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Mor opened her mouth, but Azriel laid a scarred hand atop hers. She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned—burned as he had been. Azriel’s mask of cold didn’t so much as waver at the rejection.
**
Even if he kept flexing his scarred hand at his side. As if recalling the sensation of the hand she’d whipped free of his touch during that meeting.
♡♡♡
Azriel was in a mood.
Gwyn could always tell, even when he tried to hide it, by the hunch of his shoulders, the slight crease in his brow, and the skittering of his shadows. Honestly, she was surprised he'd managed to survive this long; his shadows gave everything away.
Mor laughed across the training ring, and Azriel seemed to coil even tighter within himself. She clutched Cassian's forearm as she bent over herself, cackling at her own joke.
Emerie looked over at that sound, and Nesta followed her gaze, scowling at the Morrigan's hand on her mate.
"Cassian!" Nesta called, "Come help me."
Cassian's smile widened as he strolled over to his mate "What is it now, my darling?"
Gwyn would've heard Nestas reply if it wasn't for Azriel's snarl "Berbara. Pay attention."
She scowled right back, "Don't take that tone with me, shadowsinger."
Azriel frowned "There's no tone."
"Yes, there is. I get it you're grumpy but-"
Azriel growled .
Gwyn couldn't help it. She laughed, the sound thick with incredulity. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, "Did you just growl at me? Are you a dog?"
Azriel scowled “You…” she'd just touched him. He could still feel it. “I'm not grumpy, and I'm not a dog.”
“Okay. Sure.” She rolled her eyes.
Azriel wondered what it would take to get her to hit him again.
“Maybe if you weren't such an airhead and you were paying attention.”
“An airhead ? Did you just call me an airhead?!” She demanded
Azriel shrugged.
Gwyn scowled and poked him in the chest “Listen here, you-” another poke “You grouchy-” poke. “Asshole.” Poke
Azriel growled just to provoke her “stop poking me.”
“Make. me.”
Azriel snatched her finger out of the air, closing it in his hand and lacing their fingers together. She stared at him wide-eyed, her hand squeezing his gloved one back.
“You're so distracted today.” He spun her, pulling her back flush to his chest with his arms banded over her middle - an imitation of a hug.
Instead of struggling, she relaxed against him, and Azriel felt himself relax in turn. In a bold gesture, he stroked his thumb against her pulse. “Break my hold. Prove me wrong. Show me that you've been paying attention.”
Gwyn didn't move for a too long moment, during which Azriel took the opportunity to tighten his hold, and she squeezed the forearm he had across her stomach.
“Is this what you want?” She asked.
Azriel had no idea what she was talking about. “I want you to break my hold.”
“Is this what you need?”
Azriel tensed despite trying not to. There was no way she hadn't noticed. There was no way she could know what he was doing… right? It's not like he had planned this; he was just so desperate and-
And he shouldn't be taking what he wanted from Gwyn of all people. It wasn't appropriate. She was his student. They were friendly with each other, but they weren't friends. She didn't deserve his anger and frustration. She'd been through enough already without him selfishly seeking comfort from her.
He relaxed his hold, ready to pull away when she squeezed his forearm again.
“Tell me how to break your hold again.”
Azriel's shadows signed. Yes, he could keep touching her. She wanted him to. He could take his time explaining the steps. He could even demonstrate and get her to hold him while he showed her how to break the hold.
His skin prickled with anticipation at the thought of being held by her, even if it was under the guise of training.
Gwyn squirmed a little, causing his shirt sleeve to ride up by a center meter. His bare skin settled against hers, and his brain shuddered to a halt. When was the last time he'd had skin against his own like this?
Sex with females he paid didn't count.
He sighed without meaning too and began to caress her pulse again. He'd have to start forgoing his gloves, maybe during their private sessions…
He swallowed and felt Gwyn's rib cage expand as she took a deep breath, no doubt, mind stilling.
Azriel was contemplating what it would feel like to hug her from the front. To feel her breath against his neck and have the scent of her hair in his nose when a sharp elbow jammed hard against his ribs.
Gwyn broke his hold and turned around to face him, a smile of triumph on her face as Azriel fought for the air she'd knocked out of his lungs.
“Who's the airhead now?” She mocked.
Azriel laughed, and her answering grin was nothing short of beautiful.
**
Azriel wasn't one for touch. He avoided it at all costs and didn't try to initiate touch. He'd learned long ago that it wasn't wanted, that other people didn't want him touching them, that he was too damaged, that he wasn't worthy.
