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21. Crystal Clear

WARNING: MINOR PANIC ATTACK

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When you finally got back to your room, ranting and raving to yourself, you slammed your door shut. You took a few steps forward and then paused by your bathroom, confused and then annoyed — as you felt Azriel's ego inflate through the bond.

As if it needs to be any bigger, you thought, upper lip curling. You weren't sure if Azriel had to be close to hear your thoughts, but you added for good measure, He must be compensating for something else.

You waited, and then . . . Azriel's scoff surfaced from the bond.

You felt like you'd just been caught in a lie, so you smothered the bond as much as you could — before your traitorous mind inevitably cast you back to the feeling of his cock against your ass. Because if you were being honest, Azriel didn't need an ego to compensate for jack shit, but he definitely didn't need to know that.

As you kicked your flats off, you released your stranglehold on the bond. And then, making your way to your walk-in closet, you stepped out of your dress and then threw it into the narrow hall.

Well, as far as the black tulle fabric could be thrown.

Which, apparently, wasn't very far.

You watched your dress as it floated to the dark wood floor, prompting a few faelights to flicker on.

You took a few deep, calming breaths before deciding that a nap before dinner was a good idea — the best idea in this situation, really. So, using sunlight to work around your wings, you changed into a loose T-shirt before catapulting yourself onto the bed.

You used sunlight to close your floor-to-ceiling shades as you just lay there on your stomach, wings drooping off the mattress, kissing the floor.

You let your eyelids fall shut, waiting for sleep . . .

. . .

Sleep that never came.

And then something like amusement flickered through the bond.

You were three seconds away from either hunting Azriel down or knocking yourself out when something rattled on your bedside table. A scream worked its way up your throat, but when you lifted your head and saw a glass toy, you blurted out a small, hysterical laugh.

When you felt Azriel's concern, you stomped it out before it could do things to you because . . . You were mad at him. And wanted to stay that way (at least for a short while).

Now that Azriel had been sufficiently muted, you blinked at the toy, processing it.

Because there was no mistaking it; the House had just given you a glass sex toy, a ribbed one.

In passing, Nesta had mentioned that the House could be an overbearing host, but you'd brushed it off as a joke. Apparently, it wasn't, but you weren't upset — if anything, you were far from it.

"Is this . . ?" You trailed off as you crawled up your bed so you could grab it. When your fingers were mere inches from the toy, you glanced up at the ceiling. "Is this for me?"

Your bedside table shook as if it to say, Of course it is, dumbass.

The toy almost rolled off, but you snatched it up. It was denser than you'd anticipated, but that wasn't a bad thing, and as you sat up, you turned the toy over, admiring its smooth ridges and curve.