OL

The war had ended, and for the first time in centuries, Azriel discovered that peace wasn't silent. It sounded like your quiet laughter drifting through the House of Wind. Like the clink of two mugs in the morning. Like his shadows abandoning his shoulders to curl lazily around your ankles while he stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, stealing a kiss against your temple. The Spymaster of the Night Court had once lived for secrets. Now, he lived for coming home to his mate.