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Azriel landed in front of the River House, intent on dropping off a report for Rhys and then returning home after a mind-numbingly boring trip to the human lands. All he wanted was his own bed at the House of Wind. Though maybe he’d spar with Gwyn tonight if she was up at the training ring when he got home–he could do with letting off some steam before bed.
He slipped inside and quickly went up to Rhys’s office to leave the report on his desk. No one was around, and Azriel vaguely remembered Rhys telling him he and Feyre would be away in Day for a meeting of the solar courts.
Perhaps Elain was home…no. No. As much as he disliked Rhys’s edict about staying away from Elain, he was going along with it and barely speaking to her these days beyond what politeness dictated.
But still, something whispered in him, “ Your brothers each have a sister as a mate…why not you? Maybe the Cauldron chose wrong. ” What did the Cauldron think made Lucien Vanserra a better match for Elain than him? With Azriel’s shadows and Elain’s seer abilities, however latent they seemed to be lately, they’d be a powerful force together. What did Lucien have? Some fire magic from a court that had exiled him and that golden eye from Dawn that Azriel had annoyingly not yet discovered the extent of its powers.
Azriel headed back downstairs and was about to leave when he heard noises from the dining room. His shadows raced into the dining room and just as quickly returned to herd him away. Strange. Maybe Feyre and Rhys had returned early?
Despite his shadows’ insistence that he should leave, he walked toward the dining room, undeterred. From the half-open door, he could see golden hair spilling over the table and hear murmurs and moans. It was their house and all, but honestly Feyre and Rhys were sometimes as indiscreet as Nesta and Cassian. And why did it always have to be a dining room? People ate there, for Cauldron’s sake.
He had caught both his brothers and their mates in compromising positions before and certainly didn’t need to do it again. This was why the shadows had warned him away. He was turning away to leave when he heard a female voice that definitely wasn’t Feyre’s wail “No, no, wait!”
Azriel froze. Elain?
“Stop teasing me, you ass,” she continued, frustration in her voice.
“I’m sorry, my lady, did you want something?” Lucien fucking Vanserra answered.
The fuck? Azriel admittedly hadn’t been paying much attention to Elain since Solstice, dutifully staying away as Rhys had ordered, but he thought she could barely stand the male. Curiosity had him creeping into the room, the shadows admonishing him but nevertheless covering him as he slipped into a dark corner.
On one end of the dining table, the side Azriel was closest to, were the remains of a romantic dinner for two, complete with faelights and wine. At the opposite end of the table, he could see the top of Elain’s head, hair fanning out around her. She was splayed out on the highly polished dining table, the bodice of her flowered dress open so that her breasts were on display, and her skirt pushed up to her waist, knees bent. The mirror on the wall in front of her gave him a much better view of her body and all the curves he had wondered about under those sweet, flowy dresses–but it also showed the back of the male on his knees in front of her.
“You know what I want.”
“And I want you to tell me what exactly that is,” he shot back. “Do you want me to only use my fingers like last time? Or remember what I did the time I had you screaming in the garden?”
How long had they been doing this? Did everyone know but him? He was the spymaster of this court, for fuck’s sake–he should know what’s going on between the sister of his High Lady and an Autumn Court fae, even if he was affiliated with the Night Court.
From Azriel’s vantage point, Lucien’s red hair was visible from between her thighs, where his hands gripped, keeping her legs apart. The room was heady with arousal, Elain’s familiar, intoxicating jasmine and honey scent mixing with Lucien’s overpowering, cloying citrus and cinnamon.
She huffed impatiently. “I want your mouth, Lucien, please.”
“And what do you want me to do with it, princess?” he taunted her further.
“Dammit, why do you always do this to me? Just make me come already!”
Was that how Elain talked during sex? Azriel expected… well, he didn’t quite know what he expected. Whenever he fantasized about Elain, it was more about finding his own release in the moment than anything and how her being with him would gratify him. He supposed he simply expected her to be the sweet, demure, quiet female she was in every other setting. Azriel watched as Lucien flashed a grin then lowered his head to comply, and Elain moaned in response, pushing her hips forward.
He really shouldn’t be here. So why are you? his shadows questioned. Just go.
Azriel was well aware of his own kinks, and he knew that part of him wanted to stay just to enjoy the show as a voyeur. But the part of himself that whispered that he wasn’t ever deserving of a mate told him to take this as his punishment for having coveted someone else’s. Elain was beautiful and kind, and she made him forget for a while the 500-year-old unrequited love he’d held for Mor. And the symmetry of three sisters for three brothers just made sense . What did it say about him if the Mother didn’t think him equal to his brothers? But She thought Lucien Vanserra was as powerful and as deserving as Rhys and Cassian?
And here he was, living vicariously through Lucien , of all people. Why was it always Beron’s sons coming in to destroy his chances with the females he wanted?
