Olethros

four - azriel

The whiskey had my head spinning. Blissful oblivion and the absence of the cursed whispers in the back of my mind. My head fell back against the cushioned backing of the chaise. I shifted spreading my legs as the siren call of sleep begged for me. It'd been a while since I'd been able to fall into her graces. Sleep was rare, but the whiskey promised it. Rhysand was somewhere in his room, perhaps on the bed, and Mor was sat on the floor beside me. I felt the warmth of her head falling back against my thigh. Cauldron, my body begged for her touch. I hated being touched by anyone unless in a sparring match, but I'd kill to feel her hands on my skin. 

My head rolled to the side, blurred vision parting my eyes as I gazed down at the honey blonde hair. Maybe it was the whiskey, or the lack of my morals, but I brought my hand to feel the strands. I wondered what the perfect curls felt like without the leather glove between us. How would her plush skin feel under my fingertips? I hated that Cass knew exactly how that felt. I hated that it was only a ploy, yet he still had the blessings of her moans and whimpers while I was left to imagine them. 

"Az," a voice croaked from the door. I turned my head, squinting to see Cassian peering through the small gap he'd made. I gave him a questioning look as my finger twirled a pretty strand of gold. His head snapped to the side, urging me to join him. I'd kill him for this. I wanted to deny him, to ignore whatever pleas he had, but the fear in his face told me it was urgent. Sucking in a breath, I sat up and held Mor's head from my thigh as I slipped from the chaise. Her plump lips pouted in her sleep. Whatever urgent matter Cass had could wait. I dropped to a squat and slid my hands beneath Mor's back and thighs. I lifted her onto the seat, which she responded to by immediately curling onto her side and sighing. 

It was a torturous thing to turn away from her, but I did. I glanced to Rhys, who was sprawled on his back with an empty whiskey bottle tucked into his arm. He wouldn't wake for whatever this was about. My footfalls were silent as I slipped out of the door and into the corridor with Cass. He looks nervous and afraid, which immediately had my whiskey-fueled blood pumping. 

"What is it?" I asked, glancing down at his hands. I smelled the tobacco he had smoked, but there was a sweeter scent beneath it. Jasmine, maybe? It wouldn't be uncommon here, but it had my spine straightening nonetheless. 

"It's- fuck- it's Freyja. I was on the veranda smoking and she just winnowed out of nowhere. She was crouched and shaking. I tried to comfort her but she told me to stop. I didn't know what to do so I brought her to her bedroom. I heard her crying when I left, but I don't know what happened, Az. I think someone hurt her." 

My brows furrowed as I glanced to the closed door at the end of the hall. Indeed, there were muffled sobs within. Without thinking, I sent my sleeping shadows into her room. My eyes fell shut, trying to picture what they told me. 

Crying.

In pain. 

Marred and bloodied. 

My eyes snapped open. That was no helpful information whatsoever. My eyes turned to Cass. "Go to her room and try and get some information out of her. Should I wake Rhys?"

He shook his head. "No, something tells me this isn't a situation she would want him to know about." 

I nodded slowly, my gaze drifting to her door once again. Cass sighed but walked down to her door and opened it. I watched him slip in and close it again. With my own sigh, I leaned against the wall and let my eyes fall shut. 

Denial. 

There are no answers.

Frightened.