Author's Note: This is a part of the Dancing With the Devil AU, but can be read as a stand alone. The Vamp!Rhys brain rot has taken over and there aren't enough fics to satisfy me so I wrote more ;)
Pairing: Vamp!Rhys x Reader x Vamp!Azriel
Content Warnings: SMUT, threesomes, oral (f and m receiving) blood, typical vampire stuff
You’ve always loved music, the steady flow of the strings, the heavy pulse of the drums; it’s always been something that moves and excites you, your body knows how to respond to it as if it's its basest instinct. Music was the siren song that had pulled you and Nesta to the dance floor all those years ago, as children, eager to dance and move and lose yourself in the steps of a blooming waltz that made the other mortal children dizzy. It had been one of your few chances at freedom, and you had chased that opportunity all the way to the Velaris Estate weeks ago, and had now found a new sense of freedom.
It’s still tied to music, by some humorous twist of fate. You’d learned early on that the Lord of the Estate had the set list planned: Something graceful and elegant to start, the slow thrum of the string section pushing people onto the dance floor, highlighting easy prey in those lingering on the edge with no partner to claim them. Then something more sensual, as the predators take the floor, snatching their prey with a charming bow and disarming smile. These will span several songs, get their prey comfortable with their presence, before the shift becomes something with more drums and base, music to disappear into the dark corners to.
Their ability to move so seamlessly, so flawlessly that no one suspects there might be ill intent in the gesture is still mind boggling. You stand in the shadows of the upstairs veranda, watching Rhysand and his horde move as you sip from a full wine glass, content to study for now. The bargain had never specified when Rhys was supposed to turn you, for now, you attend his parties and do your best to study them, so when the time comes you’ll be prepared.
There are new faces in the crowd tonight, less and less of your neighbors and childhood friends filling the expensive ballroom now that word had spread that you hadn’t returned home, all those weeks ago. As expected, your brother had nearly torn the Spring Estate to shreds when he’d found you gone. Nesta had apparently witnessed you sitting in Rhys’s lap--though by some magic or sheer luck, she hadn’t seen him drinking from your neck--and had gone straight to Tamlin to tell him. The betrayal had burned white hot, and not for the first time, were you thankful the ancient vampire hadn’t turned you yet, or else the destruction you might have caused in the aftermath would have made Tamlin’s look like a child’s temper tantrum. She hadn’t tried to explain herself, every one of your friends had turned their back on you, a couple of them had outright called you a whore to your face before vowing to never speak to you again. None of them were known to be tight lipped either, the whole town was sure to know that you’d “debased yourself with the Lord of Velaris”. It would have hurt less if you hadn’t spent the last couple of years protecting Nesta’s own secret lovers, but you had to admit, the newfound freedom of living here lessened the sting more and more each day. There were no governesses dictating your every outfit and hairstyle; no stewards limiting the amount of food you got at each meal to ensure you stayed pretty and thin for a would-be husband; no guards to regulate how much time you spent outside and where you could go. If you wanted to wear something, you did; if you wanted to eat you could go into the kitchens now and ask for it and the staff would do so eagerly; if you wanted to go outside and run until you got lost in the mountains, you were free to do so. There were no restrictions with Rhys, the fact alone was enough to keep you here, though the prospect of immortality pulled a little more and more each day. It wasn’t even the living forever thing, you really weren’t that interested in that part. It was the strength, the power, the freedom to be wild and unrestrained and never have to worry about being hurt or caged again. Once you were a vampire, no one could keep you locked away.
You take another sip of wine as the music begins to shift and the lights dim. Feeding time. Rhys dances beneath you with a blonde woman, the neckline of her gown so deep you can see the heavy swell of her breasts from your vantage point. You shove down the pang of jealousy you feel upon seeing those hands on someone else’s hips with another deep drink from your wine glass.
Mor dances with a female on the edge of the crowd, the darkest part of the dance floor, where the judgmental eyes of the town won’t be so quick to spot her. Cassian hasn’t danced all night, has spent the evening prowling around the refreshment table, trying to get drunk despite his accelerated metabolism making it hard. He’d hoped to make a similar bargain with Nesta all those weeks ago, but you’re pretty sure he’d stepped on her foot and she’d left scowling in search of you before she’d found you in Rhys’s lap. Poor Cassian has been moping since.
You haven’t seen Azriel all night, but that’s how he likes it. He could be as charming as Rhys if he wanted, but he likes his solitude too much to risk it. When he steps out of the shadows to your left, as if your thoughts had materialized him, it’s little surprise. Rhys had explained that every vampire had their own unique abilities, among some shared traits, and Azriel’s shadow manipulation made him an excellent hunter.
“You’re not dancing tonight?” He says as he comes to stand beside you, scared hands resting on the banister railing.
You take another sip of wine. “I didn’t know I was on the menu tonight.” A lie, Mor had helped you pick a gown with a neckline that plunged all the way down to your midsection with the intent of catching the Vampire Lord’s eye, but you had chickened out at the last minute and hid. Having the freedom to chose and the bravery to walk out in public were two very different things, but you hadn’t realized it until too late.
Hazel eyes roam the expanse of your exposed skin, the way your hair is pinned up out of the way so that the full expanse of your throat is available. It doesn’t hide the hickey’s Rhys had left a couple nights ago either, the dark marks smattered across your collarbones and lower, following the path of your gown. “So everyone knows your mine,” Rhys had purred in your ear and before the ball you had been thrilled to show them off. Until a few wandering eyes had lingered too long, the judgment clear on their faces. You’d spent the rest of the night hoping everyone would forget you’d existed.
“He’s looking for you,” Azriel says half-heartedly, eyes still exploring you. There’s a hunger there you can’t miss; that has you pressing your thighs a little tighter together. Azriel is as devastatingly handsome as Rhys is, and this is not the first time you’ve noticed the attention he gives you, but it has never gone anywhere. Especially not when his sire is the one leaving all these marks on your throat.
“He seemed plenty preoccupied with that blonde,” you reply.