That didn't mean he didn't need it, though. That didn't mean he didn't crave it. More often than not, he was starved for touch.
Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, except he'd been without meaningful touch for so long. Sex helped, but it didn't count; it wasn't affectionate, and it wasn't supposed to make him feel anything but pleasure.
And that was fine.
Except it wasn't always fine, and Azriel wasn't okay. He wasn't asking for constant touch or anything, but he saw the way his friends were with each other: casual touches on the shoulders, hugs, even the occasional hair ruffle.
None of it was directed towards him, though, and he was jealous. What he wouldn't give for that touch, for even just occasional meaningful affection.
Nesta and Emerie were affectionate with each other. It was cute. He couldn't help but notice that Gwyn tried to be involved, too. She tried to accept one of Emerie's bone-crushing hugs or to lean into Nesta's gentle touch, but she always remained stiff and awkward.
She thought no one had noticed, but Azriel had.
The private training sessions were as much for him as they were for Gwyn. They were exhausting; Gwyn was exhausting but in a good way.
She preoccupied his mind and his body on the nights when neither of them could sleep.
Right now, they were taking a 'break'—it's what they called the end of the night when Gwyn was too tired to continue but too stubborn to admit defeat. So they'd take a 'break', catch their breaths, and snack on whatever food Gwyn requested from the house.
Their breaks might be Azriel's favourite part of training, particularly when he and Gwyn star-gazed like tonight. She'd already been in the training ring when he arrived that night. He could tell she was upset, no doubt dragged from sleep by nightmares again.
They were sitting on the wall of the house, their legs dangling over the edge. Azriel didn't like sitting here, or more accurately, he didn't like Gwyn sitting up here because he was always scared she'd fall.
She liked to remind him that he had wings and that if he didn't catch her, Nesta would kill him.
"What's it like?" Gwyn asked "Velaris."
"Beautiful."
"That's what everyone says. Tell me something real about it."
Azriel hummed thoughtfully "The puddles are horrendous when it rains."
Gwyn nodded "Sangravah was close to the marshes, you know? It becomes so muddy in the rain. The other priestesses would hate it. They'd always complain about dragging mud in on the skirts of their robes."
"Sangravah is beautiful… more beautiful than Velaris, in my opinion. Velaris was built. Sangravah is natural beauty, created by the mother."
"Do you believe in the mother?" Gwyn asked, shifting slightly closer to him.
"I don't know what I believe."
"Can I tell you a secret?" Gwyn whispered.
"You can tell me anything."
"I don't know either. She abandoned me and Catrin. I gave everything to The Mother… I'm still giving, and yet, I don't know if anyone is listening."
Gwyn shifted again, and this time, their thighs touched.
"I'm listening," Azriel promised.
She exhaled "Thank you. I'll listen, too. If you want to talk."
Azriel nodded mutely, and to his astonishment, Gwyn rested her head on his shoulder.
"Is this okay?" She whispered.
Azriel lifted an arm to drape around her shoulders "Is this okay?"
"Yes." She exhaled a shaky breath, the cold making it visible.
***
Cassian had Nesta's feet in his lap as they lounged in the house's main sitting room. Azriel was trying to keep the sour, jealous look off his face, but he was well aware he was failing.
Gwyn wasn't doing any better, though her frown was evident whenever she looked up to talk to her friend.
He wondered what Gwyn would feel like in his lap. Not in a sexual way, or at least he didn't think so.
He was just curious about the weight of her, the warmth. He wanted her pressed against him, warm and alive. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her pulse, her breath, the steady rise and fall of her chest. The proof of someone else's life, twined with his.
Gwyn stood, mumbling something about needing another glass of wine, and Azriel trailed after her. He wasn't sure why; he only knew that if she wasn't in the room, he didn't want to be either.
“I suppose we should just count ourselves lucky there not fucking eachother infront of us.” She said idly as she browsed Rhys's wine collection.
Azriel snorted, the sound surprising even him.
“I don't think they would go that far.” He said, selecting his own bottle.
“Oh, I don't know. Nesta has offered.” She admitted.
“To have sex in front of you?” Azriel asked, surprised.
She hummed “among other things. She invited me and Emerie to join them.”
“And you said no?”
“Of course I said no.” She said, struggling to uncork the wine bottle.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? I'm not interested in Cassian like that. He's too…” she trailed off “boisterous, and Nesta said he's rough. I don't want to see that.”
