elain Archeron King, she stomped her foot and told him that he doesn’t even know his own name. Or hers.
And that was that.
She was Elain Azriel King from then on.
Not that he minded at all.
If she wished to be Elain Azriel King, more power to her.
At home, she tended to wear a tiara.
She just walked around in a tiara and always barefoot–because she needed to ‘feel the earth’ with her toes. Also, according to her, she was a queen, because she was married to kings.
So be it. No one argued.
In a week, he’d learned a lot of things about his wife.
She was remarkably, adorably and unquestionably strange and somehow, she immediately fit into their psychotic trio–though that shouldn’t have been a surprise, since she clearly accepted them all and the state of the state, which was that she was theirs, and they were hers.
Even Ruhn fell under her spell. Ruhn. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Azriel was aware that Ruhn texted her throughout the day; sent her funny videos, jokes and memes, messages, photos of what he was doing or eating. If he wasn’t home in the morning, he sent her cartoon bears or puppies, with ‘good morning’ messages and “What’s my girl going to do today?” He also sent her videos or photos of his ‘work’ –with lots of blood, screaming and pleading. To which, she replied “ Go, Ruhn, go! ” or “ baby, you are doing so well! ” or “ that’s hot ”. Because just like them, Elain had a bloodthirsty streak in her and the more he learned about her, the clearer it became why she was able to take down that damn monster Hybern.
Ruhn hadn’t started his training with her yet, but they all knew that she would absolutely love it, and would probably be very good at it. If absolutely uncontrolled. Because if she killed like she danced, then the devil help them all.
*
What Azriel also found out was that Elain was a very bad judge of some of her abilities.
Curiously, things that she excelled at–cooking, for example, or baking, making truly stunning flower arrangements, having a spectacularly refined eye for design, and being effortlessly stylish–she felt insecure about. She always seemed surprised when the three of them complimented her food and when they cleaned the plates like a swarm of locusts. Any baked goods were gone in less than an hour. No matter how many muffins or rolls she made, everything was consumed, and yet, she even accused them of doing it on purpose, to make her feel better.
Now there were many things that Elain was…not good at. At all . She failed spectacularly.
Notably, those were the things that she felt that she excelled at and was ‘so good’ at.
“I am so good at languages!” she announced. “I can learn a language in three days!”
“I think a bit of an exaggeration, beautiful,” Ruhn argued reasonably.
“What languages do you know, baby?” Fenrys propped his chin on the counter and looked at her with big cow eyes, blinking like a love sick fool that he was.
“I know Italian and Spanish and French and English and many more,” she announced proudly.
Azriel, who was fluent in Italian, jerked his chin and said, “ Mi piacerebbe sentirti parlare Italiano,”
“If you want to hear me speak, here you go,” she pursed her lips and,
Well, she did speak Italian.
The problem was, she spoke like the fucking Terminator. She completely disregarded all the tenses, dropped most of the connecting words as she saw fit, and just did whatever the hell she wanted. She also randomly mixed half of the words up. Even Ruhn, who was fluent as well, winced a bit.
Yet, Elain, after concluding a long monologue about “ Abbiamo lo stesso numero di ossa nel collo delle giraffe,”
Or, how we humans had the same number of bones in our necks as giraffes, announced, “I speak so good!”
“Baby,” Fenrys, who knew about four words in Italian, purred lovingly, “you speak so so good. I don’t know why the giraffes are so stressed, but I bet you can make them feel better.”
That, actually, was a typical conversation between Elain and Fenrys.
Ruhn stroked her head and nodded his assent.
“You are very good in Italian, pretty girl!”
She beamed at the praise and then turned a challenging eye at Azriel.
“You do speak Italian,” was all he said.
“I told you I speak so good!” she concluded and puffed out her chest pridefully.
Then she attempted to speak Spanish, and yeah, she didn’t know Spanish. Though she could roll an ‘R’ like nobody’s business.
“Now speak English, baby,” Fenrys requested with the same stupid dreamy look on his face.
Azriel was very curious what that meant, and as it turned out, speaking ‘English’ was Elain doing a terrible British accent.
“You can’t even tell I am not British!” she declared triumphantly, with Fenrys nodding eagerly, like she was speaking the Queen’s English from a palace balcony. Hers was a weird mixture of cockney, that actor’s from all the Jane Austen movies, Fenrys’s, with a touch of Downton Abbey and Guy Ritchie movies. It made no sense, and yet, made every sense.
“Baby, your English is perfect!” Fenrys pulled her in for a kiss and Elain remained in her gloriously deluded state, absolutely convinced of her knowledge of languages. And the funny thing was that Azriel didn’t think that Fen was lying or trying to make her feel good–the man really thought that everything she did was magical and special. To Fenrys, Elain was perfect and could do no wrong.
Elain also succeeded in offering completely incorrect information with unflinching confidence, and then arguing that the information was indeed correct.
*
The four of them were driving to the beach the first weekend after the wedding. The day was glorious, the weather hot and the ocean beckoned. So they piled into Fen’s vintage Aston Martin convertible and headed out of the city before the sun was even up.
Between the Fenrys/Elain heated make-out sessions in the back seat, she dropped some interesting pearls of wisdom on them.
“Did you know that when you are sleeping with your mouth open a mouse can crawl in, lay eggs in there and then you wake up and there are a bunch of eggs and also baby mouses in your mouth?!”
“Mice,” Azriel corrected her.
“What?”
“Not mouses, mice.”
“I am pretty sure it’s mouses,” she insisted. “Ru, is it mouses or mice?”
Ruhn, who was sitting in the front with Azriel, offered diplomatically, “I think it depends on where you are from. The vernacular varies,”
That was another thing that they learned about her–language, in general, was just a suggestion to her. She floated within her thoughts and words, not necessarily needing anything to make sense, as long as it did to her.
Ruhn was the first person to learn how to decipher her fascinating ramblings and he just accepted them. Fenrys did as well. Her mind was a colourful rainbow of dreams and memories and aspirations. It was akin to stepping into a kaleidoscope and existing in a world of somewhat alternate consciousness.
It didn’t matter to them that mice didn’t lay eggs and that she mixed up mice and spiders, it only mattered that she wanted to share the information and found it so interesting.
So what if she named all the cars–there was Big Bessy , and Baby Blue , and Golden Boy , and Sad Muffin , and Vasily, andHedge.
A week in, and all four of them were addressing the cars by their ‘names’.
Her world was dreamy and beautiful–she admitted that she wanted to eat cannoli and live in the sun and read dark romance and sometimes kill people and breathe in the ocean and get neck kisses and ride in fast cars and never, ever, ever have the three of them leave her. Not even for a second. Not for a moment. They had to be together forever.
She was theirs, and they were hers.
*
On the way to the beach, they blared the radio and Elain sang along to the songs, messing up most of the lyrics. That was another thing Azriel had learned about his wife–he doubted that she knew ONE song correctly. She just continuously sang nonsense, sometimes, making up whole words, and trying to convince everyone that these were the right words.
Tina Turner’s ‘Simply the Best’ came on–one of their wedding songs, in fact, and Elain squealed with excitement. It was the song that the three of them dedicated to her at the wedding–and even lip synced it for her, as a trio. Azriel smiled, recalling how she ran to them after they were done, tears in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around the three of them, and they spun her around, attempting to maintain a sense of propriety and not kiss her in a non-brotherly manner.
Apparently though, she sang a different song entirely:
You’re simply the best
Better than all the best
Better than anyone
Anyone I’ve never met
I’m striking your heart
And hang you and every word you say
You tear us apart
Baby, I would rather you be dead
It wasn’t even close and made zero sense, but as usual, Elain was convinced that her version was the correct one and there was no arguing with her. Whose heart she was striking remained a mystery, but that was okay, because she was singing her heart out, arms waving in the air, eyes closed and it was pure joy.
And then Fenrys pulled her down onto the seat and tugged her top down, quickly freeing her plush tits from the bikini top. Ruhn twisted in his seat, turning to watch them, his hand landing on the breast closest to him and mashing it hard, while Fenrys began to lap on her other, biting her nipple and sucking all of it into his mouth.
“Boys,” she moaned, arching into their touch, not caring that they were in an open car and lo and behold, the moment a truck passed them, a deafening ‘toot-toot’ from the horn greeted her bare breasts. Ruhn flipped the trucker off, and Azriel grunted,
“Yes,” Elain moaned in the back, her legs falling apart around Fenrys’s hips as he busied himself with the other nipple, while Ruhn held the breast to his brother’s mouth.
“You gave me a good idea, Az,” Ruhn took out his phone and said, “I need this–firstly, to judge Fen’s shitty techniques,” Fenrys didn’t even pause the sucking, while he offered Ruhn the finger, “and when I am fucking bored as fuck torturing some fucker, I can at least entertain myself with Lainey’s pretty titties. Show them to me, honey,”
Elain pushed Fen away and then then had Ruhn film her semi-nude body, pausing for him, squeezing her breasts in her hands, jiggling them for him, pinching her wet nipples, until Fenrys lost his patience and pulled her up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rolled and tugged her nipples for the camera, until they began to visibly swell between his fingers and Elain started to moan.
“That’s right, my girl,” Ruhn encouraged her, licking his lips and grabbing a handful of the lush globes.
“Runnie,” she murmured, caressing his hand and having him squeezed her even tighter.
“Yes, love?”
“If you want to, you can film me sucking your cock,” she bit her lower lip, watching him from under her lashes. “You can always watch me and how you have your dick in my mouth,”
Azriel choked audibly and Ruhn readjusted himself in his jeans and nodded,
“I would love that, pretty girl,” he vowed. “You’ll give me the messiest blowjob and I’ll come all over your gorgeous tits,”
“Come in her mouth!” Fenrys argued.
“This is my fantasy and my blowie,” Ruhn waved him off, “I come where I want to come! You want to come in her mouth, you do you, brother.”
Elain stroked Fen’s cheek and kissed him tenderly,
“You can come in my mouth, Fen. I like it,”
“You came in her mouth?!!” the other two roared loudly and aggressively, outraged.
“Watch the road!” Elain screamed at Azriel, who turned a furious gaze at Fenrys.
“Okay, it wasone time!” Fenrys argued defensively, “she only swallowed, she didn’t even do anything,”
“She only swallowed?” Ruhn bellowed. “What else is there?”
Fenrys began to play with Elain’s hair and breasts again, shrugging impetuously and saying, “No one is stopping you. How’s that my problem?”
“I am at work!” Ruhn yelled.
“Well, then have babygirl suck you off when you are not at work,” he recommended logically.
“As a reminder,” Azriel’s voice interrupted them all, “we don’t show our woman to anyone. She is ours. Cover her tits now,” that was an order.
Fenrys had the good sense to cover Elain’s breasts with the bikini top and that was that. He kissed her and then Azriel invited them all to sing. Which they did. With Elain mangling every song and all the lyrics.
*
That day at the beach was the best day after that stupid fight that they had.
Since that day when Azriel had lost his temper and acted like a douche, Elain had chiefly avoided him. Not demonstratively, not in some petty ‘door slamming’ way, but she did and he felt it. Also, she kept feeding him shitty foods from bags and boxes–when the others got nicely seared steaks or marvelously grilled swordfish with herb butter, or mushroom and asparagus risotto, he got chicken nuggets, fish sticks and turkey meatballs from a bag. He ate it all, overplaying his enjoyment and guilting her for serving that crap to him. What pained him more than a soggy mush of a fish patty on his plate was that she certainly didn’t sneak into his bedroom anymore after that one time. She didn’t kiss him. She didn’t hug him. Fenrys lounged on her lap when they watched TV. Ruhn crossed his long muscular legs on her thighs and then inevitably, she’d curl up against him. Damn Fenrys, of course, got very very comfortable with showering with her every morning. Azriel was perfectly aware that Fen now had his toothbrush, his hair products and his shower gel in her bathroom. Which was fucking unacceptable. Meanwhile, he got nuggets.
But Azriel longed for her. Wanted the touches, the smiles that would be just for him. He wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to bite that juicy ass again. He wanted so many things…Not the least of which was the constant grating desire to bury himself inside of her. He thought about it endlessly. He thought he’d have a lot more self control, and this denial wouldn’t be as painful as it was. It was actually horrible. She was right there . In front of him, in her ridiculous tiaras, those stretchy pants that drove him wild and set his imagination on fire, not to mention the days when she wore the little flowery dresses. When she rolled dough, her whole body tensing and relaxing, stretching and making some very wonderful things to her cleavage–those days were both pleasure and torment to Azriel. He had jealously watched her teach Fen how to make fresh ricotta, and then have Ruhn taste the sauce that she was making, holding the wooden spoon to his lips, as he licked it, his gaze devouring her. In the garden, the three of them played bocce, arguing viciously, running around with a ruler, measuring scrupulously and then inevitably getting into fights. He pretended like he ‘needed to work’. He didn’t. But he didn’t want to burden her with his presence.
And so, Azriel missed his wife.
*
At last, they were here, piling out of the car, getting bags and baskets from the trunk.
They found a nice spot, though while Elain was spreading their towels and blankets on the sand, a pissy lady grabbed her son, muttering loudly enough for them to hear ‘come Blake. We are not sitting next to criminals!”
Fenrys wiggled his brows at her and murmured in a sinister tone, “Lady, you don’t know the half of it. Run along, Blake! Otherwise, you might want to become like us,”
The woman added a little gas to her speedy walk, dragging Blake by the hand, while Blake was watching the three giant, tattooed muscular men with wonder in his eyes.
Elain laughed, and told him to stop scaring children and impressionable housewives. Then she added, “but she wasn’t wrong!”
The good thing was that Ruhn alone could clear out all the undesirable neighbours in a 50 meter radius, just with a look and a flip of his long hair.
All the noise and banter stopped, when Elain pulled off her tank top and then shimmied out of her little white shorts, revealing her super sexy curvaceous body to them–all her ample, soft goods tucked into a little bubblegum pink bikini.
“Boys,” she giggled, “you are staring at me like hungry wolves,”
“Girlie, you are hot as fuck,” Ruhn managed to utter, tearing off his clothes and dropping on the towel next to her.
“What he said,” Fenrys agreed.
“You’ve all seen me much nakeder than this,” she reminded them with a laugh, while Ruhn stroked her back and snuck a kiss to her hip.
“That’s why the beach sucks,” Fenrys sighed dramatically. “We could be home and you’d be way, way more naked than this and we can touch you too.”
“Well, I love the beach!” she announced.
“Let me lather you up, babygirl,” Fenrys offered, taking out a tube of sunscreen. The next moment, a scarred brown arm shot out and wrapped around his wrist, as Azriel said, “allow me”.
Fenrys pouted, but opted not to argue and handed the sunscreen to Azriel. Then he rose and announced that he is going for a dip! Ruhn sighed and decided that he’d go as well.
Azriel stood, waiting for her to go after them, but Elain remained seated, her eyes glued to his nude body. He just stood there, letting his woman look at him, enjoying how her eyes roamed over his chest, the tattoos that slithered from his neck, to his pecs, and down his muscular arms. He had fewer than Ruhn, but still plenty, and done in a different style–all black, many resembling flames–a memory that was forever etched on his skin in ink and in scars. On his right hand, the tattoos wrapped around his forearm and slithered all the way to his hand and his fingers. He left most of his left arm undecorated, so that all the scarring was plainly visible.
In her usual manner, she just reached out with her finger and traced the outline of his deep V, running her finger to the edge of his swimming trunks.
“They call it Apollo’s Rope, you know!” she told him.
He smiled and stroked her head, gently cupping her face.
“I think it’s the Adonis Belt, my darling,” he said.
She frowned and shook her head, “No, It’s Apollo’s Ro-”
“You are right,” he agreed, because why not?
She kept studying him, and normally, he wouldn’t have been comfortable with such close scrutiny, but with Elain, he actually enjoyed it. She was so odd and so innocent, that he never had to be embarrassed with her, or expect any judgment from her.
“Az,” she said quietly, looking up at him, “you know, you are the most beautiful.”
He didn’t know how to respond, but also knew that she wasn’t finished.
“You have the most beautiful face,” she informed him thoughtfully. “You look like a gorgeous dragon,”
“Gorgeous dragon?”
She nodded, “yes! The most stunning and wonderful dragon. And your feet are also most beautiful! And your hands too,”
He looked down at his sand covered feet. His feet were fine, he supposed, but,
She reached down into the sand and drew her palm over his feet, his toes, before sliding up and over his calf.
“Fen thinks he is the most beautiful,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but to me, you are. Always you.”
Something warm and soft bloomed in his chest. Because Fenrys was the handsomest man of them all, or at least, the most conventionally attractive. Yet an admission like that, from Elain, made Azriel’s heart beat faster, and there was a wave of heat that washed over him.
Then, she quickly added, “but don’t tell Fen, okay? Promise?”
“Okay, I promise,” he smiled. God he loved it when she touched him. Those little hands on his legs, his feet – they did something to him and made him both lustful and insanely protective over her. Because she was his and he liked her just the way she was; strange and loving and vibrant.
“May I?” he asked, showing her the tube and she nodded.
He squirted a bunch of coconut-scented cream on his hands and then sat behind her, which was probably wise, because his cock kept hardening, especially when she touched him and when he couldn’t tear his eyes from her full cleavage, and those sweet silky soft globes which were gently cradled in the hot pink fabric.
He hesitated for a moment, before touching her immaculate skin with his gnarly, burnt hands which had done unspeakable things, things that she had no idea about. Azriel had killed, and he’d tortured, and he’d fought, and his hands were covered in the blood of his enemies.Truth be told, he wasn’t terribly broken up about the violence that he’d inflicted on others. He was rational, practical and pragmatic–he understood that some people had to die, and he knew that some people had to be punished. There was information that needed to be beaten or cut out of some people, and fists and knives and guns had to be used to resolve issues and disagreements. He did not enjoy killing or maiming, but he also didn’t cry about it. Sometimes, it was his turn to suffer and bleed and he accepted that as well. He’s been shot five times, knifed at least a dozen times, his knuckles were like an elephant’s hide, and more scars peppered his body than he cared to count.
But his sweet flower girl was something else. She was innocent and pure, and not only sexually, which was the least of his concerns, but mostly emotionally…unique in her approach to life, where she always saw magic and light, where she existed without knowing how to play games or how to be malicious. And he wanted that light for himself, wanted to preserve it and bask in its glow, because it was so precious.
“Az, are you gonna do it?” she demanded, jerking her shoulder.
He smiled and couldn’t help himself, as he planted his lips on her shoulder and then the back of her neck.
He’d made a mistake once with her. He wasn’t going to do it ever again. Not like that. Because even mild rejection hurt like a bitch. Cut his heart. Destroyed his well-being for almost a week. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate (and it wasn’t because of the chicken nuggets), was so irritable, everyone was attempting to avoid him, and when they couldn’t, they tried to get out of his sight as soon as possible. He might be a scary, violent, brutal dude, but his men liked him, and trusted him and were exceptionally loyal. He didn’t want to break that trust because of his terrible mood and his domestic squabbles with his wife.
“Are you going to lotion me or give kisses?” she demanded.
“I am going to start by giving kisses,” he decided, as he kissed the tender spot behind her ear, and watched her nipples pucker beneath the bathing suit. Slowly, he rubbed his hands over her arms and then began working on her back, while kissing her cheek and her neck, making her gasp softly.
“Am I forgiven?” he murmured in her ear, gently biting the lobe and pulling on her little diamond earring with his teeth.
“I am not sure,” she breathed. “You’ll have to do more,”
“Then I will do more.”
“More good stuff,” she warned.
His hands wrapped around her stomach and he tucked his face into her shoulder, kissing it and promising, “whatever you want. Also, it’s Adonis Belt,” and he bit her neck playfully.
“No it’s not!” she argued and pushed at him, as he laughed, and lathered her belly with the sunscreen. “It doesn’t even make sense because it’s not a belt!” she argued.
He laughed into the warmth of her braid, and then crawled around her, so they were face to face. He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her closer to him, forcing her thighs apart, as she wrapped her legs around his.
“I wanna do you,” she offered, an adorable blush spreading over her cheeks and her neck, and he watched the progression as it flooded her chest.
“I hope so!” he smirked.
She blushed even more and pushed him with her foot, but he caught it in his hands and brushed the sand off the sole, before pressing a kiss to her toes. He drew his hand up and down her smooth thigh, whispering, “just taking care of my girl,”
“Rogue,” she murmured with a smirk, but he knew that she liked the attention, and if her soft moan was anything to go by, she liked his touch even more.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered, and she bit that delicious lower lip of hers and gave him full jazz hands, which made him chuckle. He squirted lotion on them and then moved even closer, so they were just about chest to chest, and he wrapped her thighs around his waist, holding her close. Elain’s soft little hands smoothed over his shoulders first and he almost gritted his teeth as a tidal wave of blood rushed from his brain to his dick. Firstly, he was at a public beach, with kids around, so sporting a massive boner was ungainly and inappropriate. Secondly, he didn’t want Elain to know what sort of insane reaction she caused in him with her closeness. He hasn’t gotten his dick wet, well, he didn’t remember when the last time was, if he were being honest, but it’s been a while. And his flower was sweet and ripe and ready for the plucking, if the heady, glorious aroma of her arousal was anything to go by, and those perky nipples straining against the bra. But, she already had the upper hand in everything–he was totally bewitched by her and would do absolutely anything for her. He was fine with that, but he didn’t necessarily want everyone else to know where his great weakness lay. Because Elain was an unexpected and enormous weakness in his armour, and it scared him just how much power she held over his whole being. He already knew that should something happen to her, he’d burn down the world and destroy everything in his path to save her. But if someone decided to use her against him, he’d be powerless, for he would sacrifice everything to make sure that she was alright.
He stroked her thighs, his fingers slowly, but determinedly crawling over her silky skin and towards her tempting ass, until he clasped it in his hands possessively and pushed her even closer to him.
“I am busy, you are messing everything up,” she complained, undeterred by his sensual machinations and his extremely close proximity, though her heartbeat galloped so audibly he could actually hear it, despite the waves of the ocean and the noise around them.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice so low and deep, it sounded crazy even to him. But he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand not tasting her, not being even closer to her, not touching that wonderful body.
She looked up at him, finally tearing her eyes from his chest, over which she was smearing the lotion now, and the brown eyes blinked, regarding him seriously. And he prayed that she didn’t find him wanting.
Then, unexpectedly, she leaned forward and smacked her lips low on his chest, to the left. He looked down, brow furrowed in confusion, because that’s not what he meant,
“I kissed your heart, Rogue,” she murmured, and kissed it again, in the same spot. “Now the ice is melting around it…I can feel it come alive and beating strongly!”
“So you have,” he instinctively placed his palm on his chest, trying to hold on to her kiss. She smiled at him and then, Azriel couldn’t help himself any longer. He crushed her to his chest, squeezing her so tightly, he figured that he was probably hurting her, but he couldn’t stop. His lips descended upon hers, smashing into her soft, willing mouth and he battered through her meager defences, sweeping his tongue inside and pulling her into his lungs, stealing her moan and her breath. Her arms wrapped around his head, and she gave into the kiss, clinging to him, kissing him with a hungry desperation of days lost. He pulled them down onto the blanket, so the two of them lay on their sides, in each other’s embrace, and he held her close, without breaking the kiss. Her lips were rows of plump cherries, all snuggled together and he couldn’t help but nibble and lick them, losing his very sanity in the process. He grabbed her soft, round ass cheek and thrust his hand under the bikini bottom, pulling her closer to him, his solid cock pushing into the warmth between her thighs, nestling comfortably into her wet pussy. Her hips jerked and she pulled away from his lips for a second, watching him wide eyed, as he gently drove his dick along the seam of her folds, letting her familiarise herself with it. She stroked his face, watching him, as he kneaded her bare flesh, and then went back for another kiss. She tasted of sea brine and strawberry lip gloss and she tasted like…his wife.
For a moment, he wished that theirs would be a normal courting, with dates and gradual falling in love and all the experiences that neither one of them had with each other. And he wished that he could’ve dropped on one knee in front of her and proposed properly–surprising her, making her all flustered and adorably shocked and excited. He supposed that bypassing all of that in favour of actually having her as his wife was worth it, yet still, there was something to be said for the tidings of an ordinary life.
“Well, well, looks like the Mr. and the Mrs. have patched things up!” Fenrys laughed, standing and laughing above them, dripping water all over the place and making Elain shriek.
“You know, it’s a public beach,” Ruhn reminded them, suddenly Mr. Prim and Proper. “You are basically inside of her,” he arched his brow, nodding at Azriel.
“My man,” Azriel groaned, as he released Elain just a smidge, “if you think that this is being inside of someone, it’s been a while since you’ve experience the sensation,”
Fenrys laughed and slapped Ruhn’s back.
“Ruhn here is like 9/10 in looks, and 3/10 in game!”
“Excuse me?” Ruhn whipped his head to the laughing Fen, and threw a fist in his kidney.
“Auu,” Fenrys doubled over, but couldn’t stop laughing. “Hitting me won’t change the fact that you have no game!”
