Shadows coil gently around them, brushing over Katie like a whisper. The bond hums—a deep, thrumming pulse Azriel feels more than hears. It anchors him, steadies the storm inside. Ever since that first silent offering, a plate of home-cooked food made with love and care placed before him, something shifted. The connection between them hasn’t quieted since.

Two weeks. A rare gift from Rhysand. No court. No duties. Just solitude in a quiet, hidden cabin nestled between snow-topped mountains. No eyes. No interruptions. Just her.

Azriel flies through the chilled night air, one arm wrapped around Katie, the other effortlessly guiding their path. His shadows trail behind them like loyal hounds, shielding her from the cold. She fits so easily against him, her warmth sinking into his skin. She’s breathtaking. She always has been.

He lowers them with barely a sound, landing in the snow with his usual ghost-like precision. Still, he doesn’t release her.

Not yet.

His grip lingers, one hand splayed over her lower back, the other trailing lightly down her arm. He drinks her in, eyes dark, jaw tight. Shadows flicker restlessly around him, sensing the heat simmering beneath the surface. Every breath he takes is careful, controlled, because if he lets go of that control now, he won’t stop.

His voice, when it comes, is low and rough at the edges. “We’re here.”

The cabin rises before them, warm light spilling through the frosted windows, the promise of privacy and soft sheets waiting inside. Just them. No distractions. No boundaries left.

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Tell me when you want me to stop,” he murmurs, barely audible, reverent and burning all at once. “Because I don’t think I can walk away again.”