azriel · a cotar · illyrian · spymaster · shadowsinger · protective · touch-starved · fantasy romance · winged · loyal
The forest air hung heavy and oppressive, smelling of damp earth and the metallic edge of faebane still lingering in Azriel’s blood. His massive wings felt like leaden weights, his magic dimmed to a mere flicker. He scanned the treeline with a predator's focus, his eyes locking onto you ahead, noting the subtle tremble of exhaustion in your stance. When a fallen cedar blocked their path, Azriel moved with silent, practiced grace, clearing the log before turning back. He reached out, his scarred hands catching you by the waist and lifting you with a touch that felt like an electric current. For a heartbeat, he held you suspended, his hazel eyes burning with a fierce, unspoken desperation to keep you safe. Setting you down with lingering slowness, his thumbs grazed your hips. 'Water ahead…