Chapter 97: Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Arwen relished the darkness of the bedchamber. Relished the scent of her mate clinging to every part of it. Her hand fisted around the maroon sheet that currently lay over his mattress, her head buried in a pillow of a matching shade. The bed was massive—enough so that she could not reach two ends at the same time in any direction. She traced an assortment of shapes into the material with her fingertip, unable to suppress the growing sense of helplessness. Arwen wished she could be outside as her family were. As the people of her city were. But they did not feel as she did and would not understand it.

She was, after all, the only one alive that knew of their fate.

It had to have been close to half an hour before anybody found her place of hiding. The door creaked in warning but Arwen made no move to acknowledge it. Azriel kept the room veiled in darkness as he silently manoeuvred around the bed. He climbed onto it behind her and she shifted with the bounce of the mattress as he pushed up to her back. Long fingers guided strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

Azriel kissed her bare shoulder. "Was it too much?"

She nodded. It was the best answer she could give. Arwen lifted her head as his arm snaked under her neck, letting it turn her with his other to face him. She tucked her head into the space under his chin.

"You could have told me," he whispered, not in accusation but in offer.

"I didn't want to explain myself. You should rejoin them, I don't mind being alone tonight."

His nose brushed her hair. "I've spent far too many Starfalls without you. I intend to spend every minute of this one at your side. And every Starfall to come." Those words made her smile as they reminded her once more of what she still had here. But it would not wean the loss of what this night brought. Not when it celebrated something that would never be for her. Limited—that was what her existence now was. "You look beautiful, if I have not already told you."

She played with the neckline of his black shirt. "You had forgotten."

"My greatest apologies."

He held her and all she wanted was to be held. Arwen focused on her breaths as Cassian taught her, closing her eyes and using Azriel's scent as an anchor. She was here. She had this world. What was beyond it did not matter anymore.

The decision was made.

There was no turning back.

She gave it up willingly.

But had she? Had Arwen truly given it up knowing what it was? She recalled the day, the words she had said. I'll stay. Spoken only after her brother had touched her scars. In fear of the prison world and of the tether. I'll stay.

If he hadn't touched her scars, what might she have said?

Her gut audibly rumbled. These thoughts were ruining her.

Arwen pried her circlet off, tossed it to the foot of the bed and resettled deeper into the crook of Azriel's neck. He tightened his grip in response and tried to push his knee between her legs, but the sturdiness of the fabric of her dress did not allow it. He grumbled under his breath and instead settled with pulling their bodies closer.

Drifting from his neck, the knuckles of Arwen's fingers brushed against a sturdy ridge of his wing. Her lips inched up at his twitch of response but chose to rake her hand through his hair instead. "I'm not sure I like Starfall anymore," she whispered.

"Nobody holds you to that expectation."

She agreed with that observation, but Azriel did not understand the extent of what it meant. A night that was revered throughout her court. A night her family celebrated and treasured. A night she could no longer celebrate with them. It would be a night she now spent alone, remembering what she has lost—what she had given up for the same family that celebrated it.

The backs of her fingers brushed against a firm tendon on his wing again. Azriel's chin pressed harder against her hairline. Arwen smiled to herself and pressed her lips to his throat where she was resting against while her fingers moved idly again. His outermost wing began to inch open.

"You know what you're doing," he muttered lowly in accusation. Yet, still his wing continued to open.

Her smile turned devious. Like a dog opening his belly. "It's been many years since I've had wings. You'll have to remind me."

A huff of hot air passed through her hair. Bringing her head out from underneath his so she could watch him, Arwen trailed from the firmness of the tendons to the leathery membrane that spanned between them. His face was almost impossible to make out through the darkness, just the harsh lines of his silhouette. Azriel's breathing had already deepened, his chest moving against hers. Gliding her fingers across, she continued examining the shadows on his face for each reaction the touch brought.

At one particular spot, the hand belonging to the arm underneath her neck fell away from her back to the bed. His bicep flexed against her jaw in a way that he must have been clenching his fist around the bedding behind her as she focused on the crook between two folds. It excited her to just know that the simple touch could elicit such a reaction.

"My control, Arwen," he murmured, "is very limited around you."

She kissed his jaw. "You have my permission to lose it." The glint that flashed through his eyes was predatory. "Tell me where to touch you."

Suddenly she was on her back, Azriel's form hovering over her. Heat and surprise flushed through her. It became his turn to give as his mouth found the junction of her neck and jaw. Arwen lifted her chin up, welcoming the sensation of his attention on the sensitive spot. He broke only for a moment to rasp out, "Everywhere."

His wings silently flared out and eased down on either side of him, giving her hands the access to roam wherever they desired. Arwen brought both hands to duty, one grasping back at his head to keep him near, the other palming the expanse of the membrane. A gasp lodged in her throat as his teeth scraped her neck before gently tugging with a bite. He soothed the slight sting after he released with his tongue, lapping over the spot. While one of his arms was still trapped under her head, the hand of the other strayed down her body. The thickness of the dress annoyed her, barely able to feel the way his hand was against her body and had to pour her focus onto it—how it palmed down the length of her stomach, then over her hip and over her thigh before coming back up.

