Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger [EDITING]

Chapter 34

The world outside was a rainbow of color.

Black and blue and purple tangled in the night sky, stitching together lines of stars. More colors puddled in the snow at her feet. Azriel held up the skirt of her dress as she lumbered down the stairs, smiling at the trails her boots left in the snow.

She understood Feyre's desire to paint now. The need to capture each and every hue on a canvas to keep forever.

Soraya absentmindedly shrugged out of her jacket, craving the cool air against her feverish skin.

"No," Azriel hurried to secure her coat back into place, making her whimper at the suffocating heat. "I know, Raya, but you'll freeze."

She didn't think it possible to freeze when it felt as though she was burning from the inside. Chilled fingers touched her face. Soraya's eyes followed the length of the arm until landing on Azriel's face. His lips quirked thoughtfully as he felt her temperature.

"You're burning up," he murmured a curse. It sounded so wonderful rolling off his lips that she couldn't help but stare at them. To study the shape they took when he spat the nasty word.

She wanted to feel Azriel's lips, she realized. Soraya wanted to reach out and touch them. Just to see if they were truly as soft as they appeared. She wanted to trace her fingers along his smile. To feel it in her hand the way she always felt it in her chest.

She wanted to kiss him.

The need came so strongly that it nearly knocked the wind from her. She practically wheezed.

Soraya had never been kissed before. She'd been intimate with another on one occasion, but it was anything but appealing. It had been a spontaneous act of rebellion against her parents raising her to be married off. Even if she didn't know it at the time. A twisted way to regain control.

There was a boy in town who had always taken a liking to her, and he was nice enough. Though he may well have been the most miserable night of her life. 

There had been no talking, no comfort. No kisses or sweet words. No relief or pleasure or satisfaction. Only pain that she hadn't been prepared for and a feeling of loneliness when he'd insisted he leave immediately afterward.

But standing before Azriel, her head thick with fog, Soraya wanted nothing more than to kiss him. She wanted his everything. His warmth and his sweet words. His kiss and his laugh. She wanted his smile and his comfort and his hands fanned across her hips.

A sigh pressed from her when his hand gave hers a squeeze. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

A smile spread across her mouth. "Your voice." She wanted that too.

Azriel's face scrunched in confusion. "What?"

"It tickles my stomach," she hummed, unsure of how better to explain. 

It made her gut flutter. Like a thousand butterflies taking flight. She would never tire of Azriel's voice. It was deep, rich, and smooth. Warm and thick and intoxicating. Like honey.

"Honey?" He looked lost, his head tilted.

Had she said that aloud?

"Mhm," she murmured, finding his eyes, "Your voice sounds like honey."

His brows twitched toward one another, but he looked to be hiding a smile. "Thank you."

Why did he do that so often? Hide his smile from her. Didn't he know how desperately she craved it?

Soraya inched forward, her arms lifting. Azriel stilled, wings tucking tight, when her hands cupped his face. She pressed her thumbs into the corners of his mouth and pulled them upward, completing his smile.