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The row of treaty meetings just wouldn’t stop.
On and on they went, each party dragging them out to keep to their own agenda. Sometimes Rhys visited by himself when my attention was needed elsewhere; sometimes I endured the meetings alone.
Tamlin attended every single one. He made sure his input was heard — his territory had the longest border next to the human realm. Surprisingly, he added no further remarks about how his army’s and people’s trust were still in shambles after I avenged his betrayal of me and my sisters.
He looked, though. When he thought I wasn’t watching, when my attention was focused on something else, when I tried again and again to advocate for peace and trust. He looked but never said a word. Until today.
The meeting was coming to an end when Helion received a dispatch and called Rhys out to share some news. I stayed, stretching slowly after sitting in the same posture for far too long, and took a sip of water before walking out of the room. I was lost in the view of Day Court from wast corridor windows when I heard a familiar voice call my name.
“Feyre!”
I turned, readying myself for a new battle of reproach and blame, but Tamlin’s gaze was not promising either. He looked hopeful — eyes full of careful warmth.
“Can I have a word with you?” I took a quiet breath, trying to look polite and not show my exhaustion. The weeks after the battle with Hybern had been long and tiresome. I knew how crucial it was to keep the momentum to ensure long-lasting peace between the courts, but that didn’t make the whole thing take any less of a toll. It didn’t stop me from yearning for a few lazy, quiet days full of whispers, giggles, moans in the arms of my alive mate — lingering, indulgent kisses and touches. And some dreamless sleep in his embrace.
“Of course.” I brought myself back and strengthened, meeting Tamlin’s face. He looked better now than before the battle — fewer demons hunting his features, less anger in his breathing. “What is it?”
“How are you doing, Feyre?” This was the last question I expected from him. He had never asked… not since Under the Mountain.
“I’m… I’m fine. Tired, as all of us, I suppose. But fine.” I mumbled, looking away, my stance weakened by the unexpected question. “Why do you ask?”
He flinched slightly and looked a tad uncomfortable, but not enough to back away from the conversation he’d started. “I wanted to talk to you. To see how you were, to catch up. I know things got…” He made a helpless motion with his hands, clearly not finding a word for the state of our relationship. “I know I hurt you badly. I said and did things that I can’t take back. What you did to my court… I understand why you wanted revenge. I know enough now to see that your success in it was entirely my own doing. And after…” He flexed his arms at his sides, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he struggled to find words. I just waited for him to decide.
“I just wanted to say, for what it’s worth — I’m sorry. I never meant to harm you or your family. I’m sorry I couldn’t find it in me sooner to say this. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you go. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”
I sighed. I didn’t need his apologies, not anymore. All of it felt like a long life ago — water under the bridge, something I’d gotten over and moved on from. But Tamlin hadn’t, and I appreciated his effort to make things better. After all, that’s what this whole exhaustion was about: making things better. So there wasn’t much to say except, “I’m sorry, too, Tamlin.”
He nodded, offering a gentle smile. After a small pause, he continued. “Do you think there is a chance we could be friends? I know it won’t be simple or quick to earn your forgiveness — or one of your family’s — but we have time now.”
Only then did I notice how close he’d gotten. Half a step from me, closer than was decent between High Fae not involved with each other. His voice dropped at the end of the sentence, got more intimate. I could smell him, too — a familiar, slightly flowery musk that used to mean everything to me and now meant nothing.
“Of course. I’d like that, Tamlin.” I nodded, feeling a strand of hair fall across my face. “I’m sure Rhys would like to work toward friendship between our courts, too.”
He chuckled and took a breath, eyes focused on my face the entire time, green and piercing as I remembered. His hand reached to move the hair from my face. After he did, it didn’t move back; it lingered for a second before caressing the high of my cheek. I coughed, uncomfortable, unsure how to react, while my legs decided for me and took a small step back.
“Sorry,” he said, but his arm dropped too slowly for a guilty person, and he didn’t try to make more space between us. The apology didn’t reach his eyes. He kept looking at my face as if trying to read it, trying to find some truth he needed to see. At last he decided. “Does he make you happy?” He didn’t need to clarify who he meant.