“Fuck off,”
“Snapping your fingers at girls so they rush over and suck your dick isn’t ‘game’ my man,” Fenrys argued.
“Isn’t that the very definition of ‘game’?” Azriel turned on his back and tugged Elain to him, holding her close.
“No, the definition of ‘game’ is having ladies swoon over you. It’s not just pounding into them and leaving them be. That’s why you don’t date,” Fenrys shrugged and began rummaging in a large bag that they brought with them.
Ruhn crossed his tattooed arms on his naked chest and pouted,
“I do date!”
“You have never been on a date.”
Elain was laughing softly at their bickering.
“That’s why,” Fenrys took out a ball from the bag and rolled it between his shoulders and then started bouncing it on his head, “your idea of a date with Ellie was to take her to Subway!”
Elain was laughing, and so was Azriel. Fenrys had a point.
“He also took me to a museum,” she protested, “and that was very nice and romantic,”
“Exactly,” Ruhn waved his arms around.
“Nah, she is just cock blinded,” Fenrys argued. “So she thinks that Subway is an appropriate place to go for a first date,”
“I am absolutely not cock blinded!”
Just then, a few cute young girls in revealing bikinis passed by, giggling and giving both Fenrys and Ruhn very obvious and unrestrained looks of interest.
“See, I can have them,” Ruhn nodded smugly, once the women were out of earshot.
“Yeah, probably,” Fenrys kicked the ball expertly with his feet, like a footballer, before catching it with his shoulder, then his head, bouncing the ball over his back and returning back to his feet.
“Show off,” Azriel muttered, watching Elain watch Fen with amazement.
“But will they come back for more?” Fenrys now bounced the ball on his broad chest, then his abnormally sculpted abs, making all the females in his vicinity pause what they were doing and watch them. “Because, unless that’s all they are looking for, most women don’t just want the D,”
Elain rubbed her foot over Azriel’s ankle, snuggling closer to him, as she watched Fenrys definitely show off, and asked,
“And what do women want, Fen? Have you figured it out?”
“They want to be romanced,” he said simply. “And heard.”
“Hmm,” Elain hum-phed her agreement. Azriel looked down at her briefly and then kissed her hair.
Fenrys positioned the ball on his hip and then asked,
“Alright, babygirl, do you want to play ball? Volleyball? Or do you want to make out with Az?”
“Make out with Az,” Azriel immediately proposed, but Elain sat up and then eagerly exclaimed,
“Yes, I am super athletic, you know, so I think I would be really really good at volleyball!!”
Azriel and Ruhn exchanged looks, because ‘super athletic’ was not how anyone would ever describe Elain. But she was already up and jumping around Fenrys, who raised the ball up in the air and she was attempting to grab it.
Fenrys was laughing loudly at her miserable attempts, while she pushed at him aggressively and then latched onto his neck and literally began climbing him. He still managed not to let her reach the ball, but she kept climbing him, even as he started walking, wrapping his other arm around her.
“Are you coming?” Ruhn asked Azriel, who still lounged on the blanket.
“Nah, I’ll watch the great athlete from here,” he chuckled and Ruhn laughed loudly. Unlike Fenrys, he shared Azriel’s amusement at Elain’s boasting of her non-existent talents.
“So…you all good?” he asked just in case, eyeing Elain, who was riding Fen’s back, still without having gotten to the ball.
Azriel shrugged, “We’ll see. She kissed me and that’s good enough.”
Ruhn jogged towards the other two, snatching the ball away from Fen and causing a cry of outrage from Elain.
*
Azriel leaned on his elbows and watched the three of them.
As expected, Elain was ridiculously terrible at volleyball, and he was sure that she’d never played before. What she lacked in skill though, she certainly compensated in sheer enthusiasm. She totally didn’t care that she was losing the ball or hitting it way off side and often into the ocean, so that both men were drenched, having to go and fetch it from the waves. She yelled and laughed happily, and Azriel was pleased that he was able to offer her this experience. It was Ruhn’s idea and at first Azriel didn’t know if Elain would be interested, or how the whole dynamic would work, but here they were and it seemed to be going well.
Fenrys’s comments from before made him think though.
Elain was his wife, and she satisfied him plenty–and they haven’t even had sex yet. He knew deep down that he would never cheat on her and as unglamorous as it was, he was a one woman man. After Morrigan had died, it took him a long time to recover, though truthfully, he didn’t think that he ever would. Following her death, he swore off any long-term, monogamous relationships and only ever had casual flings, too terrified of pulling yet another innocent woman into his net and having her end up dead or maimed because of him.
In the past year, he was mostly fighting off his father’s demand that he marry and solidify an alliance with a powerful family. He was offered many a bride, from every family–Italians, of course, two from the Mexican cartels, the Irish mob, the Russians, the English, and Italian Italians. All were terrible choices and he was so fucking stressed for the past seven months because of these endless negotiations, which were going to directly affect the rest of his personal life, as well as the lives of his brothers, that his sex drive took a nosedive.
And now he was watching his wife, and it was like a dream.
This ethereal, beautiful, remarkable oddity was his–truly his, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Every night he got up and walked to her room, and watched her sleep. He’d sit in the chair by her bed, shivering in the cold night air, but needing to make sure that she was there, and that she was real, and that she was his.
But, he did need to think of his brothers. Both of them had voracious sexual appetites, particularly Fenrys, though Ruhn wasn’t far behind. Right now, Elain was a novelty. She was undiscovered and amazing and a nut to crack. However, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the nut did crack. Would they return to their usual ways? And how would it affect the dynamic between the four of them? How would Elain feel if she knew that Fen, her beloved Fen, of whom she couldn’t get enough, screwed her, and then went off and fucked someone else?
At least he’d made them all get tested before the wedding, to make sure his virginal wife was protected. Because she sure wouldn’t have been thinking about it, and neither would Fenrys probably, in a rush to claim her. Though he needed to give his brothers credit where it was due–they always wrapped it and were careful.
The ball bounced near him, having sailed allllll the way here from where they were playing it, right by the water. Wow. She really was bad at this!
Ruhn jogged toward their spot, and when he reached Azriel, with a moan he groaned,
“Senza parole!”
At that, Azriel barked a laugh.
“Perché?” he asked, though he kind of suspected what the answer would be, since Ruhn was speechless.
“Non sa giocare !”
Ruhn was correct, she really couldn’t play.
“I don’t know if she’d ever touched a ball?? Let alone played with one,” he was shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well,” Azriel pursed his lips, frowning, “according to Fen, she’s been playing with his.”
“Ugh, Fenrys is as delusional as she is,” Ruhn waved his hand. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what he says. I mean, she also thinks that she is a great athlete!”
He tossed the ball to Azriel and commanded, “Go, take her for a swim. I am an old man, I’ve been shot 12 times, and I have no energy for the Elain King version of volleyball!”
Azriel was laughing at him, but he got up and ran to Fenrys and Elain.
“I told you I was really good at volleyball,” she put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest.
“You are! He is wiped out,” Az took her by the hand and said, “come swim with me,” though just as soon as these words left his mouth, he waited with bated breath to hear her say what an amazing swimmer she was. Because if she did, then he’d know that she’d sink like a rock the moment she stepped into the water. But Elain waded into the ocean and dove right in, and he went after her, to make sure that she was okay. But she bobbed up to the surface and began swimming confidently and Azriel chose not to say anything.
They swam further, beyond the pale of screaming kids and housewives in ugly swimsuits. Elain flipped to her back at last, and spread her arms, soaking up the sun with a smile on her face.
“This is the best day,” she breathed.
Azreil stroked her cheek and then gently kissed her lips.
“What was your favourite day, Az?” she asked, looking at him, her smile wide and bright and content.
He took her in his arms and she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, her breasts pressing into his chest.
“I don’t mind when you call me Rogue,” he winked and she laughed.
Then she kissed him and said, “yeah? Are you a rogue?”
“I sure am, ma’am,” he affirmed, stroking her wonderful behind in his palms.
“Well, then you will be Rogue, when you do something naughty,” she promised, and he fastened his lips to her neck, sucking and kissing until she buckled in his arms and threw her head back, moaning.
“I can be very naughty with you, flower,” he warned.
“Answer the question!” she ordered, while he kissed her along the collarbones, his nose disappearing in the salty water, and he didn’t even care.
“What was a happy day for me?” he repeated thoughtfully, pondering. Recalling unhappy days was much much easier, because he’s had so many of those. But a happy day…
When I met you , he wanted to say. The night when you greeted me in that velvet cobalt dress and my world changed forever.
He didn’t say those things though and instead, shared with her,
“I was a teenager, 16-17 I think. We went to England, with Fen. And I went to see Cream , at the Royal Albert Hall,”
“Cream?”
“You know,” he began, but she interrupted him,
“Yeah, Clapton, Ginger Baker,”
“You know Cream?” that was a surprise.
She winked at him and said, “I know a lot of things,”
“Well, that’s good, because that was probably the best day of my life. Just listening to them, dancing in the aisles…Fucking glorious!”
“I am jealous! I wanna see them too!” she pouted and he smiled, squeezing her chin, “You would’ve been a baby back then. Maybe 9?”
“So what! I never get to do fun stuff,” she winced and sighed.
Azriel wrapped his palms around her head and looked at her, before he asked,
“Flower, tell me, are you on the pill?”
She shrugged and shook her head no.
“No, I am not sick!”
He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers, as they bobbed slowly in the waves.
“It’s not what I meant,” he murmured.
Finally it dawned on her and she blushed, and quickly said,
“Oh…no. No I am not. Should I be?” she asked nervously. “Should I not be? The anti-baby pill,”
He burst out laughing and repeated, “ Anti-baby pill ?”
“Nesta said I wasn’t permitted,” she explained and at that, his brow furrowed and his hazel eyes lost some of their warmth.
“What do you mean she said that?” he demanded.
Elain’s blush deepened, but he kept her close, arms caging her, as he waited for an answer.
“She said I wasn’t allowed to make that decision. That my husband would tell me,”
“What the fuck, Elain?” he growled. “It’s you body,”
She bit her lip and asked,
“Are you mad? Should I be on it?” she stroked his wet hair and said, “don’t be mad. If I have to,”
“No,” he snapped, interrupting her, “it’s not about me , Elain. It’s about us, and it’s our decision,”
She looked at him, uncertainty clouding her chocolate eyes,
“But Nesta said I have to have a baby,”
“How about we fuck Nesta?” he proposed icily. “I don’t see how it’s Nesta’s decision?”
“She said I have to give a baby to my husband to solidify the alliance. My father said the same thing,”
“Is that what you want to do?” he inquired, calmer now, though his heart was aching for her. It didn’t seem like she was ever allowed to make an independent decision, without the interference of her sister and father. Forceful interference.
No wonder she lived in her head, in the never-never land of free choice, where she could dance and sing and excel at everything! Where she was an amazing athlete, and a great card player (she wasn’t, and Ruhn vouched for that), where she drove fast cars and had the freedom to simply be, without judgment or expectations.
Timidly, she whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Elain,” he pressed, “it’s a simple question–do you want to have a child right now? With me?”
She stroked the back of his neck with her cold fingers and then answered at last,
“No. I am 24 and I don’t want to have a baby right now. But I want to have a baby with you. But I want to live and experience life and be with you, and them,” she nodded vaguely towards the beach, “and…” she thrust her face into his neck then muttered against his skin, “can I, Azriel? May I?”
He pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked at her,
“Do you forget that you are my queen?”
She shook her head.
“And do queens ask for permission?”
“No,” she said boldly.
“That’s right. Queens rule! What’s the most important piece in chess?”
“The Queen,”
“Exactly! You are the neck and I am the head. Whichever way the neck turns, the head follows. Never forget that, flower.”
“Yes,” she was nodding eagerly, eyes shining.
“We are going to go and get you an IUD, flower, and then we can fuck around for as long as we want, until we are all ready for that baby. And then we are going to make one with love, when we all want it.”
She squeezed him tightly, kissing him wildly, his face, his lips and ears and his hair, blazing with joy and complete happiness.
“Promise me one thing though,” he grinned at her, kissing her hard and bruising her already swollen lips.
“What do you want, Rogue?”
“Rogue wants to request that he no longer eats fish sticks and chicken nuggets!”
Elain smiled, pretended like she was thinking about this and then nodded,
“Okay. But you are on thin ice, buddy.”
They swam back at a slow, leisurely pace.
*
Unsurprisingly, as they approached the beach, Azriel noticed a gaggle of girls who surrounded his brothers. The girls giggled and posed, while Fenrys showed off his ball handling skills, and quite a few eager fingers were skimming over Ruhn’s massive arms and tattoos. The girls wanted attention, clearly splitting in two almost equal groups–those who favoured the brash, bright, blond Englishman with a ball, and those who fell under the charms of the dark and mysterious, handsome gangster type bad boy.
Azriel was pretty sure that they were demanding or offering phone numbers.
Just as his toes hit the soft sand beneath the water and he pulled his wife to him, he was surprised–and pleased–to watch Fenrys, of all people, laugh off another pass from an overly eager female and raise his left hand, pointing to the platinum wedding ring that he now wore. Ruhn followed his example and waved his own finger at them, clad with a black carbon ring, which, ‘shockingly’, he designed himself.
There were disappointed frowns and moans of dejection from the women, but Ruhn opened his arms and shrugged apologetically.
It was Thursday night and Azriel had a plan.
He was pretty sure that it was going to work. And maybe, eventually, it would get him laid.
He had a long and boring day, with no-joking 9 meetings! Truthfully, it was eight meetings too many, but he’d managed, though his mood worsened as the day progressed. Yet, after five, he got his second wind and began plotting. His last ‘meeting’ of the day was in fact in one of their buildings. He took one of the unmarked elevators down, walked through the basement, then down again, and punching in the code, he finally entered Ruhn’s bloody domain.
This is where Ruhn conducted his nefarious deeds–the Dungeon, as he liked to call it–contained a few cinder block rooms, where he made people talk, or punished them. Before Azriel could enter, Ruhn opened the door and greeted him with a satisfied smile.
“Got the info!” he pulled off his black gloves, which were dripping blood and said, “you don’t need to go in there–you’ll mess up your suit.”
“Okie dokie then,” Azriel didn’t argue. “Let’s go to our girl,”
The pitifully moaning man was left behind and forgotten, while Ruhn pulled out his phone eagerly and showed Azriel a photo of a cake.
Almond cake for my boys it said and Ruhn smiled, saying, “pretty girl baked! I fucking love almond cake!”
Azriel chuckled. He wasn’t aware of Ruhn’s particular passion for almond cake, but if ‘pretty girl’ baked it, it was guaranteed to be good. On their way out, Ruhn barked orders to the guys to clean up and deal with the man in the room, and Azriel was glad that his tenth meeting of the day was rather short.
They went upstairs, and while riding in the elevator, Azriel said, “We need Enalius”.
“What do we need that gluttonous chunker for?” Ruhn was barely paying attention, scrolling through his phone, which was filled with photos of Elain, in various states of undress, smiling, as he elbowed Azriel, “look”.
Elain was naked, or looked naked, holding two doughnuts over her breasts, her lips porno-pink and smeared in powdered sugar, which also resembled cum.
“Jesus fuck you two are weird,” Azriel shook his head, looking at the photo, though some part of him was a little envious, because he didn’t get pictures like these from Elain.
They came inside the office building and then Azriel called out,
“Enalius! Come here, big guy!”
“He is not gonna come,” Ruhn shrugged.
“He’ll come,” Azriel rummaged in his pocket and then called out again, “En-nali-us! Come, big boy. I got tuna treats for you! Your favourite!”
Ruhn gasped, grimacing and muttered, “tuna treats smell rank!”
“I am not asking you to eat them,”
They waited for a couple of minutes, until Ruhn pointed to the left and smiled,
“Ohh, ohh, he comin’!”
A portly white cat hurried down the hall, making all kinds of dangerous turns and skidding on the polished terrazzo floors, but he galloped towards tuna treats like a young pony.
Azriel caught him and tucked him under his arm, and fed him a treat for his arrival.
“Yaeh, like he needs more tuna treats!” Ruhn was shaking his head, while Azriel hefted the cat and they strolled to the courtyard and toward the house.
“You know, you can just fuck her,” Ruhn noted calmly. “She is your wife. Wives are supposed to fuck their husbands,”
Azriel bummed a cigarette from his brother and popped it between his lips.
As Ruhn lit it for him, he took a deep drag and then said, “I don’t want to just fuck her.”
“Then what do you want?”
Without glancing his way, Azriel said quietly, “I think I want her to love me”.
*
As soon as Ruhn opened the door, the two of them were faced with loud ruckus, and Elain flying by them, with Fenrys at her heels. He leapt over one of the sofas, trying to cut through the vast sitting room, but she made a Tom Cruise-worthy slide on the floor and rounded the corner of the dining room table. Like a sprinter, Fenrys bounded over a chair and landed belly first on the counter, but Elain screeched and scrambled away from him, escaping the reach of his long arm and screaming ‘Sucker!’
As she raced past Ruhn and Azriel, she yelled, ‘who is that?” pointing to the cat.
Azriel let Enalius jump down on the floor and Elain screamed, “time out! Time out!”
“There are no time outs!” Fenrys lunged at her, but Az stood in his way and Fenrys landed in his embrace.
“What is wrong with you two?” Ruhn moaned.
“Fuck you guys!” Fenrys cried with desperation. “If I was going to catch her, she was going to learn how to give blowies!”
By now, Elain was on the floor, petting Enalius, brushing his luxurious white fur, while huffing with indignation,
“I promised no such thing!”
“You did too!”
“I did not!”
“Did too!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Liar!”
“You are!”
“No blowies!” she shouted.
“Yes, blowies!”
Azriel ignored them and squatted at Elain’s side, tipping her chin up and then smiling at her,
“How are you, beautiful wife?”
“I am good, husband,” she smiled back and wrapped her arm around his neck, bringing him closer to her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, flower,” he whispered and lightly touched her lips with his.
Elain kissed him deeper then, wrapping her large soft lips over his and lightly licking him with the tip of her tongue. He parted his lips for her and she slipped her tongue inside, caressing his, sucking gently, her arm tightening around him. Damn right that’s how she should greet him everyday! With Enalius hissing, because he was squashed between the two of them, Azriel wrapped her in his arms tightly and lowered her on the cold marble floor, without breaking the kiss, while he cradled the back of her head in his palm, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Enalius hissed his annoyance and escaped, running towards his favourite–Fen.
“Come on, fella,” Fenrys scooped the cat and looked at Elain and Azriel who writhed on the floor, lost in their kiss. “They don’t care about your pretty innocent eyes!”
Azriel’s hand travelled under Elain’s skirt and he wrapped her leg around his hip, kissing her ravenously, absolutely giving no fucks that Ruhn and Fen, and Enalius, were right there, and lazily watching them and the show they were putting on.
“Pretty girl, do you want to clean my sword?” Ruhn called out, as he undid his belts and straps, and went to make himself a drink. “Or should I do it?”
Elain tore her mouth from Azriel’s and turned to take a look at the sword,
“Is it bloody?” she demanded, while Az kissed her cheek, slowly migrating down to her neck and lightly sucking a playful mark into her tender skin.
“Very,” Ruhn winked at her and licked his lips.
“Then I will clean it!”
This was Elain’s new favourite task–cleaning and caring for their weapons. As with the cars, she named them all, and had different wiping clothes and polishers for each type of weapon–swords, knives, guns, hammers, bats…
Azriel smiled at his little bloodthirsty wife and then lifted himself off of her and gave her his arm.
“Are we ever gonna eat?” Fenrys was pouting, seated on the sofa, with Enalius lounging in his lap, “or do I just have to watch your makeout sessions?”
“I am sorry, you were just chasing after her, looking for a blowie,” Azriel reminded him, as he took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Elain skipped to the bar and poured him a couple of fingers of whiskey, handing the heavy tumbler to him.
“Thanks, love,” he kissed her again.
“I wasn’t even looking for one,” Fenrys kept pouting, having been cruelly thrown off course and having zero chances of receiving the said blowjob. “I was going to teach her,”
“With a banana or your dick in her mouth?” Ruhn smirked, landing on the sofa too, gulping his drink down. He’d washed his hands, but the aura of blood and violence still clung to him.
“Well, not a banana,” Fenrys started, and Azriel interrupted,
“Then you did want a blowjob!”
Fenrys waved him off, while Elain plopped on the sofa next to him and started playing with Enalius.
“Is it my kitty cat?” she asked.
“No, babygirl,” Fenrys handed her the cat. “This is Cassian’s cat. He is obsessed with him. Enalius lives where the guards live, and he needs to go on a diet, because they consistently overfeed him,”
Elain laughed, wondering, “What kind of name is Enalius for a cat anyway?”
“Oh, Cassian reads all kinds of military books, and apparently Enalius was some hero who defended some mountain,”
“Aww, I love it!”
“And Cass is convinced that he is this Enalius’s descendant,”
Ruhn was laughing, adding,
“And he named his furry son after his hero.”
Azriel jogged down the stairs, taking two at a time. He had changed into gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and was barefoot.
“Do we eat?” he asked loudly, “or do we have a dance off?”
Elain stilled, wide eyed and demanded, “What dance off?”
Azriel dropped on the floor and did like a dozen pushups for shits and giggles, before announcing, “I am feeling energetic!”
“Clearly,”
“So,” he rose and stretched his arms and shoulders, “I figured we can have a dance off,”
“You are going to lose, Rogue!” she said immediately. “I am a really good dancer!”
A smile twitched in his lips and he agreed, “I know! You are an amazing dancer. That’s why I want to dance for a prize,”
She rushed to him and got on his tiptoes with excitement, bouncing up and down,
“What prize, Rogue? What’s the prize?”
Azriel put his hands on his hips and offered,
“What do you want, if you win?”
She paused the bouncing and stopped to think. She thought and thought, and finally said,
“I wanna go on a job with you!”
“No,” he said immediately.
Ruhn winced, anticipating an argument.
“You said anything !” Elain snapped.
“I didn’t,” Azriel reminded her coolly. “I asked what you wanted?”
“That’s what I want! I want to go on a job!” she pressed.
“Elain,”
“Azriel,”
“It’s not up for debate,” he insisted, while Ruhn was shaking his head behind her.
“Then I am not dancing off, and I don’t care!” she grunted, and turned on her heels, ready to walk away.
Then, Azriel’s heavy hand lay on her shoulder and he squeezed and pulled her back.
“Fine,” he gritted out.
She turned around violently, eyes sparkling, cheeks pink.
“Truly?”
“It’s going to be at my discretion,” he warned. “I’ll decide what the job will be at, but yes, if you win the dance off, then you can go on a job.”
“You are not lying?” she frowned.
“I am a man of my word.”
She squealed loudly and clapped.
“Do I get a gun?” she asked immediately.
“Don’t push it,” he cut her off.
She pouted, but didn’t press her luck.
“What are you going to get if you win? Which you will not !”
“I totally will,” he assured her confidently.
“You will not. I am a great dancer! And there is no way you’ll win!”
“Well, when I do win, you will be going on a date with me.”
She stared at him, slightly confused, but then tsked and said,
“You won’t win, so no date.”
“We’ll see,” he sang lightly.
Elain scratched her head, and asked, “Who is going to judge?”
“Well, certainly not those two,” he jerked his head toward his brothers, who were watching this battle of wills from the sofa, both scratching Enalius’s back. ”One wants a blowjob, and another wants to pound you,”
“Umm, excuse me,” Ruhn protested feebly.
Az ignored him and rubbed his chin, before proposing, “Enalius will judge. Once we are done, he can decide who was better,”
“That’s stupid,” she argued, “Enalius doesn’t understand dancing!”
“He very much does. Trust me. Now, are you up for it?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. Snapping her fingers at the brothers, she ordered, “Make sure that Enalius watches closely.”
“Of course, pretty girl,” Ruhn nodded.
“Choose a song, Fen,” Azriel ordered and Fenrys started looking on his phone, while Az suggested, “clear out and give us some room…When this goes down, it will be,”
“Yeah, hot!” Elain made some kind of a Spice Girls pose, jutting out her leg and lifting her arm.
“Alright Posh Spice!” Fenrys clapped, whistling.
Sofi Tukker’s ‘Best Friend’ came on and Azriel immediately lunged into a handstand, and jumped and twirled, leaving Elain gaping at him with amazement. But then she emerged from her stupor, and hopped on the couch, before sliding unsexily down on the floor and lifting and crossing her legs, and then crawling under the coffee table, swinging her hips to the beat.
Both Ruhn and Fenrys were huddled in the corner, moving to avoid the twirling Azriel, who threw himself on the floor and did a fancy spin on his back, while Elain, not to be left behind, jumped on the coffee table and slipped, almost falling on her ass, but recovered quickly and waving her hands, she whipped her hair dramatically, making sure that no one noticed the fall.
At that time, Azriel claimed the middle of the room and with one elegant jump, he leapt on the vacated coffee table and started rolling his hips, hand on his hips.