"Arwen," he growled into her ear. "Move your hand."

She blinked, snapping back to focus. Her hand on his wing had paused. Giving a slight laugh at his feral annoyance, she reset her concentration. Arwen attempted to draw him back to her lips in order to kiss him but his mouth dove lower to the column of her neck. The low but modest neckline cutting across her chest offered him a large expanse of bare skin which he greedily hunted down.

When his mouth dipped low enough, her eyes fluttered as he licked across the swollen hills of her breasts, leaving lines of wet marks. Forcing herself to retain lucidness, she continued working on his wings, listening to how each move had his body reacting. When she raked her fingers over a certain area near the base, he would roll his hips into hers and feeling that hardness against her at the same time his tongue worked at her chest was enough to produce a moan.

Azriel laughed huskily against her skin and gave another light press of himself against her. Frustrated at her dress once more, Arwen pushed her heels into the bed and arched herself to increase the pressure, to feel the heat and the friction. His hand snapped to the low of her stomach, forcing her back against the bed.

He kissed his way back up her neck then along her cheek. Stealing the opportunity, she twisted her head to capture his lips with her own. That, at least, he gave her. She forgot about the rest of him, resting both palms against his cheeks.

Gently, he pulled away but remained close enough for her to continue framing his face with her hands. "I've never brought another female into this room before," he said.

Arwen cocked her head, smoothing the pads of her thumbs across his cheekbones. "Never? But you've had plenty of partners."

He smiled and shook his head, glancing around the dark space. "This room is mine. A space away from everything else. From everybody else. I wouldn't allow myself to share it." Heart thudding, she wondered if she was about to receive a scold for intruding without permission. "I don't want to share you. I see you and I feel... at home. I wanted to find you in here."

Everything in her felt light. "I love you," was all she could answer with.

"Tell me you want this, Arwen. Tell me so I can stop holding back."

"I thought I already had."

Azriel pressed himself back to her lips, her gasp smothered against them. Everything about him became more fervent. More charged. He went to the left strap of the dress, tugging it down over her shoulder, his mouth trailing down to follow in its path. Lifting herself, she allowed him to pull the strap down until it hung loose near her elbow. Biting the neckline of her dress, he dragged the rest of the fabric down on the same side, the crisp air meeting the sudden bareness. He pleasured them both with his ministrations on the new skin before repeating the series of movements on her other side. Arwen made her own way, unlatching the buttons of the slats of his dark shirt and it prying up his torso until it was bunched under his wings. Only with a sound of complaint did he recede from her, sitting against her thighs and reaching overhead to pull the material fully off. Even against only the milky moonlight she could make out the trained body of a warrior. A body that had worked time and time again to protect her.

She was surprised when he kissed her again but not so much when his hands went to pull her dress down further. He found the same issue she had been facing—inflexibility. He growled in frustration and pulled away to look down. With a split moment of contemplation, he rolled her onto her stomach. Arwen let out a small sound at the movement, already feeling his hands work at the small hook latches down her spine that were so small she had twisted her arms into awkward angles to put on in the first place. He sat at the high of her thighs as he worked. A strategic position that allowed him to press himself against her, every so often giving a small thrust that had heat pooling in her stomach.

When the fabric was loose, Azriel took his time pulling the dress down. He bent low, inching back with it, kissing her skin when she arched her hips for him to free her from the restraint of it.

Her legs were trapped by the weight of his when he pressed his hand between her thighs. He took pleasure in it, watching her struggle to move how she wanted as he worked at the exact pace and exact position that he desired. Eventually he let her return to her back, and she snatched a moment of revenge by palming him through his pants. Arwen laughed at his snarl of annoyance—the sound blending with a guttural noise as he pressed himself into her hand, rolling his hips one too many times to be in complete control of himself.

Soon her lay atop of her, both completely bare. Her head was encased by his arms, their breath mingling, noses touching. Almost silently save the sound of shifting fabric, he used his knees to nudge hers apart. Arwen couldn't take her eyes away from his just as they held hers, even as he blindly adjusted himself. He waited just outside of her, his eyes turning into a search.

In answer, she tilted her hips.

~

Azriel lay perfectly still, not daring to move in case it aroused her. The pillows had been arranged to support his body so he could lie on his back the most he could. He wanted to sleep with her on his chest, but it seemed she was the one to find sleep first in the position, her head rising with each breath he took. Looking down at himself—at them both—he contemplated the feeling. He had never felt so exhausted yet so complete. It was hardly near the most extensive night he had spent in such activity, having episodes that would span the entire moonlight hours, yet none had ever felt like this. None had ever brought him so close to the edge so quickly. A fact he was almost embarrased by but considering she had finished before him... He took it as more of a compliment.

He glanced at their discarded clothes lying on the floor beside the bed. His once neatly pressed clothes he saved for the special occasions where his leathers weren't appropriate and her dress. The beautiful, glimmering dress Cassian had bought her, now crumpled.

The sight of it brought a small smile to Azriel's lips. Cassian may have bought it for her, may have been there when she was trying them on, the one to have her thanks. But Azriel was the one who got to tear it off her.