He’d give Lucien this, at least: he did seem to know how to please his mate, if Elain’s high-pitched squeaks and increasingly frantic movements were any indication.
Elain reached down to rake her hands through Lucien’s hair, drawing a moan from him, which tipped her over the edge. Her whole body shook in her release, but Lucien kept his mouth on her until her last shudder.
“Perfect, you’re perfect,” Lucien breathed, hauling himself up from his knees and grabbing Elain behind the neck to kiss her. Elain seemed so dazed from her orgasm that she didn’t know where to put her hands, patting his shoulders for a moment until she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.
“Again,” he ordered against her mouth, pausing for her response. Elain was still trying to catch her breath. “Yes?” he asked, kissing her deeply.
“Yes,” she sighed, pushing his shoulders down. A smile curled on Lucien’s lips as he slid back down her body, stopping along the way to tease one breast, then the other, trailing down her torso until he was kneeling on the floor again between her legs. Elain fell back on her elbows to watch him, and Lucien hiked her legs over his shoulders to open her up further before his mouth was back on her again.
Azriel knew he could slip out of the room easily while they were caught up in each other, but he was enthralled by them. As much as he hated to admit it, they were beautiful together, moving perfectly in sync with each other.
“Lucien, I’m so close,” Elain said pleadingly. “I need your fingers, please, now.”
He obviously obeyed, because Elain responded with a swift intake of breath and bucked against him, while Lucien moaned in satisfaction.
“Come on, princess, come for me again. I want to see you.”
That was all Elain needed, it seemed, because she arched her back, pushing herself up from her elbows to her hands, and screamed his name. Azriel was so focused on watching them together that he damn near came himself when Elain did. He bit back his own moan and tried to calm his overexcited body.
“Gods, I love how loud you are when you come, but thank the Mother no one else is home. I still can’t believe Feyre didn’t catch us last time I was here.” Lucien rose up in front of her again.
“Clothes. Off. Now,” she demanded as she attacked his mouth. Lucien was still fully dressed, though his shirt was mostly unbuttoned all the way down in his usual style. Privately, Azriel thought this looked stupid–what, did he get bored while buttoning up his shirt?–but clearly, Elain was all for it, as she ran her hands down his almost-bare chest. She was untucking his shirt and attacking the laces on his pants, all while still frantically kissing him as if he would disappear if she stopped. Lucien, for his part, was fumbling to pull her dress off without breaking their kiss. He gave up on that for a moment to undo the final two buttons on his shirt and shrug it off, then managed to separate from her long enough to whip her dress over her head.
Elain stood. “My turn.”
She pushed Lucien into the chair behind him that had been pushed away from the table, then straddled him and slid onto his cock so fast it nearly took Azriel’s breath away. It seemed to do the same for Lucien, who was equally startled. “Fuck, Elain!”
But she didn’t break her rhythm, just continued to ride him at a punishing pace. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord, is this too much for you?” she asked with the same mocking tone Lucien had teased her with earlier. “Should I stop?” She rose up enough to keep them just barely connected and paused.
“No!”
She laughed and slammed back down on him, resuming her previous tempo, as Lucien groaned and muttered thanks to the Cauldron in response.
Azriel never would have expected her to be such an active participant. Would she have been like that with him, or would he even have wanted her to be? He had loved how innocent and submissive Elain was, how she had seemed to need him for protection and just to find some peace and quiet in their family. And yeah, he knew he had a saviour complex, and Elain definitely brought that out in him and made him feel wanted. But he had never actually given much thought about how she would be with him, just about how he would be with her. Would his own desires have corrupted her in ways he would have been ashamed of, or would they have matched hers?
She did seem to match Lucien’s autumn fire, and Lucien wasn’t afraid to let her. It was a switch from how he had treated her like a delicate thing for so long after she was Made–maybe that was how he was able to finally get Elain to stop ignoring him? Autumn Court males did fuck like they had fire in their blood, he knew–but nope, Azriel definitely was not going to let his brain go there right now. Instead, he watched as Lucien grasped her ass to rock her into him and squeezed, but then his arms moved up to her torso to wrap around her reverently, clutching her like a child would his favourite doll, so desperate to get closer to her, Azriel could practically feel it.
Gods, was he jealous of Lucien?
They had slowed to a more leisurely pace, Elain moving in a filthy grind on top of Lucien. The mood had shifted from frenzied and fervent to something more hushed and reverent.
“You feel so good,” Elain whispered.
Lucien closed his eyes. “How does this get better every time?”
“Well, mate, it could be all the practice we’ve been doing.”
Lucien froze. “Say that again.”
“What, practice? We have been doing rather a lot of that.”
“You know what I mean. Elain, say it again, please.”
“Mate.”
