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They made a veritable parade down to the sand. Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. Cassian and Nesta. Mor and Emerie. Elain and Lucien. Azriel and Gwyn. Not that there actually was an and. Azriel and Gwyn were not a couple. Though that wasn’t to say there were no feelings. But Azriel was half-convinced that they were entirely one sided.
Nor were Elain and Lucien an official couple either. But he had been visiting Velaris more often. Perhaps something was starting between them; though clearly still in its infancy given the shy glances she was currently casting in his direction. Come to think of it, Azriel wasn’t entirely sure that Mor and Emerie were a couple either.
His friend had made a big fuss over the Illyrian following the Blood Rite; bringing her so many blankets and pillows they were more liable to suffocate her rather than allow her to rest comfortably. For the first time in their centuries long history, Azriel had seen her actions clearly; recognized them for what they were. The tentative smiles, the flimsy excuses: Mor had a crush.
More than a year had passed since that fateful Blood Rite, and it didn’t appear that Mor had managed to progress beyond that stage and into a romantic relationship. But as Mor spread out her blanket and invited Emerie to join her; Azriel took note of the blush that graced the Illyrian’s cheeks and again wondered why they were not a couple yet. Perhaps they were just taking things slowly.
If only the same could be said of him. Azriel didn’t know how to begin wooing a female like Gwyn. His gaze turned in her direction, as though drawn by his subconscious thoughts. She invaded them constantly. He found her looking out at the waves with a peaceful smile on her face. The water was nearly the same color as her eyes. It made him think that she was made for this place, this moment. She turned and caught him staring at her. Her smile widened and her quickly looked away, checking on the rest of their party.
A few paces away, his brother was busy making everything perfect for Nyx. Or perhaps, more properly, his brothers. Rhys was putting up a giant umbrella to create a shady oasis for his son. Cassian was hard at work constructing a sandcastle; beginning with a giant moat to encircle the final structure. Nesta and Feyre exchanged a look as though to say that this beach day was more for their mates than it was for the small child they claimed to have organized it for. Knowing his brothers, it most definitely was.
Feyre placed Nyx down on the sand. After taking a moment to verify that he had his balance, he took a few steps forward toward his Uncle Cass. Foot poised to step into the deepening moat, Feyre scooped him up once more and lifted him over the trench, depositing him in the middle with his Uncle.
“Nyxie, buddy, I need your help,” Cassian said, handing him a pail and shovel. “Fill this up for me?” He mimed a scoop of air and then let it fall into the bucket. Nyx made a sound of delight and reached for the toys.
“I thought I might comb the sand in search of shells.” Azriel looked over his shoulder, tipping his wing out of the way. It sounded like Gwyn had addressed her statement to the group at large, but unless he was mistaken, her gaze seemed to linger on him longer than any of the others in their party.
“What an excellent idea! The tide is just almost at its lowest now. Perhaps the waves have left all sorts of treasures for us to find.” Elain was the first to respond, a large smile on her face.
“May I join you, my lady?” Lucien asked. “Or should I say, my ladies?”
Gwyn laughed. “I’ve told you, it's Gwyn. And yes, you may. Elain and I will need someone to carry all of our treasures. Lucien looks like he can handle them, right?” She turned to Elain for confirmation. A slight blush colored her cheeks before she nodded. “Excellent,” Gwyn continued. “Anyone else joining us?”
Mor and Emorie shook their heads; the latter already had a book cracked open. Cassian, Nesta, Rhys and Feyre were all busy playing with Nyx who was scooping sand up and throwing it into the air. Feyre pushed it away with a blast of air, creating a firework-like effect. Gwyn’s gaze fell on Azriel and held. He wished he knew what she wanted. Was she hoping for his company or merely asking to be polite?
“I’ll stay here,” he told her, tipping his head toward the umbrella. “My shadows like the shade.”
“But this is the beach.” Her nose wrinkled slightly as she spoke. “Nothing but sun. Well, nothing but sun and water, I suppose.”
“There is no reasoning with him,” Rhys called to her. Azriel was tempted to flip his brother off, but thought better of it. There was, after all, a child present.
“If you change your mind,” Gwyn said softly, “just come after us.” Her eyes sparkled brighter than the sea as she made her offer. Something was urging Azriel to step forward; to join her. But his instincts–honed after centuries of heartache–kept his feet firmly rooted in the sand.