She bit her lip and frowned. Shit, he was good!
So she saddled a padded sofa back and proceeded to ride it like a mechanical bull, attempting to roll her hips just as sensually as freakin’ Azriel, but it looked like she was bouncing on a pogo stick instead of doing a sexy hip swirl.
Undaunted, she tried to do a cartwheel, but succeeded in pushing a bunch of books off a side table with her foot, spooking Enalius, who lurched in Fenrys’s embrace and almost jumped out, but Fen held tight, watching Elain roll on the floor as she recovered from her cartwheel. Jumping up, she shook her hips and drew her hand down and between her breasts, going into a dip a little too aggressively, and falling back, but undaunted, she did another roll on the floor, while Azriel went into a full plank, and did some crazy one arm press-ups, before shaking his ass and simulating a full sex act with the rug. That display threw her off her game, and she stared at the gyrating man in front of her, as he displayed spectacular pelvic thrusts.
The song was winding down, so she gave it her all, throwing her legs as high up as a Rockette, as she added YMCA hand signs and full jazz hands to the number. Azriel did an Elvis hip thrust with an arm windmill and then slid the length of the room on his hip, finally coming to a stop and dramatically throwing his head back. She dropped to one knee and stilled in a fancy pose, with
Remember when I said I should’ve turned the Headcanon Oh Baby into an actual fic…? Well, here we are! I decided to use @elriel-month as the opportunity to do so, as there may or may not be a part 2 coming out next week to wrap up the month celebration (can you believe we’re at the end already? ). Anyways, this has some small differences to the original HC, but follows it fairly closely. Hope you enjoy it. I truly adore this little family.
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff
Word Count: 3,080
Azriel remembered the day Elain got pregnant was the day everything in his life changed. Their morning had started normal, waking with the dawn, making love in their bed. Twice—it was always multiple rounds with them—before rising out of bed to get ready for the day. He had left to tend to some stuff for Rhys and returned to find Elain hunched in the garden.
He landed on their terrace as she was walking towards the house. A breeze shifted her hair, sending her honey and jasmine scent floating over to him. Az inhaled it deeply, and went ramrod straight, staring at her.
“Azriel?” she called out to him, head cocked to the side. “Are you quite all right?”
Shadows swarmed out of him, flitting to her side, around her protectively. They sang the news in his ear, but he already knew. He could smell the beautiful, innocent, new scent that had delicately weaved with hers. His eyes flicked over her body, looking for any changes he knew were too soon to be seen, but sought out anyways. And then he was moving towards her, dropping to his knees before her as some sappy, pathetic sound came out of the Night Court’s deadly shadowsinger.
She seemed startled by his actions but gripped him tightly, offering him comfort for whatever was wrong just the same.
“Elain,” he choked out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re pregnant.”
The Seer blinked down at him, hands settling on his shoulders. “I—what?”
His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers splaying across her lower back. “You’re pregnant, Elain. We’re going to have a baby.”
Silver lined her brown eyes, the golden strands reflecting the sun’s rays. “A baby?” she reiterated.
He nodded, rubbing his hands up and down her hips. “A baby.”
They had talked about kids but never made any official plans about actively trying to have any. The Mother, it seemed, continued to gift her favorite Archeron.
Elain threaded her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Az,” she cried, falling to her knees with him. “You’ve made me so happy.” She kissed him, tugging him down on top of her right there on the grassy pathway of her garden.
Fingers laced and the sun high in the sky, Azriel made love to his beautiful, pregnant wife in the middle of her garden.
The next month when Elain returned to Illyria with him to continue her volunteer work at Rhys and Feyre’s orphanage was an ordeal in itself. They had decided to take a month off to get themselves situated, let their family know of the news, and help prepare Azriel for overcoming that territorial nature ingrained into him.
It wasn’t easy.
The moment they landed in Devlon’s camp, he went full Illyrian—as she so kindly put it. Snarling and snapping at anyone who got too close to his Elain and the new life she then carried.
Most of the Illyrians took in her new scent and the shadowsinger’s wrathful stare and kept a healthy distance away from her. But there were a few that dared to toe that line and came out worse for wear as a result.
Elain couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the antics, muttering Illyrians under her breath as she made her way into the orphanage.
In the few years that she helped out here, she had taken to the young children, but one more so than the rest.
Little Kaden couldn’t have been more than four years old but was much smaller than the other children his age. She had suspected of malnourishment before he was brought in, something she made Azriel aware of. Kaden was incredibly shy, kept to the back of the group, and never spoke.
To anyone.
About three months into her pregnancy, still not even showing at this point, she approached the little boy, clutching a tattered book to his chest. “Hi Kaden,” she greeted, squatting down to put herself at eye level with him. “What do you have there? A book?”
A small nod was her only response, not that it had surprised her. Elain smiled at the little Illyrian. “Would you like me to read it to you?” she asked, sitting down on the floor.
The boy hesitated but eventually caved and crawled into her lap, falling asleep within a couple of minutes of her reading. Her motherly instincts had her cradling his sleeping form to her chest, carding her fingers through his hair that was as dark as her husband’s was.
That was how Azriel found his wife that afternoon when he returned to the orphanage—holding the snoozing Illyrian child, his small hand clutching the front of her dress. He looked at them fondly, seeing the beginnings of this beautiful bond between the Seer and the little one. His heart swelled with pride not just for the work his wife was doing at the orphanage, but also for giving these children a maternal love they never had.
Over the next several months, Kaden seemed to be glued to Elain’s side. Even in the presence of Azriel—the fearsome shadowsinger held a reputation even amongst the children—Kaden stuck by her side, little hand gripping the swaths of her dress. She had asked him one night if that was common in Illyrian culture, to cling that tightly to someone.
It wasn’t. He worried that Kaden appeared afraid that Elain would be taken from him and that was why he was so attached to her.
“That’s awful,” she had said over dinner. “Do you think it has anything to do with his history and how he came to the orphanage? Why he’s there?”
Azriel took a sip of his wine. “It could be. There isn’t much information on him.”
“I’ve been reading to him for months. Spending time with him. And he still won’t speak to me. I’m worried about his development. Isn’t there anything we can do? Try to find?” Her hand rubbed her rounded stomach, growing with new life.
He smiled softly at her. “Of course, my love. I’ll see what I can find. I’ll ask a couple of my sources to look into it. See what they come up with.”
Unfortunately, the information doesn’t come before Elain becomes too pregnant to continue volunteering at the orphanage.
“I’m sorry, Lady Elain, but you’re nine months pregnant and measuring ahead of schedule. Having you outside of Velaris is risky should you go into labor,” Thea, her preferred Healer had told her. “That is my recommendation, but I will leave the decision up to you and your husband.”
With that, she bid them goodbye and let them hash out their plans.
“What about Kaden?” Elain worried.
The shadowsinger’s lips curled up. He cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. “You are a good female, my love. A kind, generous, lovable, beautiful, female. And you will make the best mother—that I have no doubt.” Leaning in, he kissed her softly. “I will check in with the little one.” His thumb stroked her cheek again. “Stay here with the twins. Settle in and prepare for the baby. Let me handle what’s left on the to-do list outside of the house.”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, when you put it that way.” Elain pushed her way off the sofa, her husband instantly there to help her up. “If I can’t go back, then I need to give you something to take to Kaden,” she announced, padding her way over to the kitchen.
Though he knew Kaden would be looking for his wife, Azriel is still surprised to feel the tug on the pant leg of his leathers the next morning when he shows up at the Orphanage without Elain. He smiles, kneeling to make himself less imposing for the little Illyrian. “Hello, Kaden.”
As expected, he gets no vocal response, but he knows exactly what the child wants to know. “I’m sorry Kaden. Elain is too pregnant to come to visit right now. But she did give me something to give to you.” He pulled out the wrapped cookie, baked with love and devotion by his beautiful wife the night before.
Kaden gave him a toothy grin, took the cookie from his outstretched hand, and mumbled the smallest “Tank you,” the t-h sound not coming through.
Azriel is stunned into silence, especially when Kaden threw his arms around his neck before running off to enjoy his treat. Still kneeling, he watched as the little one disappeared, running through all the possible individuals in his head that he could ask to look into his past. He needed to know—for his sake, for his wife’s. For Kaden’s. He needed to know how he ended up here, what happened to his parents, and how they could help him.
“I can’t believe he spoke to you!” Elain complained, sitting against the headboard of their bed, arms crossed over the heavy swells of her breasts. “I’ve spent months with him. Months, Azriel! You bring him one of my cookies and he speaks!”
Azriel chuckled, striding in from the bathing chamber to their bedroom in a pair of his drawers, his golden-tan, tattooed skin on display. He crawled over her, trapping her in the strength of his arms, his body, and kissed her; let his tongue stroke hers. When he pulled back slightly, he smirked at her. “Guess he just likes me more.”
Elain’s face scrunched in disdain and she placed a palm on his chest, shoving him over to his side of the bed. “I dislike you,” she muttered.
He barked out a laugh. “Now that’s a lie and we both know it.” Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her snugly against his chest, letting her rest her belly on his stomach to offer her some relief. His beautiful wife, the mother of his child. They drifted together into a blissful sleep cocooned by his wing and the scent of their nearly arrived baby.
~~~
Two weeks later, Az was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when his shadows went wildly out of control. He flipped everything off as one curled around his ear, whispering in that singsong voice of it, Elain.
Panic erupted in him like nothing he’d ever felt before. “Elain!” he called out, running through the house.
And then he heard it—her screams of pain.
The shadowsinger tore through their home, finding her at the back in the library. She was hunched over the table there, hand gripping the side of her stomach. A small puddle of clear fluid was on the floor beneath her. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. “El,” he murmured.
She was panting heavily. “Az.” Her eyes were shining.
This was it. The baby was coming. He sent a thought to Rhys down their mental bridge that he left open for him, asking him to summon the healer, then swooped down to lift her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. He stripped her dress off her, leaving her in her shift, and then gently laid her on the bed, propping her up with pillows to make her as comfortable as possible.
Elain touched his cheek, catching his attention. “You ready to be a father,” she asked, a lovely smile growing on her face.
He gripped her hand in his fist, a watery laugh bubbling out of him. “We’re having a baby.” Leaning down, he rested his brow against hers, savoring that last moment before they became parents.
A short while later, an exhausted yet elated Elain placed a beautiful, healthy baby Illyrian girl in his arms—the Cauldron once again blessing its favorite Archeron with a relatively easy birth.
With her father’s dark hair and skin tone and her mother’s eyes, she was easily the most beautiful thing Azriel had ever seen, and he sobbed in utter joy as he held his newborn daughter for the first time. “Hello little one, my little love,” he wept to her. “Daddy loves you so damnmuch.”
Elain swiped the pad of her fingertip over her daughter’s plump cheek, letting her husband have his moment with her.
Those hazel eyes, filled with tears, love, and so much happiness gazed down at his wife. “Have you settled on a name?” he finally asked. They had gone back and forth on two for weeks now until Azriel decided that Elain could decide after the birth.
She smiled nodding, propping her chin on his bicep. “I have. Rosalie Archeron.”
“Rosalie,” he repeated, letting the name curl off his tongue. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.” Leaning down, he kissed Elain slowly, deeply. “You did so well, my love. Thank you for this. For giving me this life—this gift,” his gaze shifted back to the sleeping baby in his arms, so tiny in comparison to their size.
Elain snuggled into his side as they just stared at their daughter, peacefully dozing in her father’s presence.
They spend the next month on a babymoon at their cottage, sending both Rhys and Cassian to the orphanage to check in on Kaden, though neither was successful in their attempts.
When Elain finally returned to the orphanage, she immediately went in search of him, a pink bundle still in her arms.
The Illyrian brightened immediately at the sight of her, running to grab at her skirts.
“Hi, Kaden,” she said, kneeling in front of him to bring her daughter to his eye level. “I’ve missed you.”
But the little one’s hazel eyes are glued to the face he can see through the swath of blankets. “What’s her name?” he asked in a voice so soft that Elain almost missed it.
She’s so surprised by it that it takes her a second to answer. Once she shook off her stupor, she told him, “Kaden, this is Rosalie.” Elain tilted her daughter up a little more so he could see her better.
“Wosawie,” he repeated, his r’s sounding more like w’s.
It tugged at her heartstrings, seeing how intently he looked at her, how he tried to pronounce her name. She carefully watched as his fingers traced over the soft fabric of her blanket, not daring to touch the baby herself. From the entrance, Elain felt a shadowed figure observing them, the Night Court’s spymaster keeping watch over the intimate moment between his wife, daughter, and the little Illyrian.
Elain ruffled Kaden’s hair. “I need to get some work done if you want to help me,” she announced, setting Rosalie down in one of the cribs. A single shadow lurked beneath the swaths of blankets, Azriel’s form of protection when he was away. As she made her way to the doorway, she realized he hadn’t followed her. Turning around, Elain saw Kaden was still standing by her daughter’s crib, guarding it like her own little protector. She cocked her head to the side but left him to it.
Over the next several weeks, Kaden watched over the Seer and the shadowsinger’s daughter like it was his duty. Elain stood hip propped against the door jam as she studied them when she felt her husband appear at her side. “Do you think they’re mates?” she asked, curiously but also concerned knowing her first mate wasn’t a good match.
Azriel crossed his arms. “No, they’re too young for it to be a mate thing.”
Some underlying worry whooshed out of her at that. She looked at him. “You know something.”
His jaw feathered. “Kaden’s mother was forced into a marriage with his father. They had him early on. She ended up falling in love with another male and got pregnant. When his father found out, he killed her and the unborn child in a fit of rage.”
“Oh my god,” Elain breathed, horror coiling in her gut. That poor female. Her brown eyes found Kaden across the room; looked at him with sorrow.
“He dropped Kaden off here afterward, not wanting anything connected to his unfaithful wife,” Az continued. Tension radiated off him in waves of pure, untamed, fury.
“Was Kaden present for it? The killing of his mother?” she asked, though Elain had a feeling she already knew the answer.
“Yes, he was.” It was barely controlled rage in her husband’s tone. Shadows swirled around his ankles, the talons of his wings. “I think Kaden could smell your pregnancy and clung to you, afraid that you would be ripped from him like his mother was. And now he’s watching over Rosalie.”
The sibling he never got.
Elain was struggling not to cry—something that wasn’t a result of the hormones still raging in her body. “Is his father still alive?”
Azriel was looking at the two children when he answered, “For now.” He had to release a breath, turning to face his wife who watched the children with sorrow. “You want to take him home.” It wasn’t a question. Az had a knack for reading her so well.
She took his scarred hand in hers, looking up at his face. “Yes. He adores Rosalie and I adore him.”
The wrath on the shadowsinger’s face from earlier vanished at her words. “And I adore you,” he whispered, pulling her closer to kiss her. “Two kids. Do you think we’re ready?”
“There’s nothing we can’t do, my love,” Elain breathed, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his again, further proving just how much their love could conquer all.
“I’ll go speak with the head mother of the orphanage. Go wait with them and we’ll tell him together.”
Elain squeezed his hands. “I love you, Azriel. So much.”
“I love you, too, Elain. And I love this family. Thank you, my love, for giving me this.” He threw an arm around her waist, tugging her close to him. The Seer and the shadowsinger watched over the two children with awe on their faces and love in their hearts as their family of three became four.
Now Azriel stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching as Elain rocked their children in the large rocking chair, Kaden perched in her lap against her chest, Rosalie already fast asleep in the crook of her arm. She was reading one of their son’s favorite bedtime stories. He smiled as took in the scene in front of him. Az never thought he’d get this life. Have this beautiful, chosen family with the love of his life. And the Mother knew he would never change a thing.
~~~~~
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As I write this, it saddens me to know that this is my last @elriel-month fic. This month went by so quickly, and there was such amazing content produced from it. I want to recognize all of the fantastic people who participated in Elriel Month, both in producing content and those who consistently like, comment, reblog, share, etc. the work that is produced. It’s been such a fun month, and a huge thank you to all of those who put it on. A lot of time, effort, and work goes on behind the scenes to keep these appreciation monthsrunning. Y'all are amazing.
Now on to the fic. This is part 2 of Little One. I’ve had this fic written for months and I’m super excited to share it with you. Please let me know your thoughts!
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, some descriptions of canon-typical violence, very minor adult descriptions
Word Count: 4,127
Elain sat at their kitchen table, a gurgling Rosalie tucked in the crook of her arm, Kaden sat across from her munching on some freshly baked pastries, cured meats, and sipping on fruit juice. A cup of tea rested against her palm as she smiled down at her son who happily hummed while eating his breakfast, bare feet kicking under his chair. It was just the three of them this morning, Azriel having been called away by their High Lord for an urgent meeting at nearly the crack of dawn.
He apologized profusely for not only waking her so early but also for having to leave her, to which he made up for with his head between her legs as the sun broke the horizon, casting an orange glow into their bedroom.
“How do you like your pastries, Kaden?” she asked, readjusting her swaddled daughter who had started to fuss in her arms. Though thoroughly sated, once the shadowsinger left their bed this morning, Elain knew she wasn’t going back to sleep and decided to get up and try out a new pastry recipe for breakfast.
The little Illyrian flashed her a big, toothy grin. “I wuv them, momma!” he shouted excitedly, crumbs smeared on his pink lips.
Elain couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at being called momma by him. It had taken quite a while for Kaden to grow comfortable in his new home. He had been living with them for right around five months now and had only begun calling her “momma” a few weeks ago. He had yet to bless Azriel with a fatherly name, much to his dismay, but they both knew that with Kaden’s early childhood ordeal, his attachment to Illyrian males would be a slow one. It would come, he just needed to be patient she assured him.
They also took introducing Kaden to his new family slowly, only allowing them over one at a time so as to not overwhelm him. Meeting Elain’s sisters and Mor went easily enough, but that wasn’t where they were concerned. Though Rhys was the High Lord and half Illyrian, Kaden was clearly more intimidated by Cassian’s larger stature and permanent presence of wings. The general, hoping to bond with the little one, proceeded to sit on the floor with their son for an hour and played with the stuffed bear he brought with him. It wasn’t until Nesta showed up looking for her husband that Cassian departed, happily receiving a shy hug on his one leg before he left.
“I’m glad, sweetie. Maybe next time I make them, you can help momma? Would you like to do that?”
Little hands hit the table in excitement. “Yes! Yes, pwease momma, can we?”
She smiled down at him with so much love. “Of course, baby.” Elain propped Rosalie on her shoulder, running a soothing hand down her back as the terrace door opened and her husband entered. “Look, Kaden. Daddy’s home. Why don’t you go get dressed now so we can head out soon?”
Despite not calling Azriel “daddy” yet, both he and Elain had decided to refer to each other by paternal names in hopes that it would encourage him to make the connection as to who he was to them, and who they were to him.
He was their son.
And they were his parents.
No matter the blood or lineage, nothing would change that.
“Okay!” He wiggled from his chair and made a mad dash from the table to his bedroom as the shadowsinger approached, a soft smile on his face watching Kaden run from the kitchen.
Azriel dropped a kiss to her lips, and then one to the top of Rosalie’s head, his fingers brushing her rogue wisps of curls. “Good morning, my little love,” he whispered.
She couldn’t help but smile at their daughter’s coo of greeting. “What did Rhys need you for so early this morning?” Elain asked as they began clearing the table of the breakfast spread.
Hazel eyes met her gaze and something twisted in her stomach at the worry she saw there. “There’s been a scuffle at one of the Illyrian camps,” he stated, setting dishes in the sink.
Elain’s brows furrowed. “How bad?”
“Rhys, Cassian, and I are about to head there to handle the situation.”
The inflection of his voice told her that there was information left unsaid. “There’s something else.”
Azriel huffed, leaning back against the counter. His strong arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s the camp that Kaden’s biological father is at.”
The thought of that awful male made Elain want to find her son, cradle him in her lap, and never let go. “Do you think we should be concerned?”
He ran a scarred hand through his inky locks. “He’s a camp Lord and we are within the twenty-four-hour window of the Blood Rite, which means he has magic and can winnow. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Those golden irises blazed in fury.
“Lorenzo didn’t want anything to do with him. Why would he be making a fuss now?” It didn’t make sense. That male lost any right to claim Kaden as his son when he dropped him off at that orphanage and didn’t come back. Elain had later learned that her son had been there going on a year now and the Lord hadn’t made a peep about his child. It was both heartbreak and rage that had warred within her at that knowledge.
The shadowsinger shrugged. “Maybe word got back to him that he was adopted?”
“He left him at an orphanage!” she hissed, patting Rosalie’s back when she started to squirm.
Azriel took a step closer to her, his hand touching the back of his daughter’s head. “I think it could be about who adopted him too,” he said a bit quietly.
Elain’s heart twisted. She knew what he was hinting at. That the camp Lord wouldn’t deem Az worthy enough to raise even a child he gave up. “If he believes you unworthy to love that boy then I’ll kill him myself.”
The corner of his lips turned up briefly. “I will never stop being grateful for your devotion to me, my love.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I know you don’t like to be sidelined and that you can protect yourself, but I think you and the kids should stay away from Illyria today. I just—” a frustrated hand ran through his hair. “I can help but worry that the scuffle at the camp is to pull me away from you three at the orphanage.”
“Az,” she breathed, reaching out to grip his forearm, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his tanned, tattooed skin. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.
He ducked his head. “Of course, I’m scared. He’s my son. Our son. I will do anything to protect him, Rosalie, and you.”
Elain nodded in agreement. “We don’t take chances here, not when it comes to our children. If you think there’s a risk with the three of us going to the camps, no matter how small, we won’t go. I won’t put our babies in danger.”
Her husband let out a sigh of relief, tugging her and Rosalie into his arms. He kissed her softly, conveying all his love and emotion for her and their little family from his lips. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Feyre said she has a morning class with some younger children at the studio today and that you’re more than welcome to bring Kaden by to paint.”
“I think he would like that. Maybe we’ll take a stroll through the Rainbow and the park by the Sidra, too.”
It was rare to see the Night Court spymaster drop all his masks and show his true self. A male so full of love, joy, and devotion. But since the birth of Rosalie, and the adoption of Kaden, Elain had seen it more and more on Azriel’s face. It was her favorite look on him, one he tended to wear when he fed and rocked his little girl to sleep, or when he’d peek in on his son as he slept, checking to make sure he was okay. It was the same look he wore now.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Padded feet tore down the hallway and slid into the kitchen. Both parents turned to look at a disheveled Kaden.
“Azweel! Can you but-tin my wing slots, pweeze?”
A low chuckle rumbled from Azriel’s chest as he stepped out of her embrace. “Sure buddy, come here.”
Kaden’s undeveloped magic prevented him from being able to button the flaps of his shirt around his wings alone. He’d be able to eventually, but for now, either she or Az would have to help him, not that they minded.
“Wings up,” Azriel said, reaching underneath the membranes to snap the flaps together.
“Where are your shoes?” Elain asked, once his shirt was secured.
Little, tanned toes fluttered on the stone floor. “By the door, momma.”
Her husband helped Kaden tug on his shoes as Elain secured a now sleeping Rosalie to her chest, allowing both her arms to be free. It was a wrap that Feyre swore by when she had Nyx, and Elain was inclined to agree. Having both arms available while she ran errands was indeed a lifesaver.
After explaining the change of plans to Kaden, he reached up and took Azriel’s ring and pinky finger in his small hand. “Are you coming with us?”
Her husband knelt, “Sorry, buddy. Uncle Rhys needs daddy’s help right now.”
Kaden’s lower lip jutted out in a way that Elain knew Azriel struggled to say no to. Even now, she could see the war of his vow to his High Lord and the need to protect his son dance across his face with his desire to stay with them.
He cleared his throat. “Tell you what; as soon as I’m finished with your uncle, I’ll meet up with you guys and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. How does that sound?”
The little Illyrian brightened, and he shouted in glee.
Az tugged him to his chest, kissing him on the top of his black hair. “I’ll see you later, son. I love you.”
“I wuv you too, Azweel.”
He stood, turning back to her.
“Be safe,” Elain said lowly enough to not let Kaden overhear them.
Az nodded. “I will. I’ll come home as soon as I can.” He slid a hand to her jaw to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them, then pecked the top of Rosalie’s head. “I love you,” he whispered to them both, before vanishing into the shadows.
Elain’s stomach turned restlessly. Something about the whole situation still didn’t feel right, but she would stay strong for both her husband and her son. Swallowing her nerves, she took Kaden’s hand to make their way into the bustling streets of Velaris.
~~~
The three of them strolled through the park along the glittering waters of the Sidra River having finished their painting session earlier and a delicious lunch at a small café moments ago. Kaden’s painting was sitting at Feyre’s studio, which Elain was to go pick up in a few days once it was dry. It was mostly strokes of colors and handprints, but she still thought it was the most beautiful artwork, biased or not.
Warm rays of the sun beat down on them, bringing about a flush of color on her skin and the golden hues on both of her children’s darker complexions.
Kaden had taken off, chasing after a colorful butterfly.
