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The morning after Summer Solstice in the Spring Court was possibly the brightest I had had in the entirety of my captivity in Prythian. I awoke lazily, the sun already streaming in through the window in my bedroom, tracing my fingers lightly over my lips—reliving every trembling moment of the night I’d shared with Tamlin.
I’d seen dawn break already with the High Lord of Spring, after he’d shown me the will-o’-the-wisps, after we had danced… and kissed, of course. My cheeks flushed at the memory.
My dreams had been riddled with sweaty, naked, writhing, moaning bodies, blurred from my vision somehow—as if it had been too dark to see clearly—as they wrought wave after wave of pleasure from my body, igniting every nerve until I could no longer stand it, screaming my releases at the top of my lungs…
I sighed, and banished the images from my head with a shiver, and crawled out of bed.
After I dressed in a simple gown, I made my way downstairs for breakfast—which was, actually, lunch, due to how late we had all stayed up. After complaining enough about the ridiculous size of the table at which we usually dined, we had taken to dining at a much smaller version.
Tamlin and Lucien were both already seated, Lucien silently rubbing his temples as he ate. I slyly smiled at him. “And where were you last night?”
His metal eye whirred as it narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave him a rather pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a wry smirk. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.”
I threw a glance at Tamlin, biting my bottom lip—remembering the way he’d done it to me in my dream the previous night. No— someone had done it. I couldn’t be sure it was Tamlin. The dream had been blurry—dark. Faces had been obscured, and I could have sworn the voice was different—
“You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath, banishing the images once more. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.”
Tamlin’s face was unsure—searching mine for any hint of regret. He leaned closer to me, bracing his forearms on the table. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips—where I had bitten the bottom one. Lucien shifted uncomfortably in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him. I briefly wondered if the two of them had ever… with the same woman— at the same time—
Gods , I thought privately, what is wrong with me? How incredibly inappropriate a thought to have at that exact moment?
My heart rate ratcheted up, and I pressed my thighs together under the table, my breath catching in my throat. “Nothing,” I repeated in a daze, my eyes drawn just as equally to Tamlin’s mouth as I felt wetness pooling between my legs—instantly mortified as I remembered that they could both probably scent my arousal, painfully aware of Lucien’s hovering presence nearby as well.
“Are you sure?” Tamlin murmured, his voice slipping lower, and I could have sworn I was in a trance of some kind. I didn’t give a damn if he threw me down and took me on top of the table right then and there— with Lucien watching. I was ashamed to admit the thought actually excited me—
“I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said irritably, and the air shifted instantly—the trance broken. I blinked a few times, the fog of my lust clearing just a bit. “But now that I have your attention, Tamlin ,” he snapped, though Tamlin’s green eyes were still devouring me wholly and completely. Eventually, his gaze slid to Lucien.
“Not to be the bearer of truly bad things,” Lucien said, shifting once more in his seat, “but my contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me.” He took a steadying breath as the smile instantly faded from Tamlin’s handsome face. “The blight,” Lucien said tightly, “It took out two dozen of their younglings. Two dozen, all gone.” He swallowed, and the sound was too loud in the ensuing silence. “It just… burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything—no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is… unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard—though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way—farther south with every attack.”
I felt every bit of joy, every bit of sparkling wonder from the previous night, drain away from me instantly. “The blight can… can truly kill people?” Children. It had killed children. Two dozen of them. I felt nausea roll through me at the thought. And Alis had said that offspring amongst Fae were rare—
Tamlin’s eyes were shadowed with grief and something else as he slowly shook his head—as if trying to clear from it the heaviness and shock of the deaths. “The blight is capable of hurting us in ways you—”
Tamlin shot to his feet—so quickly that I almost missed it, his chair flipping over to the ground behind him. His claws shot out instantly, and he snarled at the open doorway, a rabid sound that echoed through the still silence—- silence that was different than usual. The house, so typically full of the chatter and whispering footsteps of servants, had gone wholly still. It was a trembling, awful, cowering type of silence that had my very bones quaking in fear.
“ Shit ,” Lucien swore under his breath, drawing his sword. My brows pinched together in confusion.
“Get Feyre to the window—by the curtains,” Tamlin growled to Lucien, his green gaze still trained on the doorway. I had no time to ask questions as Lucien’s hand roughly gripped my elbow, dragging me from my chair.
“What’s—” I began to ask, but was silenced as Tamlin growled more loudly this time, the sound reverberating through the silent house as his fangs glistened. My heart quickened even more at the sight—at the danger. I snatched a knife from the table as Lucien dragged me to the window, where he pressed me into the velvet drapes, backing his hard body into mine and pinning me between him and the wall.
My heart raced as I stood there, wedged between Lucien’s lithe, muscle-bound body—his rich scent of cinnamon and crackling flames not entirely unwelcome as it swam through my senses, causing my eyes to flutter as my breath hitched from the combination of the danger and the closeness of a hard male body—and waited. For what, I didn’t know.
The sharp tangy scent of magic came next—a glamour, I realized, to conceal me from sight. Lucien’s grip on the hilt of his sword, the tip pointed at the floor, tightened until his knuckles were white as bone. I peered over Lucien’s shoulder at Tamlin—he took a long, deep breath, and his claws slid away, his fangs retracting. I almost lamented their dismissal—my body seemingly craved the danger, the wildness and feral nature of that side of him, though I’d never say it out loud.
From thin air, his baldric of knives appeared across his chest, though he did not draw one. Instead, he picked up his chair and set it back in its place, dropping himself in it with a thud, where he began to lazily pick at his nails—appearing for all the world as if nothing had happened at all.
I waited, my breaths coming short and quick, my heart at a flat-out gallop. I wanted to say something, wanted to ask questions, but knew I shouldn’t. Clearly, something was coming. Some one was coming—someone terrible enough that they felt the need to hide me from them.