A half-smile creases the vampire’s usually stoic face. “Jealous, little one?”
“No,” you say. “Just observing.”
The grin remains as he holds out a hand in silent invitation and when you take it, you can’t help but wonder how those large, scarred hands would feel on your thighs, spreading you open…
The world spins and flips as Azriel shadow steps the two of you down into what they call the Den, the unlit corners of the ballroom where they can feed in near privacy. There’s no doors to lock, though there are several glamors in place to keep wandering eyes from getting suspicious.
Mor and a newly turned Emerie are already sharing a female on a couch in the corner, and the blonde winks at you as she sinks her fangs deeper into her prey.
On the opposite side of the Den, nursing a glass of whiskey under the light of the full moon peeking through the curtains, is Rhys. He looks like a god in this lighting, violet eyes glowing in the dimness. You can’t help but notice that he sits alone, his dance partner nowhere to be seen. While it’s never been discussed that you’re the only human he’s feeding on, a part of you is relieved to see that he hasn’t taken anyone else. It’s a strange sort of satisfaction, knowing there’s something in your blood that keeps him coming back again and again.
Violet eyes watch your every step forward with the intensity of a jungle cat on the hunt. “There you are, Darling,” he purrs. “I was looking for you.”
“Liar,” you tease.
He makes himself more comfortable in the large wing-backed chair, legs spread and you can’t decide if you want to climb in his lap or get on your knees for him more.
“Did you spook your dance partner?”
“No,” he says as he brings the whiskey back to his lips and takes a slow drink. “She was dull and she kept stepping on my toes.”
“You poor baby,” you croon and he grins as he sets the whiskey down on a small side table.
“I would have been spared if you hadn’t decided to be a wallflower tonight,” he replies, hand tapping at his thigh for an invitation for you to come sit. “What’s bothering you?”
The slit in your skirts makes moving them out of your way easy as you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Every time you think you’ll enjoy it less, but there is no feeling quite like this one, you could sit here forever. “I-”
Rhys presses his lips over a bruise on your neck.
“I was going to come down, but,” the words catch in your throat a bit, your cheeks flushed. “I think I should have worn something else.”
Slender fingers brush over your exposed skin making a shiver run down your spine. “Why would you do that?” He counters. “You look breathtaking. Doesn’t she, Az?”
You’ve almost forgotten the other vampire was still standing there, still watching in that silent, shadowy way of his. When you throw a glance at him over your shoulder, he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed into the exposed bit of your thigh from where the dress is split.
“Absolutely sinful,” he says softly.
Now you’re really blushing. “I-I was hoping you’d like it,” you stammer. “I just… I don’t like when people are looking at me.”
“I do like it,” he says so lowly that heat begins to build in your core. “So much so that I had to stop myself from taking you against the railing over and over again.” Teeth scrape lightly over your skin, teasing, not quite tasting you yet.
“Az was thinking about it too,” he hums into your skin. “You should hear the things he thinks about you.”
“Rhys-” Azriel begins, the apology on his lips, but Rhys pulls away from your neck to motion him over.
“What do you think, little one, should we give him a little taste?” You’ve never been more aware of your own body than you are with Azriel at your back, and the firm planes of Rhys at your front.
You glance back and forth between them, at the tension that rolls off Azriel, at the hunger that chases your every motion in Rhys’s eyes. In your mind he says, “It’s your choice, Darling.”
“You-you won’t be mad?”
His laugh is a beautiful thing, even in your mind. “Azriel and I have shared many females. Cassian too. I enjoy it, as long as my partner does too. And I know that you’ve thought about him, it’s hard not to, but only if you really want to.”
You’ve been studying all of them: The way they hunt, the way they move, what separates them from humans and other vampires alike. Rhys is refined in his ability to hunt, uses his charm and his wits to bait prey into the Den; he makes feeding an art form, something graceful and dazzling, an allure only someone who’s done this for a long time can make possible. Cassian is messy, he likes to splatter blood when he feeds, and while he’s calculating and strategic in the initial hunt, he has no qualms getting dirty. Mor thrives in the dark corners of the ballroom, meeting in secret with her lovers because she does not trust people enough to bring a stranger into the Den. And Amren, well you’ve only met her once, and she’d traded some of her books for a mere drop of blood from your wrist before she disappeared again. But Azriel, you haven’t really figured out. He always hovers at the edge of the crowd, only speaks or feeds when he needs to, as if denying himself the pleasure the others chase will absolve him of whatever darkness lingers in his past. You know it’s there, have heard it hinted at, but no one will say it out loud. The more you try to learn about them, the more a mystery Azriel remains, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t curious to see how he feeds compared to Rhys.
“I do.”
And there is no judgment there. Unlike everyone else tonight. The freedom to choose, to want, is enough to make you toss your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. Anywhere else he might be regarded as a monster of the night, but here, like this, you’ve never felt safer.
Rhys presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And who am I to deny my little pet anything?”
Azriel’s hands settle on your hips, that immortal strength never failing to make you feel fragile and small in their grip. It sends a shiver of delight through you; there’s no denying how much you love the freedom of handing over your power and knowing they won’t abuse it.
His warm breath fans your neck as he brings his lips to your exposed throat. “Been thinking about this since you arrived.”
Rhys nips at where your neck meets your collarbone, hands skimming your sides until he finds your breasts, nipples peaked through the thin fabric. “How would you like to taste her first?”
Teeth scrape over your pulse point, savoring the rapid beating of your heart. “Turn her around.”
They move you together, fingers digging into your hips as you're positioned with your back to Rhys’s chest, legs spread by his knees. Your skirts get caught, bunched up around your hips, baring most of your legs and you give a little squeak of surprise as you try to close them, to spare what’s left of your dignity, but there’s no room as Azriel kneels between both yours and Rhys’s legs.
Heat pools in your core, even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Someone is going to see us!” You squeak, voice more shrill than you would have liked it to be. You want this, you want it more than you’ll ever allow yourself to say out loud, but there is a crowd nearby and even with the glamor in place, it is still a far more compromising position than you’ve ever been in. At least before, your skirts hid your coupling, but there’s no hiding like this, as Rhys loops an arm around your waist and sinks his fangs into your neck.
