A Sharp Inhale, As Her Fingertips Trail Across Veins, Like Ice Upon His Flesh. Yet It's The Only Thing

a sharp inhale, as her fingertips trail across veins, like ice upon his flesh. yet it's the only thing that grounds him, pulls him out of his own thoughts & self doubts for the second his confession lingers between them. when she finally speaks, her words play on repeat in his mind. echoing as if his ears had been playing tricks on him, searching for any ' but ... ' that never came. & suddenly, all of his concerns are momentarily washed away: the fear of almost losing her today, hybern at their doorstep. gone. there is only her, in this tiny bed, whispering everything he's only dreamt of.

his eyes flicker to meet feyre's, suddenly at odds with their proximity — the desire that sparks through him impossible to ignore. yet he knows there's more that needs to be said. even if it makes her despise him, he's kept her in the dark for too long. it'll only get worse. " me either. but — " train of thought gets cut off with a shudder, her freezing touch finally catching up to him. goosebumps raise across his skin as he shivers, breathy laughter shaking at his shoulders. " your fingers ... are very cold. "

any rational thinking is thrown aside, consumed by temptation & desperation to be selfish, just this once. even if he can only have her right now, in just this moment — it would be enough. he buries his smile into her neck, his palm splaying out against her stomach to venture upward. payback.

i pulled the thin blanket around me, turning on my side to face the wall, as i curled into a tight ball with the little space i had. i stared at the wall in the quiet darkness, trying to keep my teeth from rattling and body shivering. my damp hair stuck to my neck as the moisture pooled onto the pillow. his presence eased me as much as it unnerved me, a walking paradox i couldn’t escape. the same force that told me to run, was constantly pulling me in. that same burning temptation that had been gnawing at me since the first night we met.

i didn’t resist as he pulled me against him — my body slack as i melted in his arms, as if i’d lost control of myself and surrendered completely. the heat of his body warmed me instantly. i curled back against him, somehow fitting perfectly. those earlier nerves seemed to disappear as i gripped his arms, my fingers brushing softly against the back of his large hands in passive stokes. tracing the veins down his arm, like i were memorizing each bicep.

i couldn’t dare breathe as he spoke, practically losing function of my own body — heat burned through me as he confirmed what i had known well before i was ready to admit it. the truth rang loudly in that tiny room, as he held me against him. he had me. he had me from the start. “ i haven’t stopped thinking about you. not once. since well before i left. before the wedding even. ” my confession hung in the air, as some perpetual weight finally lifted off of me. “ i know what that makes me and i suppose i don’t have it in me to care any more. ” finally, i exhaled, turning over to face him. “ i wouldn’t wish to be here with anyone else. ”

eyes roll, contemplating her offer for half a second — his pride to prove himself quickly losing to the bitter chill that danced across his spine. the first thing he’d looked for upon arriving was a thermostat, only to find it broken. naturally. “ only since you insist. ” he realizes his gaze may be lingering on her for far too long, taking in the sight of his clothes on her, how his sweatshirt swallows her up. how she still manages to look so perfect, despite damp tresses messily falling over her shoulders. he averts his eyes to the flask. the only way he’ll make it through this. “ i’ll be on my best behavior, promise. ” hands raise to show his palms in surrender, though the smirk on his lips says otherwise.

he carefully sits on the edge of the mattress, his back turned to her, as if one abrupt movement would cause her to change her mind, head tilting back as he takes another swig of his liquid courage. in the moment of silence, he can feel the heaviness of her breaths, the way she shifts completely, as if he knows exactly what’s on her mind. her question is only confirmation of what he suspected. lucien finding them was unexpected — the panic rhysand felt, when for a moment he thought there might’ve been a chance feyre would actually go with him, was even more so. it twisted at him, consuming him until he was frozen, unable to even spew any of his usual insults at him. he was fully ready to face the fact that he would never see her again. yet she defied all expectations, turning even lucien’s face pallid, standing her ground. there won’t ever be a time where he forgets that. where he regrets any of this.

he turns to face feyre, throwing all caution to the wind as he shifts closer. his head slowly shakes, features hardening. his response is quick, stern — as if he couldn’t let her even wonder for a second longer where he stands. “ no. never. ”

my clothes soaked, i had no choice but to change into a pair of tattered leggings and the dry, black sweatshirt rhys had lent me, trying to ignore the faint scent of his cologne. i busied myself in the bathroom longer than i needed to, becoming increasingly aware of the forced proximity we would have to endure tonight. only exiting after i heard him on the other side of the door. shaking off the adrenaline that had fueled me all day, perhaps i should’ve been more scared — knowing both tamlin and hybern were after us, but all i could think about was the wet, shirtless rhys on the floor. “ i have a hard time believing your silver spooned sensibilities would allow for that. ” i had to step over his legs to cross the room. “ there’s plenty of room, ” i shrugged, knowing full well there wasn’t, but i was so used to sharing.

