The room is quiet, cloaked in the hush of late night. Shadows cling to the walls, but they don’t move, not with Azriel’s focus narrowed to the female in his arms.

You.

Your mouths meet again, slow and deliberate, lips parting with practiced ease and rising hunger. Your breath shudders against his skin, soft and warm, and it makes something low in him tighten. Your hands roam over the planes of his chest, fingers tracing along muscle and scar alike. You feel everything, without restraint, he's yours— your mate.

His palms glide over your waist, then up, bare skin to bare skin. Your top lies forgotten on the floor, his own discarded somewhere behind him. Only your bra separates you now, delicate lace pressing between the firm lines of his chest and the soft rise of your breasts.

Azriel kisses you again, deeper this time, swallowing the sigh you let slip. One hand finds your thigh, thumb stroking the silken skin there before his fingers grip gently, firm enough to hold, soft enough not to bruise.

His gaze falls to where his hand holds you, and he freezes. The contrast is stark. Your skin, smooth and unblemished. His, rough and calloused, marred by countless scars. Raised lines, warped flesh, reminders of what he’s been made into.

He swallows.

What are you doing?

Every breath you take presses your softness to his wreckage, and shame curls hot in his chest. His touch must feel like sandpaper against your silk. Ugly. Wrong. Undeserved.

You still.

He pulls back—not far, just enough. Your bodies remain close, your breath brushing his jaw, your foreheads nearly touching. He dips his head slightly, casting his eyes downward as he reins in every flicker of emotion, face slipping into careful neutrality.

He’s done this a thousand times before. Hidden everything behind a mask.

But never with you.

His mind claws for something to say, something light enough, so you might not see the truth behind it, though you always do. You see everything.

“Just admiring,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, eyes fixed on the exposed length of your thigh beneath his hand.