Shadows Whisper | | Azriel

50

Azriel missed Astryn so much that his entire body felt like it was on fire. He wanted to go seek her out and apologize, but the one shadow that had returned to him hissed at him when just the thought crossed her mind. He couldn't go to her, she had to come to him.

It was killing him though. He hadn't seen her in days and the last time he saw her she was afraid of him. He couldn't get that look out of his head. Or the way her voice sounded when she spoke to him with so much fear. He hated himself for it. Hated himself for it even more when the shadow came back snapped at him over how she had cried in Cassian's lap for hours.

You sent her running off crying to another male, the shadow said, you made her cry and she went to someone else to feel safe again. You made her feel unsafe.

Azriel didn't think he would ever forgive himself for this. He also found himself wondering if the shadows would ever forgive himself for it. The worst part, though, was that he didn't have to wonder if Astryn would forgive him. He knew she would, just as much as he was certain he didn't deserve it.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head. This whole thing was killing him. He couldn't get any work done. All he could do was sit around and obsess over what happened. The shadow was more than content to let him do that, to let him wallow in his guilt.

It was only after days and days and way too many days away from Astryn that the shadow finally stirred, seeming to perk up like a puppy.

She's coming home, it told him, she's coming home now.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat and he sat up straight, eyes widening. She was coming home. Finally. He would get to talk to her—he would get to apologize to her.

Something inside of him burned when he saw her tucked up against Cassian's side when they returned to the house together, Cassian's arm set over her shoulder and her fit against his side almost as well as she fit against Azriel's own side. He pushed down the wave of jealousy.

The jealousy vanished entirely when Astryn peeled away from Cassian's side when she saw Azriel. She stopped a little over a foot away from him, looking at him like she was just waiting for him to do something. He knew she was waiting for him to do something terrible, to hurt her in some way. He knew Cassian was still lingering back where she left him because she had probably asked him to stay until she was sure Azriel wouldn't put a hand on her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, forcing himself to stay still and not pull her close, not hug her until everything felt okay again. She relaxed visibly though at his voice, at his tone and his volume. He wasn't yelling, he wasn't angry.

"It's okay," she mumbled, closing the distance and hugging him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said back softly, his arms around her and his wings curling in to wrap around her too. "Missed you so fucking much. I'm so sorry, Astryn. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she dismissed, breathing in the comforting smell of him, "I forgive you. I missed you a lot. I hate being apart."

Azriel didn't notice because his eyes were closed and he was preoccupied with breathing in the smell of Astryn's hair, but Cassian left the two of them alone now.

"I don't want to explore and see other options," she muttered against his chest, "I just want to pick you. Can you let me pick you now?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly, "yes, whatever you want."

"I want to kiss you again," she told him, so he pulled back slightly so he could lower his lips to hers.

He kissed her gently but she set her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in further and it became something more—something more needy and desperate. He swore nothing ever felt more right than her in his arms with his lips on hers.

"Food," she mumbled, breaking away from the kiss, "you said I have to give you food to accept the bond."

"Just let me kiss you," he pleaded, a little shocked at the desperation in his own voice, "we'll do that later. Just let me kiss you right now."

"Azriel," she whined softly, and he groaned at the sound of his name from her lips like that. He kissed her again.

"You're so perfect," he murmured between kisses, "so fucking perfect and amazing. So good and perfect."

She kissed him hard at that, which only encouraged him to keep talking when their lips parted again.

"My perfect good girl," he praised softly, and he thought he might die because she actually moaned at that. She seemed shocked at the sound coming from herself.

"Azriel," his name escaped her lips as a gasp as his lips went to her neck. He only hummed in acknowledgment against her skin, feeling so wild with need. Her fingers tangled in his hair and everything felt so good—damn near too good. He was certain his entire body was going to explode into a million tiny pieces. "Azriel."

"You're doing so good," he muttered as he nipped at her neck, "my pretty good girl, doing so good."

Astryn didn't know what the feeling was but she was certain she didn't ever want it to go away.