Synopsis: Sirens are known to be merciless creatures who lure their prey with their ethereal voices.
But what happens when Gwyneth, a half Fae half siren, meets someone who is immune to her song? Maybe she doesn't need it for him to want her.
Read on Ao3
Warning: Minor mention of blood and violence
Snippet:
Every bit of pain and sense of loneliness that she had ever felt before this moment faded, erased by the smile that Azriel offered her. She held tightly onto the bond inside her and tugged. This new sensation made them both gasp. Their amazement was soon replaced by matching grins, which then turned into euphoric laughter. His shadows danced along to the sounds of their laughter and the slowly fading song of their mating bond.
The glow of her ribbon dimmed, retreating back inside their hearts along with his darker side of the bond. Fainter and fainter the song went, until it was replaced by another sound that cut off their laughter. It was like a fist pounding against a door and which made the dome of shadows surrounding them shake. Time which had stilled to allow them to bask in the bliss of their bond resumed and reality came rushing back as quickly as it had been chased away. Gwyn stood closer to Azriel, her hands around his middle as concern once again flowed through her.
Azriel’s eyes moved across her face and body. Every thump against the shield that his shadows had turned into stripped a little more of the lightness that had previously settled in him. A few wisps of shadows brushed his ear, murmuring words that Gwyn couldn’t hear. Still, she felt the anger that flooded his side of the bond. The hazel in Azriel’s eyes darkened.
“What did they do to you?” His voice came out pained.
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Nesta’s hand reached over to grab a handful of what was left of the popcorn as she said, “You know, I’m reading a book at the moment and it got me thinking about you Gwyn.”
Gwyn turned her head, “in what way?”
“Well, in this book I’m reading the male lead is turned on by having conversations about what he and the female character do during sex before they start.”
“Really?” Gwyn tried to picture what it would be like to have someone want to talk to her about her triggers, pictured someone patient enough to have a conversation with her about what she wanted. “But that’s probably just a fictional thing though, right? Like something women want and real men never do.”
There was a brief silence before Nesta responded. “Actually I think it’s like a kink thing”
Gwyn blinked. “... a kink thing?”
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Gwyn just wants to move on from her past trauma, but is finding it hard to find a partner who understands why it's so important that they discuss what they want to do before they do it.
But when Gwyn finds out her long-time crush Azriel is a dom, he may be just what she needs.
Hi everyone! Today’s post is a little bit different because this wonderful art you see was so kindly gifted to me by my dear friend @trashforazriel! Laura allowed me to pick the pose, concept etc for all the details in this art and @: zolyna_ did such a flawless job bringing it to life!
I love the idea of Gwyn and Az doing ice dancing together and the pose is a reference from Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, two Canadian ice dancing legends! I hope you all love this art as much as I do and thank you so so much Laura for gifting this to me!
Within seconds, his shadows transported him to Alva’s location, an old warehouse in Ayrith, a mountain village in Illyria. The five-foot-five female had a proclivity to not take any shit. Which was why he permanently stationed her within Illyria’s borders. She was too direct for most courts which made her stand out in a way that was unhelpful for a spy. Her blue and brown eyes didn’t help much either. But within Illyria, she blended right in- as demonstrated by the cursing male in the chair, “You stupid bitch.”
Despite his erratic heartbeat and racing thoughts, he made sure to project none of the urgency through his gaze, instead, he leaned against the outer stone wall in a pose of casual indifference. Traces of a once great production sight could still be discerned in the several tables lining the outer walls, and the various types of machinery scattered throughout the wide expanse. The flooring was barely distinguishable underneath the rotting leaves and discarded materials. Today, it functioned as one of Azriel’s many secret shelters he’d gathered in his five hundred years as spymaster of the Night Court.
Normally, interrogation befell him, however, few things tortured Illyrian males more than a strong female, which was why he allowed her to take the lead, even though his hands itched to hold the male's neck until he confessed all his sins. He needed answers and he needed them now.
Meet Alva :)
And take a look at Gwyn's new room
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