“Yes. He does. We are very happy.” Tamlin tilted his head, thoughtful.
“You don’t look like it. Haven’t looked like it this whole time.” Oh how dares he?
“Well, this hasn’t exactly been the easiest week for either of us. After the battle and all the loss we endured—”
“You seem alone in your loss.” His gaze was intense, unwavering, but his voice remained deliberately soft. Fire roared somewhere deep inside of me, despite the ache and tiredness in my body. The audacity!
“I was alone after Amaranta, Tamlin, but it didn’t seem to bother you then.” I hissed through my teeth.
“I was an idiot. The excuse of the curse was gone, and all the responsibility crashed down on me. I didn’t know which way to look. I fucked it all up. I see it now. I see you now. I was a fool to let Feyre the Cursebreaker slip through my fingers.” He smiled as he stepped closer once more, his green eyes searching my face. For what — forgiveness? Love? What a waste of time, I thought.
“We’re past that, Tamlin. I loved you. I gave you everything I had. What happened happened; there is no point in playing the blaming game anymore. We all made mistakes. Now is the time we try to move on.”
“There’s no moving on for me, Feyre. Not from you.” His breath felt hot in the small space between us as his gaze slid down my body. His arm, broad and tan, moved toward me. “Not from us,” he whispered. “Not from this.” He turned his palm; the knuckles of his fingers slid from just under my bellybutton, lower to the rim of my undergarments. Not a light or hard caress, but solid enough to be felt deep in my core. A breath hitched in my throat as my tired body remembered the familiar contact; the effect ran like an electric cord through me. I instantly stepped back, ashamed of the treacherous reaction, of the wrong rush of wetness at the touch of the wrong man.
He chuckled again, a sensual smile. There had been a time it would have made me melt. Not now.
“I suggest you do try, Tamlin. If you have any intention of friendship indeed.” I said, looking straight into his face, hoping the warning in my eyes was as clear as in my words.
“And aren’t we all here with friendly intentions in mind?” A familiar bedroom purr behind me sounded like thunder in the small sunny corridor. I turned to see Rhys standing right behind me with a rakish smile, a warm palm sliding over the silk of my dress to find its home on my waist. His eyes, though… they were black, barely any purple visible. His gaze didn’t blink; it was solely on Tamlin.
I tried reaching for him mind to mind, but his shields were walls and walls of black onyx, as they often were lately, ever since the battle. I gave a gentle push. “Rhys.” No avail.
“We sure are.” Tamlin smiled back at my mate, obviously trying — and failing — not to let it look like a smirk. “And I’m sorry if I gave any other impression. I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh of course not.” Rhys purred instantly. Tamlin broke the stare but didn’t drop his smile. He fussed with his green shirt collar, as if it needed fixing, then continued.
“And I’m sure there’s no need to punish Feyre for any misunderstanding. The fault was entirely mine.”
“I don’t doubt it was. I do, however, find it amusing that you think yourself privy to any part of the intricacies of my relationship with the High Lady.” The palm on my waist gave a possessive squeeze. “Rest assured, if any sort of punishment did occur between us, she would be the one doing it.” Rhys’s smile showed all white teeth and no friendly intent. For a moment Tamlin looked like a fish thrown out of the sea, but he quickly put the polite humor mask back on. It wasn’t convincing.
I suddenly had enough of this odd squabble. “If you don’t mind, gentlemen, I think I’d like to retire. All this talk of friendship is rather exhausting.” I inclined my head toward Tamlin without bothering to look at him, and without waiting for either man’s reaction I turned toward the Night Court rooms.
Just as I plopped dramatically onto the huge bed, I heard the door open and close. Not bothering to open my eyes I mumbled, “I thought after the war I would live hundreds of years, but these negotiations will surely be the death of me.”
No reply followed. I lifted my head to look at my mate leaning in the doorway. Looking at me with the same black eyes.
“Rhys, are you all right?” He chuckled darkly but said nothing. A mask on his face betrayed no emotion — he remained still and quiet at the door. I could feel nothing through our bond, and the shields in his mind were still unyielding under my gentle push. I got up from the bed with a grunt, concerned. “Are you tired? Do you want to take a bath with me and get some sleep?”