I heard it then—footsteps, coming from the hall. Even and casual—strolling.
Tamlin continued to clean his nails, unbothered, while Lucien appeared for all the world to merely be looking out the window. My heart thundered in my chest as the footsteps grew louder—the soft scrape of boots on marble tiles.
And then he appeared.
The sluggish, cool fingers of recognition clawed through my mind as I beheld him. No mask, so he obviously did not belong to the Spring Court.
My silent breaths caught in my throat. I had met him before—when he’d saved me from the three wicked fairies on Fire Night.
With almost preternatural grace and ease, he approached, stopping a few yards away from the table where Tamlin sat. He was exactly as I remembered him from that night: rich, dark clothing detailed in gold and silver, dark pants, and black boots that came to his knees.
“High Lord,” he said in a mocking tone, inclining his head just so. Not a bow—not even close.
Tamlin remained seated, and his voice was brimming with violence as he replied, “What do you want, Rhysand?”
Rhysand smiled—a heartbreaking thing in its beauty—and put a hand on his chest. “Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don’t see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that.” His grin widened, playful and menacing—both feral and deadly. I held my breath as Rhysand turned, and his eyes ran over Lucien where he stood, his body pressed tightly into mine. “A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien.”
“Go to hell, Rhys,” Lucien snapped in retort.
“Always a pleasure dealing with the rabble,” Rhysand said before facing Tamlin again. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”
“We were in the middle of lunch,” Tamlin bit out, his voice absent of the warmth that usually slid through my senses like silk. No, this voice was the voice of the High Lord.
“Stimulating,” Rhysand purred—I was ashamed to admit that his voice did slide through my senses, silky and rich and dark, and so so alluring.
“What are you doing here, Rhys?” Tamlin demanded, still seated at the table.
“I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present.”
“Your present was unnecessary.”
“But a nice reminder of the fun days, wasn’t it?” Rhysand clicked his tongue as he surveyed the room—my eyes were zeroed in on the movement, almost involuntarily, the way it rolled in his mouth. “Almost half a century holed up in a country estate. I don’t know how you managed it.” He faced Tamlin. “But you’re such a stubborn bastard that this must have seemed like a paradise compared to Under the Mountain. I suppose it is. I’m surprised, though,” he continued, angling his head gracefully. “Forty-nine years, and no attempts to save yourself or your lands. Even now that things are getting interesting again.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” Tamlin said in a low voice.
Rhysand approached Tamlin then, his movements like flowing water in their gracefulness. His voice dropped to a whisper—an almost indecently erotic caress that made my body flush with heat. “What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin—and an even greater pity that you’re so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic. How different the High Lord is from the brutal war-band leader of centuries ago.”
“What do you know about anything?” Lucien interrupted. I’d almost forgotten he stood in front of me—my focus had been drawn to the deliciously dangerous male who had interrupted our meal. “You’re just Amarantha’s whore.”
“Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” I flinched involuntarily as Rhysand’s voice took on a distinct edge of steel. “At least I haven’t bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell.”
Lucien’s sword tip rose just a bit from the floor, and my body tensed. “If you think that’s all I’ve been doing, you’ll soon learn otherwise.”
“Little Lucien,” Rhysand purred, and I had to press my thighs together at the sound of Lucien’s name rolling off of Rhysand’s tongue like that. “You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you.”
Lucien pointed his sword now directly at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”
Rhysand only laughed—a deep sensual laugh, low and dark and intimate. I felt moisture beginning to pool between my thighs, felt heat beginning to build in my core. “Is that any way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian?”
My heart stuttered. High Lord of Prythian? It had to be—that was why those dreadful faeries had run off on Fire Night, scared of him. And the way pure empty darkness seemed to ripple from him, raw power billowing from his body, from those deep violet eyes that seemed full of stars…
“Come now, Tamlin,” Rhysand chided. “Shouldn’t you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?”
“I don’t enforce rank in my Court,” Tamlin replied simply.
“Still?” Rhysand said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you.”
“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed, and my stomach tightened. The Night Court? “And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.”
My mind raced. The Night Court. That’s where the head in the garden had come from. And was that where this woman—this Amarantha—was located as well? It had to be, right?
Rhysand snickered, but before I blinked, he was upon Lucien—in his face, growling and full of rage and hate. Lucien pressed me harder into the wall and I stifled a yelp and Rhysand pressed into him from the front.
“I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born,” Rhysand snarled savagely in Lucien’s face, his violet eyes flaring with rage. But as quickly as he had surged, he withdrew—calmly and casually. Carelessly , as if it had never happened. Why did it only make my heart race even more? The thought of that pent up rage, that danger—
“Besides,” Rhysand continued easily, sliding his hands into his pockets, “who do you think taught your beloved Tamlin the finer aspects of swords and females? You can’t truly believe he learned everything in his father’s little war-camps.”
Tamlin rubbed at a spot on his temples. “Save it for another time, Rhys. You’ll see me soon enough.”
Rhysand casually made his way toward the door. “She’s already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you’ve already been broken and will reconsider her offer.” My brows furrowed; what did he mean by it? Lucien’s breath caught in his throat as Rhysand passed the dining table, running a finger along the back of my chair casually. “I’m looking forward to seeing your face when you—”
Rhysand studied the table more closely—the table that was clearly set for three.
Lucien went ramrod straight, pressing into me harder.
“Where’s your guest?” Rhysand purred, lifting my goblet and lightly sniffing it before setting it down once more.
“I sent them off when I sensed your arrival,” Tamlin lied easily.
