maisie

Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.

Burnt orange and tangled in a messy bun at the base of your neck, he fixates on the damn thing as you linger at the nurse’s station writing your patient notes on a clipboard. He remembers the first time he pulled it from your hair, the way it tumbled across your features, framing them so well.

It had been another Fourth of July, one that was spent making fireworks instead of just watching them. You’d been wearing those tiny little denim shorts, sipping an IPA that tasted like mango on his lips when he kissed you at a mutual friend’s party.

You tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear and it takes everything in him not to go to you, to ask you how you’re holding up in all of this fucking madness. He holds back though because he knows that level of familiarity would not be welcome here. According to you, the two of you are still just hate fucking, despite the fact there’s three more of those scrunchies on his nightstand, and you keep a change of clothes at his place.

He may be your booty call, your ‘bad fucking judgement’ as you like to call him, but he’s still the place you end up after a terrible shift. The one that washes the blood out of your hair, who makes sure you eat, who tucks you into bed, holding you so close that he knows you must understand how he feels, even thought he’s never said the words.

You must sense his gaze on you because you jut your chin up, meeting his eyes. The world disappears for a second, the chaos, the noise and all of the other shit that comes with this hellhole of an ED. This is always how it feels when he’s with you, like he’s in the eye of the storm, like for a brief moment nothing can touch him.

It all falls away when you ask pointedly. “What can I do for you, Shark?”

He hates that nickname off your lips, the bite to your voice, the thinly veiled aggression. In a professional compacity you’re gladiators, going to war with each other over patients, surgeries and treatment plans. He forgets that sometimes, forgets that you aren’t just the woman he sleeps next to, that you’re the fucking bane of his existence on the days he ends up down here, when he should be up there in a surgical suite.

“That scrunchie.” He says, reverting back to that persona, to the asshole you love to pretend he is once the shift is over. “Make sure you wear it when I fuck you tonight.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

The words don’t feel like yours.

That’s the first thing. They don’t feel like something you decided to say. They feel like something that fell out of you, dislodged by exhaustion, the thing holding it in place quietly giving up. Your voice doesn’t even sound right. It’s flat, toneless, the weight of someone who genuinely, completely meant it.

The room changes.

It’s not silence- the monitors are still going, the ventilator still pushing rhythmic air through tubing, the IV pump clicking through its programmed drip rate. But the human layer of the room, the subtle living soundscape of people breathing and shifting and existing in proximity to each other... that just stops.

You feel it before you understand it. A stillness that presses against the outer edges of your awareness like a change in barometric pressure.

Then your brain catches up.

First, the echo of your own voice playing back to you on a half second delay, the consonants sharper than you expected, the fuck landing with a hard, percussive weight that seems to bounce off the tile and come back louder. Then the context: the room, the hierarchy, the badge clipped to Park’s scrubs with ATTENDING PHYSICIAN printed beneath his name. Then the realization. The simple, devastating realization of what you just did.

You are an intern.

Twenty six years old. Four months into your emergency medicine residency. You do not yet have the authority to order a meal from the cafeteria without someone double checking it. You have told a senior attending- the senior attending, the one the other attendings don’t even argue with- to shut the fuck up.

In front of people.

Your peripheral vision starts feeding you information you don’t want. Robby, to your left, has shifted his weight backward. Not a full step. Just a transfer of gravity from the balls of his feet to his heels, a subtle rocking away from you that his body chose before his conscious mind caught up. Whitaker has dropped his gaze to his hands, looking at his own fingers like he’s never seen them before, studying them with the rapt, deliberate focus. Behind you Princess has stopped writing. The pen isn’t moving. The soft scratch of ballpoint on paper that’s been a constant background noise for the last hour is just gone.

Nobody is going to save you.

The thought arrives with a nauseating clarity. There is no version of the next thirty seconds in which one of your co-interns steps forward and makes a joke to cut the tension or offers some plausible reinterpretation of what just happened. You are alone in this like a dream where you’ve shown up somewhere without clothes, exposed and and suddenly aware that every exit is very, very far away.

Your pulse is doing something it shouldn’t. You can feel it in your throat, your wrists, the soft dip behind your ears. A rapid, threadlike fluttering that you’d flag as tachycardic if it belonged to someone else. Your mouth has gone dry, tongue too thick, too present, a useless slab of muscle sitting behind your teeth with nothing helpful to contribute.

Apologize.

The word surfaces like an air bubble, wobbly and urgent.

Apologize right now. Open your mouth. Say Dr. Park, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what- say something, say literally anything, you have a medical degree, you passed boards, you are a person who is capable of organizing words into sentences that-

Your eyes lift.

You don’t decide to look at him. It’s closer to compulsion, the same instinct that makes you look toward a sound you didn’t expect, your body orienting itself toward the source of the danger before your higher brain can intervene.

Park hasn’t moved.

He’s in the same position he was in thirty seconds ago, shoulder against the supply cabinet, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other. The posture of a man who was mid-lecture and simply… stopped. His mouth is closed. The steady, unbroken stream of correction that’s been filling this room for the better part of ten minutes has ceased completely, and in its absence his jaw is set, his lips pressed together tight, like he’s keeping something behind it.

His eyes pin you to the floor.

They’re on you. They’re only on you. Not scanning the room for the reactions of the other interns, not cutting toward the door, not doing any of the things you’d expect from a man whose authority was just challenged in front of others. He is looking at you with a fixed, undivided attention that feels less like being seen and more like being ripped apart from the inside, read down to the last molecule.

His expression is... you don’t have a word for it. His brows are level, not raised in surprise or drawn together in anger. There is no visible tension in his forehead, no flare to his nostrils, no whitening around the corners of his mouth. The set of his face is almost neutral, would pass for neutral, except for something happening in the space between his eyes and his mouth that doesn’t match. Something you keep trying to categorize and failing because it doesn’t fit any of the reactions you braced for. Not fury. Not cold professional disapproval. Not the performative disappointment of a superior preparing to make an example of you.

He looks like someone just set something down in front of him that he didn’t order but has every intention of keeping.

Your stomach drops about six inches.

It drops because you recognize that look. Not from Park, not from this context, but from somewhere older and less clinical, somewhere your hindbrain catalogued and filed away under a category you absolutely cannot be accessing right now, standing in an exam room in your scrubs with your career in a shallow grave at your feet.

The air conditioning kicks on overhead, a low mechanical shudder that moves through the vents and stirs the hem of the curtain partition to your right. Someone’s pager goes off down the hall, muffled through the closed door, two short bursts and then nothing.

Park still hasn’t said a word.

He’s watching you the way you’ve seen him watch a complicated case- that particular narrowing of focus, that quality of stillness that means the gears are turning somewhere behind his expression, that means he’s already three steps ahead and you just became the most interesting problem in the room.

His chin dips. Just barely. A fractional tilt downward that changes the angle of his gaze, sends it through his lashes instead of over them, and the difference that makes is something you feel in the backs of your knees.

Your mouth is still open. You haven’t apologized. You haven’t said anything at all. The silence has gone on long enough now to calcify into something that feels almost agreed upon, a held breath between two people who both know what just shifted and neither one has decided what to do about it yet.

Somewhere behind you, Robby clears his throat and murmurs something about checking on a patient in Bay 4. Whitaker rushes to join him. The door opens. The door closes.

Park’s mouth changes.

It’s not a smile. It’s barely even movement. Just the faintest asymmetric pull at one corner, a shift in his expression so subtle that if you weren’t staring directly at it- and you are, god help you, you absolutely are- you would have missed it entirely.

Your brain is still trying to apologize. You can feel the words piled up somewhere behind your soft palate, a traffic jam of I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean and please don’t report this, but none of them are making it to your mouth because your mouth is busy doing nothing. Your lips are parted about a centimeter. You’re breathing through them because at some point in the last forty five seconds your nose stopped being sufficient, your body rerouting to the faster intake the way it does when you’re afraid, when your hindbrain has identified a threat and started allocating resources accordingly.

The problem is that your hindbrain and your forebrain are in violent disagreement about the nature of the threat.

Your forebrain says: career. You’re thinking about your career. The program director. The evaluation that Park files at the end of this rotation. The letter in your file that will follow you to every fellowship application, every attending position, every hospital that ever Googles your name.

Your hindbrain says something much less articulable and significantly more inconvenient.

Park takes a step forward.

Not toward the door. Not toward the computer, or the supply cabinet, or any of the dozen professional destinations that would make this a normal post lecture movement of a senior physician continuing with his day.

Toward you.

It’s one step. A single, unhurried shift of weight that puts him maybe three feet closer than he was, which means he’s now close enough that you can see the specific weave of his scrub top, the way the fabric pulls differently across his shoulders than it does across the plane of his chest, the slow and even rise of his breathing. He’s not winded. He’s not tense. His respiratory rate hasn’t changed at all, and you hate yourself for noticing that, hate yourself for the clinical part of your brain that’s catches that like he’s a patient instead of the man who holds your professional future in his hands and is currently standing close enough that you can see the flecks of amber in his irises that the fluorescents keep catching.

The room feels like it’s shrinking. Not metaphorically; you know it’s not actually shrinking, you’re not psychotic, you haven’t lost your grip on the material dimensions of an eight-by-twelve exam room, but something about the air quality has changed. It feels thicker. Closer. Like the ventilation system decided to shut down at the exact worst moment, leaving you to breathe the same recycled air that he’s breathing, the same molecules passing back and forth between you in a loop that feels more intimate than it has any right to.

Princess leaves.

You don’t see her go, but you hear it, the soft lick of the door latch, the brief rush of hallway noise that floods in through the gap and then seals shut again, the retreating squeak of shoes on linoleum fading into the mid distance. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t make an excuse. She just left, which means she either read the room and decided she wanted no part of it, or she read the room and decided you needed no audience for whatever is about to happen to you.

You’re alone with him.

The realization seeps in, cold and slow, like water filling a basement. It rises around your ankles first, the awareness that the door is closed, that the hallway noise is gone, that the only breathing you can hear besides your own is his. Then it’s at your knees, your waist, your chest, and by the time it reaches your throat you understand with a complete, full body certainty that whatever is happening right now is not what you thought was happening thirty seconds ago.

Park tilts his head.

It’s a small movement. The kind a dog makes when it hears a frequency it can’t quite identify: curious, alert, the whole body orienting around a single point of interest. But there’s nothing canine about the way he’s looking at you. Dogs tilt their heads because they’re confused. Park tilts his head because he’s decided something and he wants to see you from a slightly different angle while he enjoys it.

“Fourteen hours,” he says.

His voice is different. You can’t identify what changed. The pitch is the same, the register is the same, the vowels still carry that particular unhurried precision that makes everything he says sound like a bastard. But there’s a texture to it that wasn’t there during the lecture. Something underneath the words, packed into the consonants, something that makes the back of your neck prickle the way it does when you walk into your apartment and feel certain someone else was just in it.

You swallow. You feel your throat click with the effort. “What?”

“Fourteen hours on your feet. Four months into the hardest rotation of your first year. Running on what, coffee and adrenaline? Maybe some spite.” He pauses. His gaze moves down your face in increments. Your forehead. The bridge of your nose. Your mouth. He stays on your mouth for a beat that lasts about a half second longer than clinical assessment would require. “And that’s what comes out.”

You can’t tell if it’s a question.

Your hands are shaking again. You gave up pressing them against your thighs sometime in the last minute and now they’re just hanging at your sides, trembling faintly in a way that you’re desperately hoping he can’t see but almost certainly can because Park doesn’t miss things. That’s the whole problem with him. That’s always been the whole problem with him. He catches the suture tension that’s off by a degree, the half second hesitation, the pulse that’s running eight beats faster than it should. He is a man who is professionally trained to notice the things your body does before you’re aware of them, and right now your body is doing several things you’d prefer to remain unaware of.

“Dr. Park-” you start, and his expression shifts.

Shifts. Not changes. There’s a difference. A change would be readable. A change would give you something to work with, anger you could apologize to, disappointment you could grovel through, cold professionalism you could match with your own until the moment passed and you could go have a cardiac event in the supply closet like a normal person with dignity. But this isn’t a change. It’s a shift, tectonic and internal, something rearranging behind the surface that you can only detect by its effects on the landscape of his face.

His eyes narrow, lids dropping maybe a millimeter, just enough to change the structure of his gaze, and the look that comes through that narrower aperture is... focused isn’t the right word. Focused implies effort. This is something past focus. Something that has settled into its attention the way a thing settles into still water, disturbing nothing, displacing everything.

He looks at you like he’s already taken you apart and is now considering the order in which he’d like to do it again.

His tongue touches the inside of his lower lip. You see the movement through the skin, a brief, subtle pressure that reshapes his mouth for less than a second before it’s gone. It’s nothing. It’s a unconscious gesture, a self soothing tic, the kind of thing people do a hundred times a day without thinking.

It doesn’t look unconscious.

“Dr. Park, I’m- ”

“Don’t.”