“Sleep, Feyre darling? Is it truly what’s been on your mind?” he asked in that same bedroom voice of his.
“What do you mean? I told you I was tired.” I rubbed my temples in annoyance, grateful migraines weren’t a Fae affliction. My mind wandered to the paperwork I needed to finish before I could finally succumb to sleep, when Rhys brought me back to the conversation.
“Oh I heard you alright, dear. But I also smelled you”.
Rhys pushed from the door and came closer, quiet and smooth as the darkness of night. He pressed his big, solid body flush to mine. I looked up for his eyes, but he lowered his face to the nape of my neck before I could meet his gaze. He inhaled loudly; the tip of his nose brushed my skin and hot wet breath licked the same spot, making me shiver.
“What…” I couldn’t finish the question, not when he was like this. Dangerous flared in my head, the same as when I’d first seen him on Calamari. He was dangerous now for me in a way he had probably never been — every instinct in me shouted alarm. But with his mind gently nudging into mine, I didn’t get scared, didn’t let the alarm shadow my desire. I bent my neck, allowing him more space to tease me, and strong warm fingers joined the teasing at the base of my throat while his lips brushed the bared side. And just as I started to get lost in his touch, in the intensity of his attention on me—
“I smelled you getting wet from his touch.” His fingers flexed on my throat; a rumble in his chest vibrated as he whispered into my ear. My heart, mortified and ashamed, skipped a beat. “Smelled how you gushed between your legs from that one simple caress.”
His hand slid along the length of my throat, higher and higher, a palm briefly caressing my face before coming to my hair. He threaded his fingers through the softness. The fingers felt too long — talons, I realised — right before his hand stopped and gripped a handful of my hair hard. He pulled my head back, exposing my neck fully, while his other hand found the low of my stomach. His knuckles traced the route Tamlin’s had taken only minutes ago: from right under my bellybutton to the line of my undergarments and the tender places beneath. This touch… I couldn’t help myself.
Stomach had always been a sensitive part for me. A caress of this flesh right on top of my womb, leading to the most intimate of me… it always made me melt, get thoughts and desires so impure.
I moaned wantonly at the touch, given now by my mate — full of desire, full of dangerous promise. His mouth hovered above mine, breathing in my moan as if it was my soul he wished to swallow. I’d let him, if he’d asked.
“I’m sorry, Rhys. I’m—” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. “It was just a body reaction. He knew how sensitive it— Ah!” He bit the juncture between my neck and shoulder, his chest rumbling with a growl. “And why is it, my dear”—even his voice had changed, as if speaking with something heavy in his mouth—“why is it he knew what this touch would do to you, and I didn’t?”
And that’s what it was. Not mere jealousy, but that of a mate — a male expecting to be the sole guardian of every secret my body and soul might possess. He held me tight and close, pinned to his body, one hand in my hair, the other cupping my ass from behind and pressing my front flush against his hardness.
Before I could even answer, another growl purred straight into my ear: “Who are you dripping for now, huh, Feyre darling? Me or him?”
“Rhys! How can you even—” I was outraged. How dare he think such a thing? I pushed at his chest, but before I could create space between us, he had my back pressed into the wall, his hand still in my hair, forcing my face up to look at him. To get lost in those black eyes full of something so consuming I didn’t know how to handle it.
“I could feel you with him, I told you that.” I nodded as much as his grip allowed. “Every time you took pleasure from him, I felt it. I tried my best to shield against it. And then that pleasure dimmed, became almost nonexistent. Then it spiked again when it was me you imagined — my head between your thighs, my tongue on you, my cock rutting inside. My voice whispering ‘Feyre darling’ in your ear. All his touches became mine in your head when he visited your bedroom. And then, when you were alone and lonely, it was me too. I could hear it, feel it all — no matter how hard I shielded, all your energy directed at me, forcing your pleasure down into our bond without you even realizing. And as that darkness swallowed you more and more, the wilder these fantasies became.”