Elain followed the sounds of his giggles. “Stay close, Kaden!” she called when he got a bit too far for her comfort.
Ever the good listener, he rounded back towards her, stopping to look at a small coping of rose bushes. “Look, momma! Woses!” he shouted, the r sound still coming out like a w. It was something they were working on with him.
“Yes, they are, good job!” she said back, stopping beneath a shaded tree for some much-needed cooling. Kaden had taken to her garden and she took the time to teach him the names of the various plants and flowers she was growing.
Elain placed a hand on the top of Rosalie’s head, feeling the warmth of it. It was an unusually balmy spring day, one that predicted the early onset of summer.
A blip on the horizon caught her eye. She watched it as it came closer, membranous wings flapping to send it hurtling through the sky towards her.
Elain’s head cocked as she studied the movement, so unlike her husband’s elegance, Cassian’s strong presence, or even Rhys’s regal grace. Brown eyes widened as she realized who, exactly, was flying towards her.
Towards her son.
She was moving then. “Kaden!” she screamed, “Kaden, come here, right now!”
At his mother’s distressed voice, he turned, running towards her.
With a hand holding onto the back of Rosalie, Elain cradled Kaden’s head and shoved him behind her just as the Illyrian male slammed into the ground in front of them. She felt the impact through her feet.
The park was fairly empty, but the few fae present took off at the sight of the unknown Illyrian, leaving her utterly alone with him.
Kaden’s fists gripped the skirts of her lilac dress, and though every instinct in her told her never to back down from a threat, she would not risk it with both of her children in the line of fire. Elain stepped back, moving her son with her.
The male, a version of what her son may one day have features of, savagely grinned down at her. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones with a long nose. His hair was worn similar to how Cassian kept his, but a shade or two lighter. He wasn’t as large as her husband, she realized. Az had him beat by several inches and his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. But even with that knowledge, everything about the male in front of her screamed warrior.
Dangerous.
Threat.
Her magic rumbled in her chest in response. The siphon on her ring flared once, throwing up a thin barrier between them and him—Azriel’s magic sealed away for when she needed it. The shadow that adorned her finger as a wedding band vanished.
“So,” he drawled, sounding utterly bored. “I finally get to meet the pretty, little pet that has captured the heart of the bastard-born shadowsinger.”
Elain snarled at the taunt. “Watch your tongue, Lorenzo,” she snapped.
That malicious grin grew. “And you’ve heard of me. Perfect. Hand over my son, and I’ll be on my way.”
She angled herself, shielding Kaden further behind her. “He is not your son. Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you flap your way back to where you came from.”
The smirk faded and something far deadlier took its place. “My blood runs through his veins—”
“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” she spat, vehemently. “You lost your right to claim him when you left him at that orphanage. Kaden is mine and Azriel’s son. Now and forever.”
“If you think I’m going to let you and that pathetic excuse of an Illyrian raise—”
Her blood raged like a weathered storm. One that toppled the largest of ships and swept armies into the depths of the sea. Her magic responded in kind, light bursting out of her and shoving him back a step. His eyes widened at the surprise drop she got on him. “That pathetic excuse of an Illyrian is a thousand times more of a male than you could ever dream of being. And if you say one more thing like that about my husband, I will gut you here in this park.”
The red siphon flickered on his chest in response to her attack. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” he demanded, voice edging dangerously close to levels Elain knew meant he was about to lose his temper.
She curled the corner of her mouth up. “A low-level camp lord with a single siphon? Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” She threw as much disdain in her voice as she could muster. “I think the better question is, do you know who you’re speaking to?” At his silence, she grinned. “Cauldron-blessed Seer. The Mother reincarnated. And what are you here doing? Trying to take a child away from his mother. Believe me when I say I won’t let that happen.”
“I’ll end you and your brat if need be,” he countered, taking a step forward to try and intimidate her.
But Elain had felt another’s presence as he neared. Saw in her peripheral vision the dark swath of shadows above their heads. “You hurt me or my daughter, you take my son, and I can promise you that you won’t make it out of Velaris alive.”
Before he could respond, a solid mass of muscle and wings dropped from the sky, forcing Lorenzo to take a step back lest he wanted to be smashed beneath Azriel’s large frame. Her husband’s knees bent as he landed, absorbing the impact. As he stood to his full height, his wings stretched out, blocking her and their children from the other male’s view.
The ground shook from his landing, and Elain felt Kaden push himself further into her legs. She brushed her thumb over the back of his head, hoping to soothe him with her touch.
“Get back,” Azriel growled, voice colder than what he used as the Night Court spymaster. Shadows skittered out, flitting around her and the kids, searching for any signs of injury. When they finished their assessment, they turned their attention back on Lorenzo, swirling like shards of ice, pushing him back, back, back. “Stay away from myson.”
“He is not your son.”
“We adopted him. We took him into our home. We fed him, and clothed him, and loved him. He is as much our son as our daughter is and nobody is going to take that away from us.” He took several steps forward, forcing the male backward again.
With the added space between them, Elain felt the shield in front of her reinforce itself.
“Momma,” Kaden croaked through the plaits of her skirts. Large tears filled his hazel eyes.
Her hand swept through his hair. “It’s okay, Kaden. You’re safe.” She pulled him closer to her hip, letting her other hand come down to rest protectively on his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over his dark lashes.
Kaden buried his face back into swaths of her dress.
Thunder cracked like two boulders crashing together.
Elain’s head snapped to the side to see Rhys step out of rolling darkness, decked in his full Illyrian leathers. His lack of normal attire told her he had come ready for bloodshed.
“Lorenzo,” the High Lord drawled. “You’re far from home.”
The other Illyrian, seeing he was now outnumbered, grew even more furious. “I came to take what was is mine,” he fumed, reaching back for the sword sheathed across his back.
“He is not some object for you to collect,” Az stated furiously.
“He is mine,” the Lord shot back.
Azriel tensed, glancing back at her and then looking down at Kaden who was peeking at them behind her skirts.
Elain saw his hand twitch for the legendary dagger strapped to his thigh, but he didn’t grab it.
He returned his gaze to Lorenzo. “I’m not going to end your life here, no matter that you deserve it. My son has already seen enough bloodshed in his short life because of you. I won’t add to that.”
The camp Lord just smiled, “Then you’re only going to make him as weak as you are.” And then he struck, the Illyrian metal singing as it aimed for a killing blow—decapitation.
Seven blue siphons flared. Lorenzo went flying backward, his sword ripped from his hand by shadows.
“Daddy!”
“Kaden!” Elain screamed, reaching out to try and stop the little Illyrian from running into the fray, but it was too late.
His little legs carried him fast over the ground and Azriel barely had a chance to whip around before a little body tackled him. “Daddy!” he cried again, clutching at his leathers with small fists.
A blue shield shot up, enclosing her husband and her son in a protective barrier. He wasted no time lifting Kaden into his arms, a scarred hand threading through his black tresses to hold him close.
Tiny arms went around his neck as Kaden pressed his damp face above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpered into his shoulder.
Azriel moved his hand from the back of his head to between his wings, rubbing strokes like he would when his son would wake with nightmares. “You’re not going anywhere, Kaden. Nobody is taking you from us.” He kissed the side of his head, allowing a few minutes to comfort his son.
Elain’s heart ached, wanting to go to them, but also not wanting to let a second child get too close to Lorenzo’s unhinged state again.
Azriel nodded towards her, assuring her that their son was safe.
It sent a wave of relief rushing through her.
He turned, finding Rhys hauling Lorenzo to his feet.
The disgust on the Illyrian male’s face at her husband holding their son made her hackles rise, enough so that her magic rumbled in response. She dampened it, not wanting to wake her daughter that somehow had stayed asleep through everything so far.
The look of the spymaster replaced Az’s hardened features. “I granted you a chance to walk away. I want you to remember that when your High Lord winnows you back to the camp to face him and your general. But if you come after my family again, you even have thoughts about my son, your life is forfeited.” Azriel gave his brother a curt nod, watching as the High Lord and Lorenzo winnowed away.
Shields lowered and both parents were striding for each other. Tears pricked her eyes as her husband embraced her and Rosalie with one arm, still holding Kaden in his other. Scarred fingers found her jaw, tilting her head up to bring their mouths together in a desperate kiss, needing to feel her presence. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes darting to check over their daughter.
“We’re fine,” she breathed, her hand reaching up to lay it on Kaden’s lower back, rubbing it. She glanced back up at her husband’s face, seeing a look of awe that had settled there.
He called me daddy, he mouthed at her, silver lining his eyes. He had been waiting for Kaden’s willingness to grace him with that name—had been getting antsy for it.
Elain let out a choked sound, gripping her husband’s wrist with her other hand. I know, she mouthed back.
Kaden twisted his head, propping his cheek on Azriel’s shoulder, his arms were still wrapped around his neck.
The shadowsinger dropped a kiss to his forehead as Elain let her nails scratch at his back. “I was going to suggest we go get a frozen treat after our walk,” she started, catching her son’s eyes. There was a far-off look that she didn’t like seeing. “Does that sound good to you, Kaden?”
The little Illyrian nodded, though he gave no vocal response.
It worried her, his unwillingness to speak. They had broken through so many barriers in getting him to open up after he came home with them—she hated the idea of this setting him back. “Do you want to see if daddy can join us?” she tried, seeing how he clung to his father, though she knew Az had no intentions of leaving them alone.
Not for a while.
She also knew Az was well aware of what she was trying to do too.
Kaden was silent for a moment, but both parents waited patiently, giving him the time to voice his thoughts. “Can you, daddy?” he finally whispered.
The shadowsinger visibly hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Of course, we can,” he choked out. The emotional vulnerability rang clear in his voice. Lifting Kaden higher up on his hip, Azriel took Elain’s hand in his scarred one and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.
Her heart swelled. Resting a hand on the back of a still sleeping Rosalie, the family of four strolled through the park and spent the rest of the day enjoying treats and each other’s company.
~~~~~
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Very few people had been privileged to see the small home that Azriel had purchased recently just outside the city limits. It often reminded her of the cottage that she and her sisters had lived in with their father. She would never admit to Nesta or Feyre that at times she did miss that small space, with her smallest of gardens and Feyre’s paintings on almost every surface you could touch.
Elain could always sense that Azriel, though he loved his friends, was a bit of a loner at heart. His need for the quiet and the secluded places versus the warm chaos of the circle won him over on occasion.This small cottage was just that, but never too far away from a quick trip to the House of Wind or the townhouse.
If his landing was anything but silent, she could not tell. All her senses were directed only on him. It could have been 2 seconds or 2 hours, by the time they reached the front door. This one moment in her life had entered into an infinite loop. For being such a cool and dark presence, Azriel’s eyes had never looked so warm. His hands were firm against her back, one of them only leaving her body to open what she assumed was the door.
Elain inched her face closer to his, her mind struggling between wanting to fall into another kiss or drink him in with her eyes for another hour. As if he could hear her thoughts, Azriel mouth curled to the side slowly and then touched her lips with his own. The kiss was slow and so soft. It was not until her back hit the bed that their lips broke apart.
Azriel was the one who spoke first, “I hate to break the enchantment, but this conversation is necessary.”
Elain remained silent, a grin on her face, willing for him to continue. She wanted no questions unanswered between them.
“I want to be sure, before this goes anywhere further that you completely and totally want this. I sincerely hope you do not feel any pressure from me. I can just as happily lay here and stare at your face for the rest of the day and all night.”
Her hands found their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. She twirled her fingers in their softness. He had recently cut his hair. She gently scratched the hair underneath shorn to his scalp. The hair, longer on top, almost tickling her face from his proximity. Faintly, she could feel his shiver above him when she reached a spot just below his ear.
Calmly and assuredly Elain responded, “Then be completely and totally sure. I want you. In every way you will let me have you,” shadows were curling around her arms, “Are you sure, Az?”
Those shadows, so much lighter compared to when she had first seen them all those months ago, stroke shrouded them in a canopy of quiet darkness as he hurriedly whispered Absolutely across her lips before his took them.
With one arm he moved her further up the bed. While her hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, his found her thighs. They traded one piece of clothing for another.
If he had wanted to take everything slower, she made it impossible. Her legs wrapped around him and tugged. He sunk between her legs and sighed into her mouth like he had come home. Then he started moving and she forgot how to breathe. His mouth dragged from her mouth, down her chin, stopping at her neck. Her skin tingled in all the places his hands, large and callused, were roaming. Nothing she could have imagined compared to what it felt like to so completely consumed by this male.
In that moment, with his wings spread over them, and every piece of him next to every piece of her she still could not help but think she could never be close enough. She was fulfilled and yearning for more and more and more. And when she broke against him and he fell apart over her, she could feel her soul intertwining with his like the ivy vines running along the side of the cottage.
His head buried in her hair, while they both tried to catch their breath. When he lifted his head to gaze into her eyes she murmured, “again,” Because how could only once be enough when it came to Azriel?
When the sun had set, they were both still in bed, entangled. Elain was pressed against his side, her nose hidden in the juncture of his neck.
Quietly, like the moment was too private even when they were the only ones in the cottage, Azriel said, “Every night. I want you like this every night.”
Elain could only hum in response, too comfortable to speak, until her stomach growled. She heard Azriel snort a chuckle.
With as serious a face as she could muster, Elain said, “Before I commit to anything long-term, you have to feed me.”
Azriel winced, “Then, this would be a bad time to tell you that I should have gone to the market.”
“Az, if you’re suggesting we go back to the townhouse or the House of Wind, I would rather starve.”
“Not my first choice either, Sunshine. Especially, because Nesta might try to castrate me.”
“Don’t worry. If she tries, I’ll just threaten to castrate Cassian.”
He felt a huff of laughter across her neck where his head had fallen, “Or we could just get Sevenda’s and everyone’s favorite appendages can be safe.”
Her answering smile was dazzling, “I would like that very much.”
The walk to Sevenda’s was long, but it was enjoyable. They had the luxury to be leisurely in their pace, finding happiness in each other’s company. To Elain’s delights, Azriel was the one who reached for her hand while they walked through the city. Also, to her surprise it was not Azriel that was glowering at people as they walked down the street. She may have growled at a female or two who eyed the handsome Fae next to her a little too much for her liking.
When they reached Sevenda’s they carried themselves to the bar, letting the barmaid know exactly what they wanted.
Elain was draining the last dregs of Azriel’s mug of ale after they had finished eating when she almost spewed the contents in her mouth over the bar. It was impossible to miss Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and Amren walk into Severenda’s. Azriel quickly tapped his hand on her back when he had started choking from the shock.
Having recovered, she said, “Cauldron, Az. They’re here. They’re coming towards us.” She should have known this would happen. Hiding was useless. The shadows hovering between them both were obvious and Azriel was not exactly small.
Azriel slightly bowed his head, “Of course they are.”
Rhys and Cassian had infuriated smirks on their faces, while Feyre looked like she was giddy and Amren looked like she had just found her next victim. Amren’s hand shot out smacking Cassian in the chest, her hand out. Rolling his eyes, Cassian produced coins, dropping them in her hand.
It was Cassian that spoke, throwing an arm over Elain’s shoulders, “Azriel, I must ask you. What are your intentions with our dear, sweet, little Fawn?”
With a deadpan expression Azriel looked at his brother and said, “To take her back to my place, where we will avoid you all for the foreseeable future.”
Feyre shoved Cassian aside, replacing Cassian’s arms with her own. The worst part, she did not even speak just smiled at the them and sighed. She turned to her mate and said, “I told you, I was right.”
Dismissively, he answered, “Yes, Darling. You are incredibly wise and intuitive,” then grabbed Cassian’s collar, “we will leave you two alone. For now. Have fun.”
Amren tossed the coins she had just received from Cassian onto the bar and turned to Elain, “This should cover your bill. Have fun getting to know that wingspan.” Azriel choked next to her.
Relief and mortification simultaneously washed through Elain. She sagged against Azriel as they left to sit at their own table.
Azriel spoke slowly, “That… could have been worse.” Elain did not bother responding.
Before they could return or throw any more awkward glances their way, they got up and left the restaurant.
Again, with her arm wrapped around his waist and his arm tightened around her upper body, they made their way back to down the streets.
“I know I said it as a joke in the restaurant, but would you like to stay the night? I know this is new. We’re new.”
Elain reached on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his neck. She made sure he was looking down at her when she nodded at him, “I will always choose to stay with you if you ask. I will always choose you.”
There were times when Azriel looked at her like he was bewildered by her, like he was looking at her now, “It’s terrifying how much I love you, Elain.” And when he bent down to kiss her, Elain could not help but be excited that she would be happily terrified by Azriel for the rest of her life.
This is just fabulous. Had to share it with others!
Last part! I know I said this would be 6/7 parts, but I realized I have no idea what the fuck I had planned to write in those parts, so it’s 5 instead hahah. didn’t edit the ending whoops
We’re laying in bed, and even though I should asleep like the man next to me, I can’t stop thinking about how little time we have left.
How has the past month gone by so fast?
It feels like yesterday I was standing on my stoop, watching Azriel open up and tell me things he’s since admitted he’s never told another person.
It feels like yesterday since I decided that I care for him more than I care about what he does.
But it wasn’t yesterday; it was a month ago.
A month that’s been filled with dinner dates, soft smiles, laughter, and enough tender moments my heart feels full. He’s a
The plane ticket hidden in the bottom of my purse is a constant reminder that this is just a summer fling, that it isn’t supposed to mean anything. Two weeks from now, I’m supposed to get on that flight and never look back.
Except it feels impossible.
It broke my heart when I walked away from him a month ago, and that was before he told me the details of his life.
Now I know him.
I know about the way he smiles in the morning and how he shakes his head when he laughs, like he can’t believe he’s doing so. I’ve learned how ticklish his ribs are, how he likes his coffee, his favorite type of cigarettes.
I know about his family, how his mother died giving birth to him and his father resented him from the day it happened. I know about the first man he killed, how it made him sick. I know what his tattoos really mean.
And what I never could’ve expected is that everything I’ve learned,the good andthe bad, have tied me to him in a way that feels permanent.
How am I supposed to just walk away from that?
The thought of never seeing his smile, never feeling his rough hands cup my face with a gentleness he doesn’t show the world… it feels like missing a part of me.
And it worries me enough I haven’t been able to sleep for the past two nights. Like I’m incapable of wasting a minute, I spend the nights watching him sleep.
Which is why I’m perfectly awake when he pulls me close in his sleep and whispers two words that ruin me.
Ti amo.
Tears well in my eyes as I stay perfectly still, replaying the moment over and over.
He loves me.
It’s something I knew–something we both probably knew–ever since that day in the rain, but I think we both never said it because we knew our time is limited.
It’s been in every touch, every kiss, every moment where we get caught up just staring at each other.
But I want to tell him, I haveto tell him, because however good it makes me feel to hear that from him… I know he needs it more.
He’s never been loved–never been anyone’s first choice, but he’s mine, and I want him to know. And I don’t want to be just one more person that leaves him and makes him wondering if he’ll ever be enough.
So I start to plan.
~A week later, Azriel~
Well, the worst has happened.
I love the fucking woman.
Now my biggest weakness now walks outside my body, with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair and bright smiles that light up the world.
And she’s leaving in a week.
It scares the shit out of me.
Shescares the shit out of me.
Honestly, I hadn’t even realized I was in so deep until she said the words “We’re done.”
All I remember about that day is feeling I’d been stabbed in the chest and looking down to find the blade but not seeing anything but my own hands.
One moment I was convinced I was dying, the next I was in front of her on her stoop, telling her shit I’ve never told a living soul.
It wasn’t then that I realized I love her, but that was when I realized something maybe even more important. I trust her.
Rule 3’s been thrown out the window, and I don’t even remember when it happened. Was it when she told me I’m not a monster? Or the first time I noticed the way her lips turn up every time I tell her she’s beautiful?
Or maybe it was the first time I laid eyes on her as she stumbled into that opera booth, looking like everything I never knew I wanted.
Either way, I’m about a mile up shit’s creek with no fucking paddle.
I trust her, loveher, and I’ve only known her ten weeks. Which reminds me, she’s leaving.
Which is irritating, because while the mere thought of watching her leave makes me want to level a building, she’s currently acting like nothing’s wrong.
She’s in the bathroom, putting on red lipstick in a slow, taunting way that makes me want to mess it up. I’m sitting in the chair next to my bed, trying to stay calm.
She’s watching me watch her in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away, making me suspicious.
That look… I’ve seen that look before, more times than I can count.
But never from her.
It’s a secret.
She looks like she’s hiding something.
“Something you need to tell me?” I ask, putting a hand behind my head to prop it up.
Nodding, she comes to stand at the foot of the bed. “Yep.”
I raise a brow. “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you tonight if you meet me for dinner.”
Suspicion and curiosity make me ask, “Where?”
“La Rosa,” she responds casually, making me narrow my eyes. It’s outside of the city a bit, a small place on the coast I’ve never had an interest in owning or visiting.
“I’ve never been there.”
“New experiences are good for the soul,” she quips, sliding on her sandals. “Just say you’ll meet me.”
There’s a hint of nerves in her voice, so I say, “Of course, dolce mia.”
She smiles, victorious. Then she’s bounding over, taking my face between her palms, and pressing her mouth to mine.
Before I can ask what she’s up to, she’s out the door, calling over her shoulder, “Seven o'clock! I’ll meet you there.”
I get up and slide my jacket on, slipping my hand in the pocket and toying with the piece of metal I’ve been carrying around for a month.
Sighing, I take it out and throw it on the counter, knowing that if this life has taught me one thing, it’s that it won’t make a difference.
~
When seven o'clock rolls around, I’m seated at a table, frowning at my surroundings.
I’ve definitely never been here.
No man has, I’m willing to bet. At least not on his own volition.
There are flowers everywhere. Spilling out of vases, growing on the vines surrounding the open windows, lining the doors that are open to the patio out back.
Besides that, I guess the place isn’t too bad, actually. The lights are soft, the weather’s nice, and by the smells coming from tables around me, the food will be good.
Elain’s running a few minutes late, but she called and told me to go ahead and order.
Apparently, she’s come here before, because she told me what to order her. Odd.
A few minutes after I relay the information to the waitress, I spot her coming in the front door and wave her over.
She’s a little flushed, her eyes are bright, and the smile on her face gives no doubt she’s excited.
I stand up when she reaches me, kiss her, then ask, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Did you order?”
“Yeah. Have you been here before or something?”
She nods, diverting her eyes down and to the right in the classic tell of a lie.
I sigh, frustration getting the better of me. “Elain, what are you hiding from me?”
Before she can answer, the food comes. Two plates of pasta are set in front of us, and I know instantly I was right about the food being good.
But no matter how good it looks, there’s only one thing on my mind.
“Elain.”
She waves a hand. “Just eat, Azriel. I promise I’ll tell you in like five minutes.”
“Why not just tell me now?”
“It’s more dramatic this way,” she explains, making me sigh again.
Women.
She’s going to give me a fucking heart attack with her drama.
A little aggressively, I stab the fork in the pasta, taking a huge bite.
I feel her eyes on me, watching me eat, but I act like I don’t notice, mentally counting down the seconds until five minutes is up.
I’m at 263 when she asks, “Do you like it?”
“What?”
Rolling her eyes, she gestures to the plate in front of me. “Do you like it?”
“It’s good,” I reply honestly, a little surprised. I’ve lived here long enough to know the best places to eat, and I’ve never heard more than a decent review about this place.
“I’m glad,” she says, full lips tilting up. “Since I made it.”
I don’t get it. Did she bring it with her? Is that why she was late?
Also, why did we come to a restaurant if she was going to cook?
“What? Why?”
She tilts her head, smile growing.
Right as my still-counting subconscious gets to five minutes, she explains, “Because I work here.”
~Elain~
He stares at me, bite of pasta halfway between his mouth and the plate.
I’ve been almost bursting at the seems the past four days trying to keep the secret.
I mean, given what the man does for a living, I didn’t think I’d make it more than an hour. And while he’s definitely been suspicious, I made it.
“What?” he finally asks, dark brows furrowing as he leans in.
“I have a lot to say,” I tell him. “So don’t interrupt me.”
His eyes narrow like they always do when I tell him what to do, but I ignore it and start listing off the different secrets I’ve been keeping.
I start with the most important.
“First, I love you.”
The fork clangs against the plate as he drops it.
I smile, biting my lip and trying not to cry at the look on his face.
“I think I have since that first night when we danced in the bar. Or maybe when you took me to the beach. I don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, I say, “I tried to stop, when I found out… everything. But it was useless, because I was as in love with you then as I am now.”
He shakes his head, almost like he’s panicked, but I keep going.
“I love you, Azriel. I want to be with you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And I can’t bear the thought of leaving you. I don’t want to.”
Gesturing around us, I say, “I got a job here, and my landlord said she can draw up a lease. And before you say anything, I’m not giving anything up. The past months have felt like paradise, and I love it here. I liked my job in New York, but it wasn’t anything I’ll miss.”
His eyes are so wide, it’d be a little funny if I wasn’t so serious.