One word. Quiet. Not sharp, not cutting, not delivered with the clipped authority he uses on the floor when a resident is about to make a mistake. This is softer than that. Lower. It comes from somewhere deeper in his chest, and the sound of it lands at the base of your spine and sits there, warm and heavy and refusing to move.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, and then he smiles.

It’s barely a smile. It wouldn’t register as one in a photograph, wouldn’t survive the flattening of a two dimensional image. You’d need to be standing exactly where you’re standing, this close, in this light, in this airless little room to catch the way the corner of his mouth lifts. To see the way it pulls something taut across the planes of his face, reshapes the hollows beneath his cheekbones, turns the set of his jaw from something authoritative into something predatory.

It is, you realize with a clarity that goes all the way to the marrow, the expression of a man who has been waiting for something he’s very much looking forward to ruining.

The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

It doesn’t need to. His eyes are doing something far worse- they’re warm. Not kind warm. Not reassuring warm. Warm the way a hand on the back of your neck is warm right before the fingers tighten. Warm the way a voice goes warm when it drops into the register it only uses behind closed doors. There is a heat in the way he’s looking at you that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with appetite, and it is so profoundly, catastrophically different from anything you prepared for when you walked into this hospital fourteen hours ago that your brain simply stops trying to process it and hands the reins to something older and less rational.

Your body knows what this is.

Your body has known since his chin dipped, since the first pull of his mouth, since he hasn't stopped looking at you. Your body has been screaming the answer at your prefrontal cortex for the better part of two minutes and your prefrontal cortex has been politely declining the call because accepting it would require you to reconcile the clinical reality of your attending physician with the man who is currently looking at you like he intends to take his time.

Park reaches past you.

His arm extends to your right, his hand landing flat on the counter behind you, and for one vertiginous, blood loud second you think he’s reaching for you, caging you in, and every nerve ending you have lights up simultaneously. But he’s not. His fingers close around the chart Princess was writing in before all of this happened: your chart, your patient, the one with the sutures he was critiquing when you decided to set fire to your entire professional trajectory.

He picks it up. He looks at it. He looks back at you.

“Fix your tension,” he says. Same low register. Same impossible warmth. “Then come find me.”

He holds the chart out between you.

You take it. Your fingers brush his. The contact lasts less than a second, barely qualifies as touch, just the drag of his knuckle against the pad of your index finger as the chart changes hands. He doesn’t pull away quickly. He lets the contact happen, lets it register, lets you feel exactly how steady his hands are compared to yours.

Then he turns and walks to the door, and you watch him go because you can’t do anything else, because every voluntary muscle in your body has been temporarily requisitioned by the part of your brain that’s still processing the afterimage of his smile.

He pauses with his hand on the door. Half turns. Looks back at you over his shoulder with an expression you’ll be replaying at two in the morning for reasons you refuse to examine.

“And intern?”

You can’t speak. You manage something- a breath, a sound, a squeak, something that exists in the neighborhood of acknowledgment.

The warmth in his eyes sharpens into something with an edge, something that gleams.

“Get some sleep,” he says. “You’re going to need it.”

The door closes behind him.

You stand there, chart in your hands, pulse in your teeth, the ghost of his knuckle still burning along the length of your finger.

The ventilator cycles. The IV pump clicks. Down the hall, someone pages radiology.

EPISODES:

why him?: You know Keir will have something to say about your sudden and theatric departure, know your parents will see this infraction fit for one of their special punishments. But neither of those facts deter you from your escape. This simply cannot be happening, it cannot be happening. 🌪

the bargain: “Was that all just for show, then?” You ask pointedly. “Did you only promise a bargain in order to get me out of there? Have I simply found myself in another prison?” “Of course not.” You think you sense actual offence in his face and tone. You hold out your hand to him. “Then make good on your promise, High Lord.”  🌪🌈

the greatest heist of all time: Part of you still feels like you’ve stepped into a carefully warded trap, but another part of you feels like you just got away with committing the greatest heist of all time. You choose to focus on the latter. 🌈

stubborn treks and staircases: You’re not sure why you feel as betrayed as you do, not sure why you expected anything—let alone loyalty—from the likes of the High Lord’s right-and-left hand men. Still, the betrayal stings. But it doesn’t burn nearly as bad as your legs do. 🌪☀️

the lines we cross: “What’s going on?” Cassian sounds from the door.  “She's showing us her party tricks,” Rhysand explains; words flippant but tone considering.  “What can she do?” You’re pretty sure you’ve heard the saying before that curiosity killed the Cassian, but you didn’t think it’d be quite so literal. 🌪

EXTRAS: -> their bargain tattoo

“I want you to seduce Eris.”

Six words uttered from your High Lord, a month ago, had drastically changed the trajectory of your life.

You blinked, not sure you had heard Rhys right.

“You want me to what?”

“Not into bed,” he clarified.

Your mind had still been reeling from the initial request before you could process his added words.

While part of Rhys’s court—his Inner Circle—you were never one to really dabble in the courtly matters. You’d only been to the Hewn City a couple of times in the two years you’d been a part of your newfound family.

Maybe it was because you were such a new addition—newer to the court than even your High Lady and her sisters—who’d arrived a few years before you had.

But now, you were a bit flabbergasted at the request. You gave Rhys a chance to explain though, as you gaped at him.

“The Winter Solstice ball in the Hewn City is coming up soon,” Rhys said, almost like he was thinking aloud, “I’ve invited Eris.”

“Okay…” you drew out, trying to follow.

“I think it’s time we reinforce our alliance—make absolutely sure he has full confidence in the Night Court as allies. I want him to weigh the benefits of what he might gain in continuing to be a cooperative ally.”

Despite a long standing alliance with Eris—even though it’d been several years of this secret alliance between Eris and the Night Court—he’d been a helpful ally through multiple conflicts. Rhys still felt it was needed, though. Especially with Beron Vanserra still very much alive and a constant threat to Prythian’s stability and peace.

Rhys didn’t want to risk any chance that Eris may one day turn on the Night Court.

You didn’t think he would.

Not that you would know exactly. You didn’t know the male—you hadn’t even met him.

You’d seen him once on one of your rare trips to the Hewn City. But it’d only been when he was in a deep discussion with Rhys and the heir of Autumn hadn’t noticed you.

You’d noticed him though.

And it was impossible to not take note that he was clearly very attractive.

Finely dressed, not a wrinkle in his elegant clothes or a strand of long red hair out of place. Creamy, pale skin. A straight nose, pale pink, plush lips that constantly curled into a smirk or arrogant grin—at least in the moments you saw him. All encompassing and searing amber eyes completed the very appealing male.

Not to mention his body radiated powerful masculinity. He may have been a court trained bastard and a sneaky, silver tongued courtier, but he was also a warrior, if the toned body was any indicator. You had spotted toned biceps through his shirt as he crossed his arms mid-conversation.

Not to mention your eyes had roamed the strong shoulders on the male.

You weren’t proud of your short lived ogling, but even still, it had happened.

But just from what little you knew of the male, how he had managed to hold up his end of the deal at every turn over the years, you didn’t think he would risk something as foolish as turning on Rhys.

You were still willing to help, even if it baffled you that Rhys wanted you to help.

“But why me?” you questioned.

“Because, you’re someone he won’t ever see coming,” Rhys said simply, hands sliding into his pants pocket.

“Okay,” you brows furrowed in confusion, “What am I to do?”

“As I said, seduce him—again, not into bed. But I want you to dance with him. Remind him how essential it is to keep an alliance with us. Flatter him, keep him appeased.”

It seemed easy enough.

“You’ll have lessons with Mor twice a day until the ball,” Rhys said.

Your brows now raised, “Twice?”

“Mor has said she’s going to turn you into the deadliest weapon the Night Court has ever seen.”

Rhys’s lips curved into a smirk as he continued.

“We’re going to make it seem like it’s his idea. He’s going to expect to dance with a female of this court, so he gets his choice. Knowing the male, he will always choose what’s new, exciting, something that’s a challenge.”

“Nesta? Elain?”

“He knows them. He’s met them. But you…”

“It scares me when you get that look on your face,” you mumbled.

He just laughed deeply. You were still a tad uncertain.

“What if I mess up?”

You couldn’t imagine what could happen if you failed. Not that you weren’t willing to do this for your court, but you still wondered.

“Oh don’t you worry, I think you’ve got enough fire in you that will draw the fireling, himself.”

And that had been that.

For a month, you’d had two lessons daily with Mor.

She taught you many dances from the Hewn City and a few Autumn ones, too.

It turned out she’d had the right idea for so much practice because the week of the Solstice ball, Mor had done just what she’d set out to do.

She’d turned you into a weapon alright, an absolute tool of seduction.

Mor, of course, had dressed you.

“Eris is all about appearances, so you need to wear the right thing.”

The moment you’d stepped into the dress, earlier, something in you had changed.

You felt confident. You felt powerful.

You felt ready to be the best seductress Eris Vanserra had ever encountered.

Between the extensive dance lessons and your attire, you felt like you had a good shot of pulling this off.

Now, you were waiting out in the corridor to make your entrance—separately from the rest of the Inner Circle, on purpose.

You remembered Rhys’s words from earlier in the month.

“We’re going to really play up your importance, make you obviously stand out. To the point that Eris won’t be able to ignore you. The moment he lays eyes on you, he’ll want to play.”

So the plan had been for everyone else to arrive at the ball and settle before you made your entrance. Cassian, Azriel and Mor went first, likely taking their places at the dais, followed by Nesta and Elain. The people of the Court of Nightmares were accustomed to the sisters’ presence now after so many years and they, too, were just as respected as the rest of the Inner Circle.

After them came Rhys and Feyre.

You were to wait five minutes for everyone to settle before you were to make your entrance, alone.

Mor—with the dress she chose for you—also played into Rhys’s plan of drawing extra attention to you, to make Eris notice you even more.

The dress wasn’t the usual Night Court black like most of the Inner Circle and the guests of the ball wore—it was a deepened maroon. Dark enough to still fit the Night Court’s aesthetic, but rich enough to look like the deepest shades of the jewel toned leaves of the Autumn Court.

Your family sure hadn’t been joking when they said they intended to make you stand out to the Autumn male.

For the dress was deadly.

It was sleeveless—the straps meeting behind your neck and drawing attention to the deep plunging back. So deep it left nearly the entirety of your back exposed, the fabric dipping to your lower back. An inch or two lower and your bare ass would’ve been on display.

Similarly on the front side, the neckline dipped low, to your breastbone, displaying a very scandalous amount of your breasts—which looked wonderful in this dress. You had to give props to Mor, for picking a dress that would compliment your body well.

The bodice was covered in a vast amount of tiny sewn on gems that sparkled, no matter which way you turned.

It sparkled, even under the dim lighting of the Hewn City.

The rest of the dress was equally as breathtaking and show stopping.

The deep neckline met a sheer band of fabric across your midsection, displaying a few good inches of the bare skin underneath. The main skirt of the dress was a more solid panel of fabric covering just enough to keep you decent—despite the fact the slit in the dress reached all the way to your hip.

The remaining fabric was an overlay of loose gossamer that flowed around your legs, showing off a good portion of your bare legs as well.

It was more revealing of an outfit than you’d ever worn and basically very little of you was truly covered. Yet it was still a gorgeous dress—all starlight and cobwebs—perfect for the Hewn City.

The gold heels on your feet were barely more than soles and a few straps, but they seemed to compliment the dress well.

Your hair had been fixed elaborately by Nesta, who mastered the art of braids. A braided style, different from her usual coronet, was how your hair was fixed tonight. Achieved by two thick braids on either side of your head meeting in the middle—where the remaining hair joined the braids and was swept up in a knot at the nape of your neck. A few strands of hair had been left out of the updo, framing your face.

There were so many hairpins in your head, you felt like a pincushion.

Mor had painted your lips in a deep shade that was almost an exact match to the dress and smeared kohl along your lashes.

When the whole look had come together, you looked like sin personified.

You definitely had a good chance of attracting Eris Vanserra’s attention tonight, that was certain.

You heard Feyre’s commanding voice offer Solstice blessings, then order the masses to enjoy the festivities. That was your cue.

With a deep breath, you put both hands on the double wooden doors and pushed them open.

Rhys’s earlier instruction came to mind.

“You enter like you’re someone of importance. Like you’re expecting everyone to stop and stare. You command the room before you even take a step into it.”

You paused for a moment in the doorway, held head high as you surveyed the room.

Just as expected, a majority of the attendees had turned to see what all the commotion was about—who had entered.

Your heels click-clacked across the floor as you approached the dais where Rhys and Feyre sat on their thrones, parallel to each other. Flanking them were Cassian and Azriel, the Acheron sisters and Mor in attendance as well. The Illyrian’s faces were solemn, but amusement danced in Cassian’s eyes, a twitch of an eyebrow from Azriel showcasing his own reaction. Mor, though her face looked bored, gave you an appreciative once over as if proud how her look had turned out.

Everyone at the dais had eyes on you.

