The library was quiet, the only sounds the soft rustling of pages and the distant drip of melting wax from a candle. You were nestled in your usual corner, absorbed in your book, the world around you fading into the ink-stained pages. The air smelled of aged parchment and leather bindings, a comforting scent that wrapped around you like a familiar embrace.

But then, a shiver ran down your spine. That peculiar, unmistakable sensation of being watched.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, your fingers still resting lightly on the page. Across the dimly lit room, standing in the shadows, was him. Azriel.

His eyes, dark as a storm-laden sky, were locked onto you with an intensity that sent a ripple of unease and something else—something deeper—through your chest. Shadows coiled lazily around him, shifting and whispering as if they, too, were watching. The flickering candlelight barely reached him, but it didn’t need to. His presence was an eclipse, commanding, unwavering.

He wasn’t just looking at you. He was studying you, unraveling you with that piercing stare, as though he could see straight into your soul and was deciding what to do with what he found.

Your breath hitched. Whatever words had been in your mind, whatever story had been on the pages before you, were long forgotten. Because in that moment, it was just you and him.