I take a sip of wine and try to puta brave face on. A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to say, “But we never talked about anything long term, so if this isn’t what you want… I’ll go. I promise. I just wanted you to know that you’re… it for me. You’re everything to me. I choose you.”
He shudders, closing his eyes, and I take in how tight his jaw is, how close he seems to coming unraveled.
Is he freaking out? I definitely am.
After a few moments, I realize he’s still waiting on me, so I laugh and say, “You can talk now.”
He doesn’t.
He just opens his eyes and stares at me, the shock in his gaze clear to read.
Nerves blossom. I was so sure he’d be happy, but maybe he isn’t ready. Voice turning shaky, I ask, “Is this what you want?”
Slowly, he shakes his head, but before I can panic, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, holding it out between us. “I want you to live with me, not at the townhouse.”
All the nerves fly out the door, and I laugh, not quite able to believe it.
How long has he been carrying this around?
The tears finally spilling over as I take the key from him. “Okay.”
He brushes my cheeks off with his thumb, looking at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
Azriel’s quiet for a moment, and I give him time, knowing that whatever he wants to say is hard for him.
“Ti amo. Mi spaventa così tanto.”
I love you. So much is scares me.
“You? Scared? I don’t believe it.”
I’m trying to joke and lighten the mood, but he’s completely serious as he shakes his head, cupping my jaw with his hand. “You scare the shit out of me, Elain.”
My heart clenches, and I fight a fresh wave of tears as I lean into his touch. “You scare me, too.”
“But you’re not leaving.”
It’s said like a hopeful promise, like something he needs to hear again and again to accept it’s true.
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving,” I whisper.
He finally smiles, that big smile I’m positive he only gives me, and leans over the table to kiss me softly. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He kisses me again, and I slide my hands in his hair and kiss him back, feeling like everything before now has led up to this. He’s the grand finale, the one I didn’t know I was waiting for.
I pull back a little, just far enough to see his reaction as I whisper, “Meet me in the bathroom.”
His eyes flare and his mouth drops open, and I laugh as I get up from my seat and try to walk nonchalantly towards the back.
This hadn’t been part of the plan, but I’ve told him I love him, and now… I want to prove it.
Plus, I don’t know what it is about him, but he feeds the adventurous side of me like nothing else.
I can feel him watching me from the table as I make my way across the restaurant.
Thankfully, the place is busy tonight, so I don’t think anyone notices when, as soon as I shut the bathroom door, he rises to follow me.
A moment later, he slips in with me, taking in the dim lights, closed stall, low music. He flips the lock, and it’s like it snaps the thread between us, descending us into chaos.
He’s on me in a second, arms wrapping around me and lifting me. My legs bracket his hips as he pushes me up against the wall and traps my hands above my head.
“Say it again,” he demands breathlessly, eyes bright and full of heat.
I nip his lower lip, then kiss it softly. “I love you, Azriel.”
His mouth crashes into mine, unrestrained and demanding and deep enough I lose myself in him.
My hands are in his hair, his are pushing up the hem of my dress.
There’s a brief moment of adjusting, and then he’s easing into me. His eyes are on me, his lips are parted, and as I tighten around him, he makes a deep rumbling sound. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re mine,” I tell him, tilting my hips to take him deeper. “And I’m yours.”
He shudders, eyes going black. “You’re mine.”
His hips claim mine, then, pulling out and thrusting back in, moving me up the wall. I tighten my fingers in his hair as he hits a spot deep inside me, and he groans.
Moving his hands to my hips, he brings me down as he thrusts up, and I moan, then slap a hand over my mouth.
Iworkhere, for God’s sake.
“This is not very professional,” I mutter, smiling when his lips twitch.
“No,” he agrees, thrusting into me harder. “And it’s definitely inappropriate.”
I clamp my lips together, pressing my hand to my mouth again to stifle the involuntary whimper I let out.
Azriel grins, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth and whispering, “You might need to go to confessional again.”
Rolling my eyes, I move my hands to his shoulders, then lean in to lick up the column of his neck. “Between the two of us, I’d say you’re more likely to end up on your knees tonight.”
He laughs, tugging my head back to kiss me again. His tongue meets mine in a wet, deep slide that makes me shiver. His hips brush mine. His hands hold me just right, keeping me against him.
Pulling back, he brushes his lips over mine and whispers, “I love you.”
The easy, conversational pace is abandoned, and we’re moving harder against each other, the only sounds our labored breathing and muffled moans.
He brings a hand to cover my mouth, and I cover his with mine, and we’re in tandem, both of us lost in the other.
He comes when I do, driving deeply into me and stilling, his head buried in my neck.
We spend a while like that, and when I eventually slide down the wall, we take our time adjusting our clothes. He keeps stopping me to kiss my shoulder or brow, and I waste too much time just looking at him.
When we’re both ready, he extends a hand and grins. “Let’s go home.”
I smile, unable to help it. “Let’s go home.”
_____________________________________________
Thank you for reading! This is the last part, although I might do an epilogue one day (don’t hold your breath lol).
That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? That’s what they say in movies, I think. Does it count if it isn’t in Italian?
I rub a hand across my forehead, shaking my head at myself. I’m not even religious. I haven’t been to church since I grew out of the pastel pink Easter dress my mother used to love forcing me into.
Yet here I am, sitting in a dark, hot box, attempting to confess my sins.
I think I’m losing it.
Five days with no Azriel, and I’m turning to religion.
The dark shadow on the other side of the confessional doesn’t help me in the slightest or even tell me if I’m doing this right. He just sits in silence and waits for me to pour my heart and soul out.
So I say, in an embarrassingly shaky tone, “Well, I… I’ve been sleeping with someone.”
That gets me a low hm.
“Someone I shouldn’t have.” Before he can get the wrong idea, I blurt, “He’s not married or anything. At least, I don’t think so. God, what if he’s married? Oh, I probably shouldn’t say God’s name in vain in church. Sorry.”
Father gives a deep sigh, and I take that to mean I should hurry up. “Anyway, he’s just… not a good guy. I won’t confess his sins for him, but believe me, he’s committed his fair share.”
Still nothing.
I think he’s waiting for the actual confessionpart of this thing.
So I say the words I’ve been trying to fight for the last five days. “I told him I don’t want to see him anymore, but I don’t think… I don’t think that’s really true.”
Anotherhm, this time more thoughtful.
“I keep thinking about him, all the time. Even though I know it’s wrong. He’s like a tumor.”
There’s a huff, like he’s amused.
“I’m worried I’m not a good enough person to say away from him,” I murmur quietly, which is the understatement of the century.
IknowI’m not, which is why I’m here.
I’m pre-confessing, because if the way Azriel’s been on my mind the past couple of days is any indication, it’s only a matter of time before I get desperate enough to call him and tell him his… occupation doesn’t change things.
There’s a bit of a pause, like he doesn’t know how to reply, and then for the first time, I get an actual response. In a very thick, very German accent, the… priest? replies, “His sins are not yours.”
He’s taking the stance opposite of what I thought he would, but that’s a good point. Good enough I don’t bother asking myself why a German priest is in an Italian church.
“True, but if I stay with him, aren’t I condoning them? Don’t they become mine?”
“His sins are not yours,” he repeats.
Helpful.
I’m about to ask for a little bit of actual advice when he asks, “Do you regret it?”
“No,” I answer almost immediately, knowing that no matter how much I hate what Azriel does, I could never regret the time I spent with him.
He’s silent, probably thinking of my punishment for being such a scheming harlot.
I’ll likely have to do a million hail Mary’s once this conversation is over.
But instead of telling me I’m going to hell, he surprises me by asking, “So you plan to sleep with him again?”
There was something familiar about the tone of his voice, but I don’t know anyone German, so I don’t ponder it for long. His question doesn’t require pondering, either.
“No,” I answered with fake certainty, even though the thought of never having Azriel’s calloused hands all over me makes me unspeakably sad.
“Are you sure? Forgiveness from the Lord requires… repentance.”
I sigh at that, hesitating even though I shouldn’t. “I’m sure. No matter how much I want to or think about it, I can’t.”
“I think you should.”
My mouth drops open, not only because the words he just said or the sudden disappearance of his accent, but because the screen separating me from the man on the other side of the confessional drops, revealing the bane of all my problems.
Azriel sticks a cigarette between his full lips, lights it casually, and smiles the devil’s smile.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” I demand, barely resisting the urge to fling myself over to his side and strangle him.
“Listening to a very insincere confession.” Even though I narrow my eyes in the most threatening gesture I can make, he continues, “You know, if you feel like you need punishing, I can always take you over my knee.”
A strange tingle shoots through me and makes my spin straighten, but I ignore it and glare at him harder.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I look him over, ignoring how good it is to see him and asking, “Aren’t you worried you’re going to catch on fire?”
He grins, blowing smoke around him. “If I’m the devil, does that make you my angel?”
“I’m not your anything.”
He just watches me and smokes his cigarette, something I’m sure is frowned upon in church. Probably right beneath sneaking into a private confessional.
“Are you even religious?”
My lips twitch as I lie and say, “Recently converted.”
Azriel braces his arms in the small hole of the wall between us, looking unconvinced. “Yeah? What are the Ten Commandments?”
My head tilts as my eyes narrow. “I don’t know them all, but I have to believe one is about not killing people.”
“Number six,” he tells me, surprising me with the fact that he knows that. “You know, there’s also one about not stealing. And I happen to know for a fact you stole my sunglasses that day we were on the beach.”
Comparing those two sins is so ridiculous, a laugh bubbles out of me. He killed someone, yet by his logic I’m just as bad a sinner.
I knew this religion thing wasn’t for me.
“Why are you here, Azriel?” I ask, trying to get back to normal footing.
He takes so long to respond, I’m almost convinced he isn’t even going to bother. He runs a hand across his jaw, through his hair. Looks around at the plain little booth. Smokes some more.
When I’m about to give up and just leave, he says quietly, “I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”
My heart starts to pick up pace. “Yeah?”
I know I shouldn’t encourage this conversation, but hearing that he thinks about me the way I think about him… it means something to me.
“Yeah,” he agrees after a few moments, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear.
It falls silent, and something grows in the silence, building between us until all I’m aware of are the small sweeps of his thumb against my cheekbone.
I don’t know if he pulls me forward or if I take the step myself, but suddenly I’m right in front of him, our faces lined up through the small hole in the wall.
There’s a Bible in a little cubby that’s pressing into my stomach, and I’m sure there’s no better sign to resist sin than literal scripture digging into you, but I can’t bring myself to care.
It’s been less than a week without him, but it’s like my body is touched starved. The single inch where we’re connected is a live wire, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out what we were even talking about.
Releasing a tense breath that sounds a whole lot like relief, he slides his hand to the nape of my neck and leans his head to rest against mine.
“Fuck,” he says, like it’s an all-encompassing statement and not a single word. “Come back to me, carro.”
He smells like rain and smoke and something dangerous I never understood until now, and it’s so intoxicating I almost lose myself. Brushing my nose against his, I breathe him in over and over, never getting used to it. “You want me?”
A nod, so small it’s almost imperceptible. But it’s there, and we both know it.
Making sure my lips brush his, I lean in and whisper, “Then begfor me.”
He goes still, tension coming to rest in the hands still gripping my nape.
See, I realized something in the five days since I last saw him.
He wants me to say that him being in the mafia doesn’t change anything, confess to lying about it in the first place, and beg him to fuck me, yet hasn’t even apologized for lying to me in the first place.
Sure, I lied, but hegot us in this mess, not me.
So he gets to beg.
Azriel pulls back, and there’s such dark depths in his eyes that I shiver. “What did you just say?”
I don’t respond, because I don’t need to. We both know he heard me.
He releases me with a huff, stepping back and practically growling, “No.”
Raising an eyebrow, I challenge, “Why is it different? You want me to confess to lying about saying that what you do changes things? Fine. I confess, Azriel. I have feelings for you that, whether or not I like it, outweigh the moral part of me that tells me to run in the opposite direction.”
Despite how casually I say it, that realization almost breaks me to admit.
I realized it when he popped up in this booth, looking every bit the villain and completely making my day. Wrong or not, he makes me happy.
“You have my confession, but you know what? I want yours.”
He shakes his head, seeming to not understand, so I elaborate. “I want you to actually apologize for lying to me. I want you to admit that you put me in an impossiblesituation, then acted like it wasn’t a big deal. And I want you to begfor my forgiveness.”
The muscles in his jaw are clenched so hard I don’t think he can even open his mouth, but he manages to say, “That will never happen.”
Something inside my chest collapses, so suddenly and painfully I can’t hardly breathe. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it until now, how much it actually meant to me.
The fact that he won’t make that compromise for me threatens to send my emotions scattering, so I stiffen my spine and force the words out.
“Then we’re done.”
He smacks a hand against the wall of the booth but doesn’t say anything, not even as I fling open the door and flee.
I rush through the thankfully empty pews and outside, right into a downpour.
The urge to laugh rises as I become instantly soaked, my dress sticking to me and my hair flattening to my head. It isn’t funny, and would be considered normal any other time or place, but we’ve had a month of paradise without a single rainy day.
Until right now. It’s almost like the sky’s mood matches mine.
Practically running, I make my way towards the townhouse. At least it’s close, I think as I hurry. If it was far away I’d probably collapse in a side alley and just let the rain wash me away.
When I reach the door, unlocking it in a hurry, I feel someone walk up behind me. Stepping inside, I turn to see Azriel staring down at me.
Rain washes over the planes of his face, and while I probably look like a wet rat, he looks like something out of a movie.
“Why do you need this?” he asks, the anger thick in his voice.
“Why do you?”
He doesn’t make a move to come in, practically ignoring the rain as he asks in a dry tone, “You mean why do I need to hear that what I do and have done–that this fucking life I was forced into–doesn’t make me a monster?”
“Azriel-”
“Because you’re the one person in this entire goddamn world who knows me.”
I give him a look that conveys how little I believe that.
I don’t know anything about him. That’s the problem.
He shakes his head. “You know who I could’vebeen, Elain.”
It’s my turn to shake my head, because I don’t understand.
He seems to make the decision of whether or not to tell me at once, saying, “Who I could’ve been if I hadn’t been born into a sadistic fucking family who beat the shit out of me for existing.”
Raw anguish lines his voice, and I stop breathing, stop thinking.
“You know who I wanted to be, who I dreamed of being, when I was in the hospital with a fractured skull or in lockup for stealing a car to run away.” He throws a hand out, yelling, “I didn’t ask for this shit! I wanted to be who I am with you. But when someone came and said they could get me out of the life I knew would kill me, I fucking said yes. And I don’t regret it.”
Tears are streaming down my face, mixing with the rain bouncing off the door. I never knew. “Azriel…”
“The day my older brother took a hammer to my hands because I scratched his CD was the last time I apologized. And I haven’t begged for anything since I was old enough to know better.”
There’s a set to his jaw, a hardness in his body I’ve never seen. “But none of this shit even matters, and it isn’t an excuse, because you’re right.”
The rain comes somehow harder, almost drowning us, but I’m rooted to this spot.
Especially as Azriel slowly lowers himself to his knees, right there on the threshold of the door.
“I’m sorry, Elain. I’m sorry I lied to you and put you in this position and acted like an ass about it. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I shake my head again, whispering, “Stop.”
I can’t bear for him to be like this after hearing what he said, can’t bear to be the reason for the strain in his voice.
He doesn’t listen. Just looks up at me with such open, deep eyes I almost choke. “Please.”
A sob escapes me as I make the decision instantly, falling to my knees and throwing myself at him.
He grunts as we collide, but I capture the sound with my mouth, seeming to take him off guard as I kiss him without abandon.
His hair is like wet silk between my fingers, and I realize the door’s still open and that rain is still getting everywhere, but I don’t care about anything but him.
His hands grip my waist, holding me steady, as I kiss him until I’m breathless, until I know he’ll believe me.
“You’re not a monster,” I tell him, pulling back to palm either side of his face. “I know you, and I know you’re not a monster.”
He leans in again, but I keep going, knowing that he needs to hear this as much as I need to say it.
“I decided before I saw you today that what you do doesn’t change things for me. I just want you.”
The knowledge of how deep we’re in this settles between us, growing into something undeniable as we stare at each other.
This time, when he kisses me again, I don’t stop him.
We fall over, him landing on top of me, and roll until we’re far enough inside that he can kick the door closed.
It’s silent besides the sound of our breathing, the rain pounding against the windows, and the deep, wet slide of our mouths coming together.
I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls back long enough to rip it off. His skin’s hot compared to the cool water all over us, and I’m dizzy on the feel of him. I feel like I can’t get enough, can’t have him fast enough.
His hands are rough against me, tilting my head where he wants it, gripping my hips, putting my arms above my head.
Reaching between us, he fists the thin fabric of my dress, and then there’s a ripping sound I don’t even care to protest because now his skin’s against mine, and I don’t think anything has felt better.
A thumb on my jaw pushes my head to the side, and then his mouth is on my neck and he’s kissing me over the spot where my pulse flutters as proof of my pounding heart.
I tug his belt open, and he toes his boots off, pulling back to finish getting rid of his jeans then settling back over me.
I tilt my hips up, not able to take the wait anymore, but he has more self control, taking the time to kiss my throat, my jaw, the tip of my nose.
“Please,” I beg. “I need you. Please, Azriel.”
He’s inside me with the next breath, filling me so deeply I can’t think.
“Merda,” he curses, forehead dropping to mine. “Questa figa e stata fatta per me.”
The dirty words just make me burn hotter.
Or maybe it’s the fact that I have one of the most dangerous men in the world between my thighs, waxing poetic about sex with me.
His teeth tug on my earlobe, and I arch up into him, making him sink deeper in me.
“Dimmi- shit,” Azriel chuckles, almost like he didn’t realize he wasn’t speaking English. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
Knowing that won’t happen, I nod and open my mouth to ask him to hurry up with it.
But I never get the chance, because the next second, he’s pulling out and slamming into me so hard I slide across the floor. I don’t get far, because one arm goes under my head to grip my shoulder and the other lifts my leg to keep it in place.
And then he starts to move.
His hips hit mine hard enough to bruise, his mouth is demanding against mine, and his grip on my shoulder is unshakeable. It’s rough and restrictive and something I never knew I needed.
He’s turned me into this wanton, thoughtless thing, and all I can do is burn and burn and pray I survive.
A moan escapes me with every thrust, almost like he’s pushing them out of me, and I know I’m loud enough the sweet old lady next door will hear, but I can’t stop.
“You have to be quiet, or this’ll be over before I’m ready,” he warns in a breathy voice that makes it even harder to keep quiet.
It gets worse as he starts to repeatedly hit the spot only he’s been able to find, like he’s in perfect sync with my body.
“Fuck, Azriel,” I moan, losing my mind at how good he feels against me.
I try to fight it off, try to prolong this longer, but one of his hands slips to my throat. And as he lightly squeezes the sides, the blood rushes through me in a heady current, I come so hard I almost pass out.
Shaking beneath him, I release a loud moan he covers my mouth to stifle. When he pulls it away, I see slight indentations and realize I must’ve bit him.
I make a note to apologize later. Even if the way his eyes go almost black tells me he isn’t mad about it.
I’m almost comatose, but he isn’t even finished. He just grits his teeth, pauses to throw my leg over his shoulder, and keeps going.
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and trying to keep him exactly where he is, doing exactly what he’s doing.
Thunder breaks outside, but it isn’t loud enough to mask the sound of us coming together or the moans he’s no longer masking.
Despite my body being sensitized and exhaused, when he cups my cheek, kisses me softly, and says, “Come with me,” I do.
He groans, hips churning messily against mine, as release finds us both. My legs shake, squeeze his waist like a vice, then go limp.
All of me does, actually. I’m boneless and pliant and couldn’t move if I was paid to.
Azriel isn’t much better off, collapsing on top of me and suffocating me with his warm weight.
“Holy shit,” I whisper after a moment, smiling at the amused huff he lets out.
Air starts to become hard to find, so he rolls off me, then sits to lean his back against the door.
“We’re on the floor,” he says, almost like he didn’t even notice before now.
I shrug, not caring in the slightest. “I can’t move, so we’re going to have to stay here.”
He chuckles, something entirely male in his eyes as he looks at me. My cheeks grow warm as he looks at the complete mess at apex of my thighs and murmurs, “Fuck, that’s pretty.”
“You are so inappropriate,” I mumble, covering my face with my hands.
Nodding his agreement, he grips my hips and practically drags me on top of him. “You like it, though,” he teases, putting a sweet kiss to my lips.
“I do,” I admit, kissing him again.
Something brushes against my thigh, and I look down between us, then raise a brow. I knew he had stamina, but this is…
“Consider it making up for lost time.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, and he smiles, one of those full, beautiful smiles I’m helpless to resist.
I know everything’s complicated now and I know he does horrible things, but when he smiles at me like that, it’s hard to care about anything except how happy he makes me. Right or wrong, good or bad, there’s something between us I’m powerless against.
“It’s been five days,” I remind him, running my hands up his chest and into his hair. “Better get started.”
~
The floor. The wall. The stairs. The shower.
He gives me a tour of my own house, fucking me on every inch of available space.
I’m just as much to blame, I guess. Any time he tries to do anything besides me, I tug him back, unable to stop myself.
He’s the drug I’m happily overdosing on, and fuck, does it feel good.
When we finally end up in bed hours later, I expect to immediately pass out. He definitely looks tired, and I’m sure I’m not much better, considering the amount of… activity my body’s been through tonight.
But despite the lingering exhaustion, we lay there, just looking at each other.
There’s still so much left unsaid, so many unanswered questions and untold stories, but I don’t want to ruin the moment by talking, much less asking questions, so I stay quiet.
His lips twitch, almost like he can see what I’m thinking.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he murmurs a second later, proving that thought correct. “I won’t lie to you again.”
I nod, thinking of what I want to ask first.
I also think about the pain in his eyes earlier, when he gave me that piece of himself. I don’t ever want to be the cause of that pain, so I ask something I assume is unrelated.
“Who was the man I hit with the wine bottle?”
The corner of his lips tip up. “That was Luca. I guess you could say he’s my friend, but more officially he’s my Underboss. We worked our way up through the ranks together.”
“You’ve known him a long time then?”
He nods, propping his head up with an arm. “We were in prison together.”
Questions bloom, but I don’t want to pry, so-
“I was sentenced to three years for grand theft auto and another for assaulting the cop who booked me. Luca was in for intent to sell.”
At my blank look, he says, “Drugs, Elain.”
“Oh.” I feel stupid as hell, so I deflect by asking, “You were cellmates?”
“No,” he laughs, running a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “But after he saved my ass from getting jumped one day, we stuck together.”
It’s quiet until I ask, “How’d you get out?”
“Well, this was in Chicago-”
My eyes grow wide as I cut him off. “You’re from Chicago? You’re American?”
He laughs at the disbelief in my voice, nodding while my brain explodes. He’d never told me, but I’d just assumed he was born in Sicily.
“Anyway, this was in Chicago. I was seventeen, but got tried as an adult because of my record with juvie. I spent two years inside, then the Capo there just showed up one day and told me he could get me out.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” he says, rolling on his back and looking up at the ceiling. “I remember it like it happened yesterday. He’s only three years older than me, but he was wearing a two-thousand dollar suit and had everything I didn’t. He said he needed someone to work for him, to do the shit no one wanted to.”
Sliding closer, I prop my head up with a hand. “And that was you?”
“He said he looked at my records and that I had potential.” He laughs, almost unbelieving. “I was nothing more than an angry fuckup from the south side, and he said I had potential. He said he knew who my father and brothers were and could help me get revenge. I knew it was crazy, but I said yes. On the condition Luca got out, too.”
My eyebrows go up as he says, “We were out the next day.”
“Powerful friends,” I mutter.
He toys with the ends of my hair, slight smile on his face.
“I worked in Chicago for about a year, then was sent here. He said he needed someone over here he could trust. My family’s Italian, so I knew the language, and with my baggage, I wanted out of the city anyway.” He takes a deep breath, running his hand down my arm. “So I moved here and worked my way up.”
He picks my hand up, measuring the difference between our palms.
“And now you’re Capo.”
“Mmhm.”
Tugging my hand, he pulls me closer, burying his head in my neck and inhaling.
“I have the Capo of the Sicilian Mafia in my bed,” I remark almost unbelievingly, making him laugh.
He shifts to lay down, holding me in his arms, and I marvel at how small and delicate I feel with him. My head’s against his chest, and he’s curled around me, making me sigh.
“The Capo is a snuggler,” I murmur, running my hands across the smooth expanse of his back and smiling when he makes a low sound of contentment.
“I haven’t slept the past five days,” he tells me. “I couldn’t sleep without you in my bed. You have no idea how much it pissed me off at the time.”
Laughing, I snuggle closer. He’s so big and warm, and I’m so tired.
Eyes struggling to stay open, I realize I never told him something.
“You’re forgiven,” I whisper.
I feel his lips on my brow, kissing me so gently my heart clenches. And I swear I hear him say something, but I’m soo tired to stay awake to hear it.
