Thankfully, he was already in deep discussion with Oran when she finally braved the chance to look at him. Her eyes flickered over his face, moving from his gleaming blue eyes, down the slope of his stud-clad nose, and then finally to his lips. Plump. Pink.Perfect.
An image flickered in her mind of him rising up from in between her legs—those very lips of his wet with her desire, that hungry look in his eyes as he moved up the length of her body. She nearly gasped aloud at her own insolence, reaching quickly for her mug of ale and taking a large gulp that only seemed to make her bodyhotter. Mortified at her own vicious thoughts, Nymiria eyed the window anxiously, nearly collapsing with relief when she saw that the storm finally cleared. She was the first person out the door, practically sprinting in order to get away from the tension.
Aziel and Oran were not far behind her, both of them watching as she tried to navigate her way back to Eadyn. As much as he hated to admit it, there were so many questions eating away at Aziel’s chest.
“You cared for her.” He said, finally.
Oran looked at his brother. “Of course I did, Aziel. She’s your—”
“Thank you.” Aziel blurted, his face contorting as if it pained him to say the words. He cared deeply for his brother, but gratitude between the two of them was still unfamiliar territory. He’d always been grateful for the ways Oran helped him in the past, but he’d never been allowed to show it. “Thank you for staying with her when I couldn’t.”
Nymiria nearly collapsed into Aziel’s bed the moment they made it back to the palace, her muscles protesting when she rolledover and began attempting to kick off her boots. Aziel lingered by the door, smirking as he watched her.
“Here,” he came forward, snatching her ankle mid-air. “Let me help.”
She stilled, her whole body going hot the moment he pressed her foot against his chest and began unlacing her boots. It felt like it was too slow, like he was purposefully taking his time. He removed one, finally, and tossed it to the side before reaching for the other. He continued the same process—untying, unlacing, and then carefully pulling it off until she was left in her socks. The way his fingers lingered on the dip between her ankle and her calf was not necessary. Nor was the way his eyes darkened when his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her pant-leg, how his thumb brushed over that small expanse of skin. Nymiria let out a small noise, lips parting.
He dropped her leg immediately and headed towards the washroom without another word. He washed himself quickly, his mind scattered.
All he could think about was how she’d looked at him in that forest, those haunting words still echoing in his mind. If Aziel had a heart, perhaps he would have done what she’d asked of him—he would have taken her pain away immediately. He still believed that he did the right thing, knowing that simply putting a bandage over a wound that deep would do absolutely nothing.
In a perfect world, neither of them would have to struggle with these sorts of memories and traumas, but the world was not fair. Everything, even the gods, eventhemselves, were cruel. But, as Teigh had said all of those years ago when Aziel was learning about his godhood, there was no justice without cruelty. And he assumed that justice extended to the natural balance of their world. With beauty, always came pain.
Both he and Nymiria were still in limerence, waiting for the beauty to arrive.
When he returned, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed picking at her nails. He forced himself to keep his eyes trained on the armoire, one hand securing the drying cloth at his waist and the other rifling through the clothes to find something modest to wear.
He preferred sleeping naked.
He wouldn’tdaredo that with her present.
“You should go wash up while I get dressed.” He said. Nymiria made a noncommittal noise behind him and he turned slightly, watching over his shoulder as her eyes raked over his back.
Her gaze lingered at the base of his spine.
Phyona had done what she could manage with the runes on his back. She’d broken the witchlock months ago, but the scars still remained. While Nymiria’s scars had all vanished the moment they’d healed, he would forever carry those marks as a reminder of what was done to him.
He wanted to remind her that the marks on his spine were not because of her. They’d been burned and sliced into him months before he’d saved her. But he knew that it would be no use. She would still blame herself, somehow twisting reality and making it seem as if she’d been the one to put them there.
Nymiria lifted herself off of the bed. Her hair was just as wild as the look in her eyes, a look she carried whenever she was being…
Brave.
Raw, animalistic bravery. That was what it was.
And when she finally approached and lowered herself to her knees behind him, Aziel’s grip on the armoire door tightened, his eyes screwing shut. The muscles in his neck strained to suppress the moan threatening in his chest as her fingers ghosted over the length of his spine, trailing over battle scars and accidental scars before she stopped. He could feel her breath on his skin, the small hitch in her breathing as she leaned closer.
The moment her lips brushed over those fucking scars, his whole body shuddered. The moan he’d suppressed ripped out of him in a slow drawl, his cock pulsing to life between his legs.
She didn’t stop.
She kissed every inch of his back, pushing herself up onto the tips of her toes, breasts pressing against his skin, dragging against him as she moved lower. Her hands trailed over him, moving in such a way that it felt like both worship and sin.
Heat roaring in his ears, Aziel turned. He hooked his hands under her arms, dragging her back to her feet and then lifted her, forcing her thighs around his waist as he moved towards the bed. No sooner than her back collided with the mattress, he kissed her.
Not just something soft and sweet, but something raw. Complete destruction that she returned with equal desperation. Hands roaming, gripping, squeezing at any and every thing within reach. He kissed along her jaw, tugging at her blouse until it tore down the center, revealing just enough of her breast for him to dive towards it.
Nymiria had never seen him look so feral, had never felt something so wild as to what emanated from him at that moment. When he looked at her and ground himself against her center, the look in his eyes was almost enough to make her forget everything she’d intended on doing when she arrived here. Rationality be damned, she had half the mind to let every single one of her defenses fall—to let him consume her so thoroughly that she barely had the space to think or want for anything else.
