Shadows Whisper | | Azriel

51

Tw mentions of sexual assault towards the end of the chapter—Astryn opening up to Azriel about the past a little

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Astryn fell asleep in Azriel's arms that night, and in the morning she snuck out of bed before he woke and went off in search of the kitchen. She could just say she wanted food and it would appear and she could give it to him but she wanted to try to actually make something.

She found a kitchen, and then a recipe book. A grin lit up her face as she found a recipe for pancakes. It seemed simple.

Four failed attempts later, it seemed less simple. Her violet eyes shined with confusion, standing out starkly against the flour that had somehow ended up covering her entire face.

She had an...an almost pancake now. It was burned and she was pretty certain she either forgot an ingredient entirely or used a wrong one. It was her best attempt so far though.

She was about to start her fifth attempt when Azriel appeared in the doorway, a grin on his face at the state she was in.

"You could just ask the house for food," he pointed out, his eyes lit up with happiness.

"I wanted to cook for you," she said with a little pout, flour falling from her eyelashes to the floor when she blinked.

He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head before he crossed the room. He didn't mind getting flour all over himself too when he gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. She kissed back, relishing at the warm feeling in her chest.

"It's supposed to be a pancake," she muttered breathlessly when he ended the kiss. His eyebrow arched.

"It's supposed to be a pancake?" he echoed, and she was grateful that the flour hid how red her face had gone.

"It's...it's kind of a pancake," she amended her statement, "I was going to try again. That one is...not quite a pancake."

His eyes flicked to the plate where a burned attempt at a pancake sat. He wouldn't be surprised if it had somehow been on fire at some point during the cooking process.

"That's a pancake, it's just a bit crispy," he replied with a shrug, "I'm sure it's fine." It definitely wasn't fine. It did not smell like pancakes at all in here. It didn't even smell like food in here.

"You don't have to eat that! I'll make a better one," she offered, a little unsure about whether or not it even was edible.

"This is just fine," he assured her, "I'm sure it's good."

She looked skeptical but he grabbed the plate and a fork anyway. She watched as he took a bite and she cringed at the crunch it made.

"It's good," he told her.

It was not good. At all. He took another bite anyway.

He finished the entire thing and was desperate for at least three glasses of water but that vanished from his mind as soon as the bond snapped into place. He didn't know what he expected it to feel like, but this was just...he hadn't ever felt anything like it. It was as if a missing piece of his soul had finally clicked.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and he wondered if it felt just as intense for her. She tilted her head and blinked a few times before saying words that went right to his chest.

"You're mine," she said it as if she was only just realizing it—as if he hadn't been hers from the moment he first saw her. He was hers before he even knew her name.

"Yeah," he agreed shakily, setting the plate down and stepping closer to her, "I'm yours. All yours."

"I'm yours too," she told him, her violet eyes going wide at the growl that slipped out of him at that.