With one last look at him, Gwyn turned and strolled down the beach with Elain and Lucien. Gwyn put some distance between the pair and herself, drifting closer to the waves to allow them to walk together. They were not moving very quickly; every few steps Gwyn or Elain would stop to pick up a shell.
What Elain gathered went into Lucien’s waiting hands. She seemed to approach her task with enthusiasm, keeping nearly every shell she found. But Gwyn took a different approach. She appraised her treasure first; turning it this way and that as she closely inspected it. If she decided it was worthy, she would slip it into a small bag that she had looped over her shoulder.
Azriel watched the trio grow smaller and smaller. But then Gwyn turned back. She was motioning for Elain and Lucien to go on. After a short conversation, they continued down the beach, walking even closer now and not stopping for nearly as many shells. Meanwhile, Gwyn was walking back toward him.
“Nes and I are going to go in the water.” Cassian had suddenly popped-up at Azriel’s elbow. His shadows liked to relax around his family–keeping their commentary to a minimum. They’d held their tongues two winter solstices ago, allowing Azriel to stumble upon Gwyn in the training ring. They were slightly more vocal about Nyx’s antics, particularly now that he had just begun walking. “Do you want to come?”
Although the day was warm, the water was cold. It was still early summer, and the Night Court was not blessed with the temperate climates all year round. “I think I’ll wait.”
Cassian shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He ran down to the water, splashing into the waves with that infectious energy of his. Once he had reached a point where the water was just over waist deep, he dove forward, disappearing under the rolling wave and surfacing on the other side. Nesta followed, though she only went in up to her knees. Cassian attempted to splash his mate, but she dodged the water.
“He does realize that if he were to get her wet, he’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Azriel glanced to his side to find Gwyn, though he had not needed to confirm. Her voice would have been enough to identify her to him. That and the fact that his shadows were happy. She took a seat next to him on the sand beneath the umbrella.
“I’ve slept on that couch,” he remarked, looking out at their friends. “It’s not the worst place to sleep in a pinch.”
“Why not sleep in your own bed?”
“Believe me, I try. Sometimes I can’t, so I get up and do something else.”
“Like what?”
“Reading,” he replied, giving her the simple answer–the acceptable answer. But after a beat, he added another. “Or fighting.”
She smiled. “That would explain why I keep running into you on the roof.”
“You can’t sleep either?” Azriel had never thought to ask. It was sometimes easier not to, even if it meant he could never satisfy the questions. He knew that something was driving Gwyn to the roof a few nights each week, but hadn’t been able to decide what the most likely culprit was. A stubborn determination to get better. A secret desire to see him. He should have considered that she might be trying to outrun demons just like him.
“Only sometimes. Training helps.”
“It does,” Azriel agreed. “And I usually make it back to bed after. As opposed to reading on the couch. I usually end up succumbing to sleep without realizing it and wake up with my neck and wings bent all out of shape.”
“We can’t have that,” she murmured. Her words were so quiet, he almost missed them.
“Did you find a lot of shells?” Azriel quickly changed the subject before his imagination could run away with the implications of Gwyn’s last statement. He’d already allowed himself to imagine a scenario in which she came to the training ring at night just to spend time alone with him. To allow himself to concoct additional fanciful scenarios would be madness.
“The tide was very generous.” Her answer was slightly vague, but also perfectly ‘Gwyn.’ She moved her bag to the sand in front of them and began pulling out the shells she’d collected.
Nyx crossed over to them and picked up a large shark eye shell. Noticing the empty hole, he turned it upside down and shook it, as though expecting something to come falling out.
“You know,” Gwyn began softly, “if you hold that up to your ear,” she mined the action, “you can hear the ocean.”
“Did you ever think,” Azriel said quietly out of the corner of his mouth, “that you can hear the ocean because you are at the ocean.”
“Don’t listen to your uncle, Nyx,” she encouraged. “The world is full of wonder, particularly when you are young. Now, what do you plan on doing with that shell? Because I think it would look lovely on the tower of that sand castle you’ve built.”
Eyes brightening at the words ‘sand castle,’ Nyx thrust the shovel in his other hand at Gwyn. “More,” he demanded.
“You don’t have to,” Feyre was quick to cut in. “I’m sure you came to the beach to enjoy yourself.”
“I did. But think of all the enjoyment I’d miss if I didn’t build this boy a larger sand castle.” She pushed herself off the sand and walked over to where Cassian had been working earlier. “I’ve got him for a little while,” she said to Feyre, “if you and your mate want a break.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Go. Nyx and I will have some fun.”
