Chapter 28 - Veil of Secrets
Chapter 28 – Veil of Secrets
-Gwyn-
Gwyn had sunk deeply into her bath, letting the heat of the water envelop her like a long-lost embrace. The tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying over the past two days slowly unwound, replaced by the soothing warmth of flowery bath oils and the gentle froth of bubbles. For the first time in what felt like ages, she had felt truly at ease and refreshed.
Stepping out of the tub, she reached for the plush, oversized towel hanging nearby. The fabric felt luxurious against her skin as she patted herself dry, carefully brushing away the lingering droplets and stray bubbles. Wrapping herself in the warmth of the towel, she glanced at the clothes the House had kindly provided. The black leggings were soft and supple, with an adorable baby Pegasus embroidered on the upper left thigh—a touch that made her grin. The lavender short-sleeved shirt was loose and light, the vibrant hue lifting her spirits as she slipped it on.
After donning the comfortable clothes, she sauntered toward the bathing chamber door before a sudden realization stopped her short. She had nothing on her feet. Frowning, Gwyn scanned the room, as though a solution might present itself. “House,” she called, her tone hopeful, “do you have something I can put on my feet?”
Almost instantly, a pair of lavender slipper-booties appeared at her feet, their front adorned with little Pegasus faces that made her laugh out loud. “You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she mused, shaking her head in amusement. The faelights in the chamber hummed briefly, glowing brighter for a moment before softening again, as though responding to her delight.
Sliding on the whimsical booties, she stepped out into the bedroom. After a few steps, she realized that the room seemed…different than it had when she'd come in a short time ago...different than it had last night. Though, she’d been distractedly talking with Azriel when she'd gone in tonight, and she'd been a bit out of sorts last night, so perhaps nothing had changed.
The room exuded cozy elegance, centered around a large bay window that bathed the space in natural light. A large cushioned window seat was nestled in the space beneath the window.
The perfect reading nook, she thought to herself. The spacious alcove was tranquil and inviting, with pastel green sheer curtains flanking the window, throw pillows neatly stacked on one side of the seat—just as she would have placed them—and folded blankets on the other end.
To the right of the window, a bed rested in the corner, its lavender comforter inviting her with its soft hue. Beside it stood a petite white bedside table, topped with a lamp, a leatherbound journal, and a quill pen laid neatly alongside it. On the opposite side of the window, a corner bookshelf wrapped around part of the adjoining wall. At its center sat a white writing desk, perfectly nestled into the corner for quiet moments of focus and creativity. A cup of quill pens and a stack of blank parchment papers, as well as a reading lamp, sat on the desktop.
The room's polished atmosphere was completed by the elegant crown molding tracing the edges of the walls and ceiling. Gwyn’s gaze swept to the south wall, where a clean-lined white dresser stood near the bedroom door.
Did I really not notice any of this earlier tonight or last night? she wondered, baffled by her lack of recollection. The events of yesterday and today had left her so distracted that she couldn’t be sure.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the bedroom door opening. She turned expectantly, her heart lifting at the thought of seeing Azriel. But as she crossed the room, she frowned—there was no one standing there.
The House, she realized with a small smile. But why did it open the door?
Her answer came swiftly, as the door across the hall eased open, revealing Azriel in the doorway, his damp hair slightly tousled in that effortlessly disheveled way that made her stomach flip. He wore a snug black short-sleeved shirt that hinted at the strength of the muscles beneath it, paired with light gray lounge pants that looked so soft she longed to feel the fabric between her fingers.
He froze when he noticed her standing in the doorway across from him. She still couldn’t shake that nagging feeling that something was going on with him ever since they’d been at his mother’s house—but nothing had really happened, so she struggled to even guess the reason for the shift in his behavior.
“Hi,” she said softly, giving him a small smile.
A faint pink blush colored his golden cheeks, but he returned her smile, and though it wasn’t a big, expansive grin, it was still beautiful. “Hi, Gwyn,” he replied.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she teased, and at that, his grin did grow bigger. There you are, she thought.
“Yes, what a coincidence,” he teased back. His eyes darted around her then, his smile faltering a bit as he seemed to notice the room she stood in. “What…?” The unfinished question hung there as he stepped closer to peer further into the bedroom.
