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Gwyn wiped the sweat off her brow, her breath slowly steadying. Training has been brutal, and the impossible exercises the Illyrian men put them through were not the primary cause.
When the shadowsinger took off his shirt, grumbling about the fucking hot weather, Gwyn was completely lost. Unlike his brother, who paraded more without a shirt on when they trained, Gwyn could count the times she had seen the shadowsinger bare-chested on the fingers of one hand. Yet those times had been brief. Barely seconds. That day, however, the weather forced him to train them shirtless.
Praise the Mother and the hot weather for it because what a sight was he to the sore eye…
Cauldron boil her, Azriel’s body was magnificent. Carved by the gods themselves. Muscles atop of muscles. Taunt and glistening from the sweat. Tattoos inked his powerful chest, and Gwyn wondered how it would feel to trace them with the tip of her tongue.
He looked straight out of one of Nesta’s erotic novels.
The sight had been so distracting she hadn’t seen the blow Nesta struck with enough force to send her toppling. Gwyn had no way of justifying her defeat without admitting the truth. Yet her sister guessed what got her so distracted by the knowing grin on her face.
“Maybe Azriel should train us shirtless more often.” Nesta winked, playfully patting Gwyn’s backside. She winced at the touch. The previous fall straight on her ass left a burning feeling, and her sister’s gentle spank only added to the aching.
Azriel was watching them, no emotion on his face. Yet Gwyn swore she caught his eyes on her backside moments before they flitted to her face. She tried not to think of what it could mean.
Nothing, of course. He must’ve noted Nesta’s gesture. That was all. Nothing more.
Emerie stared with an amused grin. The Illyrian female glanced at the shadowsinger, then back at Gwyn. The priestess gave her a warning look; her face flushed. Yet Emerie ignored her. “Who would’ve thought all it took to easily defeat you was a shirtless Azriel?”
Mother, spare her.
Gwyn groaned. “That’s not true! I thought I heard something. That’s why I didn’t pay attention.”
The blatant lie couldn’t have fooled anyone. Not even Nyx, who was hardly one year old. Yet Gwyn wasn’t out of her mind to admit Azriel’s shirtless form was, indeed, the reason she had been out of focus. Especially when he must monitor every word, every gesture around him.
Nesta returned with a glass filled with water. Gwyn’s throat was burning. She extended a hand in a silent request, hoping her sister would let her have a sip. Nesta’s grin told otherwise. Mirth danced in her grey eyes when she dipped her head in the direction of the water station, where Cassian and Azriel were quietly chatting.
“Nesta, please.” Gwyn pleaded, but her sister didn’t budge.
Gwyn hissed in annoyance, flipping Nesta off. She strode to the station, doing her best to keep her eyes on the glasses there. Not on the still shirtless shadowsinger.
She could faintly hear their mutters, and with her enhanced hearing, she caught something that involved Eris, a name she was well acquainted with now.
Gwyn glanced at Cassian, grateful he was there and she wouldn’t be all by herself with –
Oh, he had to be fucking kidding her.
Cassian clapped his brother on the back as he started walking away. As he passed by Gwyn, he flashed her a grin and affectionately tugged on her braid.
By the time she reached the station, Azriel was grumbling, and it most likely had to do with his previous talk with Cassian.
“Fuck me.” Exhaustion and exasperation crept into his tone.
She knew the true meaning of his words. Yet, with how hot she felt because of him, she couldn’t stop the bold thought as she filled her glass with water.
Trust me, I am trying.
The loud cough was enough to make her snap out of her thoughts. She looked at Azriel, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he coughed and coughed, his face turning red. He stared at her, his jaw slacked.
“What?”
Gwyn’s brow furrowed. “What?” She didn’t say a word to him. All she did was think about…
Utter terror flashed across her face as the realization settled in. Oh, Mother, did she say ‘I’m trying’ after Azriel said ‘Fuck me’ out loud?!
“What?” Gwyn’s voice got weak, a slight tremor in it. Shame crept into her already flushed cheeks.
Could things get any worse?
She got her answer the following second. Yes, they could.
“She said she’s trying to fuck you!” Nesta called out from the other side of the ring.
