𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 95

Chapter 95

Arwen watched the tanned, scarred fingers trace up and down the inside of her arm that was extended beyond her, the movement almost lulling her back to sleep. Her head pounded, but certainly not as terrible as one might have expected. Her back pressed up against his bare front as they lay on her bed the way they had been since he brought her home last night.

Cassian had been demanding, but she had also been foul.

Bastard. That was a crude thing to call him.

Arwen inched her head over her shoulder to look at her mate, the rest of her body soon following. Azriel smiled down at her. "How's your head?" he whispered, pressing his lips to her warm forehead. She could feel the heat on her own skin.

"S'alright." She loved looking into his eyes. Loved finding the lightness behind them. Whether it was for her, his family, or just a good day in particular, she didn't care. "Does Cassian hate me?"

"So you remember." Arwen spared him a glare before burying her face into the hidden between his neck and the mattress. Azriel chuckled warmly and moved his hand to the back of her head. "A little splash isn't going to damage his pride. I think he's more worried about why you felt the need to waste my drink on him. Which I wasn't finished with, by the way."

The presence of his teasing mood gave enough indication that her little drunken scene hadn't been taken too terribly. Or at least, her mate found it humorous. "You left it under my trust," she mumbled. "It is no one's fault but your own that you lost it."

His thumb made light trails on the low of her back under... Well, she wasn't sure what she was wearing but it was thick and warm. "I didn't realise how intoxicated four drinks was going to get you. I wouldn't have let them pull me away if I had realised."

"I liked watching you have fun." Her voice muffled against his warm skin. "Cassian was just... Annoying me. I talk when I'm drunk. Talk and blabber and overreact."

"I won't make a judgement on that." Arwen untucked her head for another glare through her dark lashes. Azriel smiled. "I wasn't there to hear, is all."

Rolling her eyes—wincing at the pain it flared—she turned onto her back. The dress she had worn last night was tossed over the back of her vanity chair, which drew her eyes back down to her body. Her legs were bare, the blanket shifting against her skin but her upper body was clad in a dark shirt. "Is this yours?"

Azriel's nose dug behind her pointed ear. "You wouldn't let me dress you in anything else. Peeled it right off me." She gave a single, sharp laugh of mortification. "I'm afraid that I must ask for it back before we leave this room. I do not fancy flying home without one. The mornings are still chilly."

"Well, that is a problem." Arwen bit her lip, curling her hand up to rest against his outer cheek. "Because I like this shirt very much." It smelt of him. Reminded her of him, even though he was right there. A claim to him while the bond was still unaccepted.

A large shadow passed over her. Azriel braced his forearms along either side of her head. He let his wing droop on either side of them, resting against the bed. He leant low, lips skimming hers. "I like seeing you in it."

Arwen entangled her hands into his hair, pulling him down that extra inch until he brought her into a proper kiss. It was tender and light, nothing close to a desperate passion. The type of kiss that comes when both know there are plenty more. Pulling her head back, she spent a moment admiring him. Admiring how the sunlight that peeked through her curtain shied away from him. She stroked the high point of his cheek with her thumb before curling one of his dark waves behind his ear. "You do know I tease, don't you?" she asked. "Yesterday with the whole accessory thing. I would hardly think so little of you to be nothing more than a piece of jewellery to wear." She tapped his nose. "Diamond or not."