Rules for Spies

When she meets his eye, it's like those times when they glance at each other during training, when they're in perfect agreement for an extended, shining moment.

Azriel extends his hand, his Siphon gleaming cobalt and his fingers bare even in this cold, the scars an intricate mark of whatever he himself has survived.

"Welcome to the mission, Gwyn," he says, and Gwyn wants to savor it, the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers, his long fingers brushing her wrist. The approval she sees in those lovely eyes. She could swear she sees one of his shadows make its way up her arm.

&&&

While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei's captives, attraction turns into something more.