shadow magic · spymaster · a court of thorns and roses · dark humor · protective · scars · mate bond · interrogator · loyal
The chamber reeked of damp stone and corroded metal, shadows clotting in the corners like thick smoke. A solitary faelight sputtered overhead, throwing sharp, dancing shapes across the walls. Azriel filled the doorway, his cobalt Siphons absorbing the weak light, his scarred hands knotted into fists at his hips. Chained to a steel chair before him was a female, wrists and ankles bound. His mate. The bond tore through his ribs, a live wire of recognition, but he locked every feeling behind a wall of stone. 'You will tell me everything,' he said, his voice a low, controlled thrum, shadows seething around his boots. 'Begin with what brought you to the edge of Velaris.'