Rhysand faced Tamlin fully now, his sinfully perfect face void of emotion, then his brows rose. A glimmer of excitement lit within his eyes, before he whipped his head to Lucien. Magic burned into my nose, and I found myself staring directly into the violet eyes of the High Lord of the Night Court, my body flooding with undiluted terror—and a tiny bit of anticipatory excitement, which I’d never in my life admit to anyone.
“You dare glamour me ?” Rhysand growled, his eyes burning with rage as they bore into mine. Lucien pressed me harder into the wall, his body molding into mine.
Tamlin shoved his chair back, getting to his feet at last, claws at the ready. My heart rate increased at the sight of them.
Rhysand’s face slowly slid into a mask of calm as he continued to stare at me. “I remember you,” he finally purred, and the sound was like cool rain on my sweat-slicked skin. “It seems like you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble.” He turned to Tamlin. “Who, pray tell, is your guest?”
“My betrothed,” Lucien answered, the lie falling easily from his tongue.
“Oh? Here I was, thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries,” Rhysand said, stalking toward me like a predator. Lucien spat at his feet, shoving his sword between us.
Rhysand’s serpentine smile only grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien,” he growled, “and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.”
Lucien paled, but stubbornly held his ground—until Tamlin said, “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Lucien obeyed.
Rhysand raked his eyes over me, and I felt heat rise in my body every single place they lingered. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned at his words. Lucien was trembling—from anger or fear or sorrow, the gods only knew. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”
“Leave, Rhys.” Tamlin’s voice was commanding now as he stood a few feet behind Rhysand. And yet… he didn’t move to attack—despite the claws, despite Rhysand still approaching me, despite all of it. Why? Why didn't he attack? Perhaps the fallout would be too great—both immediately, in the sense of tearing this house down to its very foundation, as well as the aftermath, in the sense that the retaliation from this Amarantha would doom us all.
Rhysand brushed Lucien aside as if he were a cobweb in his way, and suddenly nothing stood between him and I.
The air turned suddenly bitter and cold, my chest tight and my lungs found it difficult to draw breath. Tamlin remained where he was, Lucien remaining unblinking, as Rhysand pried the knife from my hands with terrifying gentleness and sent it skittering across the floor. I’d forgotten I even still clutched it.
“That won’t do you any good, anyway,” Rhysand said, his face looming above mine—his breaths caressed my skin like velvet. “If you were wise, you would be screaming and running from this place, from these people. It’s a wonder that you’re still here, actually.” My brows knitted together in confusion at his words, and he laughed loudly at my expression. “Oh, she doesn’t know, does she?”
I trembled before him, both words and bravery suddenly stuck in my throat.
“You have seconds, Rhys,” Tamlin said in warning. “Seconds to get out.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to me like that,” Rhysand responded, his voice a low growl.
Suddenly, my body straightened, every muscle going taut against my will, my bones straining painfully with the effort. Magic ran through me, dark rumbling power seizing everything inside of me and taking control—control of my bones, my muscles, my tendons, my breaths, even my blood.
I—I couldn’t move. An unseeing talon-tipped claw scraped against some inner chamber of my mind. Somehow I knew—one push, one deeper swipe of that claw, and everything that I was would cease to exist.
Tamlin bristled instantly. “Let her go,” he demanded, but he did not advance forward. His green eyes flooded with panic as they flashed from me to Rhysand. “ Enough .”
“I’d forgotten that human minds are as easy to shatter as eggshells,” Rhysand said, running a warm finger across the base of my throat. My body shuddered—in disgust or delight, I wasn’t sure. “Look how delightful she is—look how she’s trying not to cry out. It would be quick, I promise.”
He angled his head as he looked into my eyes.
“She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin,” he purred. “She’s wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighs—between them, too.” He chuckled, and my face burned as he said my most private thoughts out loud. He held my gaze, and his eyes flashed before he turned to Tamlin. “I’m curious: Why did she wonder if it would feel good to have you bite her breast the way you bit her neck?”
“Let. Her. Go.” Tamlin’s face was twisted with such feral rage, the kind I had never seen before. My body shook, my mind still held in Rhysand’s grip.
“If it’s any consolation,” Rhysand said casually, “she would have been the one for you—and you might have gotten away with it. A bit late, though. She’s more stubborn than you are.”
Those invisible claws once more raked down my mind—then withdrew entirely. I crumpled to the floor, gathering my knees to my chest as I did my best to keep from sobbing, from screaming , from vomiting all over the floor.
“Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,” Rhysand told Tamlin. “Almost as much as she’ll enjoy watching you as she shatters her bit by bit.”
Tamlin stood frozen, rooted to the spot, his clawed hands hanging limply at his sides. I’d never seen him so… hopeless. “Please,” he said.
“Please what ?” Rhysand said gently—easing, urging, like a lover almost. It made me both sick and darkly heady at the same time.
“Don’t tell Amarantha about her,” Tamlin said, his voice rough and strained.
“And why not? As her whore ,” Rhysand said, his eyes casting a glare at Lucien, “I should tell her everything.”
“ Please ,” Tamlin pleaded, his green eyes shining with— fear , I realized. Whoever she was, she was worse than Rhysand. And Tamlin would do anything to keep her from finding out about my existence
Rhysand angled his head to one side, a wicked half smile on his perfect face. “And what would I get in return for such a nicety?”
“What do you want , Rhys?” Tamlin bit out through clenched teeth, the desperation and irritation warring in his tone.
And Rhysand… he turned to look at me , where I still sat curled in a ball on the floor. I pulled my knees impossibly closer to my chest, tugging the hem of my dress down and tightening my arms around myself.
Rhysand smiled down at me—slowly and lazily—as I felt those dangerously talon-tipped claws scrape the inner corners of my mind once more. I flinched, and a small whimper escaped my lips involuntarily.
“ No ,” Tamlin snarled. “ Anything but that.”