“ this is luxury, ” i gladly took the flask from him, taking a decent sized gulp, hardly wincing from the burn this time. i was leaning to love the pain. handing the whiskey back to him, i ripped open a bag of chips, before situating myself and sitting criss cross on the bed. aside from the loud crunch of chips, silence enveloped the tiny room, as some level of exhaustion began to wear on me as i considered the day’s events. the realization that tamlin had sent lucien to find us, to bring me back. knowing i was reluctantly the center of so much of this chaos. just dragging them all down with me. “ are you starting to regret it yet? ” helping me.

most nights are filled with tossing & turning, waiting for sleep that never comes. he finds himself out on the balcony more often than not: taking comfort in the star filled endless dark sky, the sea breeze washing away night terrors. it's the only time he finds peace these days.

this time, however, the idea of serenity seems far off. it seems sleep doesn't come so easy for more than him. he's halfway tempted to turn around without a word, avoid the exchange that will no doubt turn volatile within seconds. it always did with them. yet against better judgment, rhysand only stares blankly at nesta, no amusement flickering in his dark gaze — floating to the bottle in her hands.

" ah. so you're who's been drinking my cellar dry. here i was, blaming cassian. " the usual bite in his words is lacking, neutral. too exhausted for a fight. with a breath, he takes the chair next to her, snatching the bottle from her fingers before inspecting the label.

" expensive taste. " it's followed by a swig, leaning back to relax, sore bones sighing in relief. " couldn't sleep, either? "

there’s something livid and furious within her, it rages and feeds off her festering anger she was born with. no that isn’t right, she was born a common ordinary baby. her mother trained it into her, her grandmother tormented her to make her perfect. she doesnt know where to put all those feelings. or even what to do when those feelings aren’t just anger, when there’s grief, when there is hurt.

a bottle of wine in hand as she glances at the male who walks towards her. lips lift in mockery of a smile, little more than a sneer as she salutes with the half emptied bottle.

‘ little lord rhysie-poo. your general let that one slip —. how can i serve you my lord? ‘

no slur to her speak, but her cold calculating gaze haunted more than angry. she is almost languid on this late night. the exhaustion of the nightmares that don’t let her sleep mellowing that anger to an ache, the flames of her fury banked to ashes that merely smolder.

‘ if you’re just going to stand there, mind going to the left? you’re blocking my moon beam. ‘

nesta && rhys // @rhysie

spicing up conversations by saying 'you really believe in that' at the most basic inane things

@rootedpetals:

fire. her skin was on fire. her emotions were ablaze and on high alert. how dare he. how dare he! a snarl leaves her lips as she looks over at rhysand with pure hatred. "you had no right to do this!"

starlight filled shadows die out, power dimming away until he is seen as just a passive form. if she was fire, he were to be the opposite — unyielding, void of any emotion. unwilling to add any fuel to her flame. he knew elain figuring out about his talk with azriel was inevitable, it was only a matter of time they had this conversation. this is where having his court be made of family became tricky: decisions needed to be made for the wellbeing of everyone, even if it's to their dismay. he wears the face of a high lord, not her brother, calculated grace as his hands fold over themselves. " seeing as though it effects my court, i had every right. " a breath, his voice softening to become a still, dark night. " i don't expect you to know of all the inner workings of this court, or the politics at hand. this would destroy any alliance we have — shred any sense of peace. azriel should have known better. "

@feydarling : ❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜

amber liquid swirls in his glass as he lifts it to his lips, finishing off the remnants. never mind the fact dawn is still settling. the burn down his throat offers temporary salvation, a momentarily distraction from his buzzing thoughts. perhaps he had been foolish to wish. to allow his imagination run wild, somehow picturing the two of them — mated. happy. the aroma of the salty sea breeze from the summer court entangled in hers still keeps him awake at night: the first moment he'd allowed himself to even dare to dream of it, of her. yet that hope died down, crushed to pieces, after witnessing an exchange with cassian. he's reminded that she isn't his, that he was likely just a distraction that she desperately needed.

he can't bring himself to even force a smile, to match her energy in the slightest ... only a moonless obsidian night lurking onto his features, wings flaring out against his chair to absorb the rising sun's warmth. " and what if i were? " he bites down on his words, withholding any actual interest in the conversation. his head tilts towards the rays, eyelids fluttering shut. " i have other matters to be concerned with. "