Chapter 13 - Finally
Chapter 13 – Finally
-Gwyn-
She must have misheard him. He didn’t want to be friends anymore? The thought stunned her into silence, leaving her at a loss for how to respond. All she could manage was a soft, uncertain, “Oh.”
Azriel’s eyes widened in alarm as the weight of his words hit him. “No, no, no! Gwyn, that’s not what I meant!” he blurted, smacking his palm against his forehead before collapsing back against the couch, his hand sliding down to cover his eyes in dismay.
Gwyn tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “Azriel?”
His hand dragged down to cover his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as if he could block out his own frustration. It was almost unfair how endearing he looked—so utterly exasperated with himself.
"Azriel," she managed to say, though her voice wavered dangerously, betraying the giggle bubbling just beneath the surface. She pressed her lips together, fighting to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of him, so adorably flustered. “Azriel, can you look at me, please?”
“No,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind his hand. “I haven’t managed to say a single thing right tonight.”
She knew this dance all too well. Easing him out of the spiral of his own thoughts with a soft tease was her tried-and-true method. It was like slipping through a crack in his walls—a touch of humor to coax him back, a gentle nudge to remind him he didn’t always have to bear the weight alone.
“So… you don’t think I’m the most beautiful female on a normal day?”
His hand dropped as he turned to her, his expression one of pure disbelief, as though she’d just spoken absolute nonsense.
“You mean to tell me that I didn’t take your breath away when you saw me in that dress and heels?” she pressed, her voice light and playful.
She could see it now—that faint tug at the corner of his lips, the way he fought to keep a smile from breaking through.
“And let me guess,” she added with mock seriousness, “your brain didn’t explode at the sight of me, hmm, Azriel?”
A grin finally tugged at his lips, reluctant but inevitable, and the air between them lightened, crackling with playful energy. The spark in his gaze sent a flutter through her stomach, though she worked to maintain her composure—for now.
“Whoa, Gwyn,” he teased, his voice dipping into a low, playful growl. “I said implode, not explode. Get it right.”
She threw her head back, laughter spilling out as she kicked her feet in pure delight, thoroughly enjoying herself at his expense. Her amusement was cut short, however, when she felt his hands grip her waist and pull her into his lap with effortless strength. Before she could fully process the shift, his large hands cupped her face, his touch firm yet achingly gentle. His deep, velvety voice rumbled, “No, Gwyn, I meant every word. What I failed to tell you is why I don’t want to be your friend.”
Her breath hitched, her throat tightening as she managed to stammer, “W-why?”
His gaze bore into hers, unflinching and raw. “Because I want to be more than that to you—because you are more than that to me.” His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, the touch sending a shiver down her spine.
Something unfamiliar and daring surged within her then. She turned her face into the warmth of his hand, her breath fanning over his scarred skin. He inhaled sharply at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained still as she brought her own hand up, cradling the back of his, her fingers tracing the uneven texture of his scars. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed a soft kiss into his palm before lifting her gaze to meet his. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his breaths uneven, as though he were barely holding himself together.
“Azriel,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, laden with emotion.
But before she could say anything more, the door to the House burst open with a resounding bang, startling them both. Cassian and Nesta stumbled inside, their laughter echoing through the space and shattering the fragile, intimate moment.
-Azriel-
Just fucking fantastic.
This was it. This was how Cassian would die. Azriel hated to kill his brother on the eve of his mating ceremony, but that was exactly what he planned to do.
Cassian was clearly a little drunk. Just a little, he knew, since he had seen his brother absolutely shitfaced just last night.
“Oh!” Nesta exclaimed when her eyes landed on Gwyn in Azriel’s lap. “Oh.” The recognition of having interrupted something seemed to dawn on her then, her face scrunching into a soft wince. “Sorry.”
“Wha—oh, shit!” Cassian froze when he beheld the same scene.
Nesta grabbed Cassian’s hand and attempted to drag him toward their bedroom. “We’re just grabbing some things before heading out on our trip! Don’t mind us!” she announced, her voice a little too chipper as she tried to smooth over the interruption.
Cassian, however, was having none of it. Grinning like a fool, he resisted her efforts, his feet planted firmly as he turned his teasing gaze toward the living room. “Heeeyyyy Gwynnie…Az…” he drawled, his tone dripping with mischief and intrigue. “Didn’t mean to…interrupt. Carry on!”
And yet, he didn’t move. Nesta, clearly exasperated, abandoned her attempts to pull him and instead marched to his other side, trying to push him out of the room.
“Cass!” she hissed, her voice sharp with irritation. “Move, you big jerk!” She shoved at him with all her might, but he barely budged, his grin widening as he stood rooted to the spot.
Azriel’s attention flicked back to Gwyn, still perched in his lap. His hands rested lightly on her waist, and he couldn’t help but notice the pink flush spreading across her cheeks. It irritated him just a little—he wanted to be the only one who could make her blush like that.
“Oh, n-no, it’s not…we weren’t…” Gwyn began to sputter, cheeks flushing an even deeper red. “Nothing was happening, we were just—”
Azriel was done letting anything else stop him today. He cut off Gwyn’s rambling, and before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her face and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Once he was sure she wouldn’t recoil, he loosened his hold on her face and began stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. A gasp followed by a little squeal cut through the silence—clearly Nesta was unable to contain her excitement at this turn of events.