But Rhysand ignored him, as he angled his head at me again, his violet eyes burning in my direction, and I willed him to stop , as I felt him digging deeper—rifling through my mind like a thief in the night.
Rhysand chuckled. “Oh, you have the filthiest thoughts for such an innocent little thing, don’t you, my little Spring flower?”
“ Don’t— ” Tamlin began to object, but I squeezed my eyes shut, shame pouring through me, but also heat , pooling in my core, coursing through my veins, reacting to the silkiness of his voice, the smooth caress of his scent in my nose—
Rhysand hummed, and I suddenly felt a warm thumb as it brushed down my cheek, and my eyes snapped open. He was there, mere inches from my face, as he held my chin firmly in his grip between his thumb and forefinger, and I wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement that had my eyes wide and unblinking.
“ Get your filthy hands off of her ,” Tamlin snarled—but still, he did not make a move.
Rhysand smirked, and his breath washed over my too-hot skin as he purred, “I’m not so sure that's what your fair maiden wants.” He raised one dark eyebrow in a sinfully elegant gesture, and something inside of me clenched. “Is it, my little Spring flower?”
I said nothing in return, frozen between fear and anticipation. Surely Tamlin wouldn’t allow him to take it this far…?
“ Anything else, Rhys, please— ”
“I think you’d be surprised at your little flower’s fantasies, dear Tamlin,” Rhysand continued conversationally, my chin still held in his fingers. His smile grew. “I think your emissary might be surprised as well.” He leaned closer to me, inhaling deeply, and his eyes fluttered for a moment. “I’m not sure what excites her more—the idea of both of you taking her at once, or the idea of the two of you taking each other.”
My face flushed at my private thoughts spoken aloud—fantasies I hadn’t even fully realized I’d had. Would Tamlin see it as betrayal? That I had these thoughts of his friend? Surely it wasn’t normal. And yet… I couldn’t deny the warm moisture that spread between my legs at the thought—at both thoughts. Gods, what was wrong with me?
Lucien’s face flushed as his eyes flicked to Tamlin, then immediately back to me. Rhysand’s eyes flared. “Oh, Little Lucien, you indecorous fox,” he said excitedly, though his gaze never left me. “You did not hate that idea nearly as much as you probably should have.” He laughed a little, and a thrill raced through my blood. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as parchment. I licked my lips, and Rhysand’s eyes hungrily followed the movement as I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip, a low rumble emanating from his chest.
“How about this, little flower,” Rhysand went on, his voice slipping lower, and my breath hitched in my throat. “You and Little Lucien can both help your precious High Lord out of this… mess ,” he said the word delicately, “he seems to have gotten himself into, yes?”
“And how do we do that?” I asked, finally finding my voice—I wasn’t sure if I either didn’t want the answer, or if I desperately wanted the answer. Lucien’s body seemed to be vibrating with anxious anticipation where he stood. Tamlin’s jaw was set in hard, painful lines—I avoided his eyes entirely.
Rhysand smiled deviously as his grip on my chin tightened and he pulled me upward until I was on my feet, standing before him. “By doing what I tell you to do. By giving in to your fantasies, of course.” My heart stuttered. “ All of them ,” he purred, leaning in closer, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear as his body crowded my own. Waves of needy heat rolled over me as he whispered, “Including those delicious thoughts you’re having about me, little flower.”
My eyes widened as I looked over Rhysand’s shoulder at Tamlin—where he stood, spine straight, jaw rigid, eyes full of raging jealousy and rage and… lust ? Yes, desire. I could see it there, plain as day. The sight of me, with someone else, however much it enraged him, some small part of him was also aroused by it.
The idea only served to feed my wanton hunger further, and I almost groaned in frustration when Rhysand withdrew from me. He turned, casually fetching my chair from the dining table, and dragging it closer and setting it before me.
He held out his hand. “Come, little Spring flower,” he said seductively. “Be a good girl and have a seat.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the light grip he held on my mind, or the anticipation that rode my body, but my trembling fingers slipped into his, and he pulled me into his body. A gasp of surprise left my lungs at the quick movement, and his knuckles brushed down the side of my face, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and lighting up every nerve in my body.
Rhysand guided me into the chair—I was thankful for it, as I wasn’t sure my knees would hold out much longer. He lingered before me, the raw hunger in his eyes as his gaze cascaded over me making my mouth go completely dry. He looked over me then, his eyes pinning on Tamlin.
He snapped his fingers. “Time to serve, dear Tamlin,” Rhysand said, gesturing him over. Tamlin’s steps were measured as he approached us, but they halted as he rounded the table, maybe a dozen or so steps away—straining. Rhysand chuckled as he moved around behind me, his hand grazing down the plane of my neck, the arch where it met my shoulder, his fingers slipping over my collarbone. My eyes fluttered at the touch, my thighs squeezing together beneath my dress.
“Oh, no,” Rhysand said with a light laugh. “You won’t be serving her . At least—” I gasped as Rhysand’s fingers skated down the exposed skin of my chest, tracing the top hem of my dress. “—not directly.”
My gaze slid to Tamlin; his green eyes were glued hungrily to where Rhysand’s fingers slid back and forth along the hemline of my dress, his skin dragging across mine and setting me ablaze with need, which I was sure Tamlin could scent. Did he want Rhysand to stop? Or did he want him to go lower?
I felt Rhysand’s mouth caress my ear, and leaned into it this time of my own volition. “He wants me to do both, little flower,” he whispered, “and so do you.”
Rhysand straightened, his fingers continuing their path of torture along my chest, and his attention fell on Lucien. “How long, Lucien?” he asked casually.
Silence.
“How long have you desired your High Lord in secret?” Rhysand asked in a sensuous purr. Lucien’s face stained with crimson beneath his fox mask, his eyes falling to the floor. Rhysand continued. “Oh, come now, Lucien, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, though I can certainly see how you’d think so, given who your father is.”