The shadows that leak from Azriel drift off his broad shoulders, shimmering and darkening, as if they’re absorbing the moonlight seeping through the window. “Not unless you want them to,” he says as those scared hands drag up your soft skin.
Your hips buck despite yourself, body aching to be touched; for more, more, more. The aphrodisiac in Rhys’s venom takes hold quickly, makes your whole body molten. The combination of pain and pleasure makes you close your eyes and lean your head back against Rhys’s shoulder.
“Good girl,” Rhys purrs into your mind so he doesn’t have to release his grip on your neck. “Just relax, let us take care of you.”
Azriel must be linked into your conversation, because he says in your mind, “There’s not much room for creatures like us in temples, but I’ll worship here just the same,” as his own fangs sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh.
It’s a far more tender spot than you thought it would be, a whimper of pain escaping you, body rocking back into the hard planes of Rhys’s chest and the growing bulge in his pants to try and escape. Their combined grip on you keeps you from getting far, but that whimper turns into a moan as Rhys drags a hand down between your legs to give you some relief. He chuckles into your mind when he finds you’re not wearing any underthings, but the slit in your skirts had made you nervous that someone would see the lacy underthings that kept appearing in your drawers if you moved too fast.
“Fuck,” Azriel moans as he unlatches his fangs from your thigh, fingers playing in the bit of blood that trickles out the puncture wounds. “She’s so sweet!”
Rhys, never one to make a mess, laps at what escapes from the wounds he made at your throat before saying, “I told you she was.”
Hazel eyes narrow into the teasing strokes the other vampire is making between your legs, watching with rapt attention the way Rhys spreads you open as he licks your blood off his lips. Vampires, you’ve noticed, have a strange sort of stillness about them, they can become still as statues, unmoving, never blinking, it was still nerve wracking, especially now that you know that predatory stillness comes right before they pounce, and Azriel has that same look about him, right before he leans in and licks a stripe up your center.
Rhys chuckles in your ear as you moan and try one more time to squirm away from their dual ministrations, body overwhelmed as he curls a finger inside you and Azriel follows with his tongue.
You’re going to reach your high embarrassingly fast at this rate, especially when Rhys’s free hand slides your top to the side so he can roll a nipple between his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut, one hand reaching behind you to tangle in Rhys’s hair, the other in Azriel’s to try and ground yourself. The intensity of both their venom in your bloodstream has heightened everything beyond what you’d already thought possible, your skin burning, coated in sweat from this alone. Their efforts are somehow too much and not enough and you’ve lost the presence of mind to tell which of their names you’re crying out first, it might be both of them.
Azriel feasts on you like a male starved, and the shadows not making a shield around the three of you writhe eagerly over your thighs, dusting your heated skin with cool touches that make you buck your hips as best you can against their master’s grip. Rhys adds a second finger, using your gathering wetness and Azriel’s spit to spread you open further, giving the other male more access to you, his nose brushing your clit, chin absolutely soaked in the mess you’re making. The move has you panting, stars blurring across your vision as an orgasm tears through you.
“Fuck,” you whimper, body shaking from your high.
Rhys peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders as Azriel pulls back, licking your release off his lips. “No wonder you’ve been hiding this one from the rest of us,” he says huskily. “I could spend all night like this.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little one?” Rhys purrs in your ear, breath tickling your still flushed skin. Their venom hasn’t worn off yet, body still not satiated, still begging to be touched and claimed. There’s not a chance you can close your legs, the evidence of your still budding arousal leaking onto his pants.
“Please,” you whimper.
“Which one of us do you want first, hm?”
How are you supposed to choose? There are too many things you want and it’s all getting muddled in your head. “Both.”
It’s Azriel’s deep rumble of a laugh that skitters across your skin as he says, “You can’t take both of us in this body, little one.” Scarred hands skim your exposed thighs, fingers kneading into the bite marks that are quickly turning into a bruise. “Humans are so fragile.”
And damn do you certainly feel it like this, tucked between the two of them. They could so easily break you, so easily overpower you. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.
“Want…” your cheeks heat, a blush crawling its way up your neck and Rhys runs his tongue over it with a chuckle.
“Tell us what you want, Darling.”
You shiver, despite the flush of your damp skin. “Want to taste you then.”
You watch with rapt attention as those hazel eyes widen, the golden ring thinning until there is nothing but pupil as he processes what you’re saying. Still, you grind yourself down on Rhys’s bulge as you reach for the laces on Azriel’s pants, hoping he gets the hint as well.
“Greedy little thing,” Azriel tuts, but he steps closer anyway, letting you figure out how to get the laces untied in the moonlight. “I don’t think you’ve properly trained your pet, Rhys.”
Rhys’s fingers dip into the tender flesh of your hips mercilessly as he grinds you back against his erection, a rumble of a moan echoing through his chest. “Don’t want this one trained,” he purrs. “They taste better when they’re wild.”
You manage to get the laces undone, hands shaking a bit when you realize what you’ve just gotten yourself into. Rhys is a lot on his own, Azriel is… bigger than you expected. A lot bigger, his cock heavy and erect against his stomach.
They must be having their own mental conversation, when you pause to consider how to even go about this, Azriel suddenly reaches out to grab you by the hair, pulling you forward as Rhys moves your skirts out of the way. Their movements are in perfect sync and you don’t know whether you should hiss from the sting of those large hands in your hair or moan as Rhys rubs the tip of his cock against your center. The sound that comes out of you is a little bit of both in the end.
“Are you sure about this?” Rhys inquires as if there could possibly be any thought in your head other than how much you need the both of them right now. Do they not share the same ache you feel? How are they not consumed by this thing that begs beneath your skin to be touched and soothed and filled?
You lean forward just enough to lick Azriel’s tip, catching a bead of pre-cum on your tongue as the male’s fingers tighten in your hair, a hiss escaping him. “Very sure.”