Especially the prince of Autumn, who was clad in Night Court black. You didn’t look at him, but you swore you felt his eyes watch every step you took towards Rhys and Feyre.

“You summoned me?” you drawled, voice flat and bored, following what Rhys had advised you to do, prior to tonight.

“Act like you’re irritated to be there. That you’re inconvenienced to even be summoned by me.”

“Yes.”

Rhys’s lips curled into a devious smile, answering you, but offered no more.

You sighed, impatient.

“Why?”

More instructions from Rhys rang in your ears—you remembered everything Rhys had told you. You’d made sure to memorize it all.

“Push back against me a little bit. That’s the quickest way to get Eris’s attention—pique his curiosity.”

“Eris is to have his choice of a female from the Night Court to dance with. I thought it’d be the courteous thing to do—to make sure he saw all of his options—though I’m sure he’d like to dance with Nesta.”

You gave your most withering look, like you were truly annoyed to have your precious time wasted.

“Then why am I here?”

“Well, I did want to introduce you to Eris here,” Rhys said, casually.

Your eyes cut to the male, scanning the length of him in one—utterly put on—disinterested and bored glance while Rhys introduced you to him.

But Cauldron help you, was the male attractive. Probably too much for his own good.

You didn’t let that show on your face, though.

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t an absolute delight to meet you,” Eris drawled.

Your eyes returned to him to find amber eyes already on you.

Intrigued amber eyes were on you.

You softened your demeanor ever so slightly, like you were truly flattered by the compliment and dipped your head in recognition.

You turned your attention back to your High Lord, the snarky demeanor back on your face, in your voice.

“Can I go now?”

“Before I have the chance to dance with you?”

Once again, you turned to Eris.

He already looked like an animal ready for a chase.

Rhys spoke from behind you.

“I did promise Nesta that she’d have a chance to dance with you.”

A lie. But again, Rhys was clearly leading Eris to…

“I’d rather dance with her.”

His eyes hadn’t left yours, sparks of curiosity filling them.

You looked to Rhys.

“If you wish,” Rhys said to you, motioning to the dance floor.

Eris extended an arm to you. You tried to look bored as you took it and he led you to the dance floor. You didn’t miss the way he kept sneaking peeks at you the entire way there.

He paused when the two of you reached the edge of the dance floor, separating long enough for him to raise a graceful hand in mid air. Smoothly, your hand glided through the air to land softly in his.

His eyes sparked with actual fire as he slid a hand across your back, warm against your bare skin. The corner of his lips twitched as the first strains of the lovely music began.

He led you elegantly and you let him, letting him believe you weren’t as talented as he in the skill of dance.

That is until the tempo picked up, calling for the quicker, yet sharp and precise movements. That is when you took over.

Surprise shone in his eyes as he held your hand above his head and you gracefully glided around him—in a perfect circle—at a brisk pace before letting your hand go as you spun.

Your eyes never left him the entire time, your head whipping around even in the lone spin, to meet his eyes.

You wanted him intrigued, wanting, ready to play.

You wanted him to eventually crawl.

His smile grew as he took you in—your sophisticated and polished moves—and silently, you were extremely smug.

Mor had given you dance lessons, yes.

But your secret weapon?

Nesta Archeron.

The lessons that Nesta had joined you and Mor for had definitely come in handy. Coming from Nesta who was such a skilled dancer herself, you’d felt like you’d been taught by two of the best.

Not only that, Nesta had taught you how to entice. Not the art of seduction like typical, but in dance alone.

With the deadly combination of those two, your appearance and a bit of what your own personality could bring to the table, you thought this would be a cinch.

You had definitely been prepared for Eris Vanserra, at least.

Enough to know as you rejoined him, hand clasping in his as he swept you into the next movements, that he was thoroughly impressed.

You knew to expect him to be good at the dance, but you couldn’t help but find yourself impressed as well. He moved through the steps like it came to him as easily as breathing.

You mastered each dip, turn and spin, even twirling on the tips of your toes once—just like Nesta had taught you.

You didn’t dare search for her in the crowd or look to see if she still remained on the dais, not wanting to break the spell you were weaving around Eris. You knew if you did though, her eyes would glimmer in delight at her student executing each movement flawlessly.

Eris’s hand tightened against your back, fingers firm along your spine as he led you across the dance floor. Left and right, sideways, diagonally.

You were barely aware that the crowd had stopped just to watch you and Eris dance, for you didn’t break his gaze. Even when he spun you, when you twirled or when you circled him—which you did again, his hand still in yours, like you orbited him—your eyes never left his.

For this circling, you were light on your feet. As the sweet, beautiful notes played, a small, teasing smile upturned your lips. His amber eyes never left yours, utterly blazing as he watched you.

When the dance ended on a symphony of high notes, Eris spun you back into him, where you landed with your back against his chest, firmly. His hand splayed across your stomach, where it naturally fell.

There was applause, gasps and whispers from the crowd as they rejoined you and Eris on the dance floor, the beginnings of the next song starting.

Before you even moved, you peeked over your shoulder and you spotted just the brief flash of desire sparking in the flames of those amber eyes.

The plan was working.

But in your mind, you were beginning to form a new one.

•••

Dancing was similar to making love. The intimacy, the partnership, the sensuality of it.

Both were just as intoxicating.

Maybe that was why the idea sparked.

Rhys had said you were just to seduce Eris—dance with him, keep him happy and willing to be an ally.

“I want you to seduce him—not into bed.”

But what if you wanted to?

Your heart still raced after that initial dance, partially from the exertion and partially from the male that held you in his arms.

The next dance was less grand, serving the purpose of actually being able to talk to the male. That cunning smile was already on his face before he even spoke.

“Where have they been hiding you?”

“Obviously a different rock than they hide you under.”

His chuckle was low, sensuous, deep. It sent chills skittering over your skin and that wasn’t even you acting.

“You’re quite delightful.”

“Wish I could say the same for you,” you quipped.

His low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

Eris—like many of the rest of the attendees—wore Night Court black. Every inch of him was immaculate. Not a wrinkle in his clothes or a hair out of place, which was quite the usual for the heir.

That red hair gleamed like embers under the lights of the ball, sparking just as much as his eyes did as they’d watched you dance, earlier.

This close to him, you could make out the dusting of freckles over his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, lighter ones nearly blending in with his pale skin. From a distance even his more prominent ones seemed to also blend in. You realized you hadn’t even known the heir had such unique markings, due to never being in such a close proximity.

“You’re as quick on your feet as your tongue is with remarks.”

“Isn’t it a little improper to talk about a lady’s tongue?” you batted back, fighting the smirk.

His eyes studied your face and you caught the amusement dancing in them.

“Something tells me you’re not a typical lady.”

You gave him a sharp smile laced with flirtation, with intent.

“Perhaps not,” you amended.

The half formed plan that had started in your mind earlier started to solidify even more as you and Eris conversed.

Rhys had wanted you to flatter Eris, to keep him a happy ally, on the Night Court’s side. You had no problem with that.

But what if you had a side quest of your own?

You willed yourself not to shiver as his hand stroked down your back. You glanced up at him through your kohl heavy lashes, a small smile on your painted lips.

You swore you saw his jaw tighten just the slightest—his eyes squint infinitesimally.

He was falling into your trap beautifully.

Which was what made your desired side quest even more appealing.

Rhys hadn’t asked it of you—to seduce Eris into bed—but there was a niggling desire, an intrigue within you.

It wouldn’t necessarily hurt to take it one step further.

You’d always tried to ignore the small part of you that’d been drawn to the Autumn Court male—the part of you that was curious, intrigued and wanted to play.

Despite the fact that up until now you’d had no idea just how to play such a game with the male.

A small part of you wondered how you were managing to do so even now.

But something about Eris seemed to bring it out in you. You wanted to tease, to flirt, wanted him to play back.

You were barely even beginning tonight, but you’d come to realize it was a bit fun.

There was no denying there was a sort of spark between you and Eris—something that had sparked to life. Though you didn’t know if it was just the magic of the music and the dance, a part of you wanted to poke it, prod it, explore it.

Not only did you want to seduce Eris with a dance, you wanted to seduce him into bed now, too.

After all Amren had once said fae males would stick their cock in anything. It might even be…well, fun.

Your lips curved as you had the rapid fire thoughts. Eris’s eyes still remained glued to your face as your body moved with his.

“Something tells me you’re dangerous when you get a look like that on your face,” he quirked.

You lifted your chin, looking him square in the eye.

“Maybe you’ll just have to find out.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“Indeed I will.”

You moved the hand not in his from where it rested on his shoulder, sliding it over his chest. His eyes dropped briefly to the position of your hand before returning to your face, brow twitching ever so slightly—like he was amused by this little game.

It was then that his head dipped, hair falling forward as he whispered by your ear.

“Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.”

You waited until he’d pulled back, looking at your face, to answer.

“And what if I haven’t?”

He almost looked a shade surprised.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have danced with you if I thought you were this horrible bastard now would I?”

His eyes studied you—as if he thought you were playing some sort of game—like he was turning your answer over in his mind, inspecting it from every side and angle before he responded.

But he didn’t respond directly to your answer, instead he deflected from it.

“It’s a shame Rhysand has hidden you away for so long. I’d have much rather spent my time playing with you than deal with Illyrian brutes.”

You let the delight shine in your eyes, like he’d paid you the highest compliment to even be considered so entertaining.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” you drawled, “Enjoy my precious time while you have it, princeling.”

The male was practically drooling.

He was leading you into a third dance when Rhys’s voice appeared in your mind.

From where I’m sitting, I’d say Eris looks rather charmed.

You kept the smile on your face as you danced the more upbeat dance with him while you conversed mentally with your High Lord.

I’ll have him eating out of the palm of my hand before the end of the night.

Rhys’s voice was thick with amusement when he answered.

Seems like you already have, my dear.

You mentally smiled at the term of endearment from one of the males that had become such a good friend in such a short time.

If I’d known it would’ve been this fun, I’d have volunteered to do this ages ago.

You could hear the echo of his deep laugh in your mind at your comment before his dark presence faded and your full attention turned back to Eris.

He was still staring at you like he could eat you alive—a predator circling his prey.

Only Eris Vanserra had no idea that it was you that was the true predator.

•••

Eris had hardly let you rest all evening—not that you minded.

He swept you into dance after dance, finally giving you a break when he said it would be in poor taste if he didn’t partake in at least one dance with the other females of the Night Court.

Elain politely declined, in which he took no offense. You couldn’t prove it, but something told you he secretly delighted in it, knowing it was one less person to dance with until he got you back into his arms.

He did dance with Feyre and Nesta though—each absolutely lovely in their own right.

You found yourself amazed and captivated watching Nesta dance, watching one of your teachers in her element. She truly made an art of a dance just like your High Lady did with paintbrushes, canvas and paint.

While Eris was definitely impressed by the eldest Archeron, you seemed to clearly be on his mind for the moment his dance with Nesta ended, he was already strolling towards you.

“I do believe you owe me a dance.”

“Me?” you scoffed, setting aside the goblet of wine you’d procured, though you took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor once again.

“Yes. Simply because it would be a waste not to be able to dance with me again,” he drawled.

You rolled your eyes though it was playful, teasing.

“You certainly think highly of yourself.”

“You seem to think highly of me too.”

His grin sharpened at your narrowed eyes, though no menace lay in your expression.

“Now you’re just flattering yourself,” you shot back, “Besides, perhaps a female just enjoys the company of a good dance partner.”

His laugh was low enough for your ears only. It sounded warm, intimate.

A lover’s laugh.

“Why shouldn’t I flatter myself? Especially when I’m in the presence of such entertaining company. Tell me, do you enjoy playing the game as much as you appear to or is this for my benefit only?”

He was a lot closer to the truth than you’d let him know. If this plan were to work, you couldn’t let him know that this whole ruse was to keep him happy, keep him satisfied with a continued potential alliance with the Night Court.

So, you evaded the question, deflecting.

Your feet moved in time with his as you moved along the dance floor, the music wonderfully bright and beautiful despite it being a slower melody. The hand that had been resting on your hip slid along to your lower back, his fingers curling just slightly against the bare skin there.

“You know I’ve heard whispers about Autumn Court males. I’ve always wondered what that fire could do,” you mused aloud.

Just then you felt a lick of warmth move up your spine. Almost as if he’d let a spark of fire fall from his fingertips at the base of your spine—where his hand rested—and trace a path upwards, over your skin.

You jolted ever so slightly, startled at the sudden sensation.

“Thought you might care for a little demonstration,” he smirked.

“Cute,” you purred, almost mockingly.

You felt your breathing deepen, something churning low in your gut.

The sensation had been building all night—the desire, the arousal—but now, it was so hot and molten within you that it could rival his own fire and heat. Your body responded accordingly, breasts tightening, a throbbing ache starting in your core

“You have no idea what these flames can do.”

His voice had dipped low, the gravelly nature of his tone shooting straight to your core.

You sized him up and he seemed smug to have thrown you so off kilter.

“Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime then,” you offered with a smile.

If he had come to play, you were going to make it interesting.

•••

Dance after dance followed. Filled with intimate touches—his fingers brushing your wrist as he took your hand, your fingers lingering on his toned bicep, the muscles strong and prominent, despite being hidden under such courtly attire.

There were several times that he dipped you so smoothly, you felt like you were floating.

Each time his face seemed to migrate closer and closer to your own.

One dance that you’d just finished earlier ended with Eris on a knee as you spun before him. Twirl after twirl on the ball of your foot, the skirt of your dress whipping around you from the motion.

When you came to a sudden halt at the end of the dance, right in front of him, Eris’s hands grabbed your body, steadying you for that instant freeze right as the music halted on the grand note.

And that was how that certain dance ended—both you and Eris frozen in place, him on a knee, hands holding your body. Your chest heaved for breath from the rapid turns. He was staring up at you with a look of such intensity it would’ve caused you to be breathless—if you hadn’t already been.

You were positive the moment was so impactful that it could’ve belonged on one of Feyre’s canvases.

Those broad hands gripped your outer thighs and though one hand was on your bare thigh—thanks to the high cut slit in the side—the other rested over the fabric of the dress. That hand seemed to sear right through the fabric, as if he was touching your bare thighs on both sides. Though that one hand that rested on your bare thigh nearly drove you wild, like his touch alone burned you.

Eris didn't move right away, still captivated by you. Those amber eyes still locked on yours, his hands slid up your thighs and gripped your hips before he finally stood, towering over you once again.

The dance the two of you had just performed was newer to the courts, more demanding and faster paced. Sharper, quicker, more dramatic movements were a part of it—meant to stun and awe.

Meant to perform.

Rhys had made sure the musicians played this specific piece, meant for this dance alone, knowing it was a wonderful opportunity to bewitch Eris.

Rhys clearly had the right idea because as he led you into the grand sweeps and turns of the waltz for the first time that night, his gaze seemed to sear into you.

You know when I said seduce Eris to secure our alliance, I didn’t mean practically fuck him on the dance floor in front of me.

You had to bite back your laugh at Rhys’s incredulous tone inside your mind.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was simply dancing.

Your tone was smug and more than thoroughly amused.

There was a noticeable pause in your mind.

You might as well have lured him to your bed with that dance alone.

Good. It was what you’d hoped—at least for selfish reasons.

Rhys’s voice appeared one last time in your mind, caution lacing his words.

I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but whatever it is, I’d be careful.

The words may have sounded harsh, but you knew they came from a place of genuine concern.

Just enjoy the festivities, Rhys. Come tomorrow, you’ll have one happy ally.

He didn’t send a response and you continued your dance—your game—with Eris.

•••

You’d lost count how many times you’d danced with Eris as the hours wore on.

He kept you preoccupied—to the point you hadn’t even danced with any other male.

The only break you’d been able to have was when he’d danced with Feyre and Nesta earlier in the evening.

Not that you minded. You’d found yourself equally captivated and allured by the heir of Autumn.

Each of his slick and calculated comments was met with an equally calculated step of taunting and seduction from you.

The game you two played was almost like a dance in itself.

It had been a few moments since either of you had spoken, but he had such intent in his eyes, the same that you were sure mirrored yours.

The last few dances Eris did little to hide those intentions—not that you’d protested.

He found every excuse to pull you close, for his hands to wander into dangerous areas.

Once along your rib cage—thumb just barely brushing the underside of your breast—when he’d wrapped an arm around your waist through one movement.

Cradling the back of your neck as his hand settled over your back, a slow descent downwards from your nape along the bare skin.

Brushing the curve of your hip.

You’d tried all night to push past the desire that kept blooming in you, the arousal that kept building, but he was unraveling you a little more with each and every touch.

“If I’d known the Hewn City’s Solstice balls were this much fun, I’d been clamoring to attend much earlier,” he said smoothly.

You chuckled not even needing to pretend to let a flush crawl up your neck and along your cheeks. Though half of it was from the exertion of dancing, you’d been truly flattered by his pretty words and the compliment.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such fun. It left you a tad surprised to realize you’d been enjoying his company, too.

“Well you’re an important ally, of course you get the best of invitations,” you grinned up at him.

Though you were still flattering him—still following Rhys’s plan—the persona you’d put on at the beginning of the night had fallen away and had softened more into the real version of you.

Though that hadn’t stopped your flirtation with him. The longer the night went on, the easier it seemed to come.

“Well as an important ally,” Eris grinned wickedly, “Do let your High Lord know any future invitations come with one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?” you lifted a brow.

His voice dipped to a sensual whisper.

“That you will be present.”

He stroked his hand down the length of your spine again and you arched into the touch.

The fire inside you had become so heated by now that you nearly moaned at the action.

He spun you without a single thought, twirling you out and away from his body.

But this time, when he spun you back towards his body, something was different.

Maybe it was because by now—after a long night of yours and his game of seduction—both of you were distracted, worked up, wound tight. Perhaps that explained how Eris misjudged the speed of the spin, for when he spun you back into him, you lost your balance, causing you to stumble a bit.

You threw a hand out to steady yourself, to keep yourself from falling. Your hand landed on his thigh—but not before brushing across his groin, where you definitely felt him half hard beneath those finely tailored dress pants.

You hadn’t even noticed prior to this. But you sure did now.

A low groan barely sounded in your ear and you froze, having yet to move from where your back had landed against his muscled chest. Losing all sense of your mind, you pressed your body even closer against his, purposely brushing your backside against that growing arousal.

If you didn’t know any better, you thought he pressed closer into you, too.

The ache between your legs grew and you took a steadying breath, turning to face him again. Your face felt warm, but not in embarrassment.

There were flames in his eyes when your gaze met his again.

Outside the bubble of tension the two of you had fallen into, the music faded into a softer piece, appropriately timed for a slower, more intimate dance.

You’d just rejoined your hand in his when again, Rhys popped into your mind.

Whatever you’re doing, Eris looks ready to set something on fire.

You shot back a quick, mental answer, trying to mask your own tension and need that had started bellowing in your veins the moment you’d felt the hard press of Eris’s cock against you.

Just my job.

Thankfully, nothing else followed.

You and he said nothing following the prior incident though your bodies swayed to the velvety dreamlike notes of the slower music.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Eris murmured.

Being so pressed against him, his hand pressing you closer, your face seemed alarmingly close to the heir’s.

“I could say the same for you, future High Lord.”

All night had been like this. The effortless push and pull of taunting and teasing, sharp words, sharper movements.

You felt ready to crawl out of your skin with need. Which was likely why you did the unwise thing you did.

Eris’s back was to Rhys and Feyre, turned away from the dais. The slower, closer and intimate dance that was currently ongoing made you even bolder, made you sneakier.

Your hand slid down from where it had rested on Eris’s chest, until it slid past the waistband of his pants.

You didn’t even try to tamp down on your smugness at the sound of his sharp intake of breath the moment your palm pressed against the front of his pants.

With your close proximity, no one around would be the wiser to just what you were doing.

“What’s a female to do when presented with a grand opportunity such as this?”

If you had misread his intentions all night, then you’d stop. If he didn’t want this, you wouldn’t be a female who pushed.

But after the way Eris had been acting all night, the way he’d eyed you, chased you, you didn’t think he would stop you.

The hand that held yours tightened its grip. But the one he had resting on your back pulled you closer to him. Just as you’d expected.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t take advantage of such a treat as this, did you, Eris? After all, if anyone should know when to take advantage of prime opportunities, it would be you.”

You watched his face as your fingers curled around the hardness in his pants.

You could feel the warmth of him leeching through the fabric and gods spare you, just from the feel of him, you knew he was large.

You supposed that’s why the male was so cocky.

“I think you just unearthed a new aspect to the game even I didn’t see coming,” he rumbled.

“Oh something will be coming,” you purred, dragging the heel of your hand upwards, “But it will be you.”

The low, tortured groan that left him was the most beautiful sound of the night—rivaling the musicians.

You had to give him credit, he still managed to dance effortlessly, even as you mapped the shape of him through his pants.

“Keep that up and I may actually trip,” he mumbled.

Your laughter was light and airy, though a devilish smirk graced your lips.

“I intend to.”

Your face was millimeters away from his as you breathed the statement incredibly near to his mouth. You found yourself wondering what his lips would feel like—what they’d taste like.

You slid your hand along him again in a slow, torturous glide upwards. You watched his jaw clench and his lips part.

Your eyes darted to the side as you led the two of you in the dance, peering around to see if anyone was the wiser to what was occurring in their presence.

No one was.

Which made you even bolder.

It made you wonder how hard he was trying to control his reaction, trying to control himself from making the noises he likely wanted to make.

Your hand made another pass over the fabric of his pants—you swore you could feel his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

You tried not to think of how he’d feel inside of you, tried to focus on the here and now. It’d do no good for you to lose complete control right now.

You were smug as you felt his hips push further into your hand, rubbing himself against your touch.

“I didn’t realize you knew how to be quiet. Seems I’ve found a way to shut you up,” you teased.

He only responded with a halfhearted growl, his fingers digging into the skin of your back the more your hand moved.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gritted out, only loud enough for you to hear.

Your spine straightened at the nickname—something Eris normally wouldn’t deign calling you—and it made your toes curl in your heels.

Your fingers curled again as you memorized every single glorious inch of him by touch alone. You leaned forward, your breath as heavy as his, the longer you touched him.

His strong jawline was within reaching distance of your mouth and you wanted to lean forward and kiss it, bite it, suckle it. You nearly did, the temptation so great.

“If you keep that up, I’ll—”

You didn’t stop, stroking harder, faster. You had no idea what had come over you, but you couldn’t have stopped if you even wanted to.

“Eris,” you breathed, unsure why his name left your lips.

It came out breathy though, sounding half wrecked, needy, filled with all the things he’d stoked in you all night long.

With just the sound of his name on your lips, he actually did stumble to a stop, body tensing as he came against your hand. You felt the warmth, the reverberation of each spurt of his cock against your hand.

With gasped breaths he gaped at you, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Truthfully, neither could you as you removed your hand from his body.

You stepped back out of his embrace, not because you wanted to leave, but you knew you needed to if you wanted to preserve any semblance of control. You practically trembled from what had just occurred, the image of his stunned flushed face from seconds ago now burned into your mind.

Your voice barely managed to stay steady and even when you spoke—like seeing him come because of your touch hadn’t rewired your brain and set every single inch of your body on fire.

“If you want to keep playing, come find me.”

Then you sauntered off, leaving a stunned and breathless Eris behind.

•••

You’d left the festivities only a few minutes prior.

You’d made sure to catch Eris’s eye over your shoulder as you did, a sultry look on your face. Intent burned in your eyes as you bit your lip then turned away, strolling toward the exit.

You didn’t know if he’d follow—you’d hoped—but you knew there was no guarantee.

This had not been in your plan at the beginning of the evening, to get this carried away. This certainly hadn’t been in Rhys’s plan either.

You weren’t sure if Eris was busy making his excuses to Rhys and Feyre—or perhaps taking care of the very obvious stain on the front of his pants. Though you figured with a flick of his fingers and a small amount of magic—that he wouldn’t even have to think twice about—would fix that mess.

You were leaning against the wall across from the double doors, your bare shoulder pressing into the cool stone. One arm was crossed over your body as you appeared the portrait of casual nonchalance. You pretended to be studying your nails when you heard the large wooden doors to the throne room open.

You peered up, seeing Eris sauntering through them. You opened your mouth to say some sort of snarky remark—something, though you weren’t sure what—but you didn’t get the opportunity.

In the blink of an eye, he had you pressed against the wall, lips crashing into yours. You moaned at his abrupt roughness, the feeling of being pressed against the wall. His body that was as solid as the stone behind you, pressed to your front.

His lips were hot on yours and you kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm, the build up of tension throughout the evening finally exploding into this one mindblowing kiss.

His lips were as warm, soft and skilled as you’d imagined.

As he kissed you, your hands migrated from where they’d flown to his sides earlier, running over his abdomen. You could feel the hard ridges of the sculpted muscles through that fine black jacket and it nearly made you weak in the knees to imagine just what lay underneath.

His tongue flicked over your bottom lip in an effortless glide and your lips parted. You felt his hands caressing your jaw as the two of you kissed, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. You took the opportunity for your hands to explore more.

As your head tilted into the kiss—allowing him more access as your lips moved greedily against his—your hands ran over his broad chest.

His hands fell from your face, dropping to your hips where he gripped them, pulling you flush against his body. Every single inch of him lined up against you and his hips pressed forward.

The moment you felt his hardness press against you, you moaned into his mouth.

You needed him naked. You needed this dress off you, now seeming like it was suffocating you. It was itchy against your too hot skin and you practically wanted to strip naked and present yourself to him.

You needed him inside you.

Eris lifted one of your legs to his waist, as his other hand braced against the wall, right by your head. He groaned against your neck as he pressed his hardened cock against your clothed core.

