Azriel was always quiet, always lurking–observing. He doesn't talk much so he can hear his shadows whisper to him. Some people would call him shy. He wasn't.

Feyre, Mor, Rhysand, Cassian, Amren, you, and Azriel were all having dinner at the House of Wing. There was finally a moment of peace after all the destruction Hybern as caused in Prythian.

Thankfully, Velaris was still as beautiful as ever.

You sat next to Azriel at dinner like always. The shadows loomed over him as he ate in silence while the entire Inner Circle joked and laughed.

Azriel looked at the group as they laughed and slowly slid his hand over you, down and up your thigh. He knew what he was doing and he knew it would make you tense.

He wanted to see when you'd break or if you would at all.