Azriel nodded absently “If it's any consolation, he usually puts on a good show.”
Gwyn's eyebrows raised in surprise. “You've… with Cassian and Nesta?”
“Not with Nesta.” He said casually. “ Before Nesta. I'm not a stupid male I would never interfere in a mated couples sex life like that. They haven't even been mated for a year. Maybe in a decade or two when they both calm down.”
Gwyn frowned “But you and Cassian have… been intimate?”
He fought the urge to laugh so as not to seem condescending. “I wouldn't say we were intimate. Cassian and Rhysand have both taken lovers over the centuries, and they are often partial to a third bed partner.” He shrugged, “I don't always turn down the invitation.”
“Oh?” Gwyn said, but he could tell she was intrigued more than anything. “So you and Cassian haven't…”
“We have.” He said, nodding.
“Oh. Did that not… I mean, hasn't it… affected your friendship?”
Azriel had not expected her to ask that of all things.
“We've been friends for a long time. It affected our friendship but not in a negative way; many things have affected our friendship over the years.”
Gwyn nodded thoughtfully and went back to fighting with the wine bottle. The Cork was too far in, and her slender fingers kept slipping as she tried to get a grip.
“Let me.” Azriel offered as he reached for the bottle. He brushed his fingers against hers, but she kept a firm grip.
“I can do it.” She insisted, letting her power wrap around the Cork this time. She successfully forced it out and sighed in relief. She yanked the bottle back from Azriel with a pleased smile.
“You've been able to do that the whole time?” He asked, amused.
“I've been trying to utilise this newfound Valkyrie strength. Alas, I have met a ribbon that may remain uncut.”
Azriel dipped his head, failing to hide his smile in time. “A worthy opponent indeed.”
She followed him back to the sofa, and feeling bold, she sat closer to him—not close enough that they might touch, but close enough to share the wine bottle.
“We're going to head to bed,” Nesta said as she stood and stretched her arms over her head. “We'll see you two in the morning.”
“It's still early.” Gwyn objected.
“I never said we were going to sleep.” She said, then winked.
Geyn flushed but rolled her eyes “You'd rather have sex then hang out with us?”
“All we do is hang out with the two of you,” Cassian said. “Mummy and daddy need special alone time.”
“Gross.”
“I'm older than you,” Azriel muttered.
“Don't get too drunk,” Nesta said as she tugged Cassian out of the room. We have training at eight.”
Gwyn finished off her glass of wine in one go. “I hate them.”
“No, you don't. You're just jealous.”
“I'm not.”
“You are. Believe me, I've been third wheeling for centuries.”
Gwyn sighed. “We need to find our people.” She turned and stretched out her legs. With her toes, she poked him in the thigh, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Our people?”
“Hmm” She rested her head against the arm of the sofa. “So we're not all alone.”
Azriel swallowed “We're not alone.” He reached out carefully to grasp one of her ankles. When she didn't react, he squeezed gently.
“I suppose.” She said quietly. “I wonder what they're like, our mates.”
“I'm sure your mate is someone amazing.” Azriel said, “someone deserving of you.”
“I hate that.” She scowled “Who decides what I deserve?”
“The Mother, if the stories are to be believed.”
Gwyn fell quiet for a moment. “Do you think she decides everything we deserve? Did she think I deserved…” Her breath caught, and she pulled her knees up to her chest.
“You didn't deserve that,” Azriel said firmly. “No one does. Don't think that for a second.”
She nodded wordlessly, and he couldn't tell if she didn't quite believe him.
“I was raped,” Azriel said, his eyes still on his wine glass. He didn't know if he wanted to see her reaction.
“Azriel…” Gwyn breathed.
“322 years ago, I was captured by operatives in Rask. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I wasn't on a mission, I wasn't gathering intel, I was looking for a birthday present for my mother… someone recognised me somehow, I still don't know. I was so careful, I'm always so careful and yet somehow… I was locked up for days. Tortured for information. I wouldn't give until they sent in this male… I knew of him and his methods of torture, but I didn't think he would...” A muscle feathered in Azriel's jaw as he shook his head. “He held me down and… broke me.”
Gwyn swallowed thickly. “Oh…” she set down her wine glass and reached for both his hands “Did you kill him?”
“I couldn't even think about him after. Couldn't speak his name. I still can't. Rhysand found out, and they taunted him with the information. We've never spoken about it, but they told me they took care of it.”