If looks could kill, Nesta would be dead by now. Gwyn’s eyes were burning, her teeth ground as Nesta simply smirked, knowingly.
Cassian’s eyes almost bulged out, yet the general looked at Gwyn impressed. Emerie was unashamedly laughing, swatting Nesta’s arm.
Gwyn was stuck, watching Emerie nod her farewell. She stared at Cassian as he flew Emerie back to her place. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the tips of her ears burning.
Nesta looked between them, grey eyes sparkling. Gwyn prayed to all the gods above she would leave them, too. She’d rather face the awkwardness with Azriel alone than have her big-mouthed sister with them.
Her prayers had been listened to because Nesta winked and turned on her heel, heading back inside. Her whistle cheerful, her braid bouncing against her back.
Gwyn took a deep breath through her nose and looked at the shadowsinger.
“I did not say that!”
Azriel’s shocked look was gone, his expression unreadable. Yet she didn’t miss how his amber eyes were twinkling with mirth. “What did you say, then?” Azriel asked, serious.
Now, fuck her. And not with the meaning of her fantasies with the hot, brooding shadowsinger.
“I am…tired.”
Yeah, because tired was close to trying.
“Tired, huh?” Azriel repeated, cocking an eyebrow.
“Scandalously tired.”
Gwyn was aware her words made no sense at the moment, but…
His lips tipped at the sides, an arrogant smirk spreading across his face. “That explains the lack of focus, and how effortlessly Nesta knocked you on your ass.”
Azriel knew why she had lost. That handsome, insufferable man knew very well he was the one to blame for her earlier defeat.
“It’s funny,” Azriel continued, tapping his chin with a gloved finger. “I thought you said Trust me, I’m trying.”
“Must be the old age.”
He regarded her with an amused look. To which she shrugged, irreverently. “You are old.”
“We are fae,” Azriel replied. “Over five centuries are a mere blink of an eye.”
Gwyn huffed, although she was glad for the change of topic. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Her relief soon disappeared, though. “Let’s say I am old, as you’re claiming. What of Nesta? She is younger than both of us.”
Again, fuck her.
“It’s Nesta,” Gwyn said, matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms over her chest. “She does stuff like that to tease us.”
Azriel hummed. “So, you did not say you’re trying to fuck me?”
“No.” She didn’t add ‘to fuck you’. “Why would I say that?” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t want to do it.”
“You don’t?”
“I do not.” Gwyn lied, her lips set in a firm line. “So don’t get your hopes too high, Shadowsinger.”
Azriel chuckled. “I will do my best not to.” He bent enough to whisper in her ear. “Too bad I wouldn’t have minded if you actually said you’re trying to fuck me.”
Gwyn tried to swallow against the dryness of her throat, desire coiled low. She kept telling herself it was just him teasing her. That he could not possibly mean it. Yes, they have flirted before, yet it had never gone this far. He had never shown any signs of desiring her in that way.
Or so she thought.
Because the deepening shadows circling his lower body, the faint foreign scent mingling with his night mist and cedar were telling her something else.
Gwyn’s hand trembled, water dripping onto her skin.
Oh, right. The water. She downed her glass as quickly as possible. Aware that her own scent of arousal was easily perceptible. She didn’t comment on it, though. Nor did Azriel.
Gwyn thought she’d melt when her eyes met his burning gaze. She shuddered, her toes curled in her boots. She didn’t say a word as she walked past him, the leathers clinging to her sweaty, hot body.
“Berdara.”
She threw him a curious look over one shoulder. And this time, she did not imagine it—he really was looking at her ass.
“Will I still see you tonight?”
He was talking about their private training session. Yet his voice dropped an octave, and there was more than a challenge in his eyes. A silent promise there would be more than just training.
Thank the Mother.
Gwyn grinned, flipping her braid over one shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes too high.” She mocked again, smiling as the shadowsinger’s low chuckle followed her inside.
Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she saw Nesta waiting for her. She was leaning against a wall, a smug grin on her face.
“You listened to the whole thing, didn’t you?”
Nesta wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And what a delight it was.” Nesta threw a wink her way. “You are welcome.”
Maybe she should thank her one day.