“Tap my thigh twice if it gets to be too much,” Rhys orders.
You nod your understanding as he slides slowly into you, letting you get adjusted to the feel of him from this angle. He’s deliberately slow, gliding in inch by inch, making your eyes roll back into your head, all your focus on the feel of him instead of tending to Az.
“I see she gets her greediness from you,” Azriel teases.
You have to brace yourself against Azriel’s hips as Rhys rocks your forward, chuckling. “Just because I said I’d share, doesn’t mean I’m not going to have my fill.”
Stars dance across your vision as he hits an angle inside you he hasn’t reached before, mouth falling open as pleasure licks its way up your spine.
Azriel grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him when all you want to do is squeeze your eyes shut under the pleasure. “Are you gonna put that pretty little mouth to use?”
You run your tongue over your lips, whimpering as Rhys settles fully inside you, “Mmhhmm,” is all you can manage to get out before he’s guiding you down to his leaking cock.
“Been thinking about this for a long time,” Az whispers. “Always wearing that pretty shade of lipstick that would look so good smeared across my cock.”
You swirl your tongue over his tip again and his hips jerk involuntarily. It’s a greedy sort of satisfaction you get in knowing that you can reduce a thousand year old vampire to this with just your tongue, and you want to see how much farther you can push him. Keeping a hand on his hips for balance, you use the other touch him, tracing a line down the underside of his shaft that has him hissing as the muscles in his abdomen tighten.
Rhys takes as much time sliding out of you as he had sliding in, setting a leisurely pace you know is to help you get comfortable with this setting. As tight as his own muscles are, you know he’s holding back, and you’re grateful for it, as you start to take Azriel in your mouth. It’s going to take time to get used to, you have to focus all your effort into breathing out your nose and slackening your jaw. There’s no way you’re going to be able to fit all of him.
“Just like that,” Az moans, using the hand in your hair to guide you down further.
“Look so pretty like this,” Rhys encourages as he trails soft kisses over your spine. He’s far more gentle with you than a vampire ought to be, and you can’t help but think he might be getting attached to you; a notion that would have sounded absurd weeks ago, but makes your heart stutter a little now.
“Feels so good,” you tell him mind to mind.
He slides back into you with a groan, just a little more forcefully than before, making your head bob down Azriel’s cock until he hits the back of your throat. Az moans louder than someone who is usually so stoic ought to and you have to release him for a second to catch your breath.
He gives you mere seconds before he’s hurriedly pulling you back, groaning like he can’t bear to not have your mouth around him anymore. Rhys sets his pace to match, giving you a rhythm to follow as you get a hand around the parts of Az you can’t get your mouth around.
This is a pleasure you didn’t know you needed; the way they both moan and pant over you has you rocking your hips back into Rhys, your hand pumping a little harder around Az. As much as you want them to ruin you, you want to do the same to them.
Rhys’s fangs scrape over your shoulder, fingers tightening into your hips in a move you know will leave bruises. He’s getting closer to the edge, all his praises whispered in pants against your skin.
Az throws his head back as he hits the back of your throat once, twice, then a third time, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.
They’re both so close, you not far behind, especially when Rhys slips his hand between your legs again.
“Fuck,” Az whispers. With his head thrown back like that, eyes pinched shut, muscled body bathed in the moonlight, he looks every bit a god. And if his tongue between your legs counts as worship, then so should this as you take him as deep as you can without gagging, face a mess of spit and pre-cum.
“Gonna cum,” he warns.
Rhys’s thrusts are getting harder, the chair groaning beneath him as he fucks up into you. This is usually where he likes another taste of you, you’re used to the routine of it, ready for him to sink his fangs into your shoulder, though the force of it this time is different, as if he’s losing control, the bite sloppy, teeth scraping against your skin before they push in.
Your whole body tenses at the sensation of a thousand year old vampire losing a bit of his usual control, pleasure building white hot in your core. You want to see him a complete mess one of these days.
It’s your moan around his cock that pushes Azriel quickly over the edge, warm cum spurting in your mouth before he can pull away from you. Azriel, quite, broody Azriel groans and pants as he cums, the sound like music to your ears as you drink him down. His hand still hasn’t left your hair, now scrapping gently against your scalp as you release him with a pop that turns into a squeal as Rhys bites down on your shoulder a second time.
One more thrust, then a second before your own release barrels through you, white hot in the buzz of sensations swirling around your head. Your own release chases Rhys into his and he jerks forward with a cry as he spills inside you.
You fall back against his chest as you come down from your high, body trembling, breath escaping in pants.
Azriel reaches out and wipes a bit of the mess he made on your chin with his thumb, muttering, “Beautiful.”
Still catching his breath, Rhys presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek, and judging by the wetness on his lips you think there might still be some blood on them, but you’re too blissed out to care.
“Did so well,” he praises in your ear, voice still low and husky.
You raise a hand to card your fingers through his hair, eyes drifting shut, beyond satiated. If someone had told you this would have happened because you’d decided to sneak into a party and dance with a stranger, you wouldn’t have believed them in the slightest, but now, it doesn’t matter how long it takes for him to fulfill his end of the bargain. There are new freedoms to be found still, new pleasures to experience. You know things will be different once he turns you, and you’re not ready to feel so different yet. Right now, you like this thing between you. It’s good. Freeing.
“I’m glad I met you,” you admit softly.
“How very human of you to say,” Azriel teases as he fixes his pants. Despite his words, once he’s done, he still leans down to kiss your forehead.
“You like that I’m human,” you counter.
Rhys manages to get you repositioned so he can stand and carry you upstairs to his room, where you know a warm bath will be waiting for the two of you. “That we do, little one,” he purrs. “There’s still so much more to explore before you turn.”
Rhysand and Y/N rush back to the River House to find the aftermath of Azriel’s bloodlust. Y/N comforts Azriel as she grapples with the memories that have begun coming back to her.