Gwyn nodded, feeling relieved for him.
“I'm not saying it's the same or comparing what we went through, but it was so hard for me for so long to enjoy simple things again. I didn't want to eat or spend time around people. I hated myself. I hated touching and being touched sometimes; I still do.” He met her eye. “Tell me I deserved it.”
“No, you didn't deserve it.” She shook her head frantically. “Why would you think that?”
“Why would you?” Azriel challenged.
“You didn't know me before.” Gwyn shrugged. “I was so selfish and entitled and mean. I was lazy; I slept through so many services to the mother, and I spread gossip with my sister. I didn't do my chores, and I used my mother's death as an excuse for all of it… I was horrible…”
“It means nothing,” Azriel said.
Gwyn let out a butter laugh, and tears slid down her cheeks. “You wouldn't have liked me then.”
Azriel shook his head “Impossible.”
“I was worse as a teenager. Catrin and I used to steal from local merchants. We fought with the other acolytes and swam naked in the river.” She shook her head at herself “When I was 19, after my mother died, I started a fire in the kitchen… I was so angry, and I didn't know how to make it all stop. Cooking was one of my chores, I was left alone, and I don't know why I did it…” She got a distant look in her eye, and guilt twisted in her belly. “The smoke caused so much damage, and somehow I got away with it.”
Azriel shrugged. “When I was 19, I started a riot in the training camp. I planned it out for months, I needed not only Devlon to be distracted but Rhys and Cassian too so I could go rescue my mother from my Sires house. The riot was so bad two males were killed and Cassian had his leg broken. The worst part was that it didn't even work; my father's men caught me and beat me. They dragged me in front of my mother to taunt her. She cried. She wailed she thought I was dead… I have nightmares about it sometimes.”
“Imagine if we had met. I know it's not possible, but if 19-year-old Gwyn met 19-year-old Azriel… what do you think we would have done with each other?” Gwyn mused.
Azriel snorted “19-year-old Azriel was half in love with and terrified of every pretty female he met. I would have made a fool out of myself.”
“You think I'm pretty?” She teased.
Azriel smiled, “The prettiest.” Gwyn flushed, and he chuckled, “And what of 19-year-old Gwyn?”
“I probably would have tried to fight you for no reason.”
Azriel snorted “How is that different from you now?”
Gwyn grinned. “I would have fallen in love with you… probably.”
Azriel's heart stuttered until his chest “Fallen in love?”
“There were no males in Sangravah. It's only recently that I've learnt the difference between love and attraction, but I think… if we had met at 19, we would have hurt each other.”
“I could never hurt you.” Azriel breathed. He slid a hand around the back of her neck, and Gwyn let her eyes close. Azriel shifted forward, and his knees brushed against hers.
“I could hurt you.” She said quietly. Her eyes fell closed as Azriel drew so close she could feel his breath against her lips. She knew what was coming.
“It's okay, " he said, shaking his head but still inching closer. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, and it probably wasn't the best idea, but when his lips met hers, she knew she'd been the one to close the space between them.
Azriel sighed and slid the hand cradling her neck into her hair. It felt nice to be touched like this.
“Azriel.”
“It's okay.” He repeated.
She nodded “I know.” She kissed him this time, and Azriel sighed long and low as if in relief.
His hands were big. She liked that. It was never something she had considered before, but it was all she could think about now. She didn't entirely know what she was doing kissing him, but it was nice . She pulled away only to catch her breath, and Azriel stopped her when she tried to kiss him again.
“You've been drinking.” He whispered and caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb before tucking a lock of her hair behind her arched ear.
“So have you.” She pointed out.
Azriel's hand flexed against her hip, and she sat back to admire him quietly. He looked tired—beautiful but tired—and she hated herself just a little for keeping him up.
“Gwyn–”
“It's an aphrodisiac.” She blurted “faerie wine is an aphrodisiac.” She was sure that must be it, the wine and the bleeding wound of a conversation they had just had. It meant nothing, they were merely trying to stem the bleeding.
They didn't share those kinds of feelings, even if he touched her with such gentleness; it was dizzying, and the way he looked at her...
He nodded, and she took a deep breath. It was fine. She valued his friendship more than whatever this was. She needed him more than wherever this would lead.
Azriel seemed to have hit his word allowance for the day because he didn't speak a word to her as he walked with her back to her room. He didn't so much as utter a goodnight as they parted ways.
Gwyn shut herself in her room and placed a hand over her ribs; she could feel him there.