I could barely breathe at his confessions. I had looked inside the Ouroboros mirror and saw my darkest parts in it, accepted them. It wasn’t the same, though, as realising that from him, from my mate, they were never hidden.
His lips brushed my ear as he continued in growling whispers. “Azriel’s shadows holding you in the air, his hand on his dick, watching as I take your pussy in lazy thrusts. As Cassian pushes roughly into your mouth at the same time, over and over, eager to finish.”
“Rhys!” I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t bear it — his knowing, his telling.
“Now that your shields are all up and solid, who do you think of, huh? When I touch your belly like that, Feyre, who is it in that wicked mind of yours?”
“You, you prick!” I tried pushing him off again, but his hold was unmovable and his face hard as stone. “Rhys! Stop it — you know it’s you! Let go!”
He didn’t. He closed his eyes and inhaled several deep, growling breaths. “Order me to leave, Feyre.” Still his eyes were closed; he didn’t let go. I had no intention of complying though.
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t want you to see me in the beast form. The pull of it’s too strong to resist now, and I don’t want you to see,” he said. All the anger I’d felt quickly disappeared, replaced by shattering tenderness for this complicated male. I lifted my hand from his chest to his face and gently caressed his cheek. “I told you already — there isn’t a part of you that scares me, Rhys. Besides, hate to break it to you, but I saw your beast form on the battlefield, so it’s old news.” That earned a kind chuckle and the black eyes opening and piercing me again.
“And what did you think, darling?” His hand in my hair relaxed and went back to petting it. With his body and his mind surrounding me, there was no way to wiggle out of answering him.
“I thought you magnificent. Powerful in how you control your magic, your might, the monster inside. I saw you and Helion shift and fight side by side — two huge beasts from the darkest fairytales, tearing flesh on sight, sending souls where where it is they go, covered in blood and gore. And all I could think was what you suggested before. What it would be like to have both men behind these beasts come claim me after the battle, have their strength and savage energy unleashed while they shared their victory.” I was breathless by the end, evading his eyes. When I finished, a finger lifted my chin. Stubbornly, I didn’t open my eyes to meet his, and yet I didn’t have to — his mouth, hungry and ravishing, covered mine.
It wasn’t one of our gentle kisses. With the beast lurking under his skin, this kiss took and took until I was out of breath and mind. Without stopping, without allowing me a moment’s reprieve, his hands went to the front of my dress and in seconds a taloned finger made a long, neat tear. He stepped back; the kiss stopped abruptly and I opened my eyes. Rhys didn’t waste time — tearing the bottom of my dress, roughly removing the shreds. His talons found the top of my undergarments, slicing through; three more careful slices on the bottom removed the rest. All the while I finally could assess the state of my mate.
He really meant it about the beast; Rhys was barely winning the fight against it. Visible skin below his elbows was now beast-black, covered in small feathers, but his hands didn’t belong to a Fae anymore. Neither did his bare feet — huge deadly paws. The visible skin of his neck and chin was black too. His face remained his, but in his eyes the beast was lurking, ready to get free. I wondered how far down his body the shift went.
“Why are you still dressed?” I asked before I could think. Rhys growled. “You should tell me to leave, Feyre.” He repeated absentmindedly, ignoring my question, hungry eyes roaming my naked body, breathing heavily.
“I never will.” I meant it. He was my mate, my friend, my beloved — the male strong enough to see all of me and never be repulsed or judge. He had stayed and fought for me, with me, until his dying breath, and had come back.
“Feyre,” he growled, and his clothes vanished. Instead of his usual Illyrian wings the larger ones appeared, with red-tainted talons crowning their size, each as big as my arm.
And his body… Black skin with delicate, shining feathers covered everything from his neck to his chest, and there were patches of it below, on his stomach. The feathers shimmered faintly in the light, shades of obsidian and midnight threaded with hints of deep violet, as if darkness itself had taken on a sheen. His legs, from feet to knees, were fully black, the feathers there harder and longer, edged with a subtle metallic glint that made them look almost like blades. On second thought, his legs didn’t seem right, as if the anatomy in them had changed completely.
