Chapter Text
You reveled in the feeling of dancing along the Spymaster’s last nerve. The game between the two of you had begun weeks prior. It had been a bad day, you were late to the shop and the early morning rain had ruined the expensive fabric you left on the balcony of your apartment. Of course today was the day the High Lord and his brothers came down into the streets of Velaris, causing a congestion of bodies buzzing to see them. You simply rolled your eyes, darting through the fray. Just ahead you saw the sage green trim of the shop you worked at, finely tailored dresses and suits positioned in the window. The sketches in your hands went flying as something large and hard collided with your body. Heavy weight cream colored paper fell into the nearby puddles, rendering the charcoal drawings of your next projects a useless muddle of gray.
“Watch where you’re going next time, ass.” The words were spit at the male’s back as he froze in place.
“Actually, his name is Az.” Your head whipped to the male, Cassian, at his side. Smirking, the general extended his siphoned hand. Gripping his fingers, you hauled yourself to your feet, furiously wiping at the mud now covering your pants.
“I don’t care what his name is, he should watch where he plants those obnoxiously large boots.” Finally he turned to you, nostrils flaring. You had seen the Shadowsinger before in passing, that brooding expression never leaving his face. Today though, a frown pulled the corners of his mouth down and his hazel eyes were sparked with anger.
“Mind your manners, female.” Rational thought flitted from your mind as the wet mush of your sketches went flying, landing square in the middle of the brute’s chest. The crowd gathered around, watching the events unfold.
“I’ll mind my manners when you learn yours, male.” Not wishing to cause more of a spectacle during the already chaotic morning you turned toward the shop, what was left of the ruined sketches in tow. You would never admit the pleasure that skittered down your bones at his venomous stare that you were sure had followed you all the way to the shop.
Today, the merry bell jingled above the shop’s door, signaling a customer’s arrival. Noemie and Meridia, the owners of Stitching Stars were both out to lunch, leaving you in charge for however long it took them to eat while flirting nonstop with each other. You cultivated a long list of faithful clients, desperate for your innovative stitching. When that damned bell rang you assumed it was one of them but of course not, fate delighted in laughing in your face. Azriel shouldered his way through the door frame. It never felt small to you but for someone carved from stone and hauling large wings it may have been a struggle. His mood was unreadable today, shadows hanging around his shoulders like a dark cloud.
“Female.” You gritted your teeth.
“You know my name Shadowsinger.” The bastard’s full lips quirked up in a smirk.
“I’ll use your name when it’s worthy of settling on my tongue.” The pencil in your hand cracked under the pressure of your grip. “Such a temper for one so small.” Azriel tsked in disdain. Loathing rolled off of your skin in waves. Small wasn’t something used to describe you often but in truth, standing next to his large frame did have the effect of making you feel tiny. No matter how much of a brute he enjoyed painting himself to be, you couldn’t help but notice how he tiptoed around the garments hanging from forms littered around the shop, how he tucked his wings in tight to miss them.
“What do you want?” He ignored you, continuing his perusal of what the shop had to offer. Azriel stopped in front of a male form, one of your newest designs gracing the faceless figure.
“Who made this?” Taking the tail of the jacket in his hand he inspected the gold stitching.
“Who do you think?” Pride glowed through you, a shining white light.
“The detailing is magnificent, it must be one of Noemie’s creations.” The male had the nerve to smile as his eyes found yours. “She’s the best seamstress this side of the Sidra.” You snorted.
“I wouldn’t let her hear you say that, she’ll swim across to claim the title on both sides.” His rumbling laugh surprised you.
“I don’t doubt it.” Finally, he fully turned his large frame towards you. “I need something new for Starfall, something that would ensnare a woman.” You cursed the way your heartbeat faltered. You knew who he was trying to impress. Feyre’s older sister Elain was lovely, you had seen the two pause outside of Stitching Stars more than once. Elain waved each time she caught you looking. As someone who belonged to no one other than the job and a small group of close friends you learned to blend into a crowd. The longing looks Azriel threw her way were either not noticed or purposefully ignored. You didn’t know which you preferred more.
