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“Is this necessary?” I said, gesturing to the paint and clothing. “Of course,” he said coolly. “How else would I know if anyone touches you?” He approached, and I braced myself as he ran a finger along my shoulder, smearing the paint. As soon as his finger left my skin, the paint fixed itself, returning the design to its original form. “The dress itself won’t mar it, and neither will your movements,” he said, his face close to mine. His teeth were far too near to my throat. “And I’ll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you—let’s say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime—I’ll know.” He flicked my nose. “And, Feyre,” he added, his voice a caressing murmur, “I don’t like my belongings tampered with.”

Rhys and Feyre - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @ignartcio

“So you can’t shape-shift? It’s not some High Lord specialty?” “Oh, all the High Lords can. Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out. While your Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining.”

Rhys, Tamlin and Feyre - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @/sajrafox for @libriinscatol

"Because when I looked into Tamlin’s eyes, even now, seated beside Amarantha as her slave or worse, I loved him with a fierceness that swept up my whole heart. Because when he had widened his eyes, I’d known he still loved me."