Seemed like what you’d done for him earlier had just barely taken the edge off if he was aroused and hard again so soon.

You unabashedly and mercilessly ground into him even more and you swore you felt his teeth scrape across the skin of your neck as your hips canted.

Your hands were already working at the buttons of the black jacket he wore as his lips dipped to your jawline, your neck.

Half of you hoped no one walked into the hall to witness the spectacle, but the other half didn’t care one bit.

You arched into his lips as he nipped along your neck, one hand sliding up the outside of the bare thigh the deep slit in the dress exposed. You wanted his touch closer. It took what little willpower you had left to not just push his hand straight between your legs.

Your fingers fumbled through unbuttoning all the buttons along his jacket and didn’t stop there. They found the waistband of his pants and pushed the button through the hole.

The second the button was released, Eris swept you up in his arms and then it was nothing but black as he winnowed the two of you from the hallway.

You clung to him as you both fell through space and time—never quite used to the feeling of being winnowed, since you hadn’t developed the skill, yourself. Though it took mere seconds, maybe not even that long, it was still a slightly disorienting feeling.

The two of you landed in one of the guest suites of the Hewn City and you peered around curiously wondering if he’d just picked a room at random.

“I take it you’ve been here before?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Rhysand has set me up in this room before,” Eris murmured, hands already busy, trying to remove your dress.

He’d landed the two of you against a desk on the wall opposite of the bed, so you figured he had to have some familiarity with the room for such a precise landing.

He wasted absolutely no time in unhooking the straps that met behind your neck. With it unfastened, the bodice of the dress would be easy to slide off, the skirts likely to pool at your feet.

He took the opportunity to ravish each inch of skin that was revealed.

He pulled the dress down a few inches and his lips traveled with it—kisses left across your collarbones and down your chest.

When the fabric fell away to expose your breasts you saw the fire dance in his eyes, the utter desire in them before his tongue and lips were on them. More kisses were left across your breasts, glides of his tongue, flicking one of your nipples with it and pulling it into his mouth.

You moaned appreciatively, head falling back. His hands braced your waist, keeping you pressed against the desk and your fingers gripped the edge of it.

Not spending more time than necessary, he pulled back to rid you of the rest of the dress. Your eyes shuttered, your pulse skyrocketing at the sight before you.

He was more than disheveled, his hair a mess from where your hands had been plunging through it. His black jacket was completely unbuttoned and hanging open, his pants gaping open from where you’d ripped the button free in the hallway.

He looked utterly irresistible—even more so than he had all night and you’d thought it’d been bad then.

Eris’s jacket hung open revealing pale skin and toned muscles. You had an excellent view of his chiseled abdomen and your fingers twitched, wanting to run your hands over his defined and muscular form.

You watched as he stepped back, pulling the dress down your legs. On the way, he gripped your underwear and tugged it down at the same time, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“Greedy and impatient,” you mumbled, amused.

“You’re lucky I didn’t do this back there,” he grumbled, “I wanted to the moment your hand was on my cock.”

The second the clothing left his hands, he was back at your face, lips barely brushing yours as he hoisted you up onto the desk properly. He kissed you briefly, hands pushing your legs apart.

One finger traced a line down your center and you arched, a minuscule moan catching in your throat. You wrenched your lips from his, hips arching into his touch.

“Have you been this wet for me all night, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, nodding.

Your legs trembled just from the solitary touch and you were glad you had the desk to sit on.

Between all the touches, the burning gazes, the sharp, clever words exchanged, you’d already been rather aroused. The second you’d felt his own arousal—pressed your palm to his cock through his pants—you’d passed the point of no return.

All to say that your core had been warm and slick, in preparation for him. It would’ve been regardless if the night hadn’t ended up turning out like it was. Although this beat having to settle for just your hand, that’s for sure.

Your chest heaved, need bellowing so loudly in your veins as you watched him drop to his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs.

Adamant to not waste a second, he leaned down, tongue dragging over your folds.

At that first glide of his tongue, you might as well have melted in his hands. You moaned eagerly, the motion and sensation so intoxicating you felt like your head was swimming.

You craved more.

And Eris gave it to you.

He feasted on you like he hadn’t had a thing to eat in days as his tongue dipped into your core. You writhed, pushing yourself deeper onto his tongue.

He moaned against you, telling you how good you tasted, praising you for your responsiveness to him. You could barely hear through your fog of desire though.

“Gods, Eris,” you moaned.

Of course, in the middle of this was exactly when Rhys thought it appropriate to check in again.

You inhaled sharply as Eris’s tongue flicked over your clit, barely being able to register Rhys’s voice in your mind.

How’s it going?

Mother above, of all times for Rhys to interrupt.

You peered down at Eris, on his knees, head between your legs. Your hand naturally threaded into his hair as he licked you again, making you hiss.

It was a minor miracle that your mental answer managed to sound cool and collected.

Considering he's on his knees for me, well, I think.

Rhys’s answer came almost immediately after you finished your thought towards him, it seemed.

Where are you? I didn’t see you leave.

This time your answer was more strained, especially as Eris gave your clit a sharp suck. You found his eyes on yours, assessing you.

Busy. Eris is showing me how an Autumn Court male worships. They’re very dedicated.

Maybe it was your strained tone that gave you away, but you had no idea how Rhys managed to piece it together. Though you figured he had due to his brief pause.

I said seduce him, not breed with him.

You were close and really trying hard not to pay attention to Rhys and only to Eris—especially as you pressed even more into his mouth. He tightened his hold on your hips, his hands strong on your body as his mouth worked you.

You shot a final thought Rhys’s way.

Your instructions were rather murky, he’s now about to fuck me. See you at home.

With that, you slammed your mental shield up.

Something in Eris’s face seemed to convey that he knew exactly what had just occurred—those assessing eyes on you earlier seemed to pick up every little tell on your face.

He pulled back from where he’d been between your legs, mouth and chin glistening. The sight alone was nearly enough to make you climax.

“Tell Rhysand I said hi.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised to know he could probably tell when your mind was momentarily—even halfway—elsewhere.

“He’s gone,” you assured him, panting, body aching for release.

“Good.”

His tone was short, no nonsense and you were sure he’d resume his previous activity. He did not and you whimpered when he stood to his feet. His hands were already pushing his pants down.

“When you come, I want it to be on my cock.”

Your jaw slackened and you could only nod. Eris could’ve gotten any sort of information out of you right now, you were so far gone.

He chuckled, noting the way you were looking at him, that infamous and slightly infuriating smirk on his lips.

You were half tempted to kiss it off his face.

You instantly reached forward and pushed his jacket off his shoulders, baring his upper half to you and you bit your lip at the sight—Eris didn’t miss it either.

“Like what you see? You’ve practically been undressing me with your eyes all night, Lady of the Night Court.”

His slick courtier voice in this setting gave you a thrill, sending chills down your spine. He made the words sound so elegantly smooth and sensuous with such little effort. The teasing, seductive lilt of the playful nickname—alluding more to your home and not any formal title—slid off his tongue like silk.

For some reason, you realized you’d have little issue with him calling you that in that specific tone, more often. In fact, you’d welcome it.

“I recall those pretty eyes doing some looking of their own.”

You were utterly bare, sitting on the desk and you reclined just slightly, back arching, legs falling further apart like a trap being set.

He fell for it instantly, his eyes dipping between your legs at the glistening wetness there, all for him—all because of him.

He growled, low in his chest, at the sight.

He made short work of discarding the rest of his clothes and the sight of his fully naked body nearly made your mind short circuit. That beautiful, powerful masculine body on display for you made you want him on you, in you—immediately.

You couldn’t have helped it if you tried when your eyes—having a mind of their own—dipped to the cock that now was in plain sight.

Your predictions, gleaned from mere touch alone earlier, had been extremely accurate.

He was…gifted, that was for sure. Thick, hard and the tip flushed the prettiest shade of red, one that could rival the hue of his hair.

Also rather similar to the shade of red that the pale skin of his face and chest was currently flushed.

Before he could wrap a hand around himself, you were reaching for him and then his hands were on you again, his lips, in a heated kiss.

He groaned the moment your hand wrapped around him fully. He felt like velvet steel under your fingertips as you gave one languid stroke before guiding him to your drenched core.

“Gods, I’m kinda proud at how much I’ve seemed to affect you,” he gritted out as you dragged the head through that slickness, coating him.

You were past seduction, being coy and mysterious as you moaned at the feel of even the contact of his cock against your cunt.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you,” you gasped as his hand replaced yours on his length, circling your clit with the tip.

Your hips bucked, wanting more friction.

“Tonight?”

It took you a moment to figure out what he was asking—what he was responding to—to even remember what you’d just said. Your mind was completely and utterly filled with need for him, your body chanting that it was so ready for him.

“No,” you shook your head, “Long before that.”

And that was all you could manage before you pulled his face back to yours in a heated kiss.

It didn’t last long though for the minute he was pushing into your entrance, both of you had to part, so affected you couldn’t even manage to continue the kiss.

“Ohhh, fuck.”

His low moan lit up your already heated body and your inner muscles clenched around nearly nothing, considering he was barely halfway in. All you could do was pant, breathe heavily and whimper.

With one more move, Eris was fully inside you and you felt yourself shatter, reform and shatter again at how utterly perfect his cock felt within you.

Eris seemed at a complete loss for words, himself, as one of his hands braced against the desktop next to your hip. He bent, pressing his lips to your throat as your head fell back.

Contrary to earlier when it was all rushed heat, he seemed to take his time now. It was nothing but slow drags of his cock along your walls as he pulled back and thrust shallowly back in, more of a tease than a relief.

“Eris,” you whined, “You can do better than this.”

“Oh I know I can,” he smirked, lips trailing your jawline.

Fucking tease.

You lifted your head enough to peer down between yours and his body. You watched as his cock pulled out and plunged back into you, catching a glimpse of how your arousal coated him. The sight made you moan and clench around him.

He caught sight of your stare and smirked, mouth at your ear.

“Is this what that filthy little mind of yours imagined all night as we danced?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. You couldn’t as he thrust into you again, harder. Your hands flew to his biceps, gripping them hard.

“Cauldron, I knew you’d feel amazing,” he groaned.

Just the thought of him having imagined this as you had sent a bolt of heat through you.

His lips sought out yours and you obliged him, mouth hot over his. He moaned in your mouth as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him into you deeper the next time his hips thrust forward.

Perhaps it was because he felt so incredible that you felt seconds from tears when he parted from your lips—left your body completely as he pulled out of you.

“What—”

Your protest died on your lips the moment he yanked you down off the top of the desk and spun you, pushing your front down over it. You ground your aching nipples against the wood of the desk, dying to have him back inside you again.

You cried out the moment he slammed into you, the re-entry just as rough and deep as you’d craved.

“With the mouth you have on you, I figured you’d know how to use it like this,” he grunted from behind you.

He pulled out, his hips jerking forward roughly again—to the point your body slid forward on top of the desk.

“Oh gods, Eris, don’t stop,” you begged.

The moment he’d bent you over this desk, something in you snapped. You wanted him hard, fast, unleashed.

His lips were hot on the nape of your neck and you winced the slightest as his hand buried in your hair. He ripped out as many of the pins that he could—the numerous amount that’d kept your neat and precise hairstyle in place all night. The bottom curtain of your hair fell along your bare back, the top half still braided but hung loosely.

Eris gripped your hair, wrenching your head to the side enough for his mouth to hover by your ear.

“Spent all night wondering what you’d look like underneath me,” he growled, lips nipping your jaw once, then twice.

You moaned in bliss—at his grip, at his thrusts, all of it.

“Harder,” you ordered.

The deep growl from behind you made your eyes flutter as he reached around you to cover your hands—that were gripping the edges of the desk—with his.

His hips snapped forward harshly sending his cock deeper in you and you might’ve actually been screaming with each thrust.

“Yes, yes,” you gasped.

His answering moan as he pounded into you made you clench around him. He felt so mind meltingly good and with his harsher, brutal pace you knew you wouldn’t last long.

“Always knew you could handle me,” he gritted out as he thrust into you again.

You were beyond words now as each and every one of his movements sent you rocking further against the desk, his hands gripping over yours tightly. He was giving you everything and yet you still craved more.

He moved so quickly—briefly reminding you just how quickly the fae could move—something else you still found yourself getting used to. He lifted you from the desk top, pressing your back against his chest as his hand splayed across your throat.

Your head fell back in a gasp, against his shoulder and your eyes opened briefly seeing him peer down at you. His hand tightened over your pulse just for a few seconds as he stared at you.

Yes, this was what you needed.

The moan that left you was downright filthy and unholy.

Eris grunted his approval, his cock driving into you at such a brutal pace you were sure it would hurt to even stand tomorrow. Right now, you didn’t care.

Especially not as his grip tightened again, your cunt gripped him like a vise in reaction. His strangled, pleased moan was the most beautiful thing you think you’d ever heard.

