A Court of Shadows and Lies / ACOTAR FF

Chapter 13

I have been called a lot of things in my 200,000-year-old life but a gremlin was not one of them. If anyone were to have asked me that, in my life long, I would have even considered being called a gremlin, I would have zapped them out of existence. Whoosh. Gone, their bodies no more. Not a living single thing would have escaped the carnage if someone called me a gremlin.

Yet, here I sat in one of the bay windows with my nose in my diary, thinking about how the Shadowsinger had called me one in his sleep two nights ago. My body shook as I tried to ease my thoughts, my Chaostrite glowing a tad bit too bright at my magicless anger. I even went to the library and asked Clotho to show me where the books on Shadowbone and Shadowdust were, to see if I had done the right steps or if there were going to be complications, all for the Shadowsinger who had the nerve to call me a gremlin. I even cleaned up the mess I made all those nights ago while he was dying.

I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, wincing at Azriel's cedar scent still all over me even after I had scrubbed my body to no end. I had slept on top of the male for five days and woke up to not feeling like I was dying but instead wanting to die.

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When I had woken up, I was wrapped up in Azriel's arms and his shadows had slung themselves over us. I felt my heart stop at the predicament until I felt him. His thick hardness was pressing into my thigh, and no matter how I had repositioned myself, all I could feel was his arousal.

I needed to get out of that bed and the situation.

Gently, I removed his surprisingly light grip and sat up, his shadows cradling my lower back, with my hands pressed against his chest ready to slip off until my breath caught in my throat. I could feel his hard cock through both his leathers and mine.

I had bit back a moan as I sat still, my nails dragging down his chest, his Gods forsaken scent was overwhelming. Everything about him in this situation was overpowering. The way his chest rose up and down, the slight gleam of sweat on his chest from both of our body's heat, how I held him and saddled him – my body was reacting in ways I didn't want it to. I could feel my wetness seeping through my panties I had on and all I wanted was more. I wanted more friction, and less clothing.

I just sat there, in my wet shame, as I stared at the male below me.

It had been centuries since I was last touched but Gods, it felt good.

No.

This is wrong.

I quickly slipped off him, carefully landing around the broken mortar, picked up my diary and walked out without looking back.

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I closed my diary, propping it against a pane, and tilted my head against a window pane, looking out at the cloudy night sky, the storm now passed, with a sigh. Was I that touch deprived? I could have had anyone in Prythian and yet I was nearly touching myself in my bath over this Shadowsinger, of all Fae and beings in the lands. A male who had expressed no interest but disdain for my arrival and accompany – obvious by him calling me a fucking gremlin.

A tiny, miniscule part of me wondered if he would bend me over the kitchen counter in a rage. If he would pull his cock out and threaten me with pain and suffering, and made sure that I felt it with every single one of his long, tantalising thrusts. What would happen if I just asked Azriel to fuck me? Just hate fuck me, get it out of my system and move on. That was all I needed, and what normally worked.

My hips rolled instinctively against my panties and thin leggings when I felt myself clench.

I sheepishly looked around the corner of the bay towards Azriel's door. It was quiet, he hadn't moved or stirred.