The dining room was quiet now.

Too quiet, save for Cassian’s soft grunt as he fumbles with the laces of his leather trousers, tugging them back into place with trembling fingers. His wings twitch faintly behind him. Not from discomfort, he looks sated.

Katie stays knelt on the rug beside the hearth, lips tingling, heart still hammering in her throat. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously, her core throbbing in frustrated anticipation. She hadn’t been touched. She’d only listened to him, to the low, ragged sounds he’d made while her mouth was on him.

Cassian was usually the one who worshipped. Who made sure she—

A creak of footsteps, freezing Cassian mid-motion.

Before she could rise, before she could move, Azriel’s voice drifted in behind them, smooth and flat as glass.

“Your scent is all over this room.”

Cassian lets out a muttered curse, finishing the last knot on his trousers before turning, slowly.

Katie stays on her knees, too mortified to stand, too breathless to act like she hadn’t just—

Azriel stands in the archway, shadows coiling lazily at his boots. His nostrils flared slightly as he scans the room, settling his unreadable hazel eyes on Cassian, on her, and the glistening sheen still on her bottom lip.

“This is the dining room,” he added, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“Yeah, thanks,” Cassian muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t noticed.”

"Hadn't thought," Azriel murmurs. "I have to eat in here, and now I'm wondering if I should sanitise the table."