I fall asleep in his arms, and even though he’s dangerous and everything I should hate, it’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt.
I’ve said the past month with him has felt like a fairy tale, and that’s true.
Maybe just not with the knight in shining armor, but with the villaininstead.
God help yall this shit was a rollercoaster to write
________________________________________________
~Elain~
For a second, no one breathes, let alone moves.
Azriel’s hands are steady as he grips the gun, body lined with tension, eyes so cold I shiver. The barrel’s close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, it’d brush my forehead.
The man next to him holds a cigarette halfway to his mouth, looking at me like he’s never seen a woman before and has absolutely no idea what to do.
And me? I’m frozen in place, horror rushing through my veins and mixing with the shock to create a nauseating cocktail I’m not sure I’ll survive.
It’s the brutalized man in the chair slumping over and hitting the floor with a loud thud that finally snaps us out of our momentary haze.
Azriel blinks and throws the gun to the side so hard it makes a dent in the wall, the stranger drops his cigarette and reaches for me, and I sprint like my fucking life depends on it. Because at this point, I’m pretty sure it might.
What the hell did I walk into?
I race up the stairs toward the garage, where less than a minute ago, I’d heard Azriel’s voice and gone to surprise him. By the look on his face when he turned around, I’d at least succeeded in that.
I can practically feelthe man behind me, can tell he’s reaching a hand out to grab me.
I’ve never been a violent person in my life, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me, I don’t even question the urge to use the wine bottle in my hands as a weapon.
It breaks over the man’s head, but unlike in the movies, he doesn’t go down immediately. However, he does lose his balance enough that with a firm shove to his chest, he goes crashing back down to the hellhole I’m running from.
I make it to the garage and slam the door to the basement closed, locking it for good measure. Then I drag the heavy workbench next to the line of pristine cars over in front of it for even bettermeasure.
I refuse to let myself stop and think, because I’m pretty sure if I do, I’ll break down into a pool of tears and never get up. I’m running on nothing but adrenaline, and I know I’ll crash soon, but I force myself to keep going.
For a moment, I’m tempted to steal one of the cars to get away, but the sound of angry Italian shouts behind the locked door makes me hesitant to waste any more time.
I also definitely don’t have time to call the cab driver that dropped me off and beg him to come back.
The fear and terror don’t give me time to doubt myself as I take my heels off, take off up the driveway, and pray I’m fast enough to escape the devil on my trail.
~Azriel~
“Get that goddamn door open,” I shout at Luca, who’s dripping wine all over the place and has a gash on his forehead from where little Elain Archeron shoved him down the stairs.
I almost fucking shot her in the head. Her.
Dolcezza mia. The girl I’m stupidly obsessed with. The one who’s always quick to smile–the same one who sighs when I kiss her and lights up when I walk into the room.
I almost shot her between those beautiful brown eyes, almost snuffed them out forever.
I run a hand over my face, listening to the sound of Luca throwing himself into the door repeatedly. “I’m trying, boss, but I think she pulled something in front of the door.”
Smart.
Fucking annoying as hell, but smart.
If I wasn’t so damn pissed at myself for not locking the basement door behind me and allowing her to find us down here, I’d be mildly impressed.
Two of the most dangerous men in Italy, trapped in the basement like idiots.
I pull up the app to track her phone–which was originally for her safety, not because I’m a complete stalker–and see that she’s on foot, going behind the houses instead of down the road. She probably thinks I’ll drive by her while she gets away right under my nose.
“Fuck,” I mutter, sending out a text to all my neighbors to tell them notto shoot the beautiful young woman trespassing through their properties. She has no idea the people around us have security systems better than the President’s. “Luca!”
“Working on it,” he grunts back.
“If that shit isn’t open in the next twenty seconds, you’re going in the incinerator after this asshole,” I warn, nudging the dead body on the floor with a boot.
The threat must work, because a second later, there’s a loud bang and the telltale sound of the workbench from my garage toppling over. “Got it!”
I storm up the stairs and tell him, “Run interference with the neighbors and local police. Anyone talks-”
“Got it,” he interrupts, grabbing his phone to start threatening people.
Pulling up the app again, I track the path she’s on, curse when I see she’s headed to the bus station about a mile from here, and take off after her.
Technically, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she got away. She’d probably go to the police and tell them what she saw, not knowing that Marco, the deputy on duty, has been on my payroll since the day he passed the police entrance exam.
Having done her civic duty, she’d probably try to recover from the trauma of what she saw, eventually finish her classes and move on, and leave. Forgetting all about me in the process.
Technically, for her, this option would not be the worst thing in the world.
But in my head, it feels worse than being stabbed. In my head, there isn’t a question about it.
I’m going after her.
There’s this weird, itchy feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before as I run and run and try not to think about the look on her face as she saw the body fall to the floor.
I realize the feeling in my chest as panic, something I haven’t felt since I was a teenager getting booked for stealing my first car.
She knows.
She knows, and the look on her face… she looked at me like I’m a monster.
And fuck, maybe that’s true. Maybe I am beyond saving.
But having her look at me, and having her take away the easy smiles and bright eyes I’d grown strangely accustomed to… it feels like being robbed.
And it makes me panic.
So I’ll chase her, and catch her, and do whatever I have to do to get her back.
Because I needher, and damn if I’m going at this alone.
After a surprising amount of time, I see the thin outline of her off in the distance, sprinting like the devil himself is chasing her.
I take a deep breath and try to stay quiet, but it’s hopeless. Like she’s the one with the tracker on me, she can tell the second I’m close. I can see it from the way her shoulders go stiff and her pace increases.
“Elain!”
I call out again for her to stop, because I don’t want to tackle her and risk hurting her. She ignores me and keeps running, turning behind the coroner of one of my dealer’s house.
That sticky, awful, panicky feeling in my chest grows as she disappears from sight, and without thinking, I follow.
Which, if I had been thinking, I never would’ve done, because shit like this leaves you open to attack.
Which reminds me: I’ve now broken all three rules for this woman, because I don’t have a single weapon on me to defend us if something happens.
I hit the ground hard enough the wind rushes out of me and my stupid brain rattles around in my stupid skull.
Blinking through the blur, I look up to find Elain standing over me with an empty metal trashcan raised like a bat, ready to strike again.
I need to explain, need to talk to her, but all I can seem to say is her name.
“Elain,” I croak, trying to force air down my lungs.
As my vision clears, I notice she’s crying, beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt.
She pauses and looks at me, like the sight of me knocked on my ass hurts her just as much as it does me, then shakes her head to clear it.
She throws the trash can at me and turns to flee, but I know I can’t let her go, at least not like this. Grabbing her ankle, I yank her down to me, making sure she lands on me instead of the ground.
She screams, the sound scraping away another layer of the trust we’d built, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate in my life. Elain flails around, but I use my weight to pin her, trying not to hurt her.
She has to let me explain. She hasto.
I hate what I’m about to do, but the only other option I have is making her pass out the old fashion way, which I know I could never bring myself to do.
The second the needle goes into her neck, she goes stiff underneath me, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes.
“You drugged me,” she sobs, the betrayal in her voice making my chest hurt.
I brush the hair off her face, press my forehead to hers, and start telling her things I haven’t told another living soul.
I’ll never hurt you.
I’m sorry.
~Elain~
Am I dead?
Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?
Where am I?
These three questions rattle around in my brain at the same time, all demanding answers, as soon as I open my eyes.
And the weird part is… I don’t have any.
I have no idea if I’m alive or dead, but the headache I have that seems permanently settled behind my eyes points to the latter.
I blink the haze in my brain away and realize I’m at my house in bed, but my extend of knowledge seems to stop there.
There’s a voice in my head whispering something, but it’s too quiet for me to understand what she’s saying. All I know is that I feel like I need to dosomething, need to get out of here.
I rub my sore eyes and see there’s a note on the bedside table, written in precise, calm handwriting I recognize better than my own.
Come downstairs.
He’s here? I thought I went to his house, not the other way around.
The blinds are closed, but when I make my way to the window and peak out, I see a dark night sky, the moon reflecting off the water and making everything seen calm.
What the hell happened to me?
I start to leave the room, intent on going downstairs and asking Azriel that very question.
Except as I’m passing by my closet, I see something.
Something small and so inconsequential, I almost don’t think anything about it.
Like I’m in a dream, I feel myself walk over to the corner of the room. I feel my knees hit the floor, see my finger extend to the floor and touch the tiny drop of liquid that caught my eye.
I pull back and look, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see that it’s blood.
The floors are dark enough I shouldn’t have been able to see it from so far away, but it’s like a part of me was lookingfor it.
And that’s when it comes back to me.
Coming to surprise him, seeing the door in his garage, going downstairs… I press a hand to my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the tidal wave of nausea washing over me.
I remember seeing the blood first and wondering if someone was hurt, then coming further into the room to find myself in the middle of a nightmare. If I wasn’t so strangely sure it had been real, I would think it was a horror movie.
The man strapped down had been so brutalized, I doubt I would’ve recognized him even if I’d known him my whole life.
I remember running without a thought more, giving into the fight or flight impulse to get the hell out of there.
I remember hitting Azriel, seeing him fall to the ground and looking up at me with those deep, wounded eyes that will haunt me more than the torture he inflicted on that poor man.
Eyes that told me everything and nothing at the same time.
I remember looking into those eyes and crying at the pain in them that was surely reflected in my own.
And then nothing.
Why don’t I remember? How did I get back here?
I’m sorry.
I finally recall that last whispered promise, and if I hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen to my knees as I realize what happened.
He drugged me.
Azriel, the same man who slow-danced with me in an empty restaurant and drove me along the coast and held me in his sleep, drugged me.
And he’s downstairs.
I start to hyperventilate, because I don’t know what to do or what he’splanning to do. Why is he still here?
What am I going to do? Should I call the cops?
I realize I don’t have my phone, probably a countermeasure on his part.
I also realize there’s no way for me to run. I remember how fast he’d caught me, how easy it had been for him to render me useless.
There’s no escaping him. Not if he’s already down there waiting, evil plan cooking in his mind.
I have no other option, unless I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life.
So with confidence I don’t feel, I walk downstairs.
I find him sitting at my breakfast table, leaning back casually and sipping a cup of coffee despite the late hour.
The moonlight clings to him like it loves him, playing off of his sharp cheekbones and illuminating his features. His face is carefully blank, but there’s a flicker of something as he looks at me, something that seems almost like relief.
He’s calm and collected and everything I’m not, and it pisses me off. My world’s on fire, yet he’s sitting here like nothing’s wrong? And he’s drinking my coffee?
I stomp over to grab the stolen drink, then sit across from him and cross my arms.
And wait.
Because I sure as hell am not talking first.
He stayed because hehas something to say. I don’t have anything to say to him.
For a long time, we just stare at each other, because he’s apparently playing by the same rules.
Then he accepts his defeat, sighs, and asks, “Why did you come to my house last night?”
I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and try to stop myself from throwing the coffee in his face.
Because he said that almost like an accusation.
Like the problem is that I came over unannounced, not that he was torturingsomeone.
“I’m not justifying that with a response,” I eventually tell him.
He gives me a hard look. “Answer the question.”
Something about the entirely male way he demanded that, like he expects a response immediately, makes me tilt my head and ask so sweetly I almost choke, “Why? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, showing the first sign of imperfection I’ve ever seen from him. “What you saw-”
“Was horrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
He acts like I didn’t even speak. “-was something I meant to keep private from you.”
I don’t tell him that’s pretty fucking obvious at this point.
Instead I ask, “Why?”
I’m not sure why I want to know, but it suddenly feels important.
He doesn’t takes his eyes off of me as he says, “Because you’re you.You shine so brightly it should be illegal, and you look at the world like it isn’t a terrible place. I didn’t want to take that from you.”
My throat feels uncomfortably tight all the sudden, but I clear it and say, “Well, you did.”
His jaw clenches, and he looks down. “I know. If I could go back and walk away, I would. Shit, I told myself I would more times than I can count. But I just… couldn’t. And I couldn’t tell you either. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, Elain.”
The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart finally start beating again, but I still call him on his lie. “That isn’t why you never told me. You never told me because you knew I’d hate you the second you did.”
“Maybe,” he admits, looking back up at me. “But now you know, and I’m glad you do. You know everything now.”
It’s my turn to look down, because while I’d wanted to know the real him, I’d never imagined I’d find something like this.
“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything, because you haven’t explainedanything.”
He tilts his head. “What needs explaining?”
I ask the obvious question. “Who do you work for?”
“Myself.”
Once again, I don’t feel like justifying that with a response. He still isn’t saying anything that explains what I saw or why he’d do that to someone.
If he isn’t going to say anything meaningful, I’m not having this conversation.
Eventually, he seems to realize this. Because he says, “I’m Capo of the Sicilian Outfit of the Cosa Nostra, Elain.”
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t know how to feel, other than confused and angry.
“Any other questions?”
“Why did you drug me?”
If he just wanted to talk, he could’ve dragged me back to his place or maybe just saythat. Not chase me down like a rapid animal.
“You were panicked, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I needed time to explain, needed to tell you this was never the plan.”
There’s something else there, and I narrow my eyes in a silent demand for him to continue.
Azriel sighs and admits, “My neighbors are business associates-” aka fellow criminals, “and I didn’t want them to hear you yelling and come to… investigate-” aka kill me, “or watch me get knocked unconscious by a twenty-four year old woman with a trash can.”
I give him a smug smile, more than ready to give him a repeat of that show, and try to decide what else to ask.
But before I get the chance, he says, “I don’t see why this changes anything.”
My mouth falls open.
He doesn’t see- is he serious? “You’re joking.”
“I’m not known for my humor.”
I’m still stunned into silence, so he tilts his head and asks, “Why does it matter? Why does what I do make me a different person?”
When I don’t answer, he says, “It doesn’t. Nothing I do will ever come near you. You won’t ever have to see it again. I promise.”
“It’s not about seeingit! It’s about knowing what you do when we’re not together. You kiss me goodbye, then go home and… there is absolutely no way I can go back to what we were doing before. You killedsomeone, Azriel.”
He straightens his cufflinks and shoots back, “He deserved it, Elain.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“First off, murder is illegal. So is torture, which from the way that man looked, you’d definitely been inflicting on him. Not only is it illegal, it’s wrong! He was an innocent human being-”
“He wasn’t innocent.”
I keep going. “You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner! You-”
He’s on me before I can finish, sliding a hand over my mouth and leaning over my chair.
God,the man is fast. Has he always been that fast, or have I just never noticed?
“Let me explain something to you, Elain. On this island, I am. I decide who’s guilty, which he confessed to being.I decide the punishment, which was a bullet to the brain. I’m the executioner, and I pull the trigger myself, because I’m not a fucking coward.”
I fight his hold, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t even budge.
“I play by different rules, bellissima. Just because you’ve never been exposed to them, or my world, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always existed. I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the goddamn king.”
A shiver goes down my spine at his words.
He pushes my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head, bite his finger, push at his chest. But it doesn’t do any good.
“It doesn’t matter, because like I said, we live in two different worlds. I’d never let mine impact yours.”
I want to tell him that isn’t the problem, but his hand is still on my mouth.
“Have you even asked yourself why you’re not afraid?” he asks out of the blue, surprising me.
I stare blankly at him, no longer fighting, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.
“You’re scared of what I do, but you aren’t scared of me. Not really. If you were, you never would’ve come down those stairs.”
That’s why he looked relieved, I realize. He was worried I’d be scared of him.
Everything he’s saying makes sense, which makes no sense at all.
Because if he’s right, and he certainly seems to think he is, it begs the question… why aren’t I scared of him?
He seems to see my ask myself that, because he answers it a second later.
Eyes growing softer, he murmurs, “It’s because you know I’d never hurt you, nor would I let anyone else.”
I remember him whispering that right before I passed out. I’ll never hurt you.
He comes so close I can see the individual flecks of green in his dark hazel eyes. “I may do terrible things, and I’d do terrible things for you, Elain, but I’d never do them toyou.”
“So you aren’t afraid. Just angry,” he concludes. Then he looks at me like he did the other day in the sea behind his house, right before he called me his. “Do you know why you’re angry, Elain?”
Currently, it’s because he’s explaining my emotions to me, which has to be the most male, obnoxious thing that’s ever happened in all of history.
But I have a feeling that isn’t what he’s talking about.
And I have another feeling that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
I take another glance at the look in his eyes and realize what he means, starting to fight again. I push at his chest and hands and try to get him to not say the words I know he’s going to.
It doesn’t work.
“You’re upset,” he says a moment later, slow and sure like always, “because I lied to you. You feel betrayed, like you don’t know me. But that isn’t why you’re angry.”
One hand on my face, the other in my hair, he holds me perfectly still as he whispers, “You’re angry because you were falling for me.”
I press my eyes closed, trying not to hear the words he’s saying as if that’ll make them any less true.
But it doesn’t, because they aretrue.
Every easy smile, midnight whisper, and lingering kiss he’s given me in the past month has given him a permanent place in my heart, and it hurts to have that all feel like a lie.
It hurts to look at him and not know if I recognize the person holding me.
A sob escapes me, which seems to confirm what he said, and he takes his hand off my mouth to wipe away a tear.
His brow comes to rest against mine, and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself.
There’s a war happening inside me, and it distracts me enough I don’t stop him from pulling me closer.
My heart plays me a montage of the past month, showing me countless moments where I’d been so positive I’d found paradise, so positive I’d found someone I could trust completely. It tells me Azriel has always felt like home,like something so inexplicably right I don’t even know how to describe it.
But my brain reminds me the hands cupping my cheeks softly are covered in blood and gunsmoke and victims’ tears. It tells me I’ve never really known the man I’m currently begging myself not to have feelings for.
The battle inside of me rages on, and I cry harder, not even knowing who I want to win.
It only gets harder to choose as he murmurs, “Ance io mi sto innamorando di te.”
I’m falling for you, too.
I don’t know what to do or feel or think, and I’m so helplessly confused it makes me want to scream.
Yet even though I’m confused, something about this makes sense. Something about knowing what he really does for a living makes everything in my head just click.
The way he’d redirect the conversation whenever I asked about his job. The way I’d always suspected him of hiding something about himself from me. The way every movement he’s ever made with me has been lined with restraint.
He could hurt me, has had the opportunity for months, but he never has. He’s always been careful with me, has always held and looked at me like I’m something precious to him.
My brain starts shifting to his side of the argument, and I can feel my morality ripping to shreds under his hands.
Before I can think, I shove him away, getting to my feet to point at the door. “Get out.You lied to me. You’re a murderer. A monster.”
Feelings or not, I know I can’t do this. I can’t just ignore what I saw, what he’ll continue to do. So he needs to leave.
He doesn’t.
Azriel just leans against the kitchen island counter and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he watches me for a long moment.
“Maybe I am,” he says eventually around a mouthful of smoke. “But just because I’m a monster, Elain, doesn’t mean I can’t give you what we both know you need. Nothing has to change.”
It already has.
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“No?”
“No.”
He prowls toward me, the intent shining so clear in his eyes I take a step back for every one he takes forward. My back hits a wall, and he traps me between it and himself, caging me in with strong arms.
The line between right and wrong, good and evil, seems to blur as he gets closer and closer, and by the time we’re sharing air, I don’t know which way is up. All I know is him.
He takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, tips my head back with his thumb, and then breathes the smoke into my mouth.
It should be disgusting, considering I don’t smoke and make it a point to avoid cancer-causing products in general.
It should be. But it isn’t.
It’s the opposite of disgusting.
There’s a buzz in my veins that has nothing to do with the nicotine, and I realize too late that he’sthe vice I can’t quit.
I’m too far gone, too addicted already.
He pulls back slightly, tucking the still-burningcigarette behind his ear. His eyes burn with intensity, and his dark hair and shoulders are surrounded by the smoke clinging to his shoulders like a shadow.
He looks like the villain of a movie I never even knew I wanted to watch, and it physically pains me to have him this close and not be touching him, so I put my hands on his chest, fingers fisting in the expensive material of his suit.
His are on the wall by my head, bracing himself as he leans in and slowly licks a line across my lower lip, like he’s tasting me.
My want for him is a tangible thing, and I have to ask myself if he’s right. Does it matter what he does, when he makes me feel like no one else ever has? Do I care enough to stay away from him?
“You don’t need me?” he asks again, so close his lips brush against mine.
I shake my head, even though I know it isn’t the truth. I doneed him, and that’s why this hurts so damn bad. Why this betrayal cuts so deep.
Even though we’re so close he’s nothing but a blur, I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through me.
And then he says something that changes everything.
“Well, I need you,” he whispers, so softly it breaks my heart.
I’m lost.
I’m so goddamn lost in him, I forget everything we were talking about, forget everything he’s done.
My knees go weak, and I cling to him, pulling him into me as I slip down the wall.
His lips crash against mine, and I know instantly that this is him.This is all of him. I finally know exactly who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anymore.
It’s probably our hundredth kiss, but it feels like the first, and I’m drunk on it, drunk on him.
Hands in my hair, he kisses me like he wasn’t lying–like he needsme.
My hands pull tighter, until there’s not an inch between us, and he makes a low sound in his throat. His are on my waist, gripping me tightly and telling me he wants this just as much as I do.
The restraint from before is all but gone, and I tremble at how much power is in his grasp, how small and fragile it makes me feel in comparison.
My willpower crumples further, like a napkin in his fist, as his tongue teases mine, making me chase him for more.
Azriel pulls my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it between us as he draws back. It’ll be bruised tomorrow, but a sick part of me likes that he’s leaving his mark on me.
“Say it,” he say roughly, voice deep and scratchy with lust.
I don’t get a change to say it, or anything else, before he’s kissing me again, running his hands up my back and into my hair.
“Say it,” he demands again.
Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought, because I know what he wants but stay silent, refusing to give it to him.
Because I can’t.
Everything he said tonight makes sense, but I just… can’t.
He kisses me again, a lingering kiss that makes my chest ache, and almost pleads, “Say it, Elain. Say it doesn’t matter. Say you need me.”
The air grows thick as I stay silent, because it’s response enough.
His eyes narrow, and even though everything inside me begs me to, I don’t stop him as he steps away.
“Only two more months here, and you want to spend them lying to yourself?”
I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m leaving so soon, but I don’t let myself get distracted. “I’m not lying to anyone.”
Except it feels like I am.
A smile pulls on his lips, but it isn’t friendly. “You’re fucking lying, and you know it. You know it doesn’t matter, you just can’t admit it, because then you’d be like me.”
Heart pounding, I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Fucking a monsterwould becondoning the devil’s work, right?”
He takes a step in, catching my wrists as I try to push him back, pinning them above my head, and laughing.
“You saying you don’t want me is the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard, carro.”
“Azriel-”
Mouth next to my ear, he growls, “You’re really telling me if I slip my hand between your pretty thighs, I won’t find you wet and ready for me?”
I push against his hands and look away, all the confirmation he needs.
He tsks, feigning disappointment.
I close my eyes and fight my response to him with everything I have. I try to tell myself it matters, that what he does disgusts me, but it doesn’t sound believable to even myself at this point.
“I could prove it to you, make you come right here and now, but I don’t think I will.”
I’m breathing heavily, two seconds from passing out at the intensity and violence in his voice.
“I think the next time I fuck you, Elain, you’re going to have to tell me you need me just as much as I need you. You’re going to tell me you want me, and you’re going to begme for more.” He licks up the side of my neck, and I press my lips together to hold in the moan that wants to escape. “You’re going to tell the goddamn truth, and you’re going to fucking apologize for lying to me in the first place.”
I glare at him, silently conveying that that will neverhappen.Helied to me. I’m not apologizing for shit.
He sees that and everything else in my gaze, and he shakes his head slowly.
“I’ll get your confession, Elain,” he promises, going to the door and almost ripping it off its hinges as he opens it. “I always do.”
“No,” I emphasize, shaking my head to further get the point across. “I’m not getting on that thing!”
Azriel tilts his head, still leaning against the motorcycle with casual arrogance and twinkling hazel eyes. “It’s perfectly safe. And we both know you love to ride.”
My face heats at that little joke, but I hold firm in my convictions. “Can’t we just walk?”
We’re going to a beach on his recommendation, but apparently, the one right behind us isn’t good enough. “No.”
“Okay, then why don’t we take the bus?”
He looks at me like I just suggested we crawl all the way their on our hands and knees. “No.”
He offers no other option, just looks at me and waits patiently.
“Don’t you trust me, dolcezza mia?” he purrs, sliding his hands in the pocket of his dark jeans and smiling.
The walls of my refusal start to crumble, because I’m such a sucker for that smile. I’m starting to think he knows it, too.
“I’m in a dress,” I point out weakly.
“With a swimsuit underneath.”
I try again. “My hair will get tangled.”
Azriel sighs like he’s over my shit, lips twitching. “You and I both know you’re dying to put a scarf over it like one of those cliché movies you love so much.”
Thelma and Louise ismy favorite movie…
And he doeslook criminally handsome leaning against the motorcycle, dressed in black like always, sunglasses low on his nose.
