𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 80

Chapter 80

The knuckles of two of Azriel's fingers pressed into the low of her back, keeping enough pressure to counter his pull on the laces of her dress just above. He tugged on the thin ribbons until they were taut and then hooked his fingers around the lacing above it, repeating the manoeuvre.

"I'm sorry," Arwen said quietly, staring at his dark head of hair that was bowed to look at her back in the mirror's reflection over the armoire. "I wanted to wear this and didn't think about not having Nuala or Cerridwen around." Her magic was useless when it came to these sorts of intricacies. "Rhysand has no idea how to work these things unless he's taking them off a female."

The dress was a stunning rose pink with sleeves that hung off her shoulders in loose billows before being cinched at her wrists. The scars on her back peaked over but with her hair loose, they would be barely noticeable. With the inbuilt corset, it required to be laced from behind.

Arwen hadn't wanted to call Azriel in here. In fact, she hadn't wanted him to come with them to Dawn at all. No—that was a lie. She did want him here. If all he bought was the comfort of his presence and the warmth of his touch. But he didn't; he brought memories as well. He brought uncertainty and despair.

Azriel's head inched up, sending her a small smile over the back of her shoulder. "I know my way around ties." Arwen didn't think much of the remark until a blush hit her cheeks. He certainly had gentle and deft hands for the job. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," was the automatic answer. She watched as the dress became tighter and fitting up her middle. Azriel's eyes lifted once more as he reached just above the middle of her back. His gaze, much to the cause of the heat pooling in her, was set on her half-exposed chest as he pulled the laces tight as they needed to be, her breasts swelling at the pressure. At least she still had something there, she supposed. Breathing deeply, she didn't shy from the gaze. He tightened them just a little bit further, to the point of pleasurable pain that had her give an inaudible gasp.

Azriel went back to tying off the finishing knot. "Is that comfortable enough?"

"Yes."

"Good. You can find me tonight when you wish to undress." Arwen turned around, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "This dress is beautiful," he muttered, ghosting his hands up her sides. "So is the one who wears it."

The twitch of a smile was unconscious. "Thank you."

Azriel looked her over again, but not with a gaze of admiration. "Are you sure you're alright to go to breakfast?"

Arwen nodded and went to move around him, but he caught her wrist and veered back in front of her. His other hand rose to her cheek, thumb delicately brushing over it before slowly trailing down the arch of her neck, curving around so the palm of his hand ran ever so lightly over her body before settling on her side. He leant in.

She pulled back. "We're going to be late."

"The guards will knock when it's time," he said. "Do you... You don't want me to kiss you." The hurt that slashed across his face was like lightning against storm clouds.

What could she say? Yes, she did, but no she didn't considering the circumstances. Considering she didn't know if that is wanted to give herself to—to trust. Putting herself at his mercy might just be her ruin. That image with Elain, giving her Truth Teller... It was too much. "I lied," she said. "I'm not feeling my best."

Whether or not he believed her was something she would have to find out later as the guards knocked at that moment, alerting them that they were soon expected in Helion's personal dining chamber.