Chapter 23 - An Interesting Evening
Chapter 23 – An Interesting Evening
-Gwyn-
Gwyn blinked up at Azriel, his thumb still brushing her lower lip, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing. Though the desire in his eyes was undeniable, her thoughts churned too wildly to respond in kind.
“Wait,” she murmured, taking a small step back. His hand slipped from her face, though their fingers remained intertwined. “This is the village your mother lives in?”
Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he gestured toward a quaint grey stone cottage nestled at the corner of the copse of trees, the home bathed in the warm light of the late afternoon sun, approximately one-hundred yards away from where they stood.
The structure seemed as though it had grown organically from the land itself, its weathered stones blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. Gwyn took in the scene, realizing they had shadow-walked to the far side of the woods, now standing at the threshold between the dense forest and a vast, sunlit meadow.
The cottage appeared timeless, as though it had been born from the earth itself. Its weathered stones, varying from soft ash to deep charcoal, held the marks of seasons past, with patches of moss weaving through the crevices like veins of green life. The slate roof sloped steeply, sagging slightly in the middle—a quiet testament to its age. Diamond-paned windows caught the sunlight, scattering faint patterns of reflection across the front yard, while a chimney, worn and blackened from countless fires, jutted from the roof. Trailing vines adorned one side of the cottage, their tendrils curling around a heavy oak door. The door itself stood resolute, its surface etched with the scars of time and use.
Wildflowers dotted the ground around the cottage, their delicate blooms swaying gently in the breeze, mingling with patches of tall grass. Beyond the cottage, the forest loomed in quiet majesty, its towering trees casting long shadows that whispered secrets across the clearing. The scene seemed to embody a quiet duality—the cottage, poised between the untamed wilds and the sunlit meadow, felt like a haven of both serenity and mystery.
“That,” Azriel said, still pointing at the charming stone cottage, “is my mother’s home.”
“And… and you’ve brought me here to meet her?” Gwyn’s voice wavered, tinged with nervousness.
“To be fair,” he replied, a teasing smirk curling his lips, “I didn’t know you’d be joining me, and planned to visit her regardless. I mean, I can’t come to Boulderhearth and neglect visiting my own mother.”
Gwyn pulled her hand from his, not in the mood for teasing banter, her nerves fraying. She rubbed her sweaty palms on the front of her leather-clad thighs, taking a couple of steadying breaths.
“Hey,” Azriel said softly, stepping closer and running his hands up and down her bare arms. “It’s alright, Gwyn. We can go home if you’d rather—”
“No,” she interrupted, her voice resolute. He was right—he should visit his mother if he was here. She would visit her own mother as often as possible if she were still living.
A twinge of sorrow flared in her chest as thoughts of her mother surfaced—wishing, as always, that she were still alive. Yet, beneath that ache lay the grim understanding that, had her mother survived when she did, she might have become one of the countless casualties during Hybern’s brutal attack. Still, the mysteries surrounding her mother’s death remained a constant source of frustration and pain.
Her mother's body had been found in a forest on the Spring Court side of the border, the dividing line between it and the Autumn Court. An arrow had pierced her heart, a cruel and inexplicable ending. She could never understand why anyone would want to kill her mother, a kind and unassuming woman, nor why her mother had been there at all. She was supposed to have been visiting a friend, though no one ever learned which friend or where that friend lived. The unanswered questions still haunted her, leaving a void that time refused to fill.
“No, you’re right,” she insisted, her attention back on Azriel. “You can’t visit the village where your mother lives and not go see her.”
He studied her face carefully, searching her teal eyes for any trace of hesitation. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, though the smile she offered didn’t quite reach her eyes. Doubt churned within her. Should she go with him?
Maybe I can ask him to take me home first, or maybe I can just go back to the village, interview some of the other residents and see if they knew anything. Or maybe—
Her spiraling thoughts were abruptly silenced by the low, rumbling growl that escaped Azriel’s throat. His hand came up, gripping her chin gently but firmly between his thumb and forefinger. His gaze burned into hers, intense and unyielding, as though he could see straight into her mind, reading her thoughts like an open book.
“If I’m going to visit my mother,” he said, his voice low and resolute, “I want you by my side, Gwyn.”
She blinked, momentarily stunned by the commanding edge in his tone. It didn’t unsettle her—in fact, that familiar flutter stirred in her stomach again. There was something about his possessiveness that sent a thrill through her.
“Yes, but…” Her voice wavered slightly as her nerves bubbled to the surface. “What… how will you introduce me?”
He tilted his head in thought before returning the question. “How would you like me to introduce you?”
“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, flapping her arms in exasperation. His hand dropped from her face as she paced a step away. “I have no idea, Azriel!”
His laughter was low and warm, chasing away some of her tension. “I can just say you’re one of my spies in training, accompanying me while I investigate the death of someone in the area.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his touch grounding. “No pressure, no expectations.”
She nodded, exhaling loudly to regain her composure. “Yes… alright, yes… that works. That sounds fine.”