She stepped aside to let him in, and he took a few steps into the room, taking in the details of the space as his gaze roamed from side to side.
“Wow,” he said. “So...this is new.”
“Really?” she asked. “I thought I was going crazy, because I didn’t remember the room looking like this before now. This is the same room I used last night, right?”
He nodded. “It seems that the House took the liberty of decorating,” he mused, walking over and picking up the leatherbound journal to examine its cover. He seemed to still for a moment, his wings tucked up tight against his back, before he set the journal back on the bedside table. He turned back to her and ran his hand through his dark locks. “Well, uh, are you ready? To, um, you know…talk?” He added quickly, “If you’re too tired, I understand completely, we can—”
“Azriel,” she said, walking over to him and taking his large, scarred hand in hers. “I’m good, and yes I am ready to talk.” She glanced over to the window seat, noticing just how inviting it looked at that moment. “What do you think about sitting over there?” she asked, pointing to the nook.
He looked at the seat, before turning back to her. “If you’re comfortable with talking…you know, in here…in a…bedroom.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding looking her right in the eyes.
She smiled as his awkwardness. “I’ll make sure the House keeps the door open—that way my parents won’t think I’m doing anything indecent with the Spymaster of the Night Court,” she teased.
He met her eyes then, the warm gold of his irises nearly bringing her to her knees. Gods, he’s so beautiful, she thought to herself. He let go of her hand then, and turned slightly away from her, seeming to take in the details of the bedroom again.
“You know I’d never hurt you, right Gwyn?” he asked suddenly, turning back to look at her.
She frowned. “Of course, Azriel. Gods, I know that.” She took a few steps towards him.
“I never want to make you uncomfortable,” he went on, his eyes drifting to stare at the floor. He whispered the next part, almost sounding like the very thought of it hurt him. “And I’d rather die than ever cause you pain.”
She brought her hands to his face, forcing him to look at her. His hazel eyes were shining—no tears fell, but it broke her heart all the same. She stretched up on her tiptoes and pull his face down to hers, pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips.
“Azriel,” she breathed, their foreheads pressed against each other. “I know all of that. You’re a good male, and I never feel anything but safe and cared for when I’m with you.”
He brought his arms around her then, enfolding her in his warmth and strength, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his lips gently kiss the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she gave a happy little sigh. He lifted her feet off the ground, and they stayed like that for a few moments, just basking in their embrace.
She wanted to tell him. She knew she should tell him. But she was afraid of what he might say if she told him. So instead of saying the words out loud, she said them silently in her mind.
I love you, Azriel.
-Azriel-
Right about the time he added a second finger inside her in his fantasy of Gwyn, Azriel had come so hard that he saw stars. It was so intense that he’d needed to bite his lip until it bled to keep from roaring so loud that she would definitely know what he’d been doing in the bath.
He’d always been able to climax to thoughts of Gwyn, sometimes needing to do it two or three times in bed just to settle enough to sleep for a few hours. But, there was usually a downtime between orgasms, where his cock softened, and he’d try to rest and keep his mind off of her. She always invaded his thoughts though, and before he knew it, he was restless, and his cock was hard again, begging for release. It usually took a couple of hours to complete this series of orgasms but tonight was different.
Imagining his mouth and tongue and fingers pleasuring Gwyn was so Godsdamn arousing, his cock didn’t even soften in the slightest after that first orgasm. Knowing he couldn’t meet Gwyn with a raging erection tenting his pants, he kept the fantasy going further, stroking himself into a second climax, which was just as powerful as the first—if not more.
He had always sought to please his partners during sex, though, in all his centuries of existence, he’d seldom ever put his mouth on them like that, finding the act too personal to do with just a random female—especially when he used to seek comfort at the pleasure house. It was extremely likely that the female he was about to fuck had just been with someone else right before him. The thought of putting his mouth on them like that and tasting another male made him shudder in disgust. He knew some males found that erotic, but not him.
