Chapter 27 - Steam, Suds, and Surrender
Chapter 27 – Steam, Suds, and Surrender
-Azriel-
Just like before, he’d needed to carry her in his arms, unable to shadow-walk directly into the House of Wind. As they manifested into the rapidly dimming sky, Azriel held Gwyn close, the weight of her in his arms grounding him in a way nothing else could. He descended slowly toward the training pit, savoring the feel of her against his chest. He didn’t know when—or if—she’d let him hold her like this again, not after she knew everything.
HAVE FAITH, SHADOWSINGER, his shadows whispered. SHE IS OUR MATE. SHE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU.
He sighed softly and pressed his lips to her temple. Gwyn nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, her warmth seeping into him like sunlight breaking through the shadows. When her ocean eyes blinked up at him, she gifted him a sweet, sleepy smile just as his feet touched solid ground.
“Hi,” she said, her voice light and teasing.
Azriel gazed at her, captivated. Those eyes—he’d always found them beautiful—but now they seemed brighter, more vivid, more everything.
She scrunched her freckled nose. “You’re looking at me in that way again.”
He smiled faintly. “What way?”
“Like you’re going to keep me,” she giggled, “lock me away, hide me from the world, only letting me know you and only you.”
“Would that be so bad?” he murmured, his tone low and edged with something raw.
She gave him a thoughtful look. “Bad? No,” she replied. “But…”
“But?” he coaxed softly, his steps slow and deliberate as he made his way toward the stairwell door. Each stride felt like an excuse, a way to prolong the quiet thrill of holding her close—of pretending, for just a moment longer, that she was his to carry, his to keep.
She sighed, leaning her head against his chest. It was only then he realized he was still holding her, though he made no move to let go. How could he, when holding her felt so right, so natural?
Because she feels like flying, he thought, the truth settling in his chest. Like she’s already a part of me. If she's my mate, then she always was. If she wasn't going to comment on why he was still carrying her even though they were no longer flying, then he would hold her for as long as possible.
“I haven’t told you yet,” she said, her voice quieter now, “but…I want to move out of the Library. You know, get out and be in the world.”
“Oh?” he said carefully, trying to not let on that he already knew.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking it’s time,” she said, her voice tentative as a half-grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So, tempting as it is, hiding away with you probably defeats the whole purpose of leaving the Library.” Her smile faltered as her teeth worried her bottom lip, hesitation creeping into her expression. “But the past two days have made me question if I’m really ready to leave at all.”
“Why’s that?”
“After what happened at the ceremony yesterday…and this morning…” she trailed off, her gaze dropping. “It’s made me question if I’m ready…if I can handle life outside of the Library walls.”
They reached the stairwell door, and Gwyn reached out to open it for him, since his arms were still full of her. Azriel carried her down the steps, into the House, and all the way to the guest room—the same one she’d used the night before. Though it pained him, since her weight in his arms and against him was a quiet reassurance to his spinning thoughts, he gently set her on her feet once inside the room.
Taking her hands in his, he met her gaze, his scarred thumbs brushing softly over her knuckles. “Gwyn,” he began, his voice steady and calm. “Yesterday proves nothing about your readiness to leave the Library. It was a shitty day, dealing with shitty individuals. And this morning...we still need to talk about that first, but you need to know right now that doesn’t define your strength either.” He recalled it then: something Feyre had once shared with him, a truth the Suriel had imparted to her. It lingered in his mind now, resonant and undeniable, as though it had always been meant for this moment.
He brought one of her hands to his lips and brushed them softly against the backs of her fingers. “Only you can decide what breaks you, Gwyn,” he said softly, his voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. The weight of the words settled between them, a reminder of her strength and the power she held over her own destiny.
In response, she gave him a small, lopsided smile, as her gaze drifted to his lips on her fingers, her expression softening.
“For now,” he said, a quiet command underlying his words, “take a warm bath, change into some clean, comfortable clothes, and meet me in the living room when you’re ready.”
“But I don’t have anything to wear,” she protested gently.
TELL HER TO JUST MEET YOU NAKED, AND SHE CAN WEAR YOU, his shadows snickered.
Right? Gods, that'd be amaz—wait, what? No, that's not—
But, before he could reply to Gwyn, the House answered, depositing a freshly folded set of lounge clothing onto a nearby armchair. He couldn’t help but notice that the pants were long black leggings.
Unbelievable, he thought. The House is trying to cock-block me, and the filthy thought wasn't even mine!
WE ARE YOU. YOU ARE US. THEREFORE, IT WAS YOUR THOUGHT, SHADOWSINGER.
He nearly jolted when the faelights flickered, as though the House had heard his conversation with his shadows.