Lucien’s eyes snapped to Rhysand, pinning him with a glare, which Rhysand only chuckled at. “You want to serve your High Lord, Lucien? You want to please him?” Lucien’s eyes flashed with unmistakable heady desire—desire that had been hidden away behind jokes and snarky remarks for so long and was now finally out in the open. Wild and untamed. Rhysand gestured to Tamlin. “So please him ,” he breathed.
Lucien didn’t hesitate. His steps were quick as he dropped his sword to the ground and closed the distance to Tamlin, standing before him. My heart raced as I beheld them, staring at each other, wide-eyed, Tamlin’s lips slightly parted. I imagined Lucien dropping to his knees before Tamlin, truly serving him—
“Is that how you want him, little flower?” Rhysand whispered in my ear, his fingers still skating across the top of my hemline, brushing the uppermost skin of my breast. “You want to watch the fox on his knees, hm?” His tongue traced the shell of my ear and a gasping moan escaped up my throat. “You want to watch him take your High Lord’s cock down his throat?”
My words seemed stuck in my throat—but I nodded. Yes, I wanted to see it. And judging by the way Lucien was now backing Tamlin up against the wall, possessively caging him in between his hands planted on either side, Lucien wanted it as well.
I watched as Tamlin’s eyes darkened with swirling heady lust, as Lucien’s hand skated down his body, scraping over his baldric of knives, until it fisted the unmistakable bulge in Tamlin’s pants.
Tamlin released a wild groan as his head fell back that had my body shuddering in response, as Rhysand’s fingers minutely dipped below the hemline of my dress, delving just slightly beneath the fabric, before coming back up again.
Lucien stroked Tamlin through his pants, his other hand moving to fist itself in Tamlin’s hair, gripping it hard and pulling it to one side, as Lucien buried his face in the crook of Tamlin’s neck. I couldn’t tell if he laid kisses or bites there—maybe both. Whatever it was, Tamlin writhed against him, gasping and moaning, their bodies undulating against each other in a hard, wild way that I'd never seen before.
And I wanted more.
“On your knees, emissary,” Rhysand purred sensuously. “Be a good boy , and serve your High Lord now.”
Lucien dropped almost instantly, his fingers deftly working the buttons and stays of Tamlin’s pants. Tamlin’s lust-glazed eyes, half-hooded now, fell once more to me—or rather, to Rhysand’s fingers, as they dipped again below the hemline of my dress, further down, down, down, until they found an aching, erect nipple. I practically screamed in ecstasy as his fingers brushed over the sensitive bud, circling and flicking, and my back arched away from the chair into the touch. Tamlin’s eyes flared, the interaction feeding his own hunger as his hand slid into Lucien’s hair where he knelt before Tamlin, working the pants and undershorts down his legs now, his hard, veined erection springing free at last.
My breath caught in my throat—I wasn’t sure if it was from the sight of Tamlin’s cock, or from Rhysand’s torturously slow circles around my sensitive nipple.
Tamlin kicked away his pants, sliding the baldric over his head and tossing it to the side. Just as he started working the buttons on his shirt—oh, how I wanted to see that marvelous chest—Lucien grasped Tamlin’s hard length in one hand, gazing up at him in submission, lips parted and eyes wide.
“ Fuck ,” Tamlin hissed through his teeth, his hand in Lucien’s hair gripping the red strands tighter. A moan escaped me again as Lucien stroked once, twice—his thumb swiped at the glistening bead of moisture on Tamlin’s crown, and he looked up at Tamlin again, his thumb hovering just before his lips.
Just as Lucien’s pillowy, soft lips closed around his thumb, Rhysand’s fingers pinched my pert nipple, and Tamlin and I both cried out, our eyes locked on the emissary on his knees.
Tamlin roughly gripped Lucien’s hair, yanking it back and forcing him to look up at him. Lucien whimpered at the force of the pull, his free hand sliding up to rest on Tamlin’s thigh, his fingernails digging into Tamlin’s golden skin.
“ Lucien ,” Tamlin commanded roughly, his voice gravelly and deep. The tone sent shivers through me. Lucien’s grip tightened on Tamlin’s cock, stroking him a few more times, before his head dipped, eyes still on Tamlin, as Lucien flattened his tongue and dragged it along the bottom of Tamlin’s shaft, from base to tip, slowly and intently.
Tamlin lost all semblance of control, his body strung tight and both hands now woven through Lucien’s hair. “ Gods, Lucien,” he gasped as his head lolled back momentarily, his eyes fluttering closed. My gazed locked on the string of saliva that trailed from the head of Tamlin’s cock to Lucien’s swollen lips, until Lucien hungrily took Tamlin’s crown into his mouth, and I let out a strangled moan that echoed Tamlin’s curses.
My hands fisted my dress on my thighs where they squeezed together painfully beneath the silky fabric, seeking any kind of pressure to relieve the ache building there. Rhysand’s fingers dipped beneath my hemline, still playing with my achingly sensitive nipples as I watched Lucien’s tongue swirling sloppily around Tamlin’s head as he grasped the base of his shaft, stroking him with hungry intent now.
Tamlin’s eyes were on me as his hands fisted Lucien’s hair, his lips parted as he panted heavily, his chest heaving.
The heat in my core—the pressure between my legs—was becoming unbearable. Lucien shifted, opening wider and sliding down further, taking almost all of Tamlin’s cock into his mouth at once.
“ Fuck , yes,” Tamlin stuttered suddenly, his hips bucking forward wildly into Lucien’s mouth, his hands dragging Lucien forward onto him further. “Take it all,” he growled as he pulled back and thrust forward into Lucien again. “ Take it , just like that.” Lucien gagged around him, but Tamlin only grunted and thrust into him again and again as Lucien choked and moaned around Tamlin’s cock as it hit the back of his throat.