Part 3 ~ Part 4/Prequel - Neon Moon ~ Masterlist
warnings: non-con/dub-con elements (please be advised as this will be an element going forward as we work on unpacking Felina / Y/N’s past), sexual content, blood (vampy things), language, MDNI, 18+
“Azriel” I whisper.
My mate is in a corner, bound by his own shadows, barely visible through the stray ones obscuring him.
Feyre, fortunately, is fine. I hear voices behind me. My brother checking that his mate is truly well and unharmed. A feather in his jaw is the only sign of his true state of despair as he tries to remain composed before her and myself. I’m sure Azriel will get a tongue lashing later, but for now, all I care about is his own well-being.
I step into the shadows with Azriel, kneeling by his side. His body quivers, tensing as I lean into him, “Don’t.” He chokes out.
“Azriel.” My palm lays flat on his forearm, his cool skin blending in with the chill of my own. Damned Vampyr blood, I miss the warmth of my fae blood coursing through me.
“You won’t hurt me. I am not afraid of you.” His teeth grit but he looks to me, pupils blown so wide that the golden-flecked hazel of his eyes has nearly dissipated. “It was blood-lust, a matter which you have no control over. Everything is alright now but we need to get you upstairs.”
He’s silent, head hanging low, entire body still quivering. A small shake of his head barely registers as he succumbs to his own self-loathing. The shadows beneath his eyes mirror the despair flowing from his end of the bond. “Feyre is okay. You, too, will be okay. But you need to feed now or this will get so much worse.”
Before he can object, my fingers gently grasp the mottled, tan skin of his wrist and I winnow us to our room.
“It’s okay, Azriel.” I whisper upon deaf ears. “You can’t help this. It will be fine.”
The shame that now radiates freely through our bond nearly causes me to stumble. The noble Shadowsinger, protector and defender, succumbing to the basest of instincts that are hard enough to quell for a well-controlled vamp, let alone one as recently turned as he. This isn’t his fault. Once he’s fed, we will speak on that but for now…
“Azriel. I need you to focus on me.” His gaze meets mine and this time it holds something else. His nostrils flare, scenting me and the familiar fragrance of our chamber that he’s become so accustomed to recently. My hands guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and I straddle his lap, his hands instantly grip my hips, pressing me down against him. One would think the move was sexual, but I was well-aware it was the grip of a predator entrapping his prey.
“Feed.” I whisper.
A brief flicker of question crossed his steely gaze as he fights the urge to latch on desperately.
“Azriel. Now.” The authoritative tone in my voice seems to do the trick as before the command has finished crossing my lips, his elongated canines flash and he’s on me.
“Take what you need, Az.” The brief sting of his fangs puncturing the pulsing, delicate skin of my neck elicits a slight gasp from my throat. With a deep suck and a needy whimper, Azriel begins to feed, his tongue lapping at the blood pouring from my skin.
His hands roam fervently, the lack of control apparent as they can’t seem to settle on where to rest. Eventually one scarred hand reaches my breast, squeezing and caressing, his fingers tweaking and pulling a nipple until it’s peaked.
The frenzy begins to affect me, a wash of euphoria leaving a light geeling - a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the day.
In moments, I’m lost to it, fighting to stay present as Azriel’s laps grow vigorous. With a flip, he has me on my back, pinned beneath him on the bed, he takes a particularly long draw of blood ending with his hips grinding into me.
Eventually, his feeding becomes slightly more relaxed and less frenzied, the more primal kind of lust only beginning.
I dig my fingers into the raven locks of his hair, focusing on the sensation, steadying myself against the intoxicating blend of lust and hunger.
The warmth of his tongue against my neck is like electric to my nerves as jolts of pleasure course down my torso and straight to my core.
I need him. Fuck. I need him so badly.
No, I don’t need. I want. And there’s a difference between the two.
Just like in the days after he’d turned, after we’d accepted the bond, the urge to feed and claim wash away any semblance of reason or control from my mate. But I’ve been turned long enough, I can ground us and prevent it from going too far. For once, I have the freedom of control. I wasn’t always so fortunate.
“Az” I whimper as a finger slips under the panties beneath my skirts. He groans at the wetness he finds awaiting him. I rock my hips against his hand in a plea for more friction but he pulls it back, adjusting himself between us until I feel the girth of his head prodding at my entrance. He withdraws his mouth, wings flaring slightly with the motion as he stares into my eyes, so deeply I swear he can see straight to my soul, and all the darkness lingering within.
Without breaking eye contact his hands grip my waist and spear me down the length of him. I throw my head forward, letting out a muffled scream into his shoulder. I stay still, chest heaving as I catch my breath, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, his size is jarring in the best of ways.
“Perfect.” Azriel growls when I give a little shift of my hips. His hair tickles my ear as he leans in to press a surprisingly tender kiss to my neck.
I lean back, the motion sending crashing waves of bliss through me. I meet his eyes this time only to find that his gaze has now softened, his pupils not quite as wide.
“Welcome back.” I whisper, brushing aside the stray hairs that have fallen over his forehead, marveling in the beauty of my mate.
He blinks and I could almost swear that tears cast a watery glaze over his hazel eyes.
“I’m.. so sorry.” He choked out.
“We’ll talk later, Az. Right now it’s just you and me. What do you need?”
I start to lift off of him giving him the space he needs to collect his thoughts but he grips my hips even more firmly.
“Stay?” He requests.
My smile doesn’t meet my eyes as the pain in his own cracks the armor over my heart. “Always.”
I loop my arms around his neck and he loosens his reign on my hips, instead wrapping his arms tightly around me and pulling me to his chest. I rest my head against the muscle there, soaking in the moment.
The kind of moment I now remember that I wished so desperately for centuries ago.
I won’t focus on the sting of the memories that have recently come back to me. We will have time to talk things through and I haven’t been able to discuss much without losing myself to trauma yet. I’d much rather soak in this moment than ruin it with my hyperventilating. I close my eyes and revel in his grip.