Pleasure was rising, the heat that’d been a molten pool of lava all night now gathering into what could only be a mindblowing release.

He was just as gone as you, only grunts and groans falling from him as he worked himself in you over and over, fingers timed to squeeze when his cock hit the deepest.

“Er—”

You couldn’t even get the second syllable of his name out.

“I know,” he rasped.

His other hand reached between your legs, fingers circling your clit and you came apart with an absolute scream.

You think you even screamed his name, but you couldn’t be sure.

All you were aware of was the hot and sharp burst of ecstasy that exploded from your core, outwards. Your legs squeezed together, trying to keep his touch there as your body came alive with the intense euphoria.

He groaned your name as his thrusts became sloppy, losing their rhythm, him chasing his own release. Your body was buzzing, still flying high from your own release when you felt him tense behind you, both hands now on your hips as he held you tight against his body.

He came with a ragged groan, spilling into you so hard and fast you almost immediately felt it dripping back out of you and down your thighs. Your eyes slid closed as you savored the feeling, head dropping back against his shoulder a final time, utterly spent.

Mission thoroughly accomplished.

•••

You finished playing seductress now or am I interrupting again?

Your naked body was tangled in the sheets of the bed you and Eris hadn’t even made it to earlier.

Sweat cooled on your body, your breathing still uneven as you watched the male next to you stand, stretching just slightly before bending to retrieve his pants.

You mentally rolled your eyes though and answered Rhys.

You are the biggest busybody I’ve ever met.

Consider my interest piqued after your last update. Though some would say it’s more like morbid curiosity.

You were sure you sent a satisfied smirk back to the High Lord.

Let’s just say you have one satisfied ally.

I’m sorry I asked.

You grinned to yourself as his presence in your mind disappeared.

Returning to the present, you watched as Eris dressed, body completely warm and sated.

After the desk, you nor Eris had been completely satisfied and you’d quickly fallen into the bed for another round.

You’d climbed into his lap and ridden him hard and fast until you both were screaming. His fingers had dug into your hips with so much strength you knew there’d likely still be bruises there later.

Even after a second orgasm, Eris wasn’t finished with you and you’d watched his finger slide through a trail of his release that once again ran down your thighs in rivulets. He brought it to the apex of your thighs, rubbing circles until you fell apart again, watching you as if he was entranced as he made you come again.

Now as he dressed, you found yourself slightly mourning that the evening was clearly over.

You’d had fun, lots of it. From the beginning of the Solstice ball to this very moment.

But, you’d successfully accomplished both your tasks you’d set out to do.

You sat up, holding the blanket to your chest. You’d yet to move—to find where your clothes had been discarded—because frankly, you were exhausted.

“I do hope you continue to find an alliance with the Night Court appealing,” you said casually.

He turned to you, seeming to catch the way you’d been watching his muscled back as he’d bent to grab his jacket.

His smile was a wicked thing, though not cruel.

It was mischievous, all knowing.

“Sweetheart, you think I didn’t know what you were up to?”

Surprise filled you—that and trepidation. Fear that he thought the only reason you’d taken him to bed was because of his alliance.

“Don’t look so surprised. If I hadn’t wanted this to happen,” Eris said, motioning between the both of you, “I wouldn’t have let it. But yes, I do find a continued alliance with the Night Court appealing.”

You felt relief wash over you, happy to know you’d be able to report back to Rhys with the good news.

But Eris wasn’t finished. He continued buttoning up his jacket as he spoke.

“Though I must tell you, you’ve sweetened the deal drastically.”

His tone was smooth, smug, absolutely the silver tongued courtier he was. His eyes swept over you appreciatively, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I just wonder if seeing more of you—and soon—might be included in said deal.”

You bit your lip, a smile forming on your own mouth, happy to hear he’d enjoyed the sex as much as you’d had.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Catching you off guard, he placed his hands on the bed—on either side of you—leaning down and capturing your lips with his soft ones. It wasn’t as heated as the kisses from earlier, but it was enough to leave your head spinning, especially as he let it linger for just a second before he pulled away, straightening again.

“We’ll play again. Soon.”

He shot you a wink before winnowing away, leaving you already anticipating your next game with Eris Vanserra.

you and cato weren’t close at first, barely even acquaintances, and merely classmates at district two’s career academy, where competition was encouraged and fostered rather than friendship. the two of you have never even had a real conversation with each other and only spoke through passing, but cato already knew from the second he laid eyes on you that you didn’t belong in a place where they were teaching you to be a bloodthirsty monster who kills on sight in order to bring home victory.

it’s not him saying you weren’t a good fighter— you were actually one of the best fighters when it comes to hand-to-hand combat with the ability to beat any opponent, even if they were twice your size and strength— but it’s him saying your heart was too kind.

there isn’t a single person in this training center who comes even close to being as sweet and friendly as you are. the next one who does probably only possesses forty percent of it, which is being pretty damn generous. it’s to the point that it’s almost disgusting to everyone else, perhaps even borderline teeth-rotting, but you had such an easy-going and likable personality that it was impossible to hate you for anything. you’re all smilles and giggles, greeting people you like with hugs, laughing even if the joke wasn’t that funny, and it’s such a sharp contrast to how aggressive you can become when sparing (although, after throwing them down, you always sheepishly apologize in case you were too rough with them). 

he watches you from across the room more often than he would ever admit, eyes trained on you without blinking as you go about your day, but while you still haven’t noticed, his best friend clove certainly has. she keeps making jabs at him for how ridiculous he can be when it comes to you, acting like a complete fool as he goes out of his way to run into you in the hallways, making a beeline to sit at the same table as you during lunchtime even though he never dares to sit too close with you, and volunteering to practice with you to make up for his cowardice earlier. he wants you so bad it makes him look stupid, but he’s too shy to approach you while she is always pushing him. you’re so amiable that you could even become buddies with president snow himself if you so wanted to, but he claimed he didn’t have any time to pursue relationships when they were all here to train for the games, not to get involved with the other students romantically. 

of course, he’s considered about what would happen when he volunteers for the next reaping and possibly dies at the hand of another tribute, never to see you again, while filled with regret of his inaction during his dying breaths, but he tries his best to ignore it. he isn’t his own person here. he’s merely a tool for the entertainment of the capital.

tried of his lame excuses, clove decided she wanted to prove her point by befriending you herself and, eventually, becoming one of your best friends in a matter of a few weeks. most didn’t like her for her overly brash and sadistic personality, and it just goes to show how much love you have for other humans, able to see the good in everyone, no matter what their flaws were, and cato found himself starting to fall even more deeply for you.

she was right, he is a complete fool. imagine, the big tough cato hadley, the top male student whom most were too intimidated to approach because of how ready he was to sign up for the next hunger games and become a ruthless killing machine in the arena, crushing on some girl in his class because her kindness is something seen so rarely that it touched his ice-cold heart.

when the reaping of the 74th games finally rolled around, he zealously volunteered just as everyone expected him to, but before clove could do the same, you quickly beat her to the punch and volunteered in her place. the crowd went quiet for a couple of moments when your voice unexpectedly called out, confused murmurs erupting in the crowd, but if there were multiple people offering for the spot, then it was first-come, first-served, which meant it was all yours. while you were better at combat than she was when blades weren’t involved, you weren’t considered a good fit due to your reluctance to fight, and it made everyone worried that this was going to cost them this year’s win.

there wasn’t much time to say goodbye to family and friends, but he managed to overhear an argument you and clove you having in a more secluded area of the school. yes, he knows it’s wrong to eavesdrop on a private conversation, no, he didn’t want to spend the possible last days of his life wondering what was being discussed, so he couldn’t help but press his ear up against the wall/

“you don’t think i’m good enough compared to you, is that it?! just because you’re better at throwing punches than me doesn’t mean you’re more fit for the games— you don’t have the guts to spill blood in the area like i do!”

“no! it’s not because of anything like that!”

“then why the hell did you volunteer before me when you know damn well that i’ve been training my entire life for this moment unless you wanted to steal the spotlight away from me?!”

“i don’t want to see anything bad happen to you!” cato could hear your voice starting to crack from emotions overflowing, “i know you’re capable, you’re more capable than anyone else in the district, but you’re so young, and the odds are one out of twenty-four, and i wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you died at fifteen when i know i could have given you at least another year to prepare and ensure that you survive!”

clove was stunned to silence for a moment. it seems that she has forgotten your true nature and how every single choice you made was to look out for those you care about, even if it meant putting yourself at risk. had it been any of the other girls in the academy, her accusations would likely have been true, but she knew you would never do anything of the sort. “i… i’m sorry…” 

that’s the first time he’s ever heard her say an apology during the years that he’s known her. back when his parents told him to look out for her and played the role of her big brother, she’s never said sorry a single time, not even when she was in the wrong (and in most cases, she was definitely in the wrong), and judging by how her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, she meant it with all her heart. he could hear you step towards her to give a tight embrace before the tears started flowing from you, or maybe clove was crying as well? he didn’t know, but he thought to give some privacy during this emotional moment. who knows? it could be the last one you two would ever share. 

as you two boarded the high-speed train, he could see how red and puffy your eyes were as you desperately tried to wipe them away before he could see, clearly embarrassed by how high-strung you currently were, while he seemed to be as peaceful as one could be in this situation. silently, he handed you a few tissues before allowing you to weep in silence, an unspoken agreement formed not to ask any questions about how emotional you were being.

there wasn’t a chance for you to fully calm down before your shared mentor appeared to talk strategy, but it appeared as though all of your sorrows miraculously vanished within seconds. it was only then cato remembered that you were also one of the top students when it came to tactical attacks, although you were never number one due to your obvious hesitance when it came to the idea of actually performing them.

he couldn’t help but make a quick jab at this, instantly regretting it since he felt shitty about picking on you for no reason other than the fact that you still maintained your kindness while being raised to be ruthless, but he was pleasantly surprised when you made a witty retort. it was the birth of a friendship based on banter, constantly making little snide remarks to the other and chuckling when they shot back with something equally sassy. it was a side to you he’s never seen before as he’s only seen the parts of you that were sweet and the parts of you that displayed inhuman fighting skills, but it almost felt special to him, like he was the only one in the world who had this bond with you. 

it’s such a shame that he could only experience it for a few more days until one or both of you get killed. 

it was impossible to get his mind off of you, even though he tried so desperately to do so in order to focus on the task at hand, but all he could think about was how short-lived this closeness with you would be. when both of you were in the chariots and rushed past the crowds of the capital, he found himself discreetly holding your hand while you were waving with the other. you didn’t have any noticeable reaction, but you didn’t move away from him, making him think that you didn’t mind at all and that it was a way for you to remain grounded with all the adrenaline rushing through your veins. 

as if grappling with all these feelings wasn’t enough, jealousy was about to rear its ugly head. 

while all of the tributes were supposed to be showing off their abilities to the sponsors and those running the games, intently watching to make their evaluations to tell the people so that they could place their bets on who would make it the furthest, the boy from district one wouldn’t stop making flirtatious remarks towards you. you were able to ignore him for the most part, focusing on making alliances instead by getting close to his blonde teammate instead, but cato was fuming like a thundercloud. 

the second marvel laid a hand on you, he shot out like lightning to kick his ass, throwing himself at him and landing a decent punch to his face before knocking him down. peacekeepers had to emerge from the shadows to separate the two, but he was satisfied seeing blood trickling down his nose while holding his face in pain.

when you asked him what that was all about, he blamed it on his missing blade rather than admitting the truth, finding you scolding him about how you were just starting to get close to glimmer a lot better than knowing that he got into a fight just because he got jealous. normally, he would just tell himself it was all because he was protecting you from danger as his teammate, but he was too far gone to deny himself these feelings. it was all he could think about at night when he should be getting as much rest as possible since he wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep during the games, but his mind was simply filled with thought of you and different things would be between you if he only had as much confidence when it came to his feelings as he did when it came to combat.

once the evaluations were finished and it was time to move on to the live interviews, he didn’t see you all day. both of you were separately being dressed for your outfits tailored by your assigned designers, getting your makeup done, and having your hair styled. the main point of these interviews was to interest sponsors and allow the entire nation to get to know this year's tributes, making it sound like they were on a reality television show rather than being sent to their deaths, but he certainly didn’t expect to see you all dolled up in a way that sharply contrasted to your personality.

rather than leaning in to being the district’s sweetheart, you were being labeled as a sex symbol, fitted into a tight and short-length golden dress embedded in pink crystals of all shades which hugged around your chest area while wearing a bold red lip as well as smoky eyeshadow. had he not known your true personality, he could almost be fooled that you were this seductress with how you were batting your eyelashes and speaking in soft sighs. part of him was upset that they were sexualizing you for the sake of getting sponsorships, and another part of him couldn’t help but be flustered because of how attractive you looked, making him realize he really was no better than the other men who were shamelessly oogling you.

you didn’t seem uncomfortable, but there was a clear detachment from everything you said and did, from the intentional flirtatious manner in which you spoke to the little wink you gave the audience before leaving. it was almost like you weren’t there in the present, and instead, was somewhere far, far away where you didn’t need to be someone you weren’t. 

this detachment remained throughout the entire day, and you weren’t yourself in the least bit. you didn’t smile at him once, and during your last proper meal together, you were constantly picking at your food with a wistful look in your eyes. the reality was starting to sink in during the unsettling silence with the only sound being silverware clinking against the ceramics, no longer able to pretend that this was a vacation of sorts where you got to live in luxury for a few days. you really were going to have to kill or be killed a little more than twelve hours from now, and it made you sick to the point that you pushed away your plate and decided to head to bed in hopes that some sleep would help you feel better.

cato could hear you crying in your room once he was finished, standing there awkwardly for a few moments as his heart started to break. you didn’t deserve this. you could have done so many wonderful things with your kindness, helping the less fortunate, and maybe even be able to change the tragic present you were living in in exchange for a better future, but you were trapped like all the other tributes were, to be circus animals for the entertainment of the capital because of the sins of your ancestors. 

he gently knocked on the door, finding it impossible not to when his heart was aching at the mere knowledge that you were suffering. he could hear you shuffling around and sniffling the tears away before giving vocal permission, but even when he entered, he could see what a wreck you were.