My back arched and my hips raised off the chair instinctually, my hands still gripping the fabric of my dress around my thighs. My skin felt too tight, and I couldn’t bite back the moans that escaped my throat now.
“Would you like me on my knees before you, little flower?” Rhysand’s whisper in my ear was like molten fire poured over my body, spilling sensual darkness over me and I had no idea what my own name was anymore. “Is that part of your fantasy, hm?”
I nodded fervently, and Rhysand’s low laugh sent a rolling shiver over me. He lazily circled the chair, coming to a stop before me, momentarily blocking my view.
He sank to his knees elegantly, his hands finding my bare ankles, and the touch sent goosebumps skittering up my skin. He forced them further apart, planting them on the ground firmly, before sliding his hands up my legs, taking my dress with them. He made it to my thighs and thrust the material upward, bunching it in my lap, before he wrapped his warm hands around the backs of my knees and yanked me forward, until I was resting just on the edge of the seat.
I gasped in surprise at the movement, my legs instinctively coming back together, but Rhysand looked back up at me as he grasped my ankles once more and spread them apart, planting them on the floor. “Be a good girl, little flower,” he breathed against my thigh, “and do keep these sinful legs spread for me, yes?”
I swallowed, my breath hitching at his words. He shoved my dress up further, exposing my black underclothes—which he peeled off expertly, commanding me to lift my hips from the chair. He slid them down my legs, replanting my feet where he wanted them, then looked back up at me. “Eyes on your High Lord, my lady,” he said with a devilish smirk, and my gaze drifted back to Tamlin.
Lucien had one hand gripped at the base of Tamlin’s cock, drenched in his saliva, while the other had wrapped around Tamlin’s body gripping his ass firmly, as Tamlin thrust into his mouth with almost feral ferocity. I had barely a moment to take it in—before I felt Rhysand’s warm, wet tongue dragging a line a fire up my inner thigh.
I gasped, a curse flying from my mouth, and Tamlin’s eyes locked on mine before they dropped to Rhysand between my legs. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or if the image served to further feed his arousal—
“Is she wet?” Tamlin rasped, his pace slowing imperceptibly as his hips rolled into Lucien’s mouth, Lucien moaning and gagging around him.
Rhysand paused for half a breath, smiling against my inner thigh, before his hand skated up my other thigh, all the way to my core, where he slid his thumb through the moisture between my legs. I choked out a moan at the contact, as his finger barely brushed over my swollen clit, my hips shoving forward, seeking more.
Rhysand laughed, low and dark, before answering Tamlin, “ Drenched. ” Tamlin groaned, as Lucien slid his grip on Tamlin’s shaft down further, cupping his balls, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked furiously on Tamlin’s cock, his head bobbing as it hit the back of his throat repeatedly.
Tamlin angled his head as he watched Rhysand trailing soft bites and sensuous kisses up my thigh. “What does she taste like?” he growled. My face flushed at his question. Rhysand made his way up, up, up my thigh until he hovered over my soaking entrance, and I wanted to sink my fingers into his perfect black hair and shove him into it—the wait was torture .
Rhysand huffed a laugh, and the warm breath on my sensitive, aching clit made me jerk involuntarily. “Such a greedy little flower,” he crooned, before his tongue darted out, dragging up my entire wet center before flicking my clit with a hard swat of his tongue. I lurched forward, my hand digging into his hair as he lapped at me again, groaning deeply— animalistically almost. “ So fucking good ,” he mumbled against me, and it took me a moment to realize he was answering Tamlin’s question. “Like godsdamn honey ,” Rhysand growled, his tongue delving into me. My body arched, my hand tightening in his hair as my hips moved against him.
Tamlin’s eyes were glued to the way my body rocked against Rhysand’s mouth, as his own hips rolled into Lucien’s mouth. “Just like that,” he moaned, pumping into Lucien. “That’s right,” he urged, baring his teeth, “Get her nice and ready for me.”
Rhysand growled against me, his fingers digging possessively into the skin of my thighs. His tongue swirled around my swollen clit before he sucked it gently into his mouth. I inhaled sharply, and my other hand slid into his hair, twining and twisting into the silky black strands tightly, holding his head in place as I ground against him in furious need, chasing a release that was quickly building in my core—a spring coiling tightly within me, begging to snap.
Tamlin’s pace picked up as he pumped harder into Lucien’s mouth. Lucien’s gagging moans seemed to feed Tamlin’s lust all the more, as did Rhysand’s frantic assaults on my clit as he ran his tongue over the sensitive spot over and over, spiraling me further and further out of control and closer to that heedless place of intoxicating bliss.
Then all at once, the spring inside of me released, and my climax blasted through me in rippling shockwaves that poured over my body. I wasn’t sure whose name I shouted—or if it was a name at all, rather than an incoherent babbling string of curses and gibberish.
Tamlin came a few breaths later, his fist in Lucien’s hair shoving the emissary’s mouth down to take his entire length as Tamlin dissolved into pleasure, shooting every last drop of his release as far down Lucien’s throat as he possibly could.
Rhysand’s eager hungry mouth licked me through every jerking aftershock of my own release before he withdrew—I nearly screamed in frustration. He stood, straightening his jacket and wiping one thumb across his swollen red lips. I eyed the movement hungrily, and he chuckled as he ran one hand through his black hair, smoothing it out where I had wrenched it to chaos.
“That’s enough, fox boy,” Rhysand said, his eyes never leaving me. But the sounds of Lucien’s groans continued, mixed with Tamlin’s curses and moaning. “ Lucien ,” Rhysand snapped, and the sounds stopped suddenly. Rhysand held out his hand to me, and I took it, rising to unsteady, wobbling legs.
