CHAPTER 62: CRADLE OF CALM - 5

Then, like mist across his bare chest, something cool and silken slid along his ribs, a delicate touch that stirred the quiet.

Azareel opened his silver-gray eyes, flecked with rain-blue, and found her already there—Virelya, her upper body hovering above him, wrapped in damp ceremonial silk that clung to every curve, the folds peeled open carelessly, as if the Abyss itself had whispered for her to bare herself.

Her alabaster skin shimmered faintly with dew, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes studying him without urgency, her serpent coils encircling them both, gentle and patient like a noose made of breath.

"You looked warm," she murmured, her voice a breathy lullaby, her fingers brushing his stomach with slow reverence, tracing the faint scars beneath his tunic. "Would you like something cooler against your skin?"

Azareel didn’t blink, his gaze steady, his voice soft.

"I don’t mind the warmth," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It’s peaceful."

Her golden eyes narrowed slightly in amusement, her cracked porcelain mask tilting.

"Peaceful. Even pressed between fur and serpent?" she teased, her coils shifting closer, brushing his side with a cool, silken touch.

He nodded as he sensed something from her, placing a hand gently against her wrist, his touch light but grounding.

"You feel lost sometimes," he said softly, his silver eyes meeting hers. "I don’t mind if you find your way near me."

Virelya inhaled slowly, her breath catching, then smiled, her mask tilting further, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her usual tease.

Without a word, she reached up and began to undress herself fully, her robe sliding off her shoulders with a whisper of wet silk, pooling around her coils like liquid shadow.

Her breasts, pale and full, settled with a soft bounce, nipples glistening from the damp heat of the garden, their curves catching the crimson glow like polished marble.

Her serpent tail coiled beneath her, lifting her slightly as she leaned forward, her bare chest pressing against Azareel’s cheek, soft and cool, a contrast to the garden’s warmth, her scent a mix of dew and ancient earth that made the air hum with quiet desire.

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, his arms resting calmly at his sides, his eyes closing as though in silent prayer, his silver hair tangling faintly with her damp strands.

The intimacy was raw, unhurried, her bare skin a gentle weight against him, her breath shallow as she arched closer, savoring the warmth of his presence.

"You’re not surprised?" she asked, her voice a whisper, her golden eyes searching his face.

"You’re cold," he said simply, his voice soft, unwavering. "And I don’t mind giving warmth."

She exhaled, trembled once—then let her weight rest fully against him, her breath shallow, her body arching to feel every inch of his skin, her bare breasts pressing softly against his cheek, enveloping him in their cool, silken embrace.

His silver eyes opened just a little, catching the faint glow of her skin, a quiet reverence in his gaze as he leaned into her touch.

grrrrr

Then the snarl came—

A rupture in the calm, sharp and feral, shattering the garden’s hush.

"WHAT. IS. THAT."

Nyxsha’s voice exploded from behind, her massive feline body surging upward like a shadow erupting from soil, her golden eyes blazing with furious indignation.

One paw yanked Azareel out from under Virelya’s chest, the other planted between them like a territorial wall, her black fur bristling like a storm cloud ready to unleash lightning.

Azareel, still perfectly calm, sat up in her grasp, his silver eyes blinking with gentle confusion. "Nyxsha—"

"Were you—WAS YOUR FACE IN HER BREASTS!?" she roared, her tail thrashing, sending petals scattering like confetti in a storm, her fangs bared, her breath hot and rapid.

"Yes," he said gently, his voice soft, unapologetic. "She was cold. I didn’t want her to feel unwelcome."

"UNWELCOME!?" Nyxsha’s fur fluffed out like a furious bonfire, her golden eyes wide with outrage. "SHE’S A GIANT SCALE-WRAPPED MANIPULATOR!"

Virelya didn’t move, her robe still open, her bare chest unashamedly exposed, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement as she licked a drop of dew from her fingertip.

"Jealousy doesn’t suit you," she said lazily, her coils shifting slightly. "You bury him in heat and claw. I offered silence and skin."

"YOU STUCK HIS HEAD BETWEEN YOUR—" Nyxsha paused, glancing down at her own immense feline form, her tribal wrappings stretched taut, her tail twitching. "—Whatever. He doesn’t need anyone else. He has me."

"He didn’t complain," Virelya said, her mask tilting with a smirk, her golden eyes glinting.

"He never complains," Nyxsha barked, her claws flexing. "He’s literally incapable of turning anyone away. That’s why you weirdos keep trying to rub yourselves on him!"

At that, vines parted behind them with a soft rustle, revealing Sylvara entering barefoot, her white robe unfastened at the top, hanging open with elegant carelessness, her ample breasts fully visible, swaying softly as she padded across the moss, their golden curves catching the garden’s glow.

"I heard rubbing?" she asked innocently, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief, her flowering hair trailing petals like a living veil.

"NO," Nyxsha hissed, her golden eyes narrowing to slits, her tail slamming the ground.

Sylvara tilted her head, her vines unfurling behind her like angelic wings, their crimson petals blooming brighter.

"Well, there should be," she teased, her voice a melodic hum.

Azareel, still seated calmly, folded his hands in his lap, his silver eyes flickering between them with quiet amusement.

"You all seem tense this morning," he said softly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a gentle breeze.

Virelya lowered herself again, her coils wrapping loosely around his waist, her bare breasts brushing his shoulder with a cool, silken touch, her golden eyes teasing.

Sylvara sat beside him, placing one palm on his thigh, her breasts swaying slightly with each motion, her amber eyes warm.

"I’m merely helping you recharge," she said, her voice light. "Light needs skin. You said so once."

"I said it absorbs warmth," Azareel corrected, his smile faint but genuine, his silver eyes sparkling.

"Exactly," Sylvara said, her vines curling closer, brushing his arm.

Nyxsha leapt over him, tackling Sylvara into the moss with a growl that shook the garden, vines exploding in all directions as fur and roots tangled violently, petals flying like a storm of crimson confetti.

Virelya tilted her head, her golden eyes glinting.

"I suppose that means it’s my turn to be on top," she purred, slithering behind Azareel, her coils wrapping partially around him, her bare breasts pressing against his back, her arms sliding around his waist with a gentle, possessive touch.

Azareel, utterly composed, simply sighed, his silver eyes half-lidded.

"You’re all very needy today," he said, his voice soft but laced with quiet humor.

Sylvara’s laughter was muffled by fur, her vines tangling with Nyxsha’s limbs as they wrestled.

"You’re the one who literally sleeps on top of him," she teased, her voice breaking through the chaos.

"Because I can! Because he’s mine!" Nyxsha roared, her golden eyes blazing, her tail thrashing as she pinned Sylvara down.

Azareel leaned forward just slightly, his hand brushing Nyxsha’s flank, his touch gentle but firm. "I’m not an object, Nyxsha," he said softly, his silver eyes meeting hers.

"But... I don’t mind being held. Just don’t fight."

The garden fell into stunned silence, the vines pausing, the petals settling like a truce in the air.

Virelya’s grip loosened, her coils relaxing as her golden eyes softened.

Sylvara blinked, her amber eyes wide with surprise, her vines untangling from Nyxsha’s fur.

Nyxsha’s snarl softened into something wounded—something quietly protective, her golden eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and warmth.

"...fine," she mumbled, her tail curling tighter around Azareel’s leg, her voice barely audible. "But he stays with me tonight."

"No argument," Azareel said softly, his smile warm, his silver eyes steady.

Sylvara leaned in, her vines brushing his arm.

"But maybe tomorrow—" she began, her voice teasing.

"GET OUT"