“I can do that, did you have anything in particular in mind?” The Shadowsinger paused in thought.
“Whatever you think would look best, I’ve never been much of a dresser.” Oh how you knew. You didn’t think you had ever seen him out of leathers. Already, images of what cut would look best draped over the hard planes of his body flashed across your mind. She would take his request and run with it.
“If you have a bit of time I need to take measurements.” Azriel nodded, making his way to the counter. You could see curious faces peering into the windows, watching what the Illyrian warrior would do next. Shaking your head you lifted the measuring fabric always stored in the pocket of your apron. “If you’d like to be measured in private there are rooms at the back, I wouldn’t want you to feel too inadequate when they come up lacking.” You smirked despite knowing he would measure out just fine. Though you enjoyed setting him on edge you weren’t blind; he was handsome but his heart would never be yours.
“By all means keep trying to make me feel inferior, I’ll just dock it from your pay.”
“If you can’t afford my pieces just say that, maybe I can find it in my heart to discount the price.” The Shadowsinger growled, pushing past you toward the back of the shop, the shadows at his back seeming to thread themselves through your hair in passing, lingering for only a moment.
“Little girls who play with fire get burned, didn’t your father teach you that?” At his mention of fire your eyes instinctively dropped to his scarred hands. You were glad his back was turned so he couldn’t follow your gaze. Stupid. Shaking your head you pushed past to take the lead.
“My father didn’t teach me anything, he was too busy running away to his new Day Court family.” Not many knew of your family’s shame, of how your father stole away into the night to chase some woman from the neighboring court. No one knew how much it had pained your mother, causing her to go mad with grief.
“I’m sorry.” You faltered, refusing to turn to him. Had that been remorse in his voice? “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. The only people who know are my mother and the two who own this shop, why would I expect the great Shdowsinger to know the inner workings of my fucked up life? Now, please step up onto the pedestal.” You hurried past his apology, hating the pity in his voice. You were strong, you did not crumble. The shuffling of feet told you he had obeyed. Azriel stayed still as you wrapped the measuring fabric around his muscled arms. You marveled at just how hard his impossibly toned stomach was. Just because he had his heart set on another doesn’t mean you couldn’t admire just how beautiful he was. The Shadowsinger kept his face carefully blank as you did your job, going a tad bit slower than you needed to. The shadows at his back slithered forth, you almost could have sworn they regarded you thoughtfully, a dog with its head cocked to the side in silent wonder.
Azriel’s carefully cultivated mask of calm cracked slightly when you moved lower. He shifted his feet, hands balling into fists at his side as you wrapped that damned fabric around one powerful thigh. You couldn’t help the smirk sliding onto your lips.
“Problem, Shadowsinger?” The male above you gritted his teeth. His arousal was evident in his pants and some deep dark part of you wanted nothing more than to untie the fastenings that held the leather to his hips. From your position near his feet you looked up at his beautiful face through your eyelashes. Heat filled his gaze as his fists unfurled and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch you.
“Are you almost done? I didn’t plan to stand here while you felt me up for hours.” You barked a laugh rising to your feet.
“Step down Spymaster, and go if you wish.” You stepped sideways, opening a path towards the front door for him. With an almost animal satisfaction you watched as he wobbled to the door, knees uncertainly holding his large frame up. Though once he was gone a terrible emptiness washed over you. Would he leave to see her? Lovely Elain with brown doe eyes and gold streaking through her hair. You tried to forget about him but those hazel eyes haunted you, flashing in your mind every time you blinked. What would it feel like to have his rough hands hold you tenderly? How would it look with his dark head buried between your thighs. Pleasure rippled through you at the thought, your legs squeezing together. All you needed was to let this pent up energy loose, right? Then you would stop thinking of that shadowed male with his dark stare and teasing smile, right? Right?