“Won’t you be a good host , Lucien,” Rhysand purred, “and come help the lady out of her lovely dress?” My face flushed, and my eyes shot to Lucien. Not Lucien—
“Don’t be shy, Lucien,” Rhysand crooned. “I already picked through your head and know how much you want them both for yourself.” He smirked, and Lucien’s face went slack, while my own went scarlet. He took hesitant steps in our direction. Tamlin made to follow, and Rhysand held up a hand, halting him. “I said Lucien. Not you, High Lord,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. He shooed Tamlin backward, until his back once more hit the wall, releasing an angry grunt as soon as he did.
Lucien closed the distance to me. His mouth was swollen, his lips puffy and glistening with saliva. His eyes burned with hazy hunger as he reached me, and moved behind me, as Rhysand stood before me, brushing his knuckles down my cheek almost covetously.
My eyes moved to Tamlin, who leaned back against the wall he’d been pinned to—his cock, already half-hard again and still covered in Lucien’s saliva, one hand intently stroking it and he watched, lips parted and eyes sharpened with possessive desire. He wanted me, and Rhysand denied him.
Lucien’s fingers untied the laces down the back of my simple gown with surprising grace; they were steady and warm, and the moment they brushed against my bare skin, my breath hitched in surprise—Lucien and Rhysand both groaned in response, a low growl rumbling in Tamlin’s chest in answer to the sharpened sense of arousal I was sure suddenly filled the air.
Rhysand chuckled. “Now now, Tamlin,” he reprimanded, “don’t spoil our fun. You’ve had the pleasure of coming this evening. Shouldn’t your loyal friend get the same?” My dress loosened completely and fell away from my shoulders, pooling at my feet and leaving me bare between the two of them.
“ Fuck ,” Lucien moaned behind me, as Rhysand’s eyes raked over me, drinking in every inch of my bare flesh. “Can I touch?” Lucien pleaded raggedly, his tone barely restrained.
“Better,” Rhysand said, gripping my chin and turning my head away from Tamlin, bringing my attention to him. “Be a good girl now,” he purred smoothly, his voice a velvet caress as Lucien’s fingers trailed down my spine, “and bend over the chair, my little flower.”
I’d like to think it was Rhysand’s mind control, or Lucien’s insistent hands—one gripping my waist, the other splayed across my upper back, pressing me down—or the knowledge that this was needed to save Tamlin—to save myself— from this Amarantha woman, or even just the overwhelmingly compressing heady haze of thick arousal that clouded my better judgment…
But I obeyed, hinging at the waist, supporting my body across the dining room chair I’d only just been sitting in while eating my lunch.
Lucien was on me instantly, one hand digging bruising fingers into my waist while the other skated up my spine, then dragged his nails back down, the edge of pain mixed with pleasure causing me to cry out unexpectedly, my back arching and hips lifting.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Lucien groaned, his grip on my hip tightening. His hands withdrew and I heard the unmistakable hurried sounds of clothing being removed—the clink of buttons, the hiss of ties coming undone, the soft thud of fabrics hitting the floor. My heart pounded in my chest as Rhysand stepped back from me, slowly unbuttoning that exquisite dark jacket, sliding it from his shoulders.
“No need to be afraid, little flower,” he said eventually, as he dropped his shirt to the floor and I devoured his tattoos with hungry eyes as he unfastened his pants. Lucien’s hands returned, his bruising grip on my hips pulling me back onto what had to be the blunt tip of his hard cock, lining it up with my soaking entrance as he kicked my feet further apart.
My heart thundered away, an uncontrollable gallop now as Lucien groaned in anticipation, and Rhysand caught my chin once more, forcing my gaze up to him, the angle almost painful as it strained my neck backwards. “You can take him, there’s a good girl now,” he purred, and my back arched at the praise, my hips lifting even more, as Lucien slid into me with a long, sustained moan.
“ Fucking hell ,” Lucien breathed, withdrawing and thrusting into me again, his hips almost slamming into mine. “She is so damn wet,” he hissed, gripping my hips and sinking into me once more. The way Lucien filled me had me seeing stars, just for a moment. My hands dug into the edge of the dining chair, hanging on to it as Lucien’s cock sank into me again, and again.
“Lucien,” I gasped without meaning to, his name coming out as a choked whimper as he pushed into me once more.
“ Yes ,” Lucien groaned, “moan my name, just like that.” A rumbling growl echoed from beside us, and I turned my head. Tamlin sprawled against the wall, his face slack as he furiously stroked his cock, his eyes glued to where his emissary thrust into me from behind.
Rhysand tsk ed a few times, turning my chin once more to face him. He had removed his pants and stood naked before me; I could see every throbbing vein in his hard cock, mere inches from my face, as he stepped closer to me. “Eyes on me, little flower,” he murmured low, tilting my chin upward. “Now open that wicked mouth of yours, my dear.” His thumb grazed my bottom lip—Lucien’s hips snapped into me from behind with force, his curses and groans louder as his fingertips dug into my hips, brutal and exacting, causing me to gasp.
Rhysand’s thumb darted between my lips as soon as they parted with my sharp inhale, then withdrew. He dragged one hand back through my hair, pulling my head back with the motion, as he dragged the tip of his cock along my bottom lip. My tongue flicked out on its own, seeking, and Rhysand’s grip in my hair tightened as he groaned, the pain exquisite in my roots.
Lucien watched, mesmerized, but finally pulled back and pushed into me once more, the motion shoving more of Rhysand’s cock into my mouth than I anticipated, and I choked, making a sound somewhere between a strangled whimper and a moan.
“ Yes , that’s it,” Lucien breathed darkly and he thrust into me again, and again. “Just look at you .” His hands kneaded my ass, squeezing and spreading before landing one hard smack that stung, but that bite of pain fed my pleasure and I spiraled higher and higher, closer to the edge of my release.
