#elriel_month

[mrspettyferr]

Shy Glances + Restricted Touches

(Mood Board series for Elriel Month)

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

[mrspettyferr]

Elriel Month - Peace & Quiet

(Mood Board Series + a little snippet)

Elain sat at a small, wrought-iron table, the candlelight flickering over the mounds of correspondences laid before her. She was concentrating on the letter in hand so intensely she did not immediately hear Azriel approach. Did not feel him until a second too late--when the tip of Truth-Teller pressed gently against her throat.

"Too late," he breathed softly.

Elain sighed, her outstretched hand just short of gripping the knife hidden beneath the table. "I was distracted," she admitted, suddenly disappointed in herself.

But Az just chuckled, withdrawing the dagger. Leaning forward, he pressed a palm to either side of her and brought his mouth to her ear. "Distraction will cost you."

She knew. Nuala had scolded her for it enough.

"Why are you reading these at this hour?" he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

The letters were from various spies within the Spymaster's network. They used codes for words, so that if the letters were ever intercepted, they would not reveal their true content. The problem was there were endless codes, and they fooled Elain as much as their enemies, since Cerridwen would no longer allow her to cheat and look them up.

Why did colors need to really mean numbers? And why did some phrases mean completely different things?

You should see the view from the balcony really meant: the target has been captured.

Nonsense. Faerie nonsense.

"I am still struggling to decipher your language, Spymaster," Elain finally answered him. She shook her head at the letter before her. "It has been grating me all day. Yesterday I told Cerridwen there was a tavern in the toadstool."

Azriel made a sound, as though trying not to laugh. "You will get the hang of it."

Elain just grumbled, staring at the last two sentences of Barnaby's letter. Barnaby was not the male's real name; she had not asked what it was.

"I thought we came here for some peace and quiet?" Az mused.

They had. Rosehall had once belonged to his mother--a sprawling manor in the Night Court countryside. Their home away from home and favorite weekend getaway. Not that they had much time for such things, but they tried to make time when they needed it. Even if that meant bringing some of their work with them.

A smile tugged at Elain's mouth. "Was that what we were earlier? Quiet?"

Azriel nipped playfully at her ear in answer.

Elain laughed, turning at last from the correspondents, and twisted in her chair until she faced him. She had to crane her neck back as Az leaned forward, caging her in, his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar wrapping around her like a second skin. He was shirtless, black hair mussed from sleep, wings flared slightly, and far too beautiful for someone who just crawled out of the sheets.

Sheets that she suddenly longed for--and for the male before her.

Az seemed to read her thoughts, for his eyes darkened, the gold in them catching on the candlelight. But he did not move--barely even paid attention to the casual way she slid the silk robe from her shoulder. His focus was truly something to commend. Which was why she loved pushing him to his threshold and testing his limits.

"You should see the view from the balcony," she said to him.

Amusement flared in those eyes now. The true meaning of her words. "Surrendering so easily?"

Elain shrugged, angling her head to expose her bare neck. "What will you do with me?"

His unrelenting focus shifted to her neck, as though remembering the way his teeth had not long ago sank into her skin. But Azriel merely leaned down, bringing his mouth right where she wanted it. "You'll see," he breathed against her neck, a promise of rapture. "But I doubt you'll be quiet."

---

(Elain was not, in fact, very quiet.)

[mrspettyferr]

Elriel Month + What If?

Moodboard - What if Elain and Azriel were modern day spies?

She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.