His bewilderment dissolved at Gwyn’s gasp, followed by her light, melodic giggle. “Thank you, House!” she called, her voice filled with warmth. She gathered the neatly folded clothes, then returned to him, standing on her tiptoes to press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. The sensation sent a ripple of warmth through him, his wings shuddering and eyes fluttering shut as if to savor the moment.
Is this how it is going to feel anytime she touches or kisses me now?
IT HAS ALWAYS FELT THIS WAY WHEN SHE TOUCHED OR KISSED YOU, DID IT NOT?
They were right, of course. Every brush of her skin or press of her lips was charged with an energy that flowed through him, setting his soul aflame and making his heart soar.
“I’ll meet you in the living room in a bit,” she said softly, her words a quiet promise, before turning toward the bathing chamber.
Azriel blinked, trying to collect himself. “Yes, I’ll…I’ll see you soon. Just going to, um, freshen up myself…you know…in my room.”
She paused, glancing back at him with an amused grin that tugged at her lips. Then, with a soft laugh, she turned again and disappeared into the bathing chamber, the gentle click of the door lingering in the air.
Left alone, Azriel inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as the sensation from her kiss lingered—a memory etched into his skin. Blowing out that breath, he resigned to do what he’d told her—retreat to his room to bathe and change into comfortable clothes.
His room, which was just across from Gwyn’s guest room, greeted him with the sound of running water. The House had thoughtfully started filling the bathtub—perhaps a sort of apology for cock-blocking him before—even though he maintained that the filthy thought had not been his—or for giving Gwyn long leggings to conceal her legs from his view. Whatever the reason, the bathtub filling up without his bidding was a gesture for which he was immensely grateful.
After removing his weapons and stripping off his leathers, he stepped into the steaming bathing chamber. The air was thick with the scent of cedarwood and bergamot—a calming blend that he wouldn’t normally choose but appreciated, nonetheless. He sank into the hot water, letting the warmth begin its work, easing the tension in his shoulders as he exhaled a long breath of relief. His wings draped over the back of the tub, touching the floor due to how massive they were.
He closed his eyes, trying to focus on letting the soothing fragrance and heat of the water envelop him. But no matter how deeply he breathed, the knot in his chest refused to unravel. His thoughts, ever restless, circled Gwyn like shadows. What he knew now, and what she was still oblivious to.
Mates. With the female I’m in love with.
It was a blessing, yes—his mother had been right about that. It still felt like a curse though, in a way, since the bond hadn’t snapped for Gwyn yet. Perhaps this would all be so much easier to handle if it had happened at the same time for both of them. Could she at least sense that he was her mate? Did she feel at all different in his presence now? He remembered how Cassian suspected Nesta was his mate at their first meeting, but because she was mortal at the time, the sense was dulled. Was it dulled for Gwyn because she was part nymph? Did that even matter, being a mixed faerie species?
He had no idea how the Mother decided the timing of the bond snapping for each mate. It snapped at the same time for Rhys and Feyre, and for Cassian and Nesta—even though the females at the time didn’t know that’s what it was.
The long-held belief in faerie culture was that mating bonds were made between individuals that are complete equals—though not necessarily romantically paired, as his mother pointed out, and was the case for Rhys’ parents. Bonds were also supposedly based on which pairing would create the strongest offspring. It was all conjecture though, what was known regarding mating bonds—he knew it was studied over the centuries, but there was no exact science to it. The only thing that was for sure certain about mating bonds was that they existed.
Perhaps there are texts in the Library that could give me some insight, he thought.
The cedarwood and bergamot hung in the steam, grounding him for just a moment before his thoughts could drift again. He let the water lap against his skin, its heat seeping into his aching muscles, as though trying to burn away the day’s burdens.
He started to wonder how long it would be before Gwyn finished with her own bath—which was the wrong thing to ponder, because now, he was thinking about Gwyn in the bath.
Thoughts or her bare, freckled skin, flushed and slick from the warm water flooded his brain unbidden. He imagined her head would be leaned back against the tub’s edge, her crimson hair hanging over the side, slightly wavy from the braid she’d undone. He pictured the little wildflowers that had been tucked into the coronet scattered on the tiled floor of the bathing chamber.
Would her bath have bubbles? He thought it would—it seemed like something Gwyn would have in her bath. She would be reclined back, her arms resting on either side of the tub, the tops of her breasts peeking over the blanket of bubbles—perhaps even her nipples would be visible amongst the suds.
He didn’t even know at what point his hand had drifted to between his legs, but he was suddenly very aware that he was gripping his hard cock and had begun pumping it slowly, squeezing a little more firmly when he reached the base on the downstroke and then again when he reached the head on the upstroke—just how he liked it.