“My mate.” Azriel whispers. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”
I won’t let him see the way the words impact me. The hell that I went through to be here in this moment. The way that his hold leaves me entertaining the thought that it could possibly have been worth it all. The way that thought itself slices deep through me.
Stray tears fall over my bottom lashes onto his chest. If he feels them he doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m not in the right mindset yet and won’t press. Another reason that I’m so grateful for this male.
Instead I close my eyes and focus on the two other words he’d whispered. “My mate.”
I replay it over and over in my head until I drift off to sleep, my mate still buried inside me.
———————-
“The child is yours.”
“Impossible.” The cold voice replies, grating against the very marrow of my bones.
“You know very well that it’s possible.”
A discontented hiss crackles through the tension filling the space between the beautiful, cruel male and myself. His ethereal features the mirror opposite of his rotten insides. I wonder if death would have been kinder than this.
“I hardly imagine that a fetus could survive what I did, let alone the agony of being made into..” I swallow the lump of disgust in my throat, knowing better than to push him too far. “This.”
A cruel grin crosses his face, his freezing palm caressing my jaw, razor tipped nails break the skin of my cheek and I can smell the iron tang of the blood droplets forming beneath them. “and what exactly did you go through, my dear?”
I furrow my brow, trying to remember who and where I was before him. I know there was life before this but the memories are so blurred. I don’t know what’s real and what is fabricated. I remember waking knowing I was carrying a child but I remember nothing of the conditions leading to it, of whom had fathered it. It wasn’t the bastard before me, but if this child has any hope of survival, then I’ll have to play his game.
He only lets out a bone-chilling laugh, squeezing my cheeks tighter and pressing a kiss to my lips. His sharp fangs piercing my lower lip as he nips.
I resist the knee-jerk instinct to pull back.“Centuries here have been rather dull, I suppose I’m due for an heir at some point or another. It could liven things up in this space.” He gestures to the darkened cave, illuminated by fires and littered with ornate cob-web dusted trinkets he’s seemed to have collected over the years.
A knot forms in my stomach, clenching tightly. Let him believe the life I carry belongs to him, survive, it’s the only option. It’s the only way this child survives.
“Feed, dark one. You seem to be getting quite insolent in your current state.”
I hesitate as a small show of defiance before his voice gains a sharper edge.
“Feed.” He commands.
We feed and fuck for hours until he tires of me.
It feels good, physically, but it’s empty. Void of emotion. Much like me.
Warmth envelopes me and I drift away from that wretched cave, into starry skies twinkling in and out of dancing shadows.
——————————
I wake from my memory-infused dream state, opening my eyes to find Azriel’s wings draped around me. His muscled chest rising and falling in steady breaths against my back. At some point he must have removed me from his lap. I have no idea what time it is and I don’t care to find out.
I’m not in a cave. I’m safe and I imagine if a crevice formed between his wings I’d see his shadows dutifully cocooning us as well. I inhale the mist-chilled cedar scent of my mate, taking slow, steady breaths.
I am not in a cave with my captor.
I am safe.
I am home.
Tomorrow I will share what I can remember with him. I will tell him of my daughter. My eyelids grow heavy once more and I drift back to sleep.
Visions of a past life plague Felina as she recovers from burnout. Rhys seeks answers. Azriel comforts his mate as past-trauma comes crashing down on her. A former lover tracks her down.
Part 1 - El Paso Series Masterlist Part 3 - Vampire
warnings: past trauma, panic attack, references to sex, elements involving death, blood drinking, violence
Forgive me, Peter. My lost fearless leader.
“Quit fidgeting, Y/N.” Mother whispers as she runs a brush through my tangled hair.
Father is in Windhaven this week and I’ve been free to roam the skies as I please, whenever mother turns a blind eye. The arts district is vibrant with life and so often my family carries me out kicking and screaming. Well, aside from my brother who hides his amusement behind a mask of irreverence. He knows I love the rainbow.
Of course, Rhys has been gone on courtly business for weeks and I am dying to see him. My brother, the one person who truly understands me. Well, as much as one’s older brother can understand their sister.
I miss him.
“Sorry, mother.” I sigh. “I’m just excited to see my brother tomorrow on our travels.”
A pause of the brush strokes gliding through my hair shoots worry through me. I grit my teeth, bracing for her next words. “What is it?” I inquire, turning to see Mother’s lovely face downcast before her warm gaze meets mine. “He’s been held up and cannot travel with us tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I sigh. Hurt running through me. It’s not his fault, he’s busy and a far more benevolent leader than our father is a ruler, though he plays the game quite well.
An hour later as I lay in bed my heart races, my thoughts spiraling into the places I do my best to forget. The males of this court always let me down. Oh the perils of being the second born heir, younger than those surrounding me, female, and never taken seriously.
The goddess of timing, once found us beguiling.
A note appears at my bedside.
“Night’s truest bloom, there is no starlight without you. Won’t you cast thy gaze upon my room? Xx, Peter”
I smile at the flirtatious note, biting my lip. “You know I can’t but think of me as you bask in sunlight while mother and I trudge through the Illyrian forests tomorrow. Rhys bailed.”
“I don’t like that you’re traveling alone. Shall I come escort you?”
I blush at the thought of walking arm-in-arm with him. Gods, I’m so totally enamored. How did it end up like this?
“You High Fae, so territorial.” I write back.
“You are partly High Fae yourself, my lady. In fact, I’m pretty sure you offered to kill the last female who got too close for your liking.”
My stomach turns. I would. The female’s a lech.
“Semantics. I’ll see you when I get back. Dream filthy dreams of me.” I press a kiss to the letter and send it off.
“Only the filthiest, my sweet Felina.”
She said she was trying. Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feeling she did.
—————-
Felina
“Y/N?” A cautious voice stirs me from my dream. I wake to find myself in a very large bed, surrounded by luxurious blankets that likely cost twenty-fold the standard linens I’d become accustomed to - the ornate room around me more spacious than anywhere I could recall resting my head.
My body is sore, lethargic. I stretch my arms and - ouch - stiff as well.