Rhys offered Feyre his hand and they strode down the beach; heading in the opposite direction. Smart male.
“Alright Master Nyx. I am your humble servant. What should be build next?”
The boy pointed to the moat Cassian had excavated earlier. “More,” he repeated.
“You want me to make it deeper?” He nodded. “I can do that. But what about Uncle Az. What should he do?”
“Uncle Az came here to relax,” Azriel countered.
“Well then, ‘relax.’ Close your eyes and take a nap or something.” She waved the small shovel around, scattering his legs with sand.
“Maybe I will.” He ruffled his wings out, flexing the folds before lying back. His head hit the sand just as his eyes fluttered closed. Drawing in a deep breath, he did his best to release some of the tension from his shoulders. Azriel expected to be plagued by swirling thoughts–the kind that kept him awake at night–but surprisingly none came. With the umbrella above shading him from the sun and the gentle sounds of the crashing waves, it was relaxing. And Mother knows that he could use a nap.
Rolling over onto his stomach, Azriel made himself comfortable. Folding his arms under his head, he turned his head to the side. One eye was in the crook of his elbow, but he’d be able to open the other and check the beach if his shadows alerted him to anything. Azriel stretched out his wings, letting the edges poke out from under the umbrella into the sun. A pleasant warmth spread over the exposed membranes. With a happy sigh, he dug his toes into the sand, covering the soles of his feet.
The beach beyond slowly fell away as the peaceful embrace of sleep pulled him deeper. And the last thing he heard was the melodic sound of Gwyn’s giggle rising and falling like waves.
🏖️ 🏖️ 🏖️
Something was tickling his ear. Azriel reached up to brush the offensive interruption away, but it persisted. He cracked open one eye to find out what was bothering him, and found Nyx standing over him, slowly pouring a shovel-full of sand onto his neck and shoulders.
“All done,” he proudly announced.
“Excellent work, Nyx.” The sweet sound of Gwyn’s praise rang out from his other side. Azriel lifted his head off his shoulders to turn in her direction, but found that it felt a bit like moving through water. All of his motions were slow, sluggish; like they were weighed down by something.
Occasionally, waking from a nap left Azriel feeling even more fatigued than when he first closed his eyes, but this wasn’t like that. He felt alert and awake; so, what could be causing the sensation? He pushed himself up a little higher, coming up onto his elbows. And as he did so, sand cascaded down from his back.
What the hell? He twisted his neck as far around as it would go. All he could see behind him was sand. His back and legs had been completely covered. His shadows were dancing above his wings as though they didn’t have a care in the world.
“More.” Nyx scooped up more sand and dumped it on Azriel’s back, hitting him right between the wings. It promptly slid off of him. “More! More!” The boys’ cries were getting more animated now.
“As you wish.” Gwyn’s pretty pink lips curled into a smile as she sunk her own shovel into the sand and lifted it over Azriel’s shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, daring him to stop her. But Azriel didn’t move. He narrowed his eyes at her, which only caused her grin to grow. “After all, we haven’t finished burying Uncle Az yet; his shoulders are still showing.”
“This was your idea, I take it.”
Gwyn shook her head, slowly tipping the shovel. She moved so slowly that the sand had yet to reach its tipping point. It was like she was goading him into stopping her. “Nyx saw your toes tucked into the sand and thought that we should cover the rest of you.”
“Good job, darling. That’s very nice of you.” Feyre stepped forward, back from her walk already. Azriel wondered how long he’d slept for. She scooped up her son, planting a kiss on his chubby cheek.
“More! More!” Nyx continued issuing orders even as his father reached for him, looping him up and onto his shoulders.
Azriel turned his gaze back to Gwyn. “Don’t you dare, Berdara.”
“I have to.” There was no trace of reluctance or regret in her voice.
The first grains of sand fell on his shoulder. Azriel exploded up, scattering the rest of the sand that Gwyn and Nyx had shoveled onto his back and legs. He caught her wrist and Gwyn dropped the shovel with a surprised shriek. But Azriel didn’t stop there. He used her wrist to pull her into him before sliding his other arm under her knees. Adjusting his grip to make sure he wouldn’t drop her–and that she couldn’t escape–he stood and stalked toward the water.
“Azriel! Put me down!” Gwyn protested.