Rhys gave me only a few seconds to study him before his taloned hands lifted my hips, talons teasing but not piercing. Even on the verge of the shift he was controlled. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, hands finding feathered shoulders.
They were softer than I expected. The muscles beneath the skin, however, were harder, solid as stone. I dragged careful fingers through the small feathers bristling along the back of his neck — soft there too.
“Feyre,” he rasped. “Feyre.” As if repeating my name helped him hold on to his humanity and keep the beast from overtaking him fully.
“I’m here. I love you. I’m here.” His eyes glowered and a low growl burst from his mouth. There were fangs now, beyond any doubt.
Still holding my bottom with his clawed paws, Rhys moved toward the bed. I expected to be thrown or gently laid down, but instead he stepped onto the bed with me still in his hands, as if my weight meant nothing. Without changing his hold, he lowered to his knees in the middle of the mattress and made me sit on his lap.
I felt the thick length of him brush against my core before he took himself in hand. The contrast of a massive black, taloned paw against his Fae flesh made me clench with a shaky breath. Rhys paid it no mind as he guided himself into me, slow and sure. The paw still on my ass pressed me lower, gently but with absolute authority, until he was buried to the hilt. His head fell back, face twisted in a raw mix of ecstasy and agony. I tried to move, desperate to ease the tension, but both his paws instantly stilled my hips with an unyielding grip, talons hovering dangerously close to breaking skin for the first time.
“Stay still,” he growled, barely human. “Stay still.” He relaxed his grip into a gentler hold, letting the softer parts of his paws glide along my spine and sides. His mouth pressed gently against mine, though I could still feel the graze of fangs on my lips. He slid his nose along my cheek in a tender gesture, inhaling my scent—then froze. A growl rumbled back to life in his chest as I realized he smelled Tamlin on my skin. Rhys stayed like that, nose pressed to the place where Tamlin’s fingers had touched, breathing hot and heavy against my face, the low growl never ceasing. I felt it with every part of me, with him this close, buried inside me—and some insane, twisted part of me reveled in that dangerous tremor instead of recoiling. Catching the surge of my pleasure in the vibrations, he only growled stronger.
“Are there others?” Rhys whispered, moving from my cheek at last.
I felt his fangs graze my earlobe and shuddered. He held me tight, not allowing even the slightest chance of hip movement on my own. My hands flexed against his shoulders again. “What others?” I asked, confused.
“Other places on your body I didn’t discover? Other touches that make you wet that he found and I didn’t?”
Rhys squeezed my hips closer to his —possessive, claiming. I didn’t mind one bit. I was already fully his. I had just thought he knew.
“You found more than anyone ever did. Would’ve discovered this one too, if we’d had more time.” I pleaded. “I only want you. Only ever wanted you. Your touch is the only one that matters. Rhys, please.”
The heat of him surrounding me, the hot hardness inside was just too much, melting me, urging to move and take and burn. He held me still, breathing deep.
“Feyre,” he rasped into my neck. Then his hands — those huge paws that held me true — pushed and pulled, making me finally rock on him. He didn’t let me set my own rhythm, holding steady and moving my hips on him as he pleased. Not up and down, just back and forth, grinding his length inside me, my clit against his body. The sweetest torture.
His mouth was gently nibbling my neck, fangs scratching tender skin. I felt like a small doe caught in the grip of a beast - helpless to do anything but let him pleasure himself with my body, waiting for his verdict on my life. He moved me more then, driving his cock deeper and deeper inside, like he was trying to crawl into me. He hummed, the sound low and pleased, plunging slowly, leisurely.
And then I felt it. Slowly, inexorably, his cock swelled inside me, stretching me fuller, reaching deeper with every pulse. With a startled gasp, I looked down between us, to where we were joined. His stomach and abdomen were no longer smooth skin but fully black, covered in feathers that overlapped in different sizes, their sheen shifting from midnight to oil-slick iridescence. His shoulders had broadened too, beastly muscles rippling and hardening beneath my fingers as though they belonged to something not entirely Fae.
