¤ Chapter Eight ¤

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My heart can't take it!!!! All your comments are so sweet!!!!! My heart feels like it's going to EXPLODE when I read them! Thank you so much for those super sweet and kind comments! I'm so glad you're liking the story!

This chapter is shorter, unedited and absolutely horribly written due to my mental health. I'm so so so sorry. I didn't think my mental health would plummet so much, so...this is kinda my fault..not really but I'm gonna say it is. I apologize for how awful this is.

Anyway, we are now diving deeper into the plot *rubs hands together*

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TW: depicted violence, blood, strong language

Word Count: 2015 (much shorter)

AZRIEL: (takes place two weeks after the last chapter)

Azriel was in immense pain.

The spymaster was propped against the dark stone walls, blood seeping from the wound in his stomach. His mind racing at a thousand miles per second. He needed to save his mate. He had been taken by a captor and dragged through a door. Azriel was left cursing his stupidity. He had felt like something bad would happen, and here he was, laying on the cold, hard floor bleeding out from multiple stab wounds. His only thoughts on Kiran and how useless he really was. He couldn't protect his mate. He was supposed to be a strong warrior that has never been defeated. But look at him now. What a waste.

His day had started fine. So, where did it all go wrong?

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(Several hours beforehand)

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Azriel had awoken to soft sunlight filtering through his window on onto his face. His head resting on his plush pillow. The scent of bacon and egg filled his apartment. Overall, it felt like the perfect morning, almost too perfect.

Shrugging off the feeling, Azriel sat up in his bed. Ever since the two males had bonded, Kiran insisted he made breakfast for the shadowsinger. At first Azriel was opposed, saying he could make his own. After the second morning, he knew he couldn't change his mate's mind. The spymaster smiled softly. He quickly dressed before leaving his room and headed towards the kitchen. When he arrived, he took in the sight.

Kiran stood before the counter; a knife held in his hand. A smile played on his lips as he hummed a small tune. He wore a soft gray sweater with darker pants. His hair, which was starting to grow out, fell in his eyes. His feet bare and occasionally thumping along to his humming.

Azriel leaned against the frame, his eyes glued to the male in front of him. If anyone saw him at that moment, his reputation would go up in flames. He watched his mate with so much love in his eyes, so much care. Anyone could tell from one look that Kiran meant the world to Azriel.

"Oh. Good morning, Az." The healer's honey-voice enveloped the shadowsinger, dispelling his shadows.

Azriel smiled. He pushed himself off the door and went to stand beside his mate, "Smells good." He peeked over Kiran's shoulder and the herbs the male was cutting.

"I was thinking we could go look for more flowers. The ones in the vase seem to be wilting." A surge of love washed over the spymaster. Kiran hadn't made fun of him when he told the male about the flowers he put out for his mother. It meant so much to him to know that his mate was fine with his strange tradition.

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