No, he thought. No, I can’t do this right now. I need to focus on what I’m going to say to Gwyn. She’s probably already done with her bath.
THE PRIESTESS IS STILL IN HER BATH.
How do you kn—wait, are you spying on her?
JUST TO MAKE SURE SHE WAS STILL IN THE BATHING CHAMBER.
Oh…so, you didn’t see anything?
No answer.
I wasn’t asking so you’d tell me what you saw, I was just making sure you weren’t being little voyeurs!
Their silence was answer enough—they didn’t believe him.
Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system—just give himself the release his throbbing cock was aching for, and then he'd be able to focus.
While the image of Gwyn in the bath alone was doing wonders for him as he stroked himself, he wanted to speed up the process—just for time’s sake, because ordinarily, he could spend hours thinking of Gwyn while he touched himself. So, to hasten this along, he added in some details to augment the fantasy.
…
Gwyn walked into his bathing chamber, wearing a soft pink, short silk robe that was barely long enough to cover her privates. Her expression was a mix of bashfulness and curiosity, her gaze lingering on his bare, tattooed chest just visible above the water’s surface.
“Azriel,” she said breathily, slowly tracing a finger delicately over the hard point of a nipple outlined through the silk. She approached the tub and stood over him, biting down on that plush bottom lip of hers.
His eyes took in the breathtaking view of her lovely face and her beautiful figure. He watched that slender finger circle languidly around the hard peak of her breast. His gaze wandered down her lithe form, lingering on the curve of her small waist and flare of her hips, accentuated by the silk sash of her robe. The hem of her robe rested high on her thigh, revealing long, toned legs that looked impossibly smooth and soft, drawing his attention with an almost magnetic pull.
Bringing his gaze back to her eyes, he saw that her teal irises were reduced to just slivered circles, the black pupil blown wide with desire—desire for him, her mate.
He reached out, running his palm over the back of one creamy thigh, trailing it up higher until he was caressing the swell of her ass. She gasped, and he could smell her arousal mixing with the sensual aroma of the bath oils. He rubbed the firm cheek of her bottom up and down as he took in her lustful expression.
“Gwyn,” he whispered. “My love. My mate.”
On a downstroke of his palm on her bottom, he slowly trailed the rough pads of his fingers lower and more towards the midline of her body, until he felt the swollen lips of her cunt from behind, causing her to whimper softly. He reached over with his other hand to grab the end of her robe’s sash, releasing the bow with one gentle tug. The sides of the garment fell open, exposing her beautiful pert breasts and hard pink nipples, taut stomach, and glistening sex.
“Mmmmm, Gwyn,” he purred. “You look good enough to eat.”
Still teasing the slick entrance of her heat from behind with his left hand, he reached his right hand up to gently pinch one nipple, rolling it between his fingers and relishing in the desperate noises she made.
“Azriel,” she pleaded. “Please. I…I need you to…to—” Her words were cut off by her moan as he pressed the tip of one finger inside her tight heat from behind.
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he taunted. He withdrew his finger and pushed it back in deeper this time, eliciting another moan of pleasure.
“I…I…oh, Gods, that…that feels so amazing…” she stammered.
“You feel amazing, my love,” he growled. “So wet and ready for me.”
He released her nipple from between his fingers. His right palm moved tenderly down the smooth planes of her stomach until his hand paused, splayed over her pubic bone.
“Tell me how this feels, mate,” he said, inching his hand further downward until his thumb was ghosting over her clit. He pressed the pad of his thumb onto the bundle of nerves, causing her to jerk. He steadied her with the hand wrapped around the back of her thigh, those fingers still plunging in and out of her from behind.
“Fuck! Azriel!” she cried.
He slowly moved his thumb in a circle, causing her to whimper and moan his name. “Mmm, you like my fingers playing with you, Gwyn?”
“Gods, yes, Azriel, so much, ohhhh Gods…” she babbled.
“Let me taste you, love,” he said, bringing the fingers he’d had inside of her, coated in her arousal, to his face. He wrapped his lips around them and sucked off the sweetness. His eyes rolled back in his head as he savored her sweet nectar on his tongue. “Fucking delicious, Gwyn,” he told her as he looked up at her. She stared back, her teal eyes hooded and full of desire.
“Tell me, sweetheart, have you been doing those strength and balancing exercises I gave you?” he asked, slowing the movements of his thumb on her clit.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, before she hesitantly answered. “Y-yes, I have.”
“Good,” he chuckled. “I want you to put a knee on each side of this tub so that your sweet cunt is right in front of my face.”
She blushed at his request, removing her robe fully and letting it fall to the floor. She stepped into the water first, before bringing one knee up to rest on the side of the tub. He gripped her toned waist with his large hands to steady her so that she could bring the other knee up to rest on the other side.