For Cauldron’s sake, Gwyn, pull yourself together. You sound like a blathering idiot.
A cool sensation brushed against her arm, and she glanced down. One of Azriel’s shadows slithered along her skin, coiling gently around her wrist before threading itself between her fingers.
She smiled softly, looking at the black tendril. “You’re going to hold my hand, huh?”
In response, the shadow gave a tender squeeze, coaxing a giggle from her lips. She glanced back at Azriel, only to find him watching her intently, his hazel eyes burning with unmistakable affection. The evening light played across his golden-brown skin, catching the flecks of amber in his irises and warming their depths. Her smile faltered as her gaze dropped to his mouth, her thoughts spinning, and that little flutter in her lower belly starting up again.
Kiss me, she silently pleaded.
-Azriel-
SHE WANTS YOU TO—
Yep, got it.
He grabbed her face and pulled it to him, capturing her sugar-laden lips and eliciting a surprised but happy whimper from her. Her hands rose to wrap around his wrists, her thumbs stroking the siphons on the backs of his gloved hands. He gently ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to let him in.
When she opened for him, he didn’t hesitate, brushing his tongue against hers as he slanted his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss, brushing his thumbs lovingly over her cheek bones. She gently took his low lip between her lips, giving it a light tug. The action prompted a groan to escape his throat, his cock beginning to harden.
Gods, she’s everything, he thought.
He was desperate to keep kissing her, wanting to lay her down in the grassy meadow and take his time worshipping her soft lips—but he knew it was best that they commenced the visit with his mother so they could get back home and have the discussion they still needed to have.
And maybe pick this back up, he prayed.
The forest seemed to hold its breath as he pulled his lips reluctantly from hers, the early evening light casting a golden glow over her freckled skin, now kissed with a faint blush. Azriel’s gaze lingered on her, taking in every detail—the smooth texture of her skin, the softness of her expression, and her kiss-swollen lips. She looked radiant, framed by the hues of twilight that danced across the clearing, as if the world itself conspired to make her more breathtaking than ever.
In the silence that followed, an unspoken reverence hung between them, heavy with a quiet tenderness. Azriel struggled to suppress the raw, aching need to pull her back to him, to claim her mouth again. But instead, he simply marveled at her beauty—her quiet glow, the undeniable warmth that seemed to emanate from her very being. Time itself felt suspended, leaving him hopelessly and utterly consumed by her presence.
When her eyes fluttered open, the vivid teal depths captured his gaze, framed by the sweep of dark lashes that softened the intensity of her stare. Those eyes—striking and radiant—seemed to pull him in, leaving him momentarily breathless.
“You’re fucking perfect, Gwyn,” he whispered. “I…I…”
“Azriel?” a familiar voice called out across the space.
Both he and Gwyn’s heads snapped towards the cottage, where his mother stood, one hand over her eyes to shield from the sun, while she waved a towel in the air.
Gwyn stepped backwards away from him, a quiet squeak escaping her throat as she covered her face with her hands. “Please, Azriel,” she groaned, her words slightly muffled behind her palms. “Please tell me that’s not your mother.”
He sighed, hoping this development didn’t deter her from wanting to go with him. “I would, but I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Azriel! Get in here!” his mother shouted again as she wiped her hands on the towel. “And bring your friend!”
-Gwyn-
“She’s blind, right?” she asked Azriel pleadingly, grasping at anything to make the situation feel less mortifying. “She can only make out colors and shapes or something, right?”
The slight twitch at the corner of Azriel’s mouth betrayed his struggle to contain his amusement. “Afraid not,” he replied, his voice laced with humor. “Her eyesight is as sharp as a hawk’s.”
A sound of pure mortification escaped Gwyn—a strangled noise that resembled a dying animal. She could hear the rumble of Azriel’s laughter vibrating through his chest, a sound she normally adored but now found infuriating.
“Azriel!” she cried, landing a solid punch to his arm. “This is not funny! Your mother—your mother—who I’m meeting for the first time, just saw us mauling each other’s faces!” She flung her hands into the air, her exasperation palpable. “So much for the whole ‘I’m just your employee’ explanation—oh, and you’re still laughing?!” Her voice rose into a shriek as his shoulders shook uncontrollably, his laughter spilling out despite her glare.
He only laughed harder, doubling over as he tried to speak. “It is funny!” he protested between gasps. “Not just because of how Godsdamn adorable you look right now, but… but…” He was practically wheezing now.
“What?!” she barked, her cheeks burning.
“I’m over five-hundred years old… and… this… this is the first time my mother has caught me with a female!” Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.
Despite herself, Gwyn felt the corners of her mouth tug upward. It wasn’t just his words—it was seeing him like this, so unguarded, so genuinely happy. The sight made her heart swell, even as her embarrassment lingered.
It took a few minutes for Azriel to regain his composure. When he finally straightened, he swiped at the wetness at the corners of his eyes with his knuckle. His hazel irises were bright, his smile radiant as he reached for her hand. “Come on, Berdara,” he chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. “Let’s do this.”