And his cock was changing too, the pale flesh darkening as though shadows were seeping into it, until it gleamed obsidian-black, veined with faint silver streaks that caught the light each time he moved inside me. The texture of him had grown harder, rougher, yet still silken enough to glide, every thrust a reminder of the beast taking shape around me.
He watched my face with rapt attention, eyes hungry. When a stunned “Rhys” slipped from my lips, he pounced.
He growled, shifted, tilting my body from himself with one hand, changing the angle and pressing me down onto him once more. A few thrusts, then a huff—unsatisfied with the position. Then his beastly hands lifted me, immense strength pulling me into the air, giving him more space to move his hips.
Like a ragdoll in the hands of a god, he held me suspended, impaling me on his cock again and again. His taloned grip was unyielding, the rough heat of his paws rubbing against my skin, textured like worn leather, burning where he held me. Feathers brushed along my thighs and ribs with every rise and fall. I moaned, thrashed, screamed, pleaded in his hold. “Rhys! Oh, God! Rhys, please!” I never finished the sentence, never said for what it was I begged—for more, for release, for mercy. I didn’t need to ask. He knew what I needed, what we needed, and just did.
“Did you imagine this with him? When you saw his beast form, did you imagine him taking you this way, Feyre?” he asked, voice strained, fighting to stay human.
“No,” I said, and it was the truth. “I dreaded it. I dreaded he might one day want to, and he wouldn’t be in control. I wouldn’t trust him to be careful enough — Ah! — not to tear me apart. I would never trust him like this. Only you. Rhys. Only you.” I hoped he understood. Hoped he heard what I was trying to say — how deeply I trusted and loved him. It scared me how I would let him do anything with me, had he only asked, but I didn’t care.
“Because you’re mine, aren’t you?” he purred, not stopping. “You take me so good, Feyre. Your cunt is leaking so badly to take me in — so welcoming, fluttering so eagerly around me.”
His rhythm was still controlled and measured, like he had all the time in the world to tease himself with pleasure. I could feel the threat of talons on my skin and dared not try to move anymore, so the only option was to agree and pray for his mercy. “Yes, yours. Only yours.”
He hummed, the sound accompanied by a satisfied rumble from his chest. Then his face got close to mine and a hot, scratchy tongue slid over my cheek. Covering his sent, I realised.
“Yes,” he purred, sniffing the cheek again. “You’re mine.” And then he slammed me down on him. I screamed, feeling the slap of his heavy balls with the impact. “Mine,” he repeated, growling, slamming inside again. There was no way out of this but to accept it — this overpowering pleasure, his massive cock filling every inch of me, uncompromisingly making space for himself. And then he stopped holding back.
He fucked me, over and over, holding my body tightly in the air, the master of my pleasure and pain. Like a toy, like a tight glove for his cock, he used me, bringing me up and down on his thick length, always driving to the base, grinding with every move to get deeper. On and on it went, my core burning from intrusion and strain, scratching hot pleasure-pain mix boiling in my veins.
Without ever halting his punishing rhythm, he held my body with one hand while the second slid down. A knuckle of a huge, beastly hand traced under my breasts, then slid lower and lower, around my bellybutton, holding there for a second right underneath it before continuing its way down in a caress so tender and unbecoming of a monster having its way with me now. And then, instead of a knuckle, I felt the solid backbone of a talon making the same trip along my body. He pressed it more firmly against my abdomen, right above my womb, and the pressure sent a hot, dizzying wave through me, making my body clench around him in helpless need. My breath caught in my throat; the sound of my heart drummed in my ears. Lower and lower, ever so slowly, the talon went, until it reached my core. Rhys pressed it against my clit and I heard him growl lowly as he made a circling motion with the talon once, twice…
My back arched in Rhys’s grip as I fell apart, screaming. It felt like every blood cell in my body exploded — the same way the glasses on the nearby table shattered when a surge of white light burst out of me. Rhys didn’t stop pounding into me, his feathers scratching at the oversensitive skin between my legs. Both paws, huge and burning hot, were back on my body, supporting my weight in the air.