“is… everything okay..?” 

“what do you think? nothing is okay! we could die as soon as tomorrow, and we’re expected to be okay with it! i know we’re the older tributes from the career districts who have been training us since we could walk, but some of the others are only fourteen and can barely shoot an arrow correctly!”

“you don’t have anything to worry about, you’re one of the best out there! you got a ten in the evaluation, and all the sponsors love you, you’re one of the most likely to win!”

“but if i win, then that means you didn’t! i don’t want you to die! how could i live with myself knowing that i’m victorious when my teammate got killed by another poor child who was just trying to survive themselves?!”

he didn’t say anything in response to that, know that you were completely in the right to be feeling this way. if he were any more in touch with his emotions, he would probably be having a mental breakdown too, but all he did was wrap his arm around you and allow you to rest your head on one of his broad shoulders. “i know, i know, but that’s our reality right now, we just have to live with it.”

before he realized what he was doing, he moved to place a tender kiss on your cheek, although he immediately apologized once he saw you looking at him all wide-eyed, “i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that— i should go—”

“no! please, don’t leave me. i don’t want to be alone for the night, can you stay here with me?” you pleaded. he’s never heard you so desperate and afraid before, like the night would take him away before the games did, so he remained in your bed and held you close in assurance.

“you know… clove told me that you had feelings for me, but… i didn’t think a guy like you would like someone like me…”

“why would you think that?”

“well, you know… you’re cato hadley… you’re the guy who everyone says doesn’t have emotions other than anger… i know that isn’t true, i just didn’t think you would like me out of everyone else at the academy when i’m not… brave…” you finished with a sigh. there was no point to being as skilled as you are if you refused to use your talents and instead preferred to talk your way out of everything. words weren’t going to help you win these games, you didn’t even have the guts to speak out against them in the first place.

he was surprised to hear that you thought so highly of him when your interactions were minimal, but it’s a lot better than you knowing what a creep he was for watching you from afar with an infatuated look in his eyes. “even if you weren’t brave— which i think you are— you have so many other qualities that made me fall for you.”

his sappy words made you giggle, “wow, i didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“did you think that heavy-lifting was all i’m good at?”

in the moment where he couldn’t help but kiss you once again, you could almost forget about the nightmare that was awaiting you a little over twelve hours from now. the keyword was almost, for even the romantic mood wasn’t enough to soothe the sense of impending doom settled in your soul. there was nothing more you wanted than to savor this night in the best way possible, able to understand the mutual fantasies running through both your minds with a simple look, and you decided that you refused to die in the arena with regret because you were too shy to make a physical declaration of your shared affection.

it was a little awkward considering it was both your first time engaging in such an intimate activity, but in a way, it only made everything much more special and endearing, and it soon melted away into a comfortable rythem. as he pushed you back in bed and settled himself on top of you, he kept his lips on yours, intertwining his hands with yours. it all felt like a dream of some sort to be with him, hearing the room begin to fill with soft gasps and sighs,

you wondered if this was what true love felt like as you gripped the silk sheets, the kind you used to read about in fairy tale storybooks when you were a child, where the handsome prince fell head over heels for the beautiful princess. although, you felt like a royal who was trapped in a tower, unable to escape from her fate. you briefly wonder if cato was having these thoughts too, thinking about how this was the last thing you would do together before being shipped off to fight to the death, but you decided to ignore it the best you could.

you’ll think about strategies and bloodshed tomorrow when the time comes. for now, you were just going to hold him tight and enjoy this moment until you fell asleep in each other's embrace, forgetting about what was awaiting the two of you.

“yeah and you’re from 2,” you responded coolly, matching his intensity.

he smiled, just a flicker of amusement in his usually hard gaze. “smart and quick. i’ve been watching.”

the compliment caught you off guard, but you weren’t going to let him fluster you. “and i’ve been watching you. you swing that sword around like you own the arena.”

“i will,” he smirked.

for the next few days, you found yourselves crossing paths more often. cato seemed intrigued by you. unlike the other tributes, you didn’t try to join the careers immediately or seek anyone’s approval. you trained alone, silently observing, but you couldn’t deny there was something magnetic about him. he was ruthless, yes, but there was more to him, a sharp mind behind all that muscle.

one day, during a break, he came over sitting next to you without a word. after a long pause, he glanced sideways at you.

“why haven’t you tried to team up with us? you’d be an asset,” he asked, breaking the silence.

you shrugged, keeping your tone neutral. “i don’t need anyone. but that doesn’t mean i’m not paying attention.”

he chuckled softly, leaning in a little. “you’re different from the others. i like that.”

when the games finally began, you found yourself separated from cato, surviving on your own as you had planned, but eventually, circumstances led you to the careers. they needed someone clever, someone who could outthink their opponents and you needed protection, at least for now.

though you were part of their group, things with cato were different. the other careers respected him, followed his lead but with you, there was a strange unspoken bond. he watched your back, ensuring that no one in the group turned on you, and in return, you offered strategies, pointed out details they might’ve missed, ensuring your collective survival.

the capitol noticed, of course they did. they were always watching and soon, the audience was enamored by the subtle but undeniable connection between you and cato. the two of you, from districts so different, somehow forged a bond that wasn’t just about the games, it felt real. your conversations were brief but meaningful, stolen moments of quiet between the bloodshed and chaos.

you’d talk late at night by the campfire, your voices hushed so the others wouldn’t hear.

“you’re always thinking, aren’t you?” cato asked one evening, his voice softer than usual, eyes on the flickering flames.

“someone has to,” you teased lightly, playfully nudging him. “you do the muscle work, i’ll handle the brains.”

he chuckled, but then his expression grew serious. “when this is over… when one of us wins… what do you think will happen?”

you didn’t have an answer. for the first time, you weren’t sure.

as the numbers of remaining tributes dwindled, it became clear that things weren’t going to go as planned. katniss and peeta had drawn attention with their star-crossed lover story, but you and cato had something different, an undeniable chemistry that wasn’t for show. the capitol loved it. the audience was fascinated by how you, from such different districts, had managed to connect.

and then came the final announcement.

“in a stunning turn of events, due to popular demand, there will be four victors of the 74th hunger games!”

the arena exploded in chaos. the careers turned on each other, but in the end, it was you, cato, katniss, and peeta standing as the final survivors. the capitol was thrilled by the drama and romance and couldn't resist the twist. they declared all of you winners.

you had survived the arena, against all odds. but now came the real test, life after the games.

after the victory tour, you and cato stayed together. your bond, forged in the games, only grew stronger. the capitol celebrated you both as a couple, and when the victory tour reached district 2, cato introduced you to his family.

district 2 was nothing like your home. it was hard, structured, and focused on strength and military power. cato was proud to show you where he came from, guiding you through the stone paved streets as people stared, recognizing their district’s victor and the person he had brought back with him.

when he introduced you to his family, you were surprised by how fast they warmed up to you. his mother embraced you tightly, whispering how glad she was that you were there, how she had noticed the way cato looked at you during the games. his younger siblings were in awe of you, asking you a hundred questions about the arena.

later that night, as you stood on the balcony of cato’s home, looking out over district 2, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“thank you,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“for what?” you asked softly.

“for being here. for surviving. for being with me,” he said, his voice low, filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache.

you leaned back into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

and for the first time in a long time, cato smiled, a real smile, nothing but hope for your future.

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He'd run you a bath with rose petals and bubbles and candles, and had treated you to the best back massage you'd ever received. His thumbs worked into the knots in your neck, prying moans and squeaks from you that he revelled in, and he had run a soapy sponge over your body, cleaning and kissing your body as he went.

Now, you were laying on top of the sheets, hair still wet, as he licked and sucked at your cunt. His tongue ran from your soaked entrance to your clit, skilfully applying just the right amount of pressure to bring you to your climax.

When one particular movement sent shivers all the way down your spine and created an explosion at your core, you grabbed onto his onyx hair and released a loud wail.

"I know, baby," You could feel his smirk on your pussy, "That's a good girl. Let it all out."

"Rhys, please." You panted.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me, Rhys." You were desperate, gasping as air refused to fill your lungs, legs shaking around his head.

"Oh, darling. Look at you," He grabbed your thighs and placed them around his waist instead, moving his body up to meet yours. His cock brushed delicately against you, drawing a delicious mewl from your lips, "Don't worry, I'm gonna take such good care of my High Lady."

You melted further into the bed as his lips found purchase on your neck, travelling down, down, down, until his lips latched around your nipple, nipping gently at the swollen bud. He ran his hands over your waist and down to your hips, rubbing with his thumbs gently.

He released his hold on your breast, instead opting for planting a kiss on your lips. He was loving, tender. His tongue swiped your bottom lip before entering your mouth, meeting yours delicately, instead of the fervour he usually approached with.

You were too distracted by his mouth to notice him reach one hand down to his length, stroking himself before positioning the tip and sinking into you.

The feel of him filling you was euphoric, hands reaching to scratch down his back and grab at what you could. Your body arched up into him as you both moaned together, his a deep, guttural growl.

"Fuck, I could never get bored of this feeling." He groaned and began to rock back and forth, teasing you with his cock, pulling out all the way to his tip and sheathing himself inside of you over and over again.

"Oh, Rhys," You moaned, "So fucking good - shit."

You bucked your hips, matching his rhythm. Your bodies moved together, a rhythm you'd perfected over time together, yet somehow always better than the last time you'd fucked. But this, this wasn't fucking. He was loving you. Doting on you and waiting hand and foot.

"That's it, my mate. Fuck yourself on me." He choked out.

He continued his movements, rubbing your walls exquisitely. You became a flurry of hands and mouths, grabbing and kissing and sucking. You were so desperate for him, your body begging to intertwine with his. Nothing was enough for you.

Moans and whines filled the wide expanse of the dark room as Rhys brought you to an orgasm over and over, watching as the sweat dripped down your forehead from the heat between your writhing bodies.

"My dirty girl," A grit from between his teeth, "Fucking love you like this, underneath me."

He was already awake when the water in the bathroom shut off, his golden eyes flicking up from where he lounged on your shared bed, one arm behind his head, the other twirling a flame absently between his fingers.

Steam curled into the bedroom as you stepped out, towel wrapped around your body, your damp hair dripping onto your shoulders. The scent of you—clean, warm, laced with something sweet Eris could never quite name but always craved—drifted toward him, and his flame flickered out.

He had nowhere else to be. No courtly obligations, no brothers to glare at across a war table, no schemes to run through his mind.

Not when he could be here.

Not when he could watch you move through your morning routine, utterly unaware of how completely you had him.

Eris propped himself up on one elbow as you grabbed a bottle from your dresser. His mouth nearly watered at the familiar scent of your moisturizer, something warm and rich with a hint of vanilla. A scent that lingered on his skin every night after he pulled you into his arms, after he had you beneath him, gasping his name.

He was going to bite you later. Probably right on the spot where you were rubbing that lotion into your neck, fingers massaging gently. Would you whimper for him if he sank his teeth into that soft, perfumed skin? He’d find out.

His lips twitched when you wandered over to the closet, pulling out two tops and considering them in the mirror. It was a familiar ritual—one he never interrupted, always patient, always waiting for—

There it was.

You turned, holding up both options. “Which one?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Black.”

It was an easy answer, one he’d already decided the moment you pulled them out. But he liked it when you asked.

You rolled your eyes but tossed the other back into the closet, slipping the chosen shirt over your head. He let out a slow breath when the fabric fell into place. Good choice.

Eris sat up fully, stretching his arms over his head as he watched you smooth your hands down the shirt, then move on to jewelry—delicate rings and a necklace he’d gifted you on your first solstice together. His chest warmed as you clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing over the small ember-shaped charm.

“Are you going to lay there all day?” you teased, glancing at him through the mirror.