“You’re the one who played with fire.” He didn’t like threatening to punish her–alright, maybe he did just a little–but if she wanted to make this into a playful tit-for-tat, he was happy to oblige.
“You started it,” she shot back, “with that quip about only hearing the ocean because we were at the ocean.”
“We are at the ocean. And if you haven’t realized it already, you soon will.” He reached the edge of the waves and stepped out into the water.
“The water is freezing! You wouldn’t dare.”
“Just like you wouldn’t dare to bury me in the sand?” Azriel arched an eyebrow at her as he waited for her answer.
He was already knee deep in the water. The next wave coming at them was taller than the other’s had been. As it crested, the very top caught Gwyn’s toes and she let out an unholy scream, reacting comically to the temperature of the water. She attempted to scramble higher in his arms, moving her body out of reach of the next wave. Azriel was holding her so tightly that there was no place for her to go, but still she tried to climb out of the way.
Gwyn planted one hand on his shoulder and pushed. She managed to get just enough leverage to raise herself up, her head angling back over his shoulder and closer to his neck. Her lips brushed across his throat and came to rest on the pulse point just below his jaw. Azriel groaned, the sound involuntarily ripped from his lips as his grip on her tightened. He wanted to keep her right there forever.
Gwyn froze in his arms. Her lips detached from his neck, but he could still feel the heat of her mouth. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest; could hear her rapid shallow breaths.
“Cauldron, Gwyn, I’m sorry.” His voice was little more than a rasp. Azriel wished that he didn’t sound so wrecked; so undone by that accidental brush of her lips against his skin. But his secret was out there now. Surely Gwyn would be able to interpret what had just happened; to understand the effect she had on him. But he wasn’t apologizing for that. He was apologizing because he’d made her uncomfortable.
Slowly, she pulled back. Her eyes were wide, but she did not look frightened; and her cheeks were flushed. The sight should not have been so enticing, but it was. She looked eager, excited; and he wanted nothing more than to know that he’d inspired her reaction.
Gwyn’s gaze darted over his face–searching, seeking–before landing on his mouth. Her mouth was slightly open and he could see her teeth sunk into her lower lip. She was looking at him like she wanted him to kiss her. Then it was his turn to freeze. Azriel was locked in place as though he were a statue, barely even breathing; even his shadows had stilled.
“Gwyn.” He whispered her name, a quiet plea for an unspoken question.
“Yes.” Her eyes flicked up to his as her teeth released her lower lip.
Azriel wished that his hands were free so that he could slide one along her jaw and tangle his fingers in her hair. Hair that was normally pin-straight but had curled slightly thanks to the salty ocean air. He wanted to urge her face up to his so that he would take her lips and kiss her. Azriel knew that a kiss like that would be long and slow; the perfect culmination of months of gradually falling in love with her.
But his arms were busy holding her. He’d kiss her slowly later. Right at that moment, he just needed to kiss her. Gwyn had one arm around his neck, keeping them locked together. The fingers of her other hand traced a gentle line across his cheek from just beside his ear toward the corner of his mouth. He tipped his face down to her, answering her siren’s call.
Her lips brushed against his tentatively, giving Azriel just enough time to wonder if she’d changed her mind. And then Gwyn sealed her mouth against his in a passionate kiss containing all the fierceness she displayed in the training ring. It took Azriel’s breath away. He tightened his grip on her yet again as she moaned against his mouth.
His entire body felt hot and tight; alive with countless possibilities that had only existed in his wildest of dreams. And then everything went cold. A large wave had snuck up on them as they had been kissing. It crested and broke, the frigid water crashing over them, covering nearly all of them. They broke apart and Gwyn’s mouth opened in a silent scream of surprise. His shadows heard the laughter of their friends behind them, safe in the warmth of the sand.
“Fuck,” she cursed.
“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” he teased.
“Well, you try getting caught unaware by an ice cold wave.”
“I just was.” A smile teased his lips. Had their kiss distracted her that much? Gwyn began shivering in his arms as a breeze raised gooseflesh along her arms and legs. “You’re cold.”
“I-I’ll be fine,” she promised him even as her teeth chattered. “I just need to get dry.”
Without stopping to think, Azriel winnowed them from the water back to the city, reappearing just above the wards to the House of Wind. Her shivering increased now that they were high above the mountains where the air was even colder. Azriel guided them safely to the veranda and then moved quickly into the house.