“Yeah, Feyre, that’s it,” he purred, smiling deviously. “You’re mine, you’re mine. Gonna mate you now, my dear, my darling Feyre.” I didn’t understand, lost in the haze of pleasure so intense and dangerous.
His voice, I noticed, was not his own now, not anymore, and the eyes devouring my every shudder weren’t those of a Fae male either. His cock stretched me wide, held me open as never before, and yet the beast circled his hips as if to stretch me wider. Cauldron help me!
“Rhys, Rhys, it’s too much,” I sobbed, my body overwhelmed, my inner walls so sensitive. The rough tongue came back to my face, licking the tears.
“I know,” he said, but his hips kept moving as if of their own accord.
“I can feel myself moving inside of you here.” He pressed the thick pad of his paw to the low of my abdomen, and I felt it too — how he stretched me, filled me beyond what my body could take, making the soft part of my belly bulge with him inside. “You take me so good, Feyre, stretch so nicely. You have no idea how good it feels. How long I yearned to claim you this way. My mate.” He was back to growling whispers, head thrown back in pleasure while he moved me on his cock. “My sweet mate, with cunt leaking for a promise of her womb filled, aroused by beasts surrounding her, wishing to ruin her.” He hummed again, a sound of pleasure at how I clenched around him at his words — at how he described my wickedness as something for him to enjoy rather than shame me for. “But you’re mine, aren’t you? Mine to cherish. Mine to devour. Mine to ruin.”
For the first time his rhythm faltered. He stilled for a second, deep inside me, then rutted shortly a few times as if to get deeper once more, before returning to slow, short pounding. His breath grew heavier, his grip tightened, talons threatening again at my skin. His wings shifted from hanging at his sides to furling, tense and restless. All the while I was slowly starting to understand what he meant.
The base of his cock grew wider and wider with each plunge. A knot. He had a knot in this form, and he was going to use it on me.
“Rhys, I can’t,” I pleaded, eyes wide, scrambling at his arms uselessly, no power to move him. “I can’t take it, Rhys, please!”
The tips of a taloned hand slid along my spine. One move and it could slice me in half. “You can, Feyre darling. You’re my mate — of course you can. You’ll take it.” His voice was ever so gentle while the backbone of a talon caressed my back. His hips, however, circled cruelly, stretching me before pressing in. I felt the knot kiss the rim of my opening, but he withdrew and moved to spread me once more. “You’ll take it, Feyre,” he repeated. “I’ll fill you nice and deep, my love. Make you full to the brim with me, on the edge of splitting. So next time when sweet Tamlin touches you, you’ll think of how you felt my cock moving right beneath your skin, how it pumped load after load in there beneath his touch. So next time your eager cunt gushes even more than it did today, preparing to take my knot.”
And using the wetness of mine, having spread me on his cock, he slid the knot inside. His abdomen pressed flush against me, hard feathers tickling my clit. I felt nothing beyond Rhys stretching me, filling me beyond anything I had deemed possible, pushing every nerve in my body to its limit, owning me.
Screaming his name, I came once more. My body betrayed me — nerves burned out and confused, making my walls flutter helplessly around his knot, squeezing him tighter, desperate, to push him out or get more I didn’t know. My hips made a small circling motion on their own, rubbing against the knot inside me. Rhys let out his loudest growl yet and slammed hard into me, coming.
He gushed inside me, spurting and spurting as he had promised, filling me so much it felt like he was pouring himself into every hollow space I had left. Each heavy pulse of his cock sent lightning through my body, and the helpless clenching of my core only wrung more from him. He roared again, his hands squeezing tighter around me, holding me suspended in the air while he emptied himself into me, grinding his pelvis against mine. Not a drop leaked out — my body was locked with him so tightly. Pliant, yielding and breathless, my mind emptied by the pleasure of release, body floating from exhaustion, I lingered in my beast’s arms.
Rhys finally eased me onto the bed, gently lowering us both as we were tied. Soft parts of his paws wiped my cheeks before he leaned down and showered my face with kisses. We both panted, hearts close and thumping.
I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. Finally, his eyes weren’t completely black; a warm glint of purple shone through.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah… I…” My voice was too hoarse from screaming. “I’m good.”