It was a rather chaste kiss—at least, compared to how he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to run his hands down the side of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken with each second that their mouths stayed fused together. He wanted to run his tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open for him. He wanted his tongue to brush against hers as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss even further. He would give her bottom lip a soft nip with his lips, and, if she liked that, give it a gentle tug with his teeth. He would swallow every moan and whimper that escaped her throat, and breath in her heady, aroused scent.
But this kiss…despite it being tame, was…fucking perfect. He could taste just a hint of her sweetness, a tease of crisp, strawberry wine; it drove him absolutely wild. Her delicate scent—waterlilies and citrus, stronger now due to their proximity—filled his nostrils and made his brain swim and his chest warm.
If this would be the only time he would get to kiss her…that would be a tragedy. But, he would rather have one wholesome press of her lips to his than to live the rest of his days having never felt her soft mouth, tasted her sugariness, smelled the refreshing scent of her.
He pulled back to look at her face, his palms still cradling her gorgeously blushed face, his forehead now leaning against hers. Her eyelids fluttered open, bright pools of teal staring back at him.
“That,” he murmured just inches from her velvet lips. “That is what we were about to do.”
“Atta’ boy—ooph! Fine, fine, Nes! I’m moving!” Azriel heard Cassian’s praise before Nesta obviously had enough of her mate’s foolishness and chose violence.
Good, he thought. His idiotic brother deserved it for nearly spoiling his moment with Gwyn.
His attention went back to the beautiful priestess in his lap, whose face was still cupped between his hands. Her breaths were coming in soft pants, and her eyes were glazed, her teal irises now a thin ring around her dilated pupil. Her gaze moved from his down to his lips, and her tongue darted out briefly to lick her own before her throat bobbed with a swallow. He had to suppress a moan at seeing the obvious desire painting her beautiful face. Were her freckles standing out more too?
SHE WANTS YOU TO KISS HER AGAIN.
He smelled it then, the shift in her sweet aroma. It had become richer, more robust—it was pure, unadulterated desire. And it was fucking intoxicating.
He looked to where Cassian and Nesta had been standing, finding the space empty. He heard the window in their bedroom open and shut—clearly, they had opted to fly out that way rather than go back through the living room.
Thank the Mother.
With deliberate intent, he guided her to face him, his hands firm yet tender as they pressed against her thigh, urging her to swing it to the other side of his thighs. She didn’t falter, instinctively responding to the silent command in his touch. In one fluid motion, she shifted, her legs settling on either side of him, her body aligning perfectly with his. The air between them thickened, charged with an unspoken intensity that seemed to echo in the stillness around them.
She relaxed her lower half to drop down in his lap, and he prayed she wouldn’t feel his hard cock straining against his pants. Not only was he unsure if she was ready for such an intimate sensation, but he was fairly sure that just feeling her cunt rest on his aching cock would be enough to make him come. Thankfully, she angled back far enough so that her firm ass was perched closer to his knees.
His relief was short-lived, however, as she slid her hands up from his abdomen to his chest. He tried, but failed this time, to contain his groan of pleasure at feeling her hands on him. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized the effect she was having on him. She continued to glide her small hands upward until they rested on each side of his neck. He recognized then that he was gripping her hips probably a little harder than he should, though she gave no signs of discomfort.
He wanted to test how much she would allow him to touch her. He knew they weren’t going to touch each other that way—not yet—and they were definitely not going to have sex—not yet. Even though his male appendage was begging to sink into her tight heat, he had enough sense to know they weren’t ready for anything so intimate. For the first time ever in his life, he wanted to take his time with her, to touch her reverently with his hands, to caress her face, to kiss her lips, to memorize her curves.
He moved his hands slowly—almost painfully so. He trailed his fingers from her lush hips up to her small waist, before he went just a little higher and rested his palms on her ribcage, his thumbs barely avoiding contact with the bottom of her perfect breasts. She was breathing harder now, and he watched her for any signs of fear or distress—but there was none. Just that same heat in her eyes that told him everything she wanted from him at that moment.
He tugged her downward, a silent plea for her to lean her face down to his. When she did, he captured her mouth in a more passionate kiss, moving his lips over hers with gentleness but, also, intention. He relished the little whimpers and gasps she made, and his wings shivered when her hands glided up to hold him on either side of his jaw. After a few minutes, he decided to see if she would let him push his tongue inside her mouth, but she beat him to it. As soon as his lips parted, her tongue swept in, finally giving him the full experience of her sugary flavor. He groaned into her mouth as he brought his hands up to hold her face, his restraint close to snapping; but he would keep it together. For her.
He pulled away from her lips and began to plant languid kisses on the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, her nose; he swore the sweet taste of her skin was more intense in the places where her freckles were scattered. He continued his kisses down the angle of her jaw, the fluttering pulse point on her neck, and to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. He felt her tremble as he slid his hands up into her messy bun, gently massaging the back of her neck and head, and he moved his lips back to hers as he resumed plundering her sweet mouth.
He had never been so satiated by a kiss. Felt like he would die if she stopped kissing him, stopped touching him. Felt like he could live on her kisses and touches alone. Even if this was all she could ever do with him, it would be enough. She was enough.
That’s when it hit him like an arrow shooting him out of the sky.
He didn't know where he was going to land, but one thing was clear...
...he was falling for Gwyneth Berdara.