“Take it, easy, okay? Your body was under a lot of stress.” I blink my bleary eyes to see Azriel’s concerned gaze fixed upon me.
My body feels weighed down from exhaustion but my heart, it feels heaviest of all - a feeling I’ve continued to carry since Azriel found me at the Inn. Shouldn’t I be happy to have a piece of my life in place? I have a mate - and from what I can recall, a damn good one as well.
I open my mouth to speak but his eyes go distant, a look I’m familiar with but trying to place.
An urgent knock intrudes upon the silence, a look of irritation crossing Azriel’s features before he mutters an apology to me. “He couldn’t wait for me to speak with you apparently.”
My gut clenches, dread overtaking it as the door opens. In walks a male with a face so familiar that my heart’s pace rushes. My brother, Rhys.
“Y/N.” He chokes out, love and longing written all over his beautiful face. “You’re home.”
The name. Y/N. So familiar and so foreign. I remember it now but Felina brings me comfort. “Felina, please call me Felina.” Pain flickers across his features before giving a subtle nod. “Okay, Felina.”
His eyes sparkle as tears form in his eyes. “How? How are you here? Where have you been?”
I reach a hand to touch his face, the scruff beneath itching my palm, his hand instantly finding it and leaning in. It feels so warm and familiar and yet, I yank my hand away like lightning. “I don’t know.” My breaths quicken. Flashes of centuries of lies and manipulation rush into my head and it’s all too much. I can’t process this. I can’t relive it.
My hands find my torso, wrapping myself tightly, I can’t catch my breath. The hot blur of tears fill my eyes as I screw them shut. “I’m sorry- I- I“ can’t finish the sentence as I heave, trying my best to even out my breathing and failing miserably. The inky feel of power seeps from my skin and I can’t process the male voices speaking beside me. My name; a cold, icy voice giving a command; a broken voice of night giving in to whatever was commanded as heavy footsteps pace away, and then -
Darkness. Warmth. A heartbeat in my ear. A brush of lips against my hair. Azriel.
I stay there, sobbing as the emotions crash into me like the surf to rocky shores. The pain doesn’t alleviate for what feels like an hour, the rhythm of my mate’s chest finally bringing me back to the present.
When my eyes open, Azriel is draped over me, wings cocooning protectively around my body, his heartbeat the steady constant in my ear. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. I give into his warmth and drift off again.
————————
Said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.
Lovers in a field. Brushed hands at balls. Green eyes meeting violet. Shared smiles.
Words from the mouths of babes
Tears cried into a broad shoulder. Whispers of “It’s not fair”, drunken chants of “fuck the cauldron!”, late nights and long dances beside reflections of starlight.
Promises oceans deep
Young lovers questioning eternity, the forces of fate. Letters signed with pen names.
But never to keep
————————-
“Brother, you need to sleep.” Rhysand stressed into Azriel’s mind.
The stubborn bastard had refused to leave Y/N’s side for the days she’d been unconscious. A huge part of Rhys beamed at that. Who was he to question the bonds forged by fate? Was Azriel being his sister’s mate ideal? In a sense, no. As an older brother, he’d always felt protective over her. But Y/N had always gravitated to Azriel, even as a child his shadows could calm her when she was fussy, his patient demeanor had always been a soothing balm to her inquisitive mind. He’d listen carefully as she pondered the great mysteries of life out loud long after the rest of the family had tuned her out.
“I’m fine.” Azriel’s conscious growled in return.
He sure as hell didn’t sound it.
“Let me send darkness to soothe her, just long enough for you to eat and get some sun.”
A pause and then the mirthful reply of “Is it an order?”
Maintaining composure the High Lord replied, “Is it necessary for me to do so?”
Ten minutes later, Azriel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the light of the foyer emphasizing his hallowed eyes and drained skin. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Azriel muttered.
Rhys knew he sounded like a prick but it was true. “How about you go sun your wings in the garden?”
The energy of the room shifted as Azriel’s eyes rolled, caught between humor and bitterness as he reminded his brother for the fifth time that week of the current circumstances. “Despite your good intentions, you seem to forget that prolonged exposure to the sun is exactly what I do not need.”
“Shit! I am never going to get used to this.” Rhys placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Fine, sit. Amren brought a fresh blood supply this morning. She says it’s goat from Sevenda’s but she was in a mood, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the blood of whatever poor souls had the nerve to cross her path on the way here.”
Azriel wanted to grin at the attempted humor but didn’t have it in him. What a strange turn of the tables, Amren no longer the bloodthirsty one.
The males sat in silence, Azriel nursing the goblet of blood Nuala had kindly brought in to him. Soft footsteps padded into the space, a familiar floral scent wafting through the room, as Elain entered.
“Oh.” the middle Archeron sister gasped. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She gave a wary smile, sad eyes falling on Azriel before flicking back to Rhys.
“Not interrupting, Elain. What do you have there?” Rhys glanced to a piece of paper in her clutched in her grasp. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she spoke too quickly, her pulse fluttering. “Writing secret love letters, Elain?”
She shook her head, glancing to Azriel once again. It grated Rhys to know the recent history, or whatever it was, that transpired between Azriel and Elain. With his sister being thrown into the mix now, he was battling that instinct to protect her at all costs.
Elain blushed a soft shade of pink, nearly matching that of her pastel dress. One hand grasping the delicate wrist of the opposite. “I’ve been writing to Lucien.”
“Ah, and how is dear Little Lucien?” Rhys raised an eyebrow, lip quirking upward.
“He’s fine.” Her words were clipped. “I have to go now. Cerridwen is waiting for me in the gardens. We’re planting a new variant of night-blooming jasmine.” She gave a nod and scurried from the room.
Azriel’s lips remained in a firm line as Rhys nursed the whiskey he’d poured himself.
Months ago, her words would have hurt, sliced like a dagger at Azriel’s own lack of a bond. Now, well, he still felt jaded toward Rhys for the solstice that he essentially banned him from pursuing a relationship with Elain. But- it worked for the best. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than his own mate, his Y/N, his Felina - as she insisted she be called.