Eris only smirked, standing with the fluid grace of a predator, moving toward you with lazy, unhurried steps. His arms wound around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.

You hummed, tilting your head to look at him in the mirror. “Thought you liked watching me get ready.”

“I do,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. His voice was lower now, raspier, like embers crackling beneath his breath. “But I like ruining you more.”

His teeth scraped over your pulse, his hands splaying over your stomach, pressing you back into him. Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling through you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Eris,” you whispered, warning and wanting all at once.

He hummed, his grip tightening just slightly. Just enough to make you feel it.

“You smell too fucking good,” he muttered, lips brushing against your jaw. “Might have to keep you in bed all day.”

You laughed, though it was breathier now, leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eris smirked against your skin. He had nowhere better to be, after all.

You've never bedded a High Lord before, but apparently you do a good enough job to make Eris finish before you. You get the sense that he hadn't meant to climax so quickly from the rugged 'shit' he grunts into the dewey skin of your neck, but you're flattered at his lack of control, so you're satisfied without your own orgasm.

Eris pulls out of your sopping cunt, slick gathered there that had let his cock piston in and out of your cunt so smoothly it had felt like neither of you had to exert any effort at all. It was like you were sucking him in, and he was pressing as far into you as possible, jackrabbiting into you like a man starved. You'd heard the rumors about Vanserras, you just hadn't expected them to be this correct.

As soon as he drags himself off of the bed, his flaming red hair tousled from your fingers so that it drapes in wayward strings every direction but the one it's supposed to go, you're hauling yourself up, vacating his bedsheets to dress yourself in the corner of his chambers and make a polite duck for your own bathrooms down in the serving quarters.

But Eris catches you by the wrist, his palm clammy against your skin as he pants, "Where do you think you're going?"

He tugs you closer while you speak, standing at the edge of the bed now as he brackets your hips with his hands. All of a sudden you're standing between his legs, and his short puffs of breath wash against your face, making your cheeks more fiery with heat.

"I- I was going to get dressed, Lord Eris." You glance feebly over his shoulder at your serving attire discarded on the floor, "It's very late."

"Yes," Eris casts an amused glance out the window at the pitch-black sky, "That's why I brought you to my bedroom."

Your face warms impossibly further, and Eris leans in to press his parted lips to your mouth. You let him take what he wants, relishing in the way his tongue flicks devilishly at yours, tasting the desire in your mouth.

"Do you really think me so callous as to throw you out into the hallway after I got my fill?" He asks, murmuring the words between your lips and into the cavern of your mouth. You know you're meant to let him lead, but you can't stop yourself from kissing desperately at his lips while he speaks, his voice dangerously sly, "And without even making you cum? What sort of a lover would I be then?"

"It's okay," You attempt a shrug, but Eris's tongue is in your mouth before you can finish the sentence, and he presses you down to the mattress with the weight of his own body. He snakes his way down your throat next, leaving searing kisses in the wake of his lips that trail down your abdomen, sucking and licking and nipping at your exposed skin.

The first time you twirled a fiery red strand between your fingers, Eris actually blushed. It was in the initial stages of your relationship when you were still sneaking around to hide the mating bond from his ruthless father. Eris was lying in your bed with his head propped up on your lap as you arranged his long hair into a braid. 

“You’re just so pretty, babe,” you murmured as you kissed the tip of his nose.

Ever since then, Eris jumped at any opportunity to have your fingers in his hair. His absolute favorite was when you shampooed his scalp in the bath, just as you were doing now. Your mate, the High Lord of the Autumn Court, was nothing but putty in your hands as he leaned back against you, his toned body light and relaxed while you worked your magic. 

As soon as Eris walked into your shared bedchambers, it took one look to discern that your mate desperately needed a relaxing bath to wash away the stress of the day. You took great care in making sure the water was the perfect temperature and took it upon yourself to pick out a mixture of soaps and herbs that tinted the bath a pretty pink hue. It had taken Eris all but a brief glance at your naked form waiting for him in the large marble tub before he was undressing and crawling into the steaming water. 

“Did you have a long day, my love?” 

Eris groans as warm water swirls around his tense shoulders. “That might be the understatement of the night," he sighs as you massage the knots forming on his shoulders. "With our new initiative to pay our farmer’s fair wages, I have been bombarded with complaint after complaint from the nobility.” He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “As if raising their taxes to pay for what they’ve swindled under my father’s rule is the most abhorrent thing out of this whole ordeal.” 

You hum in disapproval, massaging the concoction of herbs onto your mate’s scalp. His eyes flutter close, those long lashes of his kissing the tops of his freckled cheeks. “They will cease their incessant whining once we unveil our plan to open trade between our court and the Continent.”

Your mate stirs underneath you, leaning further into your touch while you lather up his russett locks. “The meeting with the ambassadors went well, then?” You nod as Eris beams proudly. “I can’t say I’m surprised. If anyone could convince those uppity bastards to agree to our terms, it would be you. Have I ever told you how charming and irresistible you are, my love?” 

You chuckle in response. “Not nearly enough, but I’m sure that you’ll more than make up for it once we deliver our good news to the nobles no later than the end of this week.” 

Eris smirks. “I can think of a few ways to show my appreciation, little fox.” You flick his nose and your mate chuckles, pressing a teasing kiss on your collarbone. “I assume my brothers were on their best behavior while you sealed the deal?” 

“They were. Though I may have prefaced the meeting with a promise to turn them into frogs should they choose to embarrass me in front of our guests.” 

The chuckle that slipped from those full, pouty lips awakened goosebumps over your flesh. “Is it wrong that I find it incredibly sexy when you threaten my kin?” 

“Absolutely not,” you reply with a smirk. Pulling the leash taut on his brothers was a necessary part of the political game. You understood that even before you became their sister-in-law, so you used your reputation for dabbling in the dark arts to your advantage. It didn’t matter that you wouldn’t bother wasting your powers for the transfiguration of such miserable males, but it was still fun to watch them cower at the prospect of being turned into helpless creatures based on whatever whim you were feeling that day. “Besides, I never threatened your brothers. I merely gave them a choice.” 

“My benevolent High Lady,” Eris purrs. You loved the way the title rolls off his tongue almost as much as you loved your mate. 

“My spoiled High Lord,” you tease in response while rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. 

Eris lets out a pleased sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he rests his head against your chest, hooking an arm around your knee as he lazily traces patterns through the bubbles clinging onto your soft skin. “The promise of your hands in my hair might have been my only motivation for not throttling our lovely council members.”

“I see, so my mate only seeks me out for my scalp massages.” 

“Amongst other things,” Eris responds huskily. He turns around, causing the water to spill over the sides of the tub. 

You giggle as he saunters up to you, placing soft kisses all over your face while pressing his body flush against yours. Eris is warm underneath your touch and growing hotter still as his lips finally hit their mark. You’ve been mated and married to this male for nearly a decade, but your heart still races every time he kisses you. There’s something sweet and warm in his kisses, tasting of honey and cinnamon as he prods his wicked tongue into your mouth. 

A sigh of satisfaction leaves your lips as his hands snake up your spine, bringing you closer while your fingers tangle in his hair. Despite the fact that you’ve been sitting in the bath for nearly half an hour, it never grows cold thanks to the fire coursing through your mate’s veins. Eris groans in pleasure as you straddle his lap, clambering to feel more of him, taste more of him, take as much of him as he’s willing to give. 

The fiery thread of your bond snaps tight and you feel the desire scorch through the connection like wildfire. It makes every fiber of your being come alive to hold Eris like this. His hand palms your exposed breasts, cupping them gently before teasing the sensitive peaks of your nipples. You moan into his neck as your mate takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling and sucking with wicked intent. 

Eris loves making his High Lady needy and desperate, teasing you with his mouth and fingers, coaxing every moan and whimper out of you with a satisfied smirk. 

“Come here, little fox. I want to show you just how much I missed you,” he murmurs against your neck. 

The pads of his fingers trace a path of heat down the valley of your breasts, dipping lower past your belly button until he reaches the place where you want him most. Eris drags his pointer and middle finger through your flaps, his erection pressing against your thigh when he feels how wet you are for him. 

“Is this all for me, my love?” Eris asks with a smirk. “This pretty little cunt of yours is just begging to be stuffed with my fingers.”

“Baby, please,” you plead huskily. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your mate doesn’t need to be told twice. Eris would burn the whole world down just to keep you warm. With a wicked grin, he pumps his fingers into your sopping wet cunt, curving them inside your walls as heat sweeps through your soft skin. It's euphoric, feeling Eris deep within your pussy, untangling every knot of stress from your body while he works you with those skilled fingers. 

Eris knew every curve and crevice of his mate’s body, but yet he couldn't help but examine the arch of your back, the parting of your lips, and the drooping of your heavy lids, committing all of it to memory while he continues to pleasure you. His thumb flicks over your clit and his touch is absolutely divine, nearly sending you into overdrive as he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You were close, so close, but you didn’t want to cum without feeling all of Eris. The tug of lust and desire you sent down the bond communicates how badly you ache to have your mate inside your walls. The High Lord growls, obliging the silent request as he positions you over his lap, pumping himself twice before letting you take all of him. 

As you sink lower and lower onto his length, Eris groans into your neck, dragging his teeth over the hollow of your throat as he fully sheathes himself inside your pussy. 

“Gods, I fucking love you,” Eris groans, tilting your chin so he can devour you whole. His teeth clash against your bottom lip as he kisses you deeply, prodding his tongue past your parted lips to claim you. This possessive side of him was absolutely thrilling and you loved when he marked you as wholly his. 

“I love you too, baby.” 

Eris responds by bucking his hips, driving his cock deeper into you as you groan with pleasure. You dip your forehead down to his, slowly rocking your hips back and forth, riding him with a slow, steady rhythm that has both of you sighing with gratification. His hands snake up your spine, leaving a fiery path in their wake as he clings onto you. 

As much as you enjoyed a proper fucking, the intimacy of making love was undefeated. The act was deeply romantic and felt special when shared by two souls who knew each other better than they knew themselves. 

With every sway of your hips, you could feel the bond glow between you. Brushing back the fiery strands from your mate’s face, you gaze into those loving eyes and voice the desire that’s been growing within you since his succession. 

“Eris,” you whisper softly, gaining his attention. 

He dips his forehead to yours, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. “Yes, my love?” 

“I’ve been thinking. With the success of this new trade and the official establishment of our rule, things have been going well in the Autumn Court, has it not?” 

Eris smirks. “We’re in the middle of having sex and you wish to speak of political matters? I don’t know if I’m turned on or offended.”

You chuckle, pecking him on the lips. “I have a point, I promise.” 

“Yes my love, all is well in the fox’s den. Thanks to our joint effort. We make a rather splendid team, if I do say so myself.” 

You bite your lip, considering your next words carefully. “What do you think about adding to our team?” you ask earnestly as you twirl a russet strand between your fingers. “Because I’d really like to give you an heir, Eris.”

During the past few months, the thought of bearing his children has grown in your heart - a secret desire that you were glad to finally voice. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Despite your difficult upbringing in the court of foxes, you dreamed that one day your home would become a suitable place to raise children of your own. As you and Eris strive to make the Autumn Court a better place, the opportunity seemed more and more plausible than it ever has. These lands were prospering and peace had finally settled over Prythian for the first time in gods knew how long. It seemed like the perfect time to start looking towards the future.

As you did so, all you saw was Eris. This beautiful male you called your mate deserved every bit of happiness that this realm could offer. Despite the sly and cunning facade he’d been forced to don over the years, you knew that deep down, all Eris ever really wanted was to take care of his family. As complicated as the Vanserras were, the blood of the fox ran thick. In their own way, they were beginning to heal from the damage that Beron had inflicted and the same could be said about the Autumn Court as a whole. The familial relationships and political chessboard were slowly but surely starting to mend itself and the conditions were ripe to start thinking about adding to the brood.

“Do you truly mean it?” Eris asks softly.

The way he holds his breath as he cradles your face in his hands makes you grin. A spark awakens in his warm amber eyes, appearing like molten gold as the moonlight filters through the glass panes of the bathing room. 

Eris was no stranger to family dysfunction. His father had been a monster, his mother a prisoner, and his brothers, with the exception of Lucien, were a product of hate and cruelty, always scheming to claw their way to the top. But now that Eris was High Lord, it gave him a chance to heal from the generational trauma passed down within the blood of the fox. He’d never thought about having children before, never had much time to consider the thought what with his navigating through the constantly changing political backdrop of the Autumn Court and his own volatile familial relations, but that was before he met you. 

With his ascension to the throne, the doubt and worries of siring his own brood faded away. Eris vowed to himself that he’d never be like his father. He’d love and protect his own children, just as he loved and protected you. All his immortal life, Eris was determined to be the father and husband that Beron could never be and now you were presenting him the chance to be a better male. To build a world where children weren’t viewed as pawns or bargaining chips, but as a reminder of the love that two people shared. The High Lord realizes in that moment that he wants nothing more than to start a family with