“Eyes on me, little flower, don’t forget.” Rhysand’s savage grip in my hair tightened, and I felt it all the way to the roots. My gaze drifted up to him, and he was smirking down at me as his hips rolled into my mouth, his eyes half-hooded with desire. “You take our cocks so well ,” he praised in a low voice, his gaze drifting over to the side—where I knew Tamlin was. Rhysand chuckled as his gaze returned to me. “Poor Tamlin is simply incensed at being left out.” His eyes trailed over my shoulders, my back, my ass—all the way to where Lucien pounded into me, hands gripping my waist and ass like his life depended upon it.
Rhysand’s grip turned harsher, his other hand gripping my jaw and forcing my head further back, the angle aching my neck. “Now show Lucien a good time , yes?” he growled, a slight snarl to his tone that had my pulse ratcheting even more. My eyes were wide and unblinking, my mouth stuffed full of his cock. “Put that perfect ass of yours even higher in the air and make him come like the good girl you are,” he continued, the husking snarl to his tone lighting fires under my skin.
I arched my back further, encouraged by Lucien’s hand pressed to the center of my back, and he began to unravel, his pace increasing and his moans frantic as his hips slammed into me. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Lucien rumbled, shoving me further and further forward, Rhysand’s cock stuffing itself deeper down my throat with each powerful thrust.
Caught in between them, the frenetic spiral I rode toward my release was an uncontrolled tidal wave—Lucien, pounding into me, filling every inch of me from behind, and Rhysand, one hand flat against my throat, as his hips rolled forward in time with Lucien’s—the three of us chasing climax all at once.
“ Fuck, ” Lucien hissed through his teeth, inhaling sharply, as he came first, lurching forward and spasming deep inside me, his cock jerking violently a few times as he filled me with the pent-up result of his earlier joining with Tamlin.
Rhysand yanked my hair, snapping my gaze up to his, as he stroked his hand down my throat and purred, “What a good little Spring flower.” It was enough—the words, the pain of his grip in my hair, my choking around his cock as he sank it ever deeper down my throat, saliva running down my chin, dripping down my chest, the roll of his powerful hips as he sought his climax in my mouth—to send me over the edge next, and I sobbed my relief as I clenched around Lucien’s cock, my knuckles turning white where they gripped the dining room chair I bent over as my release splintered my body apart.
“ Gods , you’re not innocent at all, little flower,” Rhysand growled, shoving himself further down and withdrawing, his thrusts into my mouth savage and feral. “You’re a night beast in disguise, hiding in a garden, aren’t you?” I faintly heard Tamlin’s distinctive lust-riddled roar as he came a breath before Rhysand tightened in my mouth, then both of his hands pulled me as close as possible, his cock buried in me as far as it would go, and hot ropes of cum shot down my throat as he let out a long sustained groan, his cock jerking and twitching as I ran my tongue along the bottom, licking and sucking until he was well and truly spent, swallowing every last drop.
Lucien and Rhysand both withdrew from me at once after we had caught our breath, as I let out a gasp at the feeling—suddenly cold, suddenly empty, suddenly exposed. I didn’t dare look at Tamlin. I didn’t have any idea how we might come back from this, how I would ever look him or Lucien in the eye again—
“Always a pleasure, Tamlin,” Rhysand said conversationally, already mostly dressed—how was he so fast?—and Tamlin only stared at the floor. Neither he nor Lucien said anything.
I stood straight, covering my breasts with my arms. “So you won’t tell this… Amarantha, then?” I asked hesitantly, hating the way my voice shook.
Rhysand smirked—maybe at my bravery, maybe at my stupidity. I wasn’t sure. He stepped closer to me, and I held my chin high, my spine straight. Perhaps a smarter person would have cowered, but the taste of him still lingered in my mouth—what dignity did I really have left?
He brushed his knuckles down my cheek, the action terrifyingly tender after the way he’d hedonistically and savagely pumped into my mouth. “I’ll see you soon, my little night creature,” he murmured with a smile that almost seemed genuine, before tugging on his jacket and turning toward the entry hall.
My eyes widened, and I followed him—not caring that I was naked, not caring that I must have looked an absolute mess. “Wait,” I called after him, my feet slapping against the marble. “Rhysand—”
“You can call me Rhys, you know,” he said playfully without stopping or turning around, heading for the front door. “As I told Tamlin—only my enemies or my prisoners call me Rhysand. I don’t intend to make you either, my darling.”
My skin shivered at the way he called me that— my darling— but I continued to pursue him still, out the front door and down the steps, the sun warm on my skin. “You didn’t answer the question, Rhysand—”
“ Rhys ,” he corrected sharply, finally turning. “Please,” he said more gently. “Just Rhys.”
“Fine,” I conceded. “ Rhys , then. You didn’t answer the question, Rhys. Are you going to tell her?” I shook, despite the warmth of the sun shining down on my naked skin, which Rhysand drank in greedily, his eyes roving over me once more, and I finally felt the warmth—but not from the sun.
He smiled slowly. “We’ll see…” He raised an eyebrow, lingering on the end of the word, waiting expectantly—for my name, I realized.
I swallowed. I knew it wasn’t wise, giving him my name. He’d obviously take it straight to this Amarantha, and it would lead them straight to my sisters, my father. My village. Me. I couldn’t trust him. Could I?
“Feyre,” I found myself saying, and his smile grew, but it wasn’t devious or serpentine. It was almost… tender.
“Feyre,” he repeated back to me, and the sound of my name on his tongue was like the world tilting beneath my feet—like life changing course somehow. “We’ll see, Feyre darling,” he said, before disappearing in a ripple of darkness, blurring into endless star-kissed night, leaving me alone under the Spring Court sunshine.