-Azriel-
As Azriel led Gwyn toward his mother’s house, he fought the urge to laugh again. The irony wasn’t lost on him—five centuries of existence, and this was the first time he’d been caught kissing a female. He couldn’t help but compare it to his youth, when Rhysand’s mother had caught both Rhys and Cassian with females on more than one occasion.
A pang of bittersweet emotion struck him as he thought of Rhys’s mother, Amerie—the kind-hearted female who had taken him in all those years ago, giving him a home and the brothers he still cherished to this day. She’d been a friend of his mother, which was why she took him into her home without hesitation all those year ago. The memory of her kindness lingered, a quiet ache in his chest.
Behind him, Gwyn’s soft chanting reached his ears—her mindstilling mantra she often used to calm herself when stressed or scared. Her tension was tangible as they approached the door, her steps slowing slightly. He didn’t smell fear on her—just her nerves.
“Gwyn,” he said gently, stopping at the entrance to his mother’s home. He brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheek, attempting to ground her with his touch. “Why are you so nervous? You handled Balthazar and his family with such ease—not to mention handed me my ass the moment you showed up outside their door—without a shred of doubt in anything you said or did.”
She exhaled deeply, her teal eyes meeting his. “I didn’t care what they thought of me,” she admitted. “If those girls refused to talk to me, if Balthazar had treated me poorly—it wouldn’t have mattered. But now…” Her voice softened, her gaze steady. “This is your mother, Azriel. It matters to me what she thinks of me.”
His expression softened further, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in reassurance. “Gwyn, you have nothing to worry about. Just be yourself—there’s no way she won’t like you.” An impish smile crossed his lips then. “Does that mean you didn’t care what I thought of you? Is that why you mouthed off to me so easily on Balthazar’s doorstep?”
“Cauldron, no,” she said with a giggle. “No, I always care about you, Azriel…it’s just…well, I suppose I was playing a part, which was easy because I was still miffed at you. I…I always value what you think of me, Azriel.” The last sentence was said with bashfulness. She tried to change her expression to look stern then, pulling her lips between her teeth before narrowing her eyes. “If you keep smirking at me, though, Shadowsinger, I will be irritated with you for an entirely different reason!”
He pulled his own lips between his teeth then, trying to regain a semblance of his usual unreadable countenance. He took a deep breath, giving his head a little shake, as though to clear the impulse to keep teasing her from his mind. “In all seriousness, Gwyn,” he told her. “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to my mother—she’s going to love you.”
Like I do, he thought silently.
TELL HER, SHADOWSINGER.
Not now. It’s only going to freak her out, and she’s already nervous.
OR, IT WILL PUT HER AT EASE.
Or, it will make her run, he responded dryly. Now stop—I need to focus on reassuring her right now.
Her hesitation lingered for a moment before she sighed in resignation and nodded. “Alright, Shadowsinger…let’s do this.”
Azriel reached up cautiously, his hand cupping the side of her face. His scarred thumb traced the smooth curve of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. When she pressed a gentle kiss to the flesh of his marred fingers, his breath hitched, the simple act stirring something deep within him.
“Gwyn, I lo—”
The door swung open abruptly, startling them both as they instinctively flinched, their heads snapping toward the figure now standing in the doorway. The fading light of the evening framed the silhouette, and Gwyn let out a little squawk of surprise, before she clapped a hand over her mouth as though to hold in any other inelegant sounds.
Azriel’s mother stood in the doorway, an air of both impatience and gentle amusement radiating from her. Hazel eyes that matched his own were fixed on them, sharp and warm all at once. Her long, wavy black hair was swept into a single, thick braid that draped over her shoulder, echoing the style Gwyn had worn earlier before Nemiah and Iris had refashioned it.
His mother’s gaze flicked between the two of them, lingering just long enough to spark Gwyn’s cheeks into a deep pink. Then, that familiar, tender smile curved her lips.
“Well,” she teased, her voice carrying an effortless warmth, “I thought you two had been swallowed up by a sinkhole with how long you were taking to make it to the door!”
Azriel glanced at Gwyn, catching her wide-eyed expression, her cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted in what could only be described as stunned silence. His lips twitched, fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across his face, because Gods, she was so fucking adorable when she looked like this.
His mother cocked her head to the side, her expression softening as her eyes rested on Gwyn with tender understanding. “I’m Selilah, Azriel’s mother. You can call me Lilah, Gwyneth—or would you prefer if I called you Gwyn?”
Gwyn’s eyes widened even more, her shock evident. “You… you know my name?”
Selilah smiled warmly. “Of course. Az has told me all about his friend—the priestess-turned-Valkyrie who emerged as a Carynthian from the last Blood Rite.” Her gaze shifted to Azriel then, the teasing glint returning. “But it seems he hasn’t kept me updated on this—” she gestured between the two of them with a wagging finger, “—development.” She flicked the towel in her hands playfully at them, laughing lightly before turning away. “Come in now—dinner is just about ready!” she called over her shoulder.
This is going to be an interesting evening.