“Mmm, I love that my mate’s so flexible,” he murmured, as her glistening sex was positioned in front of his face. “Now, I’m going to eat this delicious cunt until your juices are dripping down my chin. If you have been practicing your exercises like you said, you should be able to maintain your balance the whole time without slipping.” He trailed a finger along the inside of one thigh, tickling close to her sweet spot and causing her to shudder. “Do you think you can handle that, my love?”
She nodded eagerly, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know I can’t resist a good challenge,” she said, her voice brimming with quiet enthusiasm as she added, almost reverently, “mate.”
Fuck, she knew what it did when she called him that. He surged forward and stroked his tongue from the bottom of her slit all the way up the swollen bud of her clit.
“Oh, fuck, Azriel!” she cried, the surprise of his mouth on her nearly causing her to fall, his grasp on her waist the only thing keeping her from losing her balance.
He chuckled, before he started circling that bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, feeling her whole body tremble with pleasure. She brought her hands up to squeeze her breasts, her thumbs stroking over her hard nipples. She threw her head back as she moaned, the ends of her red hair tickling his the backs of his fingers where they held her around the waist.
Her breaths quickened, each one shallower than the last, and her words tumbled out in fragments. He loved the taste of her on his tongue, feeling the vibration of her body in his grasp, listening to the little sounds she made. He carefully slid one hand off of her waist, confident that he could steady her with just one. He took his now free hand and brought it underneath her, pushing one large finger into her tight heat.
She staggered forward a bit at the new sensation, one hand falling from a breast to latch onto a handful of his hair, preventing her from falling. “Oh, fuck!” she cried. He could see her thigh muscles tensing hard to keep her upright as he tightened his grip on her waist, loving the feel of her pulling his hair.
“Fuck, Gwyn…you’re so tight, my love,” he growled, his voice full of lust.
He slowly kept plunging one finger in and out of her snug cunt, lapping at her tight bud as she panted harder, her cries somewhere between noise and actual words. He wrapped his lips around her clit and began to softly suck as he added a second finger, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate their size.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuckkkkk!” she shouted as she began to gently rock her hips back and forth. He anchored her with his hand on her waist and his fingers plunged inside of her, while she used her grasp on his hair to leverage her movements.
Releasing her clit from his lips, he looked up at her, admiring how beautiful she was like this, and how much he loved bringing his mate such pleasure. “I do enjoy it when you curse, my love,” he told her before latching his lips around the swollen nub again.
“Oh, Gods," she moaned. “Gods, Azriel, I...I...oh, fuck, I'm close!”
He knew it; he could feel her walls begin to squeeze and pulse around his two fingers. He wanted her completely undone, to have her scream his name when she came. She was his, and he was hers, and he wanted the whole Godsdamn world to know it, wanted her shouts of pleasure—pleasure that only her mate could bring her—to crumble the mountains.
He continued to suck her clit just a tad more firmly as he began to hum softly, his vocal vibrations causing her entire body to quake.
He deepened his hum, the stronger vibration driving her wild, as he tightened his hold, anchoring her securely. But she didn’t slip—no, his strong, beautiful mate wouldn’t falter. Her thighs trembled with the effort, muscles taut as they fought to keep her balance, a testament to her resilience even as she hovered on the cusp of ecstasy.
“Fuck! Yes! Azriel! Oh, Gods, oh fuck! I’m going to come!” she shrieked. “Don’t fucking stop!”
He felt her walls tighten and spasm, and, keeping his lips around her clit while continuing to hum, he curled the two fingers inside her and stroked gently. Her grip on his hair tightened, screaming his name as she shattered, flooding his hand as her release gushed around his fingers. After a moment, he unlatched from her clit to lap at her sweet juices, his tongue lathing over her swollen nub as he did so, causing her to squeal and shriek, the rhythm of his lapping wringing more pleasure out of her in waves. When he felt her body slacken, he withdrew his fingers from inside of her and licked her sweet nectar from his fingers and hand before bringing it back to grip her waist.
“You did so well, my love,” he cooed. “You really have been practicing.”
Her face was flushed, and her breaths were still ragged and uneven, and joyful tears trailed from the corners of her eyes and down her blushing cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered open, those ocean eyes gazing down at him as she whispered, “I love you, Azriel.”
“I love you, Gwyn.” He lifted her and brought her down to straddle his lap, as she collapsed into his chest, her body relaxed and glowing with post-orgasmic bliss. He brought his arms around her, stroking her hair and rubbing circles on her back as he held her, feeling the beautiful synchrony of their hearts beating together.
“You’re mine, Az," she whispered dreamily.
“I’m yours, Gwyn—until the end of time.”
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