Azriel was introduced as someone cold, who would not turn a shoulder to those in need. He didn't bow down easily and he would fight to the end. That was the spymaster everyone knew, how he came in and out and was mostly gone for missions given by Rhysand.

Except around you did he soften. He made time for you. Bathed the blood from his body so you never knew the stench on his skin. If you were wounded, he wanted to help. It had been 500 hundred years of loneliness, of Mor turning him away. And then the cauldron giving Elain to someone else entirely. Gwyn was out of the question, she was a devoted priestess. He couldn't take that away.

Around you though, everything was different. You didn't have a mate, you didn't turn him away. Most nights he found himself in your arms for comfort; much to everyone's beliefs, he didn't like being alone. Keeping a cold bed to himself was haunting.

"I don't want to go," Azriel murmured against your should. His hair messy from the bed rest and his lack of care. "Just wanna stay here with you. Can.. I do that?" He didn't know if you were his mate. But he wanted to stay close to you, even if you weren't.