Guilt tugged at him, he should be up with her, not downstairs. What if she needed him? What if she woke with a night terror and he wasn’t there?
“She’s fine, brother.” Rhys broke him from his thoughts. “Your shadows will alert you the moment she wakes, and I have darkness soothing her.”
Shaking his head, Azriel rested his face in his own palms as if he’d rub his face hard enough and all concerns would fade away.
Finally, he looked up. “How do you do it, Rhys? How do you stay away when there are so many questions that need answered?”
Sitting his glass down onto a coaster, Rhys leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “I know she is in good hands. You brought her back to me. And I know, a mate can help her right now far more than an older brother.”
The thought warmed the icy chill that had settled into Azriel’s bones, he reveled in the moment before replying. “There’s so much we don’t know- So much we need to know.”
“You’re the spymaster, Az, and she’s your mate. I know you need answers. And gods, don’t think for a moment that I don’t want answers too. It takes every ounce of will not to just dive in to see what I can find, but…. It’s her story to tell. And, when I send my darkness to soother her, her shields, there’s something about them that my own darkness recoils from.”
Digesting the words, Azriel took another swig from his goblet. “I need to go back upstairs.”
Rhys only gave a knowing nod.
—————————
Love’s never lost when perspective is earned
Dreams shifted from young love and light to pain and darkness plague my sleep state with visions of bloodshed on pristine snow. Brutal hands of power-hungry males. Sharpened blades. A mother’s scream. Shredded wings falling to the earth.
Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life
And then, warm hands and a familiar face. Love and terror in emerald eyes. Strong arms carrying a broken body. Cries of “Please just hold on for me.”
A promise of “Stay right here. I’m getting help.” The back of a lupine creature running toward the distance.
Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold on.
The effort of holding on is growing too hard. My head slumps as blood trickles from my wingless back. An unheard plea of “Peter!” falls from frozen lips.
Then there is darkness. Void. Impending death.
A cold, pale hand chills my skin. A cruel, beautiful face promises eternity. Unfamiliar arms drag me away and I do not fight.
But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.
———————————
Azriel
Azriel had finally settled in beside a sleeping Felina, resisting the urge to take her in his arms and never let go.
His shadows alerted him to the breach in the wards first, shock running through him at the intrusion. Apparating to the entryway, he found Rhys at the front door, baring his teeth at the intruder, waves of night rolling off of him in a way that would send most running.
Icy rage shot through Azriel’s veins at the audacity of the male to show up at their door. The urge first, ask questions later pulling him toward the intruder. His lunged was interrupted by a sharp inhale behind him behind, diverting him from his war path.
His mate had walked down the stairs, her first time out of bed since arriving to the River House. Her slim form trembled, those otherworldly eyes swirling with emotions he couldn’t comprehend.
“Peter.” She whispered through rapid breaths. Azriel ran to her, bracing an arm around her back to steady her uneven footing as she climbed down the grand staircase.
The blonde male fell to his knees, his tears falling ricocheting off the marble floors.
Azriel has no time to ponder the incorrect name she’d used, focusing on her steps, observing the sight before him. He’d only ever seen the male solemn or filled with rage. Never this.
And Felina, there was no fear or hate in her eyes, no wariness, as she took in the male. No, the only emotion he could now read was one his heart wasn’t prepared to face.
So, Azriel watched as his mate’s eyes lined with tears, her slow steps increasing and filling with purpose as she reached the entryway, stepping out of his brace and flinging herself into the arms of the High Lord of the Spring Court.
—————————
Tamlin
Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer?
He didn’t believe it when Lucien wrote to him sending word that Elain mentioned that Y/N was in Velaris. That she was alive. There was no way and getting his hopes up would kill him.
How many nights had he spent plagued by the memories of the day it all came crashing down? The ruination of a beautiful friendship, of a love forged from two kindred souls damned by fate, and the role he played in it.
They were both so jaded at an early age, he and Y/N. And for whatever reason he couldn’t fathom, the princess of night found the youngest heir of spring to be worthy of her presence. She was everything and he was just, a lost male. Everyone wanted her time but she wanted his, and so began the affair of sneaking off at parties, stolen kisses under starry nights, long rolls in soft grasses, love notes written with pen names.
He was Peter, the lost boy forced to grow up too soon - who wanted nothing more than a life of music and poetry but doomed to strengthen ties to Hybern, to be married off like seed stock to a mate that he hated, Hybern’s wicked general.
And Felina, feline, curious and sleek as a cat. She’d been heartbroken by a one-sided mating bond, by a mate who only saw her as the child she once was, a mate too busy pining over her cousin to notice the gem he had right in front of him.
They’d found comfort and peace with eachother, two young adults who could be whomever they wished in their stolen moments.
They were careful to avoid being caught. So careful, until the day he snuck off to watch as she traveled through the Illyrian forests with her mother, that instinct to protect those he cared for surfacing at such an early age. He thought he’d lost her forever. He’d tried so desperately to save her. By the time he returned with a healer, she had disappeared. To this day, Felina had been his greatest loss.
And moments ago when her cry called into his mind, “Peter!”. There was nothing that could hold him back from her, no wards too strong, no distance too far to winnow. There was only he and his need to see her for himself.
And now, here she was in his arms. Repeating over and over how sorry she was for not holding on, for not having faith that he’d return.
All he could choke out was, “Felina.”
We both did the best we could do, underneath the same moon in different galaxies.
—————————————
Tags:
General ACOTAR: @lilah-asteria
Series tag list: @saltedcoffeescotch @julesofvolterra @glittervame @nocasdatsgay
SPOILER FOR THIS STORY (in case you need to know who is end game) : click here
Could we still possibly see vamp! Rhys with fledging vamp! Reader in the future 😩😩
Honestly yeah! I’m enjoying the progression so far (maybe we see one with Cassian later 👀) but I do want to round it out with some fledgling!vamp reader and vamp!rhys just ‘cause the draft I started for it was equally fun to write and it would make everything feel cohesive in the end.