An image pops into my mind of me, riding behind him with the sea a landscape behind us, scarf and red lipstick on, the sun high in the sky.
I purse my lips, and because he can tell he’s winning me over, his eyes turn amused and victorious.
What cements the deal is him saying, “I’d never let anything happen to you, Elain.”
His voice is so serious and deep, it sounds like he’s making a solemn vow to me. So I give in.
“Promise you’ll drive slow.”
Azriel dips his chin in agreement, and a huge smile breaks over my face as I run back inside.
Five minutes later, I step back out, still smiling like an idiot. Azriel now sits on the motorcycle, looking like something out of GQ, and he snorts as he looks at the additional scarf, lipstick, and sunglasses. “Donne.”Women.
Ignoring that display of sexism, I walk over to him and take his offered hand, sliding onto the bike behind him. My hands link in front of him, and he chuckles at how tightly I hold on to him as the machine under us rumbles to life.
Oh, God.
Slowly, like promised, he pulls away from the curb and onto the almost-empty street. Most people are at breakfast in one of the busy cafes or sitting on their porches, but one woman smiles as we pass because we obviously look freaking adorable.
I start to relax as we go, because like everything else he does, Azriel drives with complete control and confidence. He acts like nothing could go wrong with him in control, and it puts my nerves at ease. Honestly, I don’t know why I was worried in the first place.
He said he’d never let anything happen to me, and despite knowing him less than a month, I believe him.
He navigates us through the city and to a slightly larger road that runs along the coastline, and I take a minute to appreciate the movie moment.
He shifts to drive with one hand as we go, the other residing on my knee next to his hip. His thumb brushes over my skin softly, and I press my face to his neck, overwhelmed by the moment.
I never knew I wanted something like this, but considering I feel like I’ve been split open and stuffed with sunshine, I did.. He does that, I’ve noticed; somehow, he knows what I want before I do.
I’ve never asked him for anything, yet every time I’m with him, I feel like I’m receiving a present.
Just a summer fling, I remind myself, even as I press a kiss to the side of his neck.
We ride down the coastline for about twenty minutes, eventually coming to a stop and walking onto a completely abandoned beach.
It’s secluded, shielded by dunes on either side, and quiet. The sand’s almost white, and the water’s so blue, it looks like the background that comes with a new computer.
Paradise.
“How’d you find this place?”
Hands in his pockets, he jerks a chin towards a beautiful, sprawling property about a hundred yards from us. “Because I live right there.”
Despite sleeping with him for almost four weeks, I haven’t seen his house before now. I’ve seen him naked, yet for some reason, knowing where he sleeps at night feels more personal.
Maybe it’s because I get the feeling he’s letting me into his life a little by taking me here.
And maybe it’s because I feel like he never does that.
A smile pulls on my lips as I look between him and the house. He’s obviously trying to play it cool, but there’s a stiffness in his posture that isn’t usually there. I realize why, and my smile grows. “You likeme.”
He scowls, making me grin. “Of course I like you, Elain.”
He says it like it’s obvious, and I narrow my eyes, stepping closer. “Yes, but you likeme, too.”
He looks toward the sky and thoroughly tries to ignore me as I put my hands on his chest and smile up at him. I kiss the underside of his jaw softly, then murmur, “Don’t worry. I likeyou too.”
His lips turn up at that, and he presses a quick kiss to my lips, then takes my hand and tugs me towards the water.
Pulling off my sundress, I look over his apparel and raise a brow. “You’re swimming in that?”
Amusement dances in his hazel eyes as he responds, “Of course not.”
He pulls his shirt off, revealing his tan, tattooed chest, broad shoulders, and toned stomach. I sigh, fucking sigh,because looking like that should be illegal, and he laughs.
Then pulls his pants down.
If possible, my brows go up even higher at the sight of him in nothing but his black briefs. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Swimming,” he retorts simply, and before I understand what’s going on, he’s naked as the day he was born.
“Azriel!”
He turns and walks toward the sea, leaving me slack-jawed and with an uninterrupted view of his backside. And what a nice backside it is.
By the time he’s wading in the water, I’m still standing on the beach, eyes wide, watching him.
His black hair’s wet, hanging around his face like spilled ink, and the water’s so bright and blue against his tan skin and the dark lines of his tattoos.
He looks like a goddamn model, and I’m momentarily paralyzed at the sight of it.
“Venire qui.”Come here.
I walk far enough that the water brushes my toes with every wave, cool and calming and serene.
“You’re naked,” I point out like he might not be aware, still shocked.
“It’s a private beach, tesoro.”
I take a look around, even though I know it’s empty, and he laughs and walks backward, going deeper into the water. He’s relaxed as he wades in, like he does this every day.
For all I know, he does.
I’ve never been naked in public, but I’m assuming to be as comfortable with it as he is, it happens a lot.
Az shakes his head, water flying from his hair like rain, and my mouth drops open as things start to move in slow-mo. His tattooed shoulders are above the water, and he just watches me in that dedicated, heated way he always does.
I bite my lip, trying to keep myself from groaning. He notices, and even from the distance between us, I see his eyes darken. “Are you going to join me?”
His voice makes it sound like he’s asking if I’m going to join him in going nude, not just join him in the water.
“I think you have ulterior motives,” I say back.
He smiles that damn smile, running a hand over his jaw. “Always.”
I make the decision in less than a second and throw the bikini off in almost as little time, then sprint into the water to lessen the chance of anyone seeing me.
He laughs, a full-bodied laugh with his head thrown back, and mutters, “Ridicola.”
“You’re the ridiculous one,” I accuse as I swim over to him, scowling. “Getting naked at 11:30 in the morning.”
The water’s deep enough that I can’t stand, but given he’s half a foot taller than me, he can, so I brace my arms on his shoulders to stay afloat.
“There are no time constraints to when a person can be naked.” His hands span my rib cage, pulling me in close. “And with you, I happen to think you should stay this way all the time.”
My lips twitch. “My teachers might not appreciate that.”
He hums his agreement but seems distracted by the sight of me wrapping my legs around his waist and leaning back to float in the water.
“Bellissima,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s even saying it. “Troppo bella per le parole.”
Too beautiful for words.
He spins us around in the water, causing me to laugh and relish the feel of the water swirling around me.
Between the sun warming my face, the cool water relaxing me, and the man making me smile, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
My life feels like a fairytale, and I don’t delude myself about why.
Pulling myself up, I slide my hands in his hair and kiss him softly. “You make me happy, Azriel.”
He tilts his head, surprise flaring in his beautiful eyes. He looks like he’s uncomfortable with the compliment, despite always giving them to me. The man calls me treasure, yet doesn’t understand that he makes me happy?
Shaking my head in frustration, I kiss him. He deepens it instantly, meeting my tongue with his, and I’m lost. His hair is wet between my fingers, soft and silky and the perfect tool to pull his head back so I can devour him properly.
I suck on his lower lip, and he makes a low sound, almost like a warning.
“Iknewyou had ulterior motives,” I breathe as he kisses a path down the column of my throat.
His hands cup my breasts, bringing them up and burying his face between them, making a low sound of satisfaction. “It isn’t why I brought you here, but… I can’t think with you around.” He nips my breast, making me yelp. “It’s very irritating.”
I scoff, about to say that sounds like his problem, not mine, but then his mouth closes around my breast, and the retort dies in my throat.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I really can’t.
But when in Rome. Or Sicily. Close enough.
“Lean back again,” he urges, hands running down my back.
I comply, tightening my thighs around his hips and floating back.
His voice goes low, and he whispers, “Close your eyes, caro.”
They slide shut, almost against my own will, and then he’s pushing inside me with one thrust, making my back arch up almost completely out of the water. My eyes open to find his watching me, looking down at the place where we’re joined.
“Eyes closed,” he gruffs, staying perfectly still until I do just that.
He starts to move, doing all the work as he lifts me and brings me back down, going in time with the waves around us.
His hands grip my hips with demanding pressure, but his pace stays plateaued.
One on my back urges me above the waterline, and I blush at being laid out in front of him so exposed, but remembering the heat in his eyes, any embarrassment dies down.
The waves threaten to move us, but Azriel’s a rock in the storm, never losing his footing, never faltering.
I hear his quiet, steady breath, the crash of the waves around me, and I feel like everything’s heightened. My body’s buzzing, and I glide my arms through the water, the feeling of the cool water on my over-sensitized skin making me tremble.
“Fuck, Elain,” he says under his breath, hips thrusting a little harder. His name falls off my lips on a moan, and the sound of him groaning in answer does it for me.
I tighten around him as I come, and he follows immediately, pulling me by my hips until he’s seated deep inside me. We’re still, letting the waves bring us even closer.
He pulls out of me but continues to hold me in his arms, pulling my chest to his and burying his face in my neck. “I can’t get enough of you. I should let you go, but I can’t.”
I open my eyes in confusion, wondering why the hell he’d think that, but pause when I see the look in his eyes.
It’s a reflection of my own, showing all the things I want to say but am too scared to. “Az…”
“Sei mio,” he says roughly, without a trace of doubt or hesitation.
The words ring in my head over and over as he carries me back to the beach, then leads me up the dunes and into his house.
You’re mine.
~
The day after our beach trip–which, honestly, was only about thirty minutes of beaching–I come to the conclusion Azriel’s holding back on me.
He’s shown me his home, fucked me on every square inch, and has given me everything I want whether or not I ask for it, but… he’s holding out on me.
I’ve been around enough people who are hiding something to know that despite seemingly being open and honest, there’s something he’s holding back.
Even when he’s rough with me, it’s like he has a leash on himself so tight he won’t really let go.
It’s like he’s afraid I’ll run in the other direction if he does. Like he’s afraid of scaring me off.
Which is ridiculous, so I’ve also come to the conclusion it ends today.
I need him to be as happy and free as he makes me, and I think this is the way to do it.
So I’m going to surprise him.
I’m on my way to his house, being driven by a cabbie who asked twice if I was sure this was where I wanted to go, with one plan in my head: make him lose control.
He’s always so composed, so relaxed, and I’m tired of it. I want him to know that no matter what happens, I’m not running. Not from him.
It’s time I find out who he really is.
~Azriel~
I have three rules in life.
Three rules that have kept me alive and in this game when the odds were stacked against me.
1: Never leave the house without my .45.
2: Never give into temptation.
3: Trust no one.
Rule 1 is easy to follow. I have more enemies than friends, and I’m not stupid enough to allow someone an opportunity to off me while I’m defenseless.
Rule 2 is usuallyjust as easy to follow, because I’ve lived long enough to have learned how to block myself from ever really wanting anything.
I have to say usually,though, because lately, it’s a complete fucking bitch to follow.
Ever since Elain stumbled into my life like a walking, talking version of every dream I’ve ever had, I’ve been fucking helpless against her.
And I refuse to feel helpless.
But I also refuse to let her go.
Which is so unbelievably selfish and fucked up, I can’t hardly stand myself.
Every time I’m with her, I swear it’s the last time. But then she has to go and be unforgettable, beautiful, kind, and the best lay I’ve ever had, and I’m back to being helpless.
Oh, and now I’ve gone and fucked rule 3, too.
Because never, in my entire life, have I shown a civilian where I live. I’ve taken a few women to one of the few apartments I keep, but never my actual home.
I don’t really know why I did it, considering I knew–while doing it–it was stupid. It was like I wanted, needed, her to see at least a part of me that’s real.
Rolling my neck, I try to push all thoughts of her and her infuriatingly addictive smile out of my head and focus.
Luca glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow like he can sense I’m not paying attention, and I nod for him to keep going.
He squeezes the pliers, and screams fill the air as another finger falls to the floor.
Blood splatters on the toes of my boots, and I narrow my eyes at it. I just fucking washed these.
Luca pauses his work when the guy strapped to the table passes out, walking over to me and lighting a cigarette. “Maybe he’s not going to talk, boss.”
I almost laugh. “They always talk.”
In fact, it’s a little annoying how predictable this shit is getting. Sure, some men, like the one in front of me, are a little stronger and hold out longer, but they all eventually crack.
It just depends on applying the right pressure.
Something Luca knows, meaning there’s a reason he’s getting antsy.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You got something better to do?”
He blows the smoke out, doing a piss-poor job of fighting a smile. “Matter of fact, I do.”
I take a cigarette from the pack he holds out and light it. “What’s her name?”
He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable, and I know it’s going to be someone I know.
“Gianna,” he finally tells me, and I take a deep inhale of smoke to keep from laughing.
Yeah. I definitely know her.
He shoves my shoulder when I let a chuckle out, and I at least make the effort to stop being a dick.
But I can’t help but tease him a bit. “She still into-”
“Yes. Now shut up.”
Another laugh escapes me, but I drop it, considering I’m not exactly doing a great job of controlling my own sex life at the moment.
The only reason Luca gets away with talking to me like he does is because he’s my Underboss and happens to be one of the only non-useless people around me.
I take in the man on the table with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out how to get him to just fucking confess. I know he’s guilty, and heknows he’s guilty, but we both also know he’ll die as soon as he damning words leave his mouth.
He’s only got four fingers left, has multiple broken bones, and is missing an eye from where Luca lost his cool earlier.
Clearly, cutting him isn’t doing shit, either, if the gaping wounds on his torso are any indication.
Stubborn bastard.
“Electrocution,” I decide, pushing off the wall and going to grab the jumper cables. The traitor groans, but doesn’t say the magic words.
Luca frowns. “It always smells like burnt hair when we do that.”
Ignoring the prima donna in the room, I hook one cable to the car battery we keep down here and the other two his chest.
“Have you, or have you not, been selling secrets to the Irish?” I ask, my voice betraying the boredom I’m fighting.
He shakes his head, and I have to hold back a sigh.
The sooner this stupid bastard confesses, the sooner I can go to Elain’s.
Walking back over to my place by the stairs, I pull out my phone and scroll through the contacts until I find her name.
I want to see her so bad I’m almost chafing with the effort not to press down, and it only gets worse as the memory of yesterday comes to mind. Of her floating in the sea, breasts bouncing with every thrust, full lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
I run a hand over my face, trying to shove the image out, but it refuges to budge.
Damn woman.
“Falco?”
I snap out of it, looking up to find Luca watching me with a strange expression on his face. Considering he almost never calls me that, I take it that he’s been trying to get my attention for a few moments.
“What?”
“70 or 130?”
I narrow my eyes at the stupid question, and he rolls his eyes before setting the charge to 130 and connecting the dipoles.
The man screams as electricity flows through his body, his wounds bleeding worse as his heart goes into overdrive.
Luca unclips the cables when he passes out, smoking his cigarette and frowning when he doesn’t come to.
A shot of adrenaline to the arm wakes him right up, though, and when he sees us standing over him watching patiently, he curses.
“Ready to confess?” Luca asks, equally ready to get out of here.
The idiot just glares at him. “Accendilo, cagna.”
Light it up, bitch.
If I weren’t so irritated at how long this is taking, I’d laugh.
Although, I have to admit it’s kind of satisfying that he isn’t breaking. He’s one of our own, trained and raised by us, so it’d be insulting if he broke down and confessed after one day.
The longest run we’ve ever had is four days, but the man in front of us might just give the record a run for it’s money.
But then Luca turns the battery on maximum volume, shocks the ever-living shit out of him, and punches him to keep him awake the whole time. He’s probably a little pissed about the “bitch” comment.
And that’s the game.
“Basta, basta! Per favore!”
Luca gives me a victorious grin as he unclips the wires, making me shake my head. Violent bastard. “Parla, cagna,” he demands. Talk, bitch.
Definitely a little pissed about the bitch comment.
The man shakes from the shocks, managing to say, “I told them about the shipment coming in tomorrow night.”
“Told who?” Luca prods, running a knife under the man’s quivering lip.
There’s a pause, then he spits, “O’Connor.”
Aka a pain in our asses, but more so for the Chicago operation than here. I’ll give the Capo there, a long-time friend of mine, a call. Luckily, that means it shouldn’t be a problem for me any longer.
Plus, we still have time to reroute the shipment.
Plus,now I can kill this idiot.
The traitor’s eyes go to me, and he nods, accepting his fate. Not that he has a fucking option.
The sound of my gun’s the last thing he hears, the bang echoing off the walls loudly.
Not loud enough that I don’t hear a gasp from behind me.
I turn around instantly, gun drawn and pointed toward the intruder, finger ready on the trigger.
Hello, and welcome to an unapologetically kinky, 90% smut / 10% plot mafia fic for Elriel.
Blanket trigger warning for ALL parts (although the first is very vanilla and sweet): this is for adults and contains both sex and violence. If you are not a fan of those two things, or the mild combination of them, scroll along. It contains things that might be triggering. It’s a dark romance.
The words are a soft, accented whisper pressed against my ear during the darkest part of the night, followed by sinful lips pressing a kiss to my skin that jerks me out of my sleep.
Despite the rush of heat that floods my system, I keep my eyes closed and groan, pushing his face away. My body’s exhausted, and despite wanting nothing more than to wake up and let him make me even moretired, I need sleep.
A rough chuckle escapes him, but he’s apparently inhuman, doesn’t need sleep, and isn’t giving up this easily.
Dodging my weak attempts to push him away, he drags his mouth down the column of my throat, stopping to suck and nibble on parts that are especially interesting.
A soft sigh escapes my lips as he finds the junction between my shoulder and throat, but I still keep my eyes closed.
The cold metal of his chain raises goosebumps as it glints down the valley between my breasts, and his mouth follows, almost like he’s unable to help it.
He’s all over me, scent surrounding me and making it impossible to truly fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am.
He’s put my body through every possible sexual position known to man tonight, somehow pulling every ounce of pleasure from me.
But, like always, I want more.
He’s a drug, more potent than anything on the market, and I’ve come to crave the feel of him against me in the three weeks I’ve known him.
“Wake up, bellisima,” he murmurs, rough voice like a song that ignites a fire in my blood.
I shake my head, and he smiles against me. I regret not opening my eyes a little, because while nothing about him is unattractive, his smile is something I could never get enough of and I hate missing it.
Calloused, scared hands ghost down my body almost reverently, and then he’s kissing a trail across my ribs, over my stomach, and up to my breasts.
His tongue swirls around the peak of one, hand coming to mold the other to his touch, and I use every ounce of willpower to say still.
I’m proud to say I make it a full two minutes before I can’t take anymore and give in. “Fine.I’m awake.”
I say it as if it’s a struggle to be awoken by him and not the best part of my day.
My eyes open to find his, the warm hazel taking my breath away like always.
He gives me a slow smile, coming down to press a kiss to my lips. He tugs on the lower one with his teeth, then smooths the small hurt with his tongue.
I can’t help the small whimper that slips out as his tongue meets mine, because I’m honestly powerless to the way he kisses me.
Slow and deep and perfectly controlled, but also possessive and a little desperate. He’s a selfish kisser; he kisses me exactly how he wants, turning my head just right, nipping my lips when he wants, only breaking when I’m breathless.
A palm goes to my thigh, guiding it around his trim hips, then he’s grinding against me, letting me feel him against me, hard and ready and so tempting my eyes cross.
I resist the urge to arch up into him long enough to tease, “Egoisto bastardo.”Selfish bastard.
“Egoista,” he corrects, smirking.
I roll my eyes, caring less about adjectives and more about the feel of his hands on my hips. I roll my hips slightly, watching as the hazel of his eyes darkens to black.
“Was there a reason you woke me up?” I ask innocently, reaching between us and palming him in a blatant attempt to drive him half as crazy as he does me.
He nods and pushes into my palm. My hand instinctively wraps around him, and I guide him to the apex of my thighs, running the head of him against me in a way that makes us both shudder.
He pushes my head to the side with his chin, then runs his mouth up the column of my throat, stubble making goose bumps rise in his wake. His teeth nip at my skin before he whispers roughly, “I want to fuck you, Elain. I want to feel you around me, hear you call out my name, watch as you come on my cock. So stop teasing me and let me make give us both what we want.”
I don’t respond with words, being completely unable to find them. I just tilt my hips and slip him inside me, watching as the brown in his eyes fades to black.
Jaw tight, he pushes into me fully, causing me to arch up into him. My legs go around his waist, and he hums in satisfaction.
He pulls out the tiniest amount, then thrusts back in harder, pulling a moan from my throat. “You feel so good,” he praises, teeth finding my earlobe and biting down softly. I moan his name, my body on fire for him, and he murmurs, “I love the way you say my name.”
He pulls out all the way, then slams back inside me so hard I feel the reverberations in my hip bones. “But I want to hear you scream it.”
My head rolls back against the mattress, and I can hardly breathe around the feel of him inside me, filling me so perfectly. Somehow I’m still not used to it, not used to how it somehow feels so right.
My breasts bounce as he works me, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. His head raises and his eyes drop, watching.
“Minchia,” he curses, reaching up to palm my one roughly. “Cosi bella.”
If he keeps talking in that husky, deep voice, I won’t last another two minutes. I’m already shaking, but I push the impending release away, desperate to make this last as long as possible.
He moves faster, hands sliding down to my backside to lift me up exactly how he wants. His pelvic bone brushes against my clit every time our hips collide, and it’s almost too much. A low moan escapes me as he kisses my neck, sucking the skin hard enough to leave a mark.
His hands tighten on my ass, and then his palm is connecting with my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I cry out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he growls, even though it’s obvious I did.
I nod, mouth too preoccupied with kissing his jaw to reply.
Like always, he gives me exactly what I want, using the other hand this time to spank me. The sharp sting pushes me over the edge, and I yell his name yet again as I come.
He doesn’t come with me, just releases my ass to wrap one arm around my shoulders to keep me in place as he takes his own pleasure. His hips are harsh against mine, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I take everything he gives me and want even more.
My nails rake down his back, and he mutters a curse against my lips as he kisses me. His tongue meets mine, and I can’t stop myself from sucking on it, completely lost in him.
“Fuck, Elain,” he growls, bracing a hand on the headboard I hadn’t realized was so close. His fingers are tight on my shoulder, lips brutal against mine, thrusts so hard I’m practically screaming.
But it isn’t any of that that makes release find me again.
It’s him groaning, “Ti senti cosi bene,” then leaning down to press the rough translation to my ear.
I come apart entirely, and it’s a miracle his lips stifle the helpless noises I make, otherwise I’d wake up my cranky old neighbor. Again.
I tremble beneath him as his movements get a little sloppy, then still entirely.
He kisses my again as he comes, and it’s a rough, almost bruising sort of kiss that makes me want to do it all over again.
He eventually slows to a stop, looking down at me with enough heat in his eyes I melt.
“Fatto per me,” he whispers, running a knuckle over the curve of my cheek.
My sluggish brain works overtime to figure out what he said, eventually finding the translation.
Made for me.
~Three weeks ago~
The opera house is unsurprisingly packed, opening night drawing in over two hundred well-dressed patrons.
I had to pull together three months rent for the ticket alone, a ridiculous expense I’d normally never allow myself, but coming here has been on my bucket list for over nine years, ever since I first heard Cecilia Bartoli on a friend’s radio.
I pinched pennies, picked up extra shifts, and only ate Ramen for the month leading up to my trip here–a real crime, considering my profession–so I could come.
And even though I broke out in a cold sweat from the expense of this night, I have to say it’s already worth it. I have a huge smile on my face as I make my way through the lobby, stopping to look at the program and take in the portraits of the performers.
By the time I go to enter the auditorium, there are only a few people left in the lobby. I want to use the restroom before the show starts, so I hurry up the stairs to the upper floor to look for it.
Except it’s nowhere to be found.
I search down every hallway, the stress of missing the show forcing me to almost jog. A man in a red jacket steps into the hall right when I’m starting to despair, and he turns to me and raises a brow.
“Excuse me… where’s the restroom?” I ask in the most atrociously broken Italian he’s probably ever heard.
His eyes skate over me from head to toe, then he says something back, way too quickly for me to decipher.
I assume he’s asking if I have a ticket, so I hold up the crumpled paper I’ve been guarding for months and smile.
He gives me a strange look, extending an arm and gesturing for me to follow. I nod, and we start off down the corridor, stopping in front of a plain white door.
“This is the restroom?” I ask, not understanding why it isn’t labeled or anything.
He mumbles something I can’t hear, seems to hurry me on, then opens the door and practically shoves me inside.
And straight into a man’s chest.
Which makes this the strangest women’s room I’ve ever ventured into.
He steadies me with two hands on my shoulders, and somehow I know, before I even look, that this man will be devastatingly handsome.
Too curious not to, I look up. And up, and up some more.
And I realize I was both right and wrong, because the man before me isdevastatingly handsome, but he’s also so much more, to the point where those words aren’t enough to describe him.
He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
It’s a classic sort of look, one that will never go out of style and never be considered anything but perfect.
Hazel eyes rimmed in dark black eyelashes meet mine, narrowed at the edges with amusement. His full, all too kissable lips are turned up in a smirk and surrounded by a day’s worth of stubble I know would scratch at the fingers I’m tempted to run over it.
He’s so tall my neck starts to cramp, but I’m a deer in the headlights, unable to so much as blink.
