A Bloody Crown

Chapter 24: Azriel

"Perhaps, before the day fully escapes us, you learn how it feels to have the sun on your wings," Rhys suggested, gesturing to the tent door behind him.

I lifted my wings to tuck them in, taking great effort in the gesture, and walked slowly, learning how to balance as I moved.

Footsteps shifted behind me, as the other Illyrians followed me out. I stepped out into the setting sun, other members of the camp looking at me in shock. 

"Chest, back, flex," Azriel reminded me to my left, as he expanded his wings effortlessly. Once again, I took note of how.. expansive, they were.

I followed his instructions, my back muscles heaving, and stretched them out. It was orgasmic. Light heat on a tender, gentle part of my body.

Smiling broadly once again, I turned to Azriel, whose dark eyes seemed a little lighter for a flicker of a moment. "Will you teach me to fly like Rhys said?"

He nodded, then added, "It is not an easy experience, though, I imagine after what you managed to just stay conscious for, you'll be prepared."

"I suppose we can work for a couple hours, I don't want to keep you up too late into the night."

Azriel began walking toward a small cliff with a worn path up to it, clearly where some of the Illyrian children learned to fly. "I hardly sleep," he replied.

Quickly following him, I turned back to Feyre, Rhys, and Mor, who were all smiling in my direction. Cassian was wiggling his eyebrows, which I rolled my eyes at. I waved in excitement to the rest of them, then turned back to Azriel.

"Pick your wings up, it is distasteful to allow them to drag," he said, without even a glance. 

I pursed my lips, straining my back to lift them. "They're heavy," I muttered in response.

"Why do you think Illyrians are so fit?" he asked.

Bobbing my head in agreement, I walked alongside him silently, focusing on my back. We climbed the small hill, him with much less effort than me, and stood atop a rock about twelve feet off the ground.

It was just cloaked in trees enough where I wouldn't be stared at, but in case of the need of medical attention, it was accessible.

I stood at the edge, peering over it. Turning around to face him, I sighed. "What first?"

"If acceptable to you," he began, stepping towards me, "I will show you how it feels to move your wings during flight."

"Oh, sure," I replied, still staring.

He paused for a moment, then said, "I'll need to touch your wings."

"Oh!" I chirped, turning around, my face turning pink slightly. "Yes, that's acceptable."

"Basic wing etiquette, don't touch unless given permission. Many Illyrians will fight first, then ask questions if their wings are touched." 

I nodded, making a mental note.

His hands touched the base of my left wing, gentle, but firm. Running them along the lower edge, he expanded it to its full length. Shifting muscles in my back as he did so. Pulling the wing up and down, he simulated flight, touching each muscle as it would activate.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured, his breath warm on the nape of my neck.

"Yes," I whispered, breathless.

His hands shifted to my other wing, and repeated the process. Sliding hands, pulling and tugging gently, lifting the wing up and down, turning as needed.