“Where are we going?” They were dripping water on the floor as Azriel made his way down the hall, heading straight for his bedroom, but he didn’t care. It could all be cleaned up later; Gwyn needed to get warm now. He crossed immediately to the bathing chamber, and was relieved to see the tub already filling with warm water as the magic in the House anticipated his needs. “Is this your room?”
“Yes.” His simple answer was not sufficient, judging by the slight frown of confusion on her face. Azriel reluctantly returned Gwyn to her feet and then began to check everything, making sure the House had provided everything she needed. If his brother’s could only see him fussing around like a mother hen; he’d never hear the end of if. But it wasn’t like they were any better.
“There is soap here,” he pointed to the bottle on the edge of the tub, “and towels there,” one was waiting folded on the counter, “and I’ll leave you something to wear on the edge of my bed. I’ll just…” Azriel found himself unable to finish the sentence, because he didn’t know what he was doing. Every other time he’d been this attentive to a female, he’d had a clear plan fixed in his mind–a goal for the interaction. But with Gwyn, Azriel never knew what to do. Certain things felt right of course, like holding her in his arms, kissing her, and just being near her. But apart from that, sometimes she felt him feeling like a blushing, bumbling youngling with a crush.
Azriel closed the door to his bathing chamber behind him and sighed as he leaned back against it. How had the day gone from ordinary, to extraordinary, to complete chaos so quickly? The sound of the water turning off and Gwyn stepping into the tub spurred him back into action. There would be plenty of time for overthinking later. He changed out of his wet things and left a pair of soft pants and a tunic on the edge of his bed for Gwyn, as promised. He knew they would be too big for her but they would be warm, which was the important thing. What was not important was what the sight of her in them might do to him.
The faint sounds of singing reached his ears through the door. His shadows echoed back their reply. Azriel wanted to stay and listen, but also did not want to be caught lingering by the door. He ducked out into the sitting room that connected his room to Cassian’s. Though one shadow remained behind to dance in front of the door.
He ran a hand through his hair as he dropped onto a couch to wait for Gwyn to emerge. The silence gave him the space to ponder the impulsiveness of his actions. They’d kissed once and he’d basically kidnapped her and brought her back to his lair. All she’d wanted to do was dry off. She could have done that up on the sand. Instead, he’d brought her home.
The creaking of hinges had Azriel’s head snapping up in that direction. Gwyn stood in the door frame dressed in his tunic. And nothing else. Long, toned, pale legs extended down from beneath the hem of the garment. He swallowed thickly and tried to get his gaze to rise back to her face, but not all battles were winnable. Her fingers were twisted in the cuffs of the shirt.
“Thank you.” Two small words and yet they meant so much to him. “For the bath and for the clothes.”
“Of course.” He somehow managed to choke out a reply.
Gwyn crossed to him in long strides, not stopping until she was directly in front of him. “I’m still chilled.”
Azriel looked around. There was no fire in the grate, no blankets draped over the backs of any of the chairs. Why hadn’t the House given her what she needed? It had the bath waiting for her, but why not a fire? He was about to stand and rush back to his room for a blanket when she spoke again.
“May I sit?” He nodded and Gwyn dropped down onto the couch next to him, tucking her legs beneath her. She leaned into him and held out her hands. “My fingers are cold.”
Large teal eyes watched him expectantly. Azriel always felt that his hands were ugly, broken, useless. But at that moment, they had a purpose. Gwyn needed them. He lifted them from where they were resting on his thighs and wrapped them around her smaller ones. He braced himself for an icy chill to leech from her skin to his, but they were warm.
He moved his gaze from their joined hands to her face, his brow furrowing in confusion. The sight of her teeth digging into her bottom lip again gave him the answer to his unspoken question. “Your hands weren’t really cold, were they?”
“They might have been cold.”
“When?”
“Don’t you have better things to do than interrogate me, spymaster?”
“Like what?” Azriel’s hand moved over her wrist and up her arm, his fingers coming to rest under her jaw and he leaned into her.
“I think you can figure it out on your own.”
“Is that so?”
Her eyes were focused solely on his lips. “Kiss me, Azriel,” she breathed. “Kiss me like you did back on the beach. Like I’m the island in the midst of your stormy sea.”
His hand moved back to wrap around her nape. “You’re my tranquil ocean, Gwyn,” Azriel told her. “You have been for a while now.”
Azriel surged toward her as he pulled her in and their kiss was hotter than any summer day.