He’s monochromatically dressed in black, from his suit jacket, shirt, slacks, and polished shoes. We’re still pressed against each other, and the differences between us couldn’t be more obvious.
He’s sin incarnate, the perfect picture of a fallen angel, and I’m the naiive girl dressed in lilac and unable to stop blushing.
His dark hair slips over his forehead as he leans his face further to mine, and for a strange second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but then he takes a step back and regards me with assessing eyes.
“Stai bene?”
The sound of his voice–a cool, deep balm that soothes my nerves–throws me for a second, but even my American self can understand that simple question. I nod.
His lips twitch. “Sei sicuro?”Are you sure?
I nod again.
“Tu parli?”Do you speak?
My eyes narrow a little at the teasing note in his voice. “Si.”
“Cosa stai facendo qui?”
My knowledge of Italian is limited to the Duolingo I’ve been cramming in the last couple of months, so I tell him I don’t understand.
He waves a hand around us, his eyes growing a shade darker as he prowls toward me. He says something in a low voice, the tenor in his voice giving me goosebumps.
“It was an accident! I was looking for the restroom,” I blurt when he takes another step toward me.
He stops. Understanding dawns. A smile breaks lose that threatens my sanity with its beauty.
“You’re American,” he says in surprisingly perfect English.
It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m at the opera,” I state stupidly.
His lips tip upward, and I mentally slap myself for the dumb response. “You are. But what are you doing here?”
Oh. For the first time since I was shoved in here, I take a look around. I’m in one of the dark boxes on the upper floor of the opera house, the ones usually reserved for royalty or billionaires or people willing to spend an entire paycheck. There are two seats, a table in between them, and a perfect view of the stage from the slight balcony.
I gasp when I realize the lights are dim, meaning the show has either started or is about to. “Have I missed anything?”
“No. Now answer the question.”
God, he’s relentless. I sigh and explain, “I was looking for the bathroom, and a very unhelpful attendant pushed me in here instead.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowed. Like he’s trying to tell if I’m being serious or something. Honestly, who would lie about going to the bathroom?
“Listen, Mr…” I realize I don’t know his name, so I just keep talking. “I don’t know why you think I’d lie and sneak in here, but I’m not, and I didn’t. And I don’t want to miss anything, so I’ll just head down to my regular seat and get out of your hair.”
With one last look at him, I make my way to the door. Only to be stopped by a large hand shooting out and a softly murmured, “Stay.”
I start to deny that knee-weakening request, start to tell him it would be crazy to sit here alone with a stranger. But then a woman steps onto the stage, and everything changes.
“Oh my God, it’s her,” I whisper, practically shoving him out of the way as I hurry over to the balcony.
Cecilia Bartoli’s on the stage, wearing an elaborate gown, dripping with diamonds and confidence, effortlessly belting out lyrics I’m too dazed to even try to understand.
For a moment, I’m so lost in the music I don’t notice when a warm hand lands on my elbow and guides me to the chair behind me. I sink down, eyes still trained on the stage.
I’ve listened to her on my phone or the radio for so long that it’s surreal to hear her live.
I’m breathless by the time the song ends, and it’s when I hear a deep breath I remember I’m not alone. “Sorry. I… I’m a big fan of hers.”
He presses a button on the table I hadn’t noticed and an usher immediately brings in a fresh glass of champagne and a tumblr full of amber liquid. “No apology is necessary. I’ve never met an American fond of Italian opera; it’s refreshing to meet someone with good taste. I’m surprised you don’t speak Italian, though, given your passion.”
“You don’t have to understand what someone’s saying to understand what they’re feeling,” I point out.
He grins like I’ve said the right answer to a difficult question. “True.”
The next song starts, a backup singer effortlessly building he crowd’s energy, and my gaze is torn between the man beside me and the stage. I want to stare at him and listen to him speak in that strangely sexy voice, but I’ve also been looking forward to this show for almost a year.
“I’d like to propose a deal,” he says, surprising me.
My eyebrows quirk at the practiced way he said that, and I debate if this is a good idea. Curiosity wins in the end. “A deal?”
“I leave you alone and stop interrupting your experience, and you agree to have a drink with me after the show’s over.”
I purse my lips to give the appearance of being deep in thought. “I could always just leave and sit in my own seat.”
He nods. “You could. But you won’t.”
“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” He should be.
He smiles, hazel eyes on mine as he takes a slow sip of his drink. For some reason, my stomach ties itself in knots and my thighs press together at the look in his eyes. He smirks like he knows what happened, and says, “You don’t want to leave. In the five minutes you’ve been here, you haven’t stopped blushing. And let’s not forget the spell of speechlessness.”
I blush again, making him chuckle.
Then I murmur, “Fine. Deal.”
He takes my hand in his, shaking once and sealing it in metaphorical stone.
“Enjoy the show.”
Cecilia starts singing again before I can respond, and I become lost once again to the vibrato of her voice.
I don’t like all opera, and I don’t like all opera singers, but there’s something about her that makes you feel every single thing she’s thinking about while singing. It’s the rawest form of art I’ve ever experienced, and it’s impossible to look away while she tells her story.
That doesn’t mean I’m not overly aware of the man next to me.
His eyes are on me the entire time mine are on the stage, acting like I’m more interesting to watch than the show he undoubtedly paid thousands of dollars to see. His gaze burns a hole into the side of my face, but I can’t be bothered to care because I just can’t believe I’m here.
The last song before intermission concludes, leaving the audience in suspense of what happens next, and I find I’m almost breathless as I watch the curtain sweep closed dramatically.
A condition that does the opposite of improve when the man beside me says softly, “You’re beautiful, you know.”
“You’re charming,” I say back, my skin warming like it always does with compliments.
He grins like that’s amusing.
“What’s your name?” he asks, facing me and crossing his long legs. I do the same, leaving less than an inch between our knees.
“Elain.”
“Elain,” he repeats, drawing the syllables out in a way that makes me bite into my lower lip.
“What’s yours?”
He tilts his head, almost in preparation, as he answers, “My name is Azriel Pacino.”
He says it with finality, like he’s a person of importance and is used to being treated accordingly. I mean, it makes sense, considering the private booth we’re sitting in and the instantaneous service the waiter brought our drinks with.
I realize something I’d pushed to the back of my mind. “Why did the man from before bring me in here? He seemed like he was nervous or late or something.”
“He was,” he chuckles. “He was supposed to bring me my companion for the evening, and he was late.”
My jaw snaps shut. “Oh. So… you’re still waiting for her, then?”
At this point, she was very rudely late, but that’s absolutely none of my business.
He tilts his head and smiles, the sight too much for me and causing me to take a long swallow of champagne. “Are you asking if I’m single, Elain?”
My mouth opens and closes a few times to his amusement, but I end up whispering, “Yes.”
“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I wasn’t.”
I feel a strange sense of relief, but I don’t have time to read into it before the curtains sweep back open and the lights dim, meaning the show’s about to start.
More singers are with Cecilia now, their voices joining to create a sound so moving, I have to bite my lip to hold back the tears. Which grows harder as the scenes progress, and it becomes obvious this story will end in a tragedy.
By the end, I’m helpless. My eyes are watering, and I have a death grip on the arm of the seat I’ve all but forgotten I’m sitting in. The last song is the one that breaks the dam, and when the performers bow and the lights come back on, my cheeks are damp.
I wipe them with the backs of my hands, then stand and clap so hard my palms hurt.
Taking another large sip of champagne to calm myself, I turn back to Azriel, finding him watching me once again. I normally would feel a little guilty about completely ignoring a man for over an hour, but hey, we have a deal.
“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”
“So much more,” I answer, laughing incredulously. “I’ve wanted to see her perform for years.”
A thoughtful look crosses his face, then he stands with fluid grace I could never hope to have and extends a hand. “Come with me.”
I remember our deal. “To get a drink?”
He shakes his head but offers no other explanation, and even though it might be a bad idea, I accept it.
Azriel pulls me from the booth and leads me down the hallway I ran through earlier, and I notice the people on this floor give him a wide birth, looking at him with round eyes.
Maybe he’s famous here or something.
I shrug it off, deciding to live in the moment as his arm goes around me and his palm lands on my waist.
We come to a stop at an elevator I hadn’t noticed, and once inside, he presses B instead of the button for the lobby.
I’m confused as to why until the door opens and I see a flurry of people bustling back and forth, carrying props and costumes and other important stuff.
My eyes shoot to Azriel’s, but he stays silent, just guiding me from the lift and down a narrow hallway.
He knocks twice on a door, then opens it and tugs me inside.
When I glance around him to see what the surprise is, I almost hit the floor.
Cecilia Bartoli sits on a plush sofa, holding a martini and looking so beautiful and classy I almost start crying all over again.
She looks up at us and raises an eyebrow, and I’m about to… I don’t know, apologize for barging in unannounced or something, when Azriel speaks.
It’s in Italian, so I can’t be sure what he’s saying, but then he tilts his head towards me and says simply, “Elain.”
She gets to her feet and comes toward us, bypassing him to grab my shoulders and kiss my cheeks. “Buona sera, Elain.”
I take a shaky breath, half convinced I passed out and this is all some elaborate dream. “Buona sera.”
“Did you enjoy the show?” she asks in heavily accented English, smiling at me kindly.
“Oh, my goodness, yes. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen. I’m a huge fan of yours. I bought my ticket and have looked forward to this for months, and it was perfect,” I babble, not able to shut up in her presence.
“Gazie.” Her eyes shoot to the man beside me, and she asks kindly, “Would you like an autograph, dear?”
My mouth drops open, because I haveto be dreaming. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
She waves a hand, grabs a program from tonight off the dressing table nearest us, and signs, “Elain, It was lovely to meet you. Cecilia.”
Then she hands it to me, not possibly knowing how much it means, and says, “Come back anytime.”
I nod overzealously, too stunned by the events that have gone down in the last ten minutes to say anything witty besides, “Thank you so much. It was so wonderful to meet you.”
She kisses my cheeks again, nods to Azriel, then moves back toward the couch. He says something else that has her rolling her eyes, but he pulls me from the room before I can try and decipher it.
As soon as it shuts behind us, I turn and smack his shoulder.
He looks adorably confused, but I’m on an adrenaline high and don’t stop to appreciate the expression.
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you know her! Or that that’s where you were taking me! I could’ve… I don’t know, fixed my hair or something!”
Smiling, he smooths a hand over the slightly curled locks resting on my shoulder and shakes his head. “She’s an old friend of mine. It’s why I came. And you look perfect.”
I ignore the tingly sensation that statement gives me. “You’re friends with Cecilia Bartoli.”
I say it as a statement, but it still sounds ridiculous.
He shrugs. Shrugs.
I shake my head in bewilderment, not knowing what else to do, and he chuckles. “Come with me”
I do.
He leads me upstairs and outside, then down the Sicilian streets until we find a beautiful, quiet bar close to where I’m staying. It’s candlelit and romantic and this entire night sounds like a fairytale.
We take one of the many abandoned booths and order, then he leans back, drapes a long arm over the back of the booth, and looks at me like he’s content to do just that all night long.
“Why are you in Sicily?” he finally asks as our drinks are being set in front of us.
I take a sip of wine and respond, “I start at the Culinary Institute on Monday.”
Two days from now, and I could hardly freaking wait.
“You must be a talented chef, then. That’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world.”
“I guess. What about you?” I ask, desperate to talk about him instead of me. “What do you do for a living?”
He pauses, takes a drink. “I’m in security.”
That would explain the fact he could blend in at a boxing match or a board meeting.
“How is your English so good, by the way?”
Another pause, this one longer than the one before. “I lived in Chicago for a while.” I’m about to ask why he moved, or maybe why his expression got darker when I asked him that when he beats me to it. “How long does the program last?”
It’s my turn to pause and stall with a sip. “Just the summer.”
He nods, taking that in stride, even though it feels much more dramatic to me. Of course I’d meet someone handsome and kind and interesting when I’m only in town for three months, two weeks, and six days.
Suddenly, I’m worried he won’t want to continue this date, knowing it’s all but pointless, considering I’m not here permanently.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Elain.”
I look back up to find him studying me, hazel eyes serious. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
He reaches over and taps my bottom lip. “I know you’re frowning. And you’re beautiful when you frown, caro, but I much prefer your smile. So stop worrying about it and just enjoy the moment.”
“Okay,” I agree, vowing to do exactly that.
“Okay,” he parrots, taking another sip of his drink and tilting his head. “Why Cecilia Bartoli?”
I take a deep breath and try to think about how to phrase this. “My mom died when I was younger, and I lost my dad when I was fifteen. It hit me hard, and I couldn’t find the will to live, much less smile. And then one day, I was sitting outside the restaurant I was waitressing at, and our chef played a song by her.”
“And it was just… one of those life changing moments I’ll never forget. Her music got me through the hardest part of my life, and I’ve grown to appreciate it even more over the years.”
He smiles sadly. “Thank you for telling me that.”
I shrug, once again a little uncomfortable. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“So are you. I want to get to know you.”
We spend the next to hours talking.
We talk until the place is empty and I’m sure the owner is ruing the day we were born, but I can’t bring myself to stop. His dry commentary makes me laugh, his occasional smile makes my knees weak, and the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world makes my heart pound.
The music is still playing, even though the bartender is nowhere to be found, and since I’ve had pretty much the best night of my life and am just tipsy enough to be bold, I stand and offer my hand.
“Dance with me, please.”
His lips twitch, even as he says, “I don’t dance.”
I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Well, if you want me smiling and happy, I suggest you change your policy.”
He snorts but gives in, sliding from the booth and taking me in his arms gently. One of his palms is cradling mine, the other is on the dip of my spine, and for a moment, we simply sway to the crackly sounds coming from the old stereo.
We dance through the tables, and he turns out to be much better than I expected, twirling me and leading me effortlessly. Or maybe that’s just him.
He’s obviously a born leader, someone who’s always in control, and it’s refreshing to be with someone confident but not overbearing.
My head rests against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart soothes an ache in my soul I never realized I had. “You smell good,” I tell him, very matter-of-factly.
It’s a weird thing to say, but I kind of can’t help it.
He smells like smoke and spices, the combination so addictive it’s all I can think about as we move together.
The hand on my back moves to the back of my head, and it quickly shifts from dancing to being held in his arms. We’re still swaying, but it’s more of a hug, both of us simply enjoying the feeling of the other against us.
His hand glides through my hair, and it feels so good I close my eyes.
I try telling myself I’ve known him a handful of hours, but it’s no good. He’s somehow transitioned from a stranger to someone I’ve known for years, someone I’m comfortable around.
So when he pulls back and mumbles, “I want to kiss you,” against my ear, I let him.
And when he walks me to the townhouse I’m renting, kisses me slowly, and gives me a business card with his number on it, I promise to call.
What would Elriel do if it was them on that one bed at the inn (where Feyre said she wanted ‘fun’) instead of Feysand? Would it be smut? Or sweet fluff? Can you please write this? I don’t mind if it is steamy or fluffy! Thanks!!
Might I raise you and say both? HA. Wrote it this way because I came back to edit :)
____________________________________________
There’s nothing, absolutely no sign whatsoever, that indicates the man next to me is awake, but I know he is.
His breathing is even and deep, but it’s like I can sense his attention on me. Even though his eyes are closed. His entire being seems tuned into mine, and it puts me on edge, even as I pretend to sleep.
Honestly, I don’t think either one of us has relaxed ever since the owner of this horrible little inn told us there was only one room available. With one very small bed.
It apparently wasn’t ideal, but we don’t have any other option. We’re making our way back to Velaris from a tense trip to the Illyrian camp Azriel had grown up in, and there’s nothing around for at least another days time.
Cold and cranky, we’d climbed the stairs silently and changed into dry clothes, then gotten into bed and begun to dutifully ignore each other.
At least, I am.
He very well could be just trying to go to sleep.
That’s the problem with Azriel, I’ve discovered. He never shows any reaction. I’m pretty sure I could stand in front of him and strip every last piece of clothing off and he wouldn’t blink an eye. Hell, he’d probably just give me that long-suffering sigh and ask what I was doing.
No reaction. Ever.
It makes being attracted to him extremely irritating.
Flopping onto my side dramatically, I poke him in the shoulder and announce, “I can’t sleep.”
“That’s because you’re not trying.”
“Oh, come on. Wake up and talk to me.” He of course doesn’t, so I continue my list of demands. “Tell me about Hybern. Or your favorite thing to do. Or-”
“Go to sleep.”
I brood for a few minutes over his tone. Apparently he’s dead set on ignoring me tonight.
Except I’m tired of being ignored.
I’m ignored every single day of my life, and I think I’ve had enough of it.
I sigh heavily and decide to test out my “no-reaction” theory. “Well, if you don’t want to talk, we could always just have sex.”
His eyes fly open so fast I laugh. “What?”
Is that interest in his voice, or incredulity? Or maybe both?
Trying to be casual, I say, “You heard me perfectly well, Azriel.”
“Yes, but I don’t know why you’d say something like that-”
“Because I’d like to have sex with you,” I declare, finding that now that I’ve actually said the words, I’m not embarrassed in the slightest. He makes a strange, choking sound that lets me know I’ve really surprised him, and I laugh again. “You know, for someone 500 years old, you’re pretty stupid.”
Once he’s recovered enough to speak, he asks, “Why in the world would you want to have sex with me?”
He says it like he honestly doesn’t know. Like he thinks he doesn’t deserve me or something.
Bracing myself up on one arm, I look down at him. His hair’s an inky spill on the pillow, and it looks so soft I have trouble not reaching and running my fingers through it. “Because you’re loyal and noble and attractive. Because you’re the only one who treats me like a person, not some doll that needs to be protected. Because you see me as who I really am.”
“And who are you, Elain?”
That’s a good question.
“I’m just a woman. One who wants you, and has since the moment we met.” He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I don’t see why this has to be complicated. It wouldn’t be for anyone else.”
“Because you’re not just anyone, Elain.” His eyes narrow, the spy in him determined to get all the information possible out of me. “Is that all you want from me then? Just sex?”
I ask myself the same question, but the answer is that I don’t really know. All I know is that for the first time in twenty years, I’m attracted to someone and want to do something about it.
For the first time, I want to stop caring and just live.
I’ve never been with a man; the closest I ever came was when Grayson kissed me after proposing. It was quick and clean, and I didn’t feel half as excited as I do when when I even look at Azriel.
So I have to wonder… what would it be like to kiss Azriel? To feel his body against mine, to see a smile on his face and know it’s from something I’ve done?
“I want… fun.” He raises a dark eyebrow, but I see the flare in his eyes. “I’ve never… I’ve never wanted anyone, but I want you, and I know you want me to.”
For a moment, he just lays there, looking up at me. My confidence starts to waver, just enough for me to ask shakily, “Am I wrong?”
Have I really misread a dozen lingering glances and sly smiles? Or have I been reading into something nonexistent? Or-
He’s on me in an instant, lips meeting mine and shutting the uncertainty off easily. It’s a soft and sweet and simple kiss, similar to the one Grayson gave me, but unlike my first kiss, my entire body comes alive.
“No, Elain. You’re not wrong.” Azriel pulls back, hazel eyes searching my face, and gives me a very male look. “How much fun, exactly, are you trying to have?”
My lips are pulled into a smile as I put them back against his, and his hands slip into my hair, fingers threading through it carefully. Mine find his shoulders to push him on his back, but he sits up instantly, a serous look on his face. “Wings.”
That’s all the explanation I get before his arms are around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. I shiver from the chill and lack of blankets around me, and his hands slide over my arms, then his wings are around us, creating a dark, warm cocoon.
A calloused hand guides my leg around his waist, aligning our hips, and I can’t hardly breathe at the rush of heat that shoots through me.
He hears my harsh intake of breath and pulls back to look at me.
Moving so slowly I squirm, his hands slip under the hem of my sweater, palms flat against my back. He watches my face as they move up, and eyes locked onto mine even as it comes off.
Then they drop to track the movement of his fingertips tracing over my skin and coming to the three faint freckles just below my collarbone. He smiles as he spots them, then leans in to press his mouth against my skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, the rough timber of his voice rattling through me.
I run my hands through his hair and he tilts his head back to look me in the eyes again. I get a little lost in him, in the so-obvious reaction he isn’t bothering to hide anymore. “Say stop, and I will. No questions, no judgement. Okay?”
“I won’t.”
His lips twitch, but he insists, “Say okay anyway.”
“Okay,” I whisper back, barely getting the words out before his mouth is back on mine.
His chin nudges mine to the side, then his lips are working their way down the column of my throat. A gasp escapes me as he sucks on the place my neck meets my shoulder, and his lips curve into a smile.
But he doesn’t stop.
He moves down to my chest, hands coming up to guide my breasts towards his mouth. Another gasp, then a shocked moan, slips out of me as his tongue swirls around the peak of one.
Everything I thought I knew goes out the window as he kisses his way to the other, but I don’t care enough to be bothered by my lack of experience.
My hips seem to move on their own accord, churning sloppily against his, and his hands drop to guide them.
His lips meet mine again, tongue teasing mine, and I know right now how much trouble I’m in. I’m practically trembling with need, and all he’s done is kiss me.
But, gods above, I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever want to stop.
I release his name in a a sigh as his hand sneaks around my waist to toy with the hem of my leggings, my entire focus seeming to narrow to that spot.
Azriel pulls back again right as his fingers slip between the fabric and brush against my skin. I try to kiss him again, but he evades and grins. “I want to watch.”
Oh, gods.
His fingertips barely graze my center, giving me the lightest bit of contact, but my hips jerk anyway. He does it again, shifting slightly so he can see better, and the knowledge that he’s watching himself touch me is almost too much.
Another soft moan escapes me as his thumb makes a small circle, and the caramel in his eyes seems to go molten. “Feel good?”
I nod immediately, and his grin grows.
He slowly pushes a finger inside me, that thumb continuing to draw circles to keep me relaxed. He starts moving, somehow providing exactly the right amount of pressure to make me breathless.
And I think I’ve never felt so alive.
He leans to press a soft kiss to the column of my throat, whispering, “Are you having fun, Elain?”
A tremor works its way through me, and I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Almost.”
My hips are moving faster now, and he moves his fingers in rhythm, murmuring something I can’t quite hear. Soon I’m clutching his shoulders and feeling a strange sort of tension settle in my legs.
“Azriel.” He curls his finger, and my thighs squeeze his waist. “Azriel.”
“Come on, baby,” he encourages, pushing into me a little harder. “Come for me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say back, even though I listen to him anyway. My legs go tight around him, my back arches into his chest, and I release a loud groan I’ll probably be embarrassed about tomorrow.
But right now, I don’t care, because it feels like I have fucking lightening in my veins, and I’ve never felt anything so intense.
When I open my eyes, I see him watching me, and the realization that he saw all that brings a blush to my cheeks. “Wow.”
He grins. “Are you tired yet?”
I answer him by falling bac and grabbing the front of his shirt to bring him with me. Even though he could easily stop me, he gives in, landing on top of me softly and pressing me down into the lumpy mattress. His wings fall around us protectively, blanketing us in darkness.
Blindly, I reach a hand toward them, hearing his sharp intake of breath as my finger meets down the sinewy material.
“Elain.”
I ignore the pained way he says my name and do it again, then gasp as my hands are suddenly pinned above my head, his grip definitely firm but not painful.
For a minute, I’d forgotten who exactly I was in bed with. I’d forgotten that Azriel is nothing like any of the men I’ve met before. He’s old and powerful and… just more.
It’s addictive.
His weight is making my mind spin, our chests roughly colliding with every gasping breath I manage to take.
“Elain, you have to stop that,” he admonishes, pressing his hips to mine roughly so I can feel the affect of my teasing. “I’m not… I can’t-.”
“That’s a lie.”
He gives me a flat look, and my lips twitch. But an edge of seriousness grows into his gaze as he tells me, “I’m not taking your virginity in shithole. You deserve better.”
“I swear that between the two of us, you’re the only one who cares about that.”
He could take me in the middle of a snowstorm and I wouldn’t even care.
“I know, but… I don’t want you to regret me. I’ve seen what something like that does to a female, and I refuse to give you anything less than you deserve.”
The words his a deep cord in me, and the sadness in his fierce eyes makes my chest hurt. “I could never regret you, Azriel. But I understand.”
He nods once, the gesture simple, and suddenly leans back up to lift me and put me back in my original spot on the bed. Curling behind me, Azriel wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me tight to his chest. “Good. Now go to sleep.”
I’m not quite ready. “I don’t know if I can, with you stabbing me with your-”
“Sleep, Elain.”
Still not ready. “What happens when we go back to the House of Wind? Will that be a fancy and deserving enough of a place for you to deflower me?”
He chuckles, arms going tighter around me, and mumbles against my neck, “We’ll see.”
The first time they met in the garden was an accident.
Elain was tending to her roses, the kind that perfumed all of the townhouse, when a shadow crept over her. It was blocking the sun that was beating down on her — Despite her floppy hat the sun was still blistering hot and managed to stream through the cracks in the straw.