Lucien made out a sound that was half-laugh, half-whimper, planted his feet, and pushed his hips into hers at a punishing pace. Elain matched him, and trailed kisses up his neck to his pointed ear.
“It makes me insane when you say that. I’ve wanted it for so long.”
“I’m yours.”
Fuck, he was jealous of Lucien. He had what Azriel had always wanted–a mate, yes, but also someone who knew him and was perfectly attuned to him. Elain and Lucien were so comfortable with each other and each other’s bodies, with an effortless give-and-take between them. It was exactly what mates were supposed to look like together. He could practically see the golden string tying them together. And Elain was practically glowing under Lucien’s ministrations–it was what Elain with a mate was supposed to look like. This is what Azriel would have taken from her if he had had his way. Guilt washed over him. He’d wanted his own mating bond for so long, and he’d been willing to tear apart one all because he wanted to be wanted? No wonder he hadn’t been blessed with one.
The room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter as Lucien and Elain became even more frenzied in their movements, the flames of Lucien’s fire fed by Elain’s responses to him. Lucien slid a hand in between them while the other remained supporting Elain’s back, and Elain’s shouted release immediately triggered Lucien’s.
“Love you,” she murmured, resting her forehead against his as they both came down. She lifted the heavy length of her long hair and dropped it down her back to cool off. The room was still warm but returning to normal temperature.
“Love you so much,” Lucien told her, nuzzling into her neck.
They sat like that, Elain still straddling him, for a few moments before she raised her head. “Come on, let’s go back upstairs. We have the rest of the night together before you have to leave again tomorrow.” She sighed. “And before Feyre and Rhys get back.”
“We’re going to have to tell them sooner rather than later.” Over Elain’s shoulder, Lucien looked directly at Azriel’s shadowed corner and raised an eyebrow before dropping a kiss on her neck. “But I’d rather keep this to ourselves still. It’s not like they haven’t kept plenty from us before.”
Well, that answered part of the question as to what Lucien’s mechanical eye could see.
“I like having you all to myself right now, anyway,” Elain said, gently stroking the planes of Lucien’s face.
Lucien effortlessly rose up from the chair with Elain still wrapped around him and began walking towards the door. Elain looked around the room at their clothes scattered on the floor and their abandoned dinner. “Wait, we should really clean up in here so they don’t notice anything.”
Without slowing, Lucien snapped his fingers, and everything returned to its usual orderly state in the dining room. “Done. I’ve got more plans for you tonight, and they don’t involve cleaning.”
Elain’s laughter floated from the hall as they made their way upstairs.
Azriel stepped out of his darkened corner and adjusted himself after Lucien and Elain’s show. He blew out a breath. Well. Rhys would be happy to know that whatever had been instilled in him to desire Elain, his obsession to have her, that was now gone, extinguished like a snuffed candle. What had ever possessed him to choose an already mated female? Just because Elain was beautiful and fit into a narrative he wanted to make real? No, after seeing her and Lucien together, he had learned his lesson: whoever the Mother has joined together, let no one put asunder.
Desiring Elain had at least helped him get over Mor, which had actually been waning even before that. After seeing Rhys get his mating bond, it made him want his own, and he knew that after 500 years a mating bond was never going to snap into place with Mor, nor would her suddenly deciding she wanted him after so long. Beautiful, perfect, powerful Mor was never going to settle for him, no matter how badly he’d wanted it; he was never going to be worthy of her. But then he’d just replaced Mor with Elain. Choosing an already mated female was probably not the greatest idea he’d ever had, but she didn’t want the bond and he could save her and…
The truth hit him, clear and stark. Why he’d pined over Mor for so long, why he’d fixated on Elain, why they were so untouchable–he’d wanted them to choose him over everyone else, to prove his worth, make him actually believe that he deserved to be with them. And he kept picking women who couldn’t do that for him, which then proved everything he ever thought about himself.
Gods, that was fucked. What was wrong with him? He’d wanted Mor even after she’d made it clear that there wasn’t ever anything there with him or with Cassian; he’d wanted Elain to, what, eventually break a mating bond for him, going against her own instinct just so he could feel worthy? It was his own stupid fault he’d been like this for so long.
A thump from upstairs knocked him out of his thoughts. He’d heed Lucien’s silent warning and keep their secret–it was the least he could do after being an utter ass about Elain. And now that all his feelings for Elain had been drained away, he could actually be happy for them, little as he actually liked Lucien. But Lucien had been undeniably patient with Elain, and Azriel had seen firsthand with his brothers’ mates how stubborn Acherons could be. He could be patient, too–he had nothing but time.
Whatever he did, whether he had a mate or not, he had to be better for whoever he was going to be with in the future. No more putting them on a pedestal, no more thinking he would never measure up to them–he had to figure his own shit out first.
With those revelations in mind, Azriel headed back to the House of Wind.