ACOTAR one shots, imagines and short stories

Bruises of the Heart (Azriel x OC)

Word count: 2371

Characters: Azriel and OC

Warnings: Implied sex

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The room was still heavy with the scent of their passion, the faint glow of faelight filtering through the windows of the cabin. Azriel's chest heaved as he lay on his back, wings sprawled across the bed, the soft hum of satisfaction vibrating through his veins. His mate—his mate—was draped over him, her body warm and slick against his. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her breath a tantalising whisper against his skin.

"Is this... normal?" she asked, her voice breathy and laced with exhaustion, but there was a teasing undertone to her words. "Will I ever stop wanting you?"

Azriel reached out, his fingers gently brushing back the damp strands of hair clinging to her face. They had lost count of how many times they had made love, exploring nearly every surface of the cabin in their frenzied need for each other. He tucked the loose strands behind her ear, his touch tender despite the raw intensity that had driven them again and again to seek each other out.

Azriel chuckled, the sound low and rich, reverberating in his chest. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. "It's completely normal," he murmured, brushing his lips against the top of her head. "The frenzy—it's part of accepting the mating bond. A primal urge to solidify our connection, to make sure it's unbreakable. It can be... intense, especially at first."

She shifted slightly, her fingers trailing down his chest, the tips grazing the scars that marred his skin. Her touch sent a fresh wave of heat through him, and she sighed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "I think... I think I could go again," she confessed, a note of surprise in her voice as if she couldn't quite believe her own insatiability. Her hand slid lower, intent clear.

Azriel laughed again, a deep, warm sound, but he caught her wandering hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "As much as I'd love that," he said, his voice husky, "I think we need to eat first."

She paused, blinking up at him as if trying to recall the last time they had eaten. Her brow furrowed, and then she sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, slowly extricating herself from his embrace. The loss of her warmth was immediate and pronounced, but he watched with darkened eyes as she rose from the bed, her movements languid, her body still flushed with the remnants of their coupling.

She reached for his shirt, which had been discarded somewhere along the way, and slipped it over her head. It dwarfed her, the fabric hanging loose and barely covering the tops of her thighs. The sight of her in his clothing stirred something primal within him, but he kept his hunger in check, knowing they needed to regain some strength before the frenzy overtook them again.

Azriel watched as she padded towards the small kitchen, her steps light and carefree. He marvelled at how effortlessly she moved, at how she could still radiate such vitality after the week they'd spent in this secluded cabin, indulging in the bond that had snapped into place between them.

His heart swelled with a mix of disbelief and contentment. How had he gotten so lucky? For so long, he had been convinced that he would never find what his brothers had. He had been happy for them, of course, but he couldn't deny the sharp sting of envy that had pierced his heart when Rhysand and Feyre, then Cassian and Nesta, had found their mates. He had thought himself unworthy, unlovable—too broken, too marred by his past to ever deserve something so pure and good.

Yet here he was, with her. His mate. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him.

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