Once he’d come down from the high of his second orgasm, he’d quickly dried off and dressed. Upon opening his door, he’d found Gwyn standing in the open doorway of the room she’d been using, looking so lovely he wanted to fall at her feet. Upon noticing the changes in the room, she’d let him in to have a look around.
“Wow,” he said, his voice laced with awe.. “So...this is new.”
“Really?” she asked, her own eyes flitting around the space. “I thought I was going crazy, because I didn’t remember the room looking like this before now. This is the same room I used last night, right?”
He nodded. “It seems that the House took the liberty of decorating.” He noticed a leatherbound journal on the bedside table, the embossed initials on the front catching his attention. He picked it up, his body and wings tensing as he saw what they were: G.B.
Really subtle, House, he thought to himself, earning a flicker of the faelights in response. He set the journal back on the table—upside-down, afraid the presumptuousness of the House would scare her off—and turned back to look at her.
Fuck, she’s so beautiful, he thought. He ran a hand through his hair and slightly rolled his shoulders to release the tightness he felt there.
“Well, uh, are you ready?” Azriel asked hesitantly, his voice wavering. “To, um, you know… talk? If you’re too tired, I completely understand, we can—”
“Azriel,” she interrupted gently, her soft smile disarming him. She walked toward him, and he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her—to make that smile even brighter.
Her delicate hand slipped into his scarred one, grounding him. “I’m good,” she said quietly, her voice steady. “And yes, I’m ready to talk.”
She glanced toward the window seat, and he immediately caught her meaning before she pointed to the cozy nook. “What do you think about sitting over there?” she asked.
He followed her gaze to the seat, then turned back to her. “If you’re comfortable talking… you know, in here… in a… bedroom,” he stammered, his words faltering as he avoided her eyes. He was never this awkward around females—especially not in a Godsdamn bedroom.
But she not just any female, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. She was his mate—his mate that he happened to be in love with. The weight of it pressed down on him, the fear of making her uncomfortable or driving her away gnawing at his resolve. He had to be careful with her—he couldn’t risk fucking this up.
Her mischievous smile broke through his spiraling thoughts. “I’ll make sure the House keeps the door open,” she teased, her tone light and playful. “That way my parents won’t think I’m doing anything indecent with the Spymaster of the Night Court”
She always knows how to diffuse the tension. He met her gaze, and she bit her bottom lip, clearly trying to stifle a giggle at his expense.
Staring into those teal pools of mirth, his mind wandered, remembering the intense fantasy he’d conjured as he touched himself during his bath less than an hour ago. Those were easily the most intense orgasms he’d ever experienced—by his own hand or with a partner. Why had they been so fucking good? Why was his imagination so vivid and detailed?
He suddenly realized his cock was hardening again as he recalled just how vivid and detailed his imaginativeness had been. He dropped his hand from hers and tried to angle his body away from her to discretely adjust himself. She didn’t seem to notice the dilemma he’d just created for himself by reminiscing about his fantasy of her.
But, it was nagging at him. What had changed? He’d thought of her before—many times, in fact—while touching himself. Bringing those memories to his mind, he realized what the differences were. Those previous times, it was as if his mind’s images of her had been veiled by a delicate curtain, the edges blurred and incomplete, the details imprecise—still arousing, but opaque. Tonight, however, the veil had lifted, revealing her beauty and her passion with clarity so sharp it stole his breath.
It's because I know she’s my mate now, isn’t it? he asked his shadows.
EVERYTHING IS BETTER WITH THE ONE YOU LOVE, they replied. BUT, YES, IT IS EVEN MORE PASSIONATE AND INTENSE WITH A MATE THAT YOU LOVE.
Will it still be this way after the bond snaps for her? If we accept the bond?
IT WILL HEIGHTEN EVEN MORE. IT WILL BE ALL-CONSUMING AND TRANSCENDENT.
It almost sounds like I won’t have control.
YOU ARE AFRAID YOU WILL HURT HER.
His stomach turned at the thought of forcing himself on her, having no control over his craving for her during the mating frenzy. He’d rather she reject the bond than be his victim.
YOU WILL NOT HARM HER. YOU WILL STILL HAVE FREE WILL, SHADOWSINGER. YOU WILL NOT LOSE CONTROL—THAT IS NOT HOW THE BOND OR THE FRENZY WORKS.
He sighed a breath of relief at that.
“You know I’d never hurt you, right, Gwyn?” he blurted, his voice low and weighted with emotion. He turned back toward her, the torment of his own fears having dulled the arousal that had ignited moments before. His gaze locked onto her ocean-blue eyes, searching them desperately, needing her to understand—truly understand—that he would never violate or hurt her.
Her teasing smile faltered. “Of course, Azriel,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Gods, I know that.”
“I never want to make you uncomfortable,” he continued, lowering his eyes to the floor. An ache formed in his chest as he whispered, “And I’d rather die than ever cause you pain.”
Her hands were cradling his face then, forcing him to look at her. Gods, she was so perfect, he wanted to cry as he stared into those ocean eyes. She tugged him down until her soft lips were against his in a tender, sugar-laden kiss.
“Azriel,” she breathed, resting her forehead against his. “I know all of that. You’re a good male, and I never feel anything but safe and cared for when I’m with you.”
His arms came around her then, and he felt her arms wrap around his neck. He pressed his lips to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she sighed happily, and he straightened to his full height, lifting her feet off the floor.
He stood there, holding her against his body, he didn’t feel uncontrollable lust or a burning desire to ravage her up against the bedroom wall. He just felt her—the weight of her in his arms, the smell of her freshly washed skin and hair mingled with her signature waterlily and citrus scent, the faint sugar taste on his lips when he kissed the side of her neck. Everything was more defined, more amplified. It eased the knot in his chest.
It was perfect.
She was perfect.
-Gwyn-
They sat at opposite ends of the window seat, the space between them filled with unspoken tension. Gwyn’s legs were crisscrossed as she leaned into the mountain of pillows behind her, their softness a stark contrast to the tightness of anxiety in her chest. Azriel, on the other hand, had one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee as he reclined against the pillows the House had thoughtfully provided for him. His shadows gently curled up like tendrils of smoke off of his shoulders, save for one that had taken up residence curled around her wrist.
“Gwyn,” he began, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room, sending a shiver down her spine. “I want to tell you how sorry I am for this morning.”
“Azriel—” she started, but he raised a hand, silencing her gently.
“Please,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “Let me get this out first.”
She sighed, a touch of exasperation in the sound, but nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he gathered his thoughts. “While I still don’t agree that Roderick didn’t deserve to suffer, I had no right to criticize you for showing compassion. One of the things I admire most about you—what draws me to you—is your kind soul. Even to those who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
Her cheeks flushed, warmth spreading across her skin as she focused intently on a stray piece of fuzz stuck to her pants. Praise and admiration were foreign to her, and meeting his gaze while he said such things felt impossible.
“I should have been more mindful of my words,” he continued, his voice thick with regret. “I should have known I might push you back into the memory of that horrific day.”
At that, she looked up, her breath catching as she saw him swallow again, his throat working against the emotion threatening to spill over. Silver lined the edges of his eyes, and her heart clenched.
Oh, Gods, if he cries, I’ll absolutely dissolve into hysterical blubbering, she thought, the familiar pressure building behind her own eyes, rising in her throat.
But he didn’t cry. He took a deep, steadying breath, his composure returning as he spoke again. “Like I said, I never want to cause you pain. And I hate myself for triggering you like that, Gwyn.”
Without thinking, she moved across the space between them. He instinctively parted his legs to let her settle against him, her back to his front. His arms came around her and he brushed his lips against her temple, deeply inhaling against her skin. She brought her hands up to grip the arms he had wrapped her in snugly, leaning into his kiss.
“Has…has that happened before?” he murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
She shook her head, tears welling as she imagined the disheartened look that must have crossed his face—she sensed it somehow. “Not during the day,” she admitted, swiping at her cheek as a tear escaped. “I used to have nightmares—lots of them. I…I haven’t had one in a while. I don’t even remember the last time I dreamt of that day, but…the last time I did, it was…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish. Only of the good part? The thought felt wrong, as though there shouldn’t be anything good about the day her life had been irrevocably changed.
She felt Azriel’s gaze on her, the weight of it almost tangible, as though he were holding his breath, waiting for her to continue.
Drawing a steadying breath, she finally said, her voice trembling, “The last dream I had was only about being in your arms as you carried me out of there. I wouldn’t even call it a nightmare because that’s…that’s the only positive memory I have of that day.”
The words seemed to land on him heavily, his lips pressing more firmly against her temple in response. “I wish I had gotten there sooner, sweetheart,” he murmured, the endearment stirring a little swoop in her stomach.
“I used to wish that a lot of things had gone differently that day, Azriel,” she admitted, tightening her grip on his arms as if anchoring herself. “But it wasn’t until one of the priestesses here told me, ‘You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one,’ that I realized how much I was holding onto.”
She felt his smile ghost against her skin. “Spoken like a true book lover,” he said softly.
She turned slightly in his arms to look at him, letting out a small laugh, the sound unburdening, before adding with a touch of irony, “The one who told me that, believe it or not, was Merrill.”
The humor of the moment faded as Azriel’s attention shifted, his gaze dropping to the space just below her neck. For a fleeting second, she worried she’d inadvertently exposed herself, but a quick glance down reassured her. Her shirt’s neckline was modest, her cleavage concealed, with no defined outline to draw his focus—so what was he looking at? Her necklace, resting just below the base of her throat, was the only thing there. His jaw tightened, and a faint crease formed between his dark brows, the tension in his expression unmistakable.
Her smile faltered, unease creeping in like a shadow. “Azriel, what is it?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with concern. Her fingers instinctively toyed with the rose charm, and the shadow that had been curled around her wrist joined her fingers in touching the jewelry.
His arms tightened around her, as though securing her in place before he could bring himself to speak. She caught the subtle bob of his throat as he swallowed.
“I…” he began, only to let the words slip away. Instead, his outer arm came up, his hand coming to rest on the side of her head; he pulled her towards him, her head nestling against his chest, her side pressed flush against his front. The tension in his embrace told her more than his words ever could. Even his shadows seemed to have stilled, awaiting his next move, his next words.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day. For both of us.”
She hesitated, her body shifting fully to settle into his as she listened to the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Wrapping an arm around his middle, she tilted her head up, resting her chin against his broad chest to meet his gaze, searching his expression for answers his words didn’t provide. The shadow that had been fidgeting with the rose charm along with her slid up his chest to join the others on his shoulder.
“Are you sure, Shadowsinger?” she asked quietly, doubt flickering in her eyes.
He looked down at her, a fragile, almost unconvincing smile tugging at his lips. He dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Yes,” he said, his voice steadier this time, though the tension in his features betrayed him. “Everything is alright…I promise.”
-Azriel-
“Azriel, what is it?”
He watched her fingers fidget with the necklace's charm resting below the base of her throat, one of his shadows also swirling around it and her delicate fingers, as if to remind him that he should tell her.
He wanted to tell her—needed to tell her, to reveal this secret he’d been carrying for far too long. But the words wouldn’t come, staying lodged in his throat like a dry piece of bread, painful to swallow and painful to expel.
Instead, he tightened his arms around her, as though to prevent her from leaving him. He swallowed, knowing that she'd caught the bobbing of his throat.
“I…” he began, knowing this was the opportunity to come clean, but unable to do so. The fear of what she might do was too overwhelming. Instead, he brought his outer hand up to hold the side of her head, drawing her into his chest and settling her against his torso.
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day. For both of us.”
She paused before repositioning herself to fully settle into his body, resting her head against his chest, probably listening to the rapid beat of his heart. She wrapped an arm around his middle, before tilting her head up to rest her chin on his chest to look up at him. “Are you sure, Shadowsinger?” she asked, her teal eyes full of uncertainty.
He gazed down at her—his Gwyn, his love, his mate—the weight of guilt churning in his chest like a storm. The lie he had just told her gnawed at him, his cowardice a bitterness in his mouth. He could have confessed the truth the moment she spotted the unease etched on his face. Instead, he had chosen silence, retreating back behind the familiar veil of secrets.
Summoning a forced, fragile smile, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice soft, an attempt to sound reassuring. “Everything is alright... I promise.”