“Not hurt?” His hand, touching my face, was Fae now. Soft, tender tan skin with no talons. Gentle lips brushed my check, my eyebrow.
“No. No. Sensitive and overwhelmed with how…” I blushed, waving a weak hand. “But not hurt.” I swallowed, still feeling the tremor that sliced through my body in waves, and tried to put into words what I could not fully name — how he held my soul in his palm, how he was the only one with the power to ruin me and set me back together, how powerlessly in love I felt in his presence, how I hoped he found his bliss in me the same way I did in him. He looked at me so gently, though, like he knew. He always did.
“Good,” was all he said in return, going back to his task of covering my face with kisses. His hands wandered along the lines of my body, touches gentle and strong. I felt him carefully stretching his back above me, as if to feel the muscles returning to their original state. The one inside me, however, did not.
“How long is it going to last?” I asked, pointing down at us, suddenly feeling shy.
“Hurrying somewhere, darling?” He smiled seductively, lifting an eyebrow.
I smacked his shoulder gently, scolding him. “Pig. Seriously though… the rest of you returned to normal already. Except the cock and…” I couldn’t bring myself to name this new organ of his out loud.
He chuckled. “My cock and my knot, darling… they’ll return to normal once we finish.” He looked down at me with rapt attention, waiting for the words to sink in.
“I thought we did.” My hands caressed broad shoulders, enjoying the softness of the skin.
With a deep breath, Rhys licked his lips as his gaze slid down my body, his smiling attitude disappearing. Then he lowered his head to lick along my collarbone, up my neck, and all the way to my earlobe, which he gently bit before whispering into my ear like the most intimate secret, his voice low:
“Not even close.”
Fuck. I shuddered and exhaled sharply. No, there was no way we were doing this again so soon. I told him as much. I was so tired, the strain of the day catching up to me, all the emotions just far too much.
Besides, my body was already used, stretched, thoroughly wrecked: what was left to give? What more could he take? Every nerve felt pulled taut, my muscles trembling with strain beyond my control. I was so achingly aware of the immense power above me, holding me, still lodged deep inside me. I had never feared him, never wanted to — but what if this, him like this, was my limit?
My breaths started coming out more strained, harsher. My eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for something comforting to focus on. Finding nothing, I looked back at my mate on top of me, biting my lip, imagining all the ways Rhys might stimulate his knot inside me again, forcing another climax just to make it deflate. My core clenched painfully against any logic, and I shook my head.
“Shh, darling.” He held my chin between his fingers, as if the world could be steadied with a single touch. “Don’t worry. You can rest now, you can sleep. I’ll take care of you.”
I frowned weakly. “But you’re still inside me.”
He smirked, one finger tracing my lower lip before claiming a bruising kiss, his grip on my chin unyielding. He kissed in that lazy, assured way of his, as though he owned the mouth he plundered. When he finally drew back, his eyes had darkened again, dangerous shadows flickering within them. “Exactly,” he murmured. “Sleep, my love.”
I felt him in the bond then — a winged beast padding softly on quiet paws, slipping beyond my open shields. A deep, cotton-like darkness spilled through me, soothing, suffocating. Sleep, it whispered. Relax your body. Let go. Sleep.
I tried meekly to resist, my exhausted mind stumbling to raise my shields, but I could barely grasp their reins. I turned inward to summon my light, desperate to diminish the shadows, to burn through the haze — but it flickered weakly, snuffed out by the thick fog. The darkness wrapped around every thought, stalled every move, drowned my consciousness deeper and deeper.
Sleep.
I could feel a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth, a tight grip on my breasts, the deep grind of his cock inside me — small, lazy motions that still reached everywhere. I wanted to move, say something.
“Rhys.”
Sleep. The darkness pulled and bound me tighter.
I felt ten sharp talon tips trace along my ribs, down to my waist, and over my hips. Big hands pushing my legs further apart, hungry fingers stretching me where I was filled with my mate’s knot, probing. The heavy, broad palm sliding to my abdomen, claiming the curve of my stomach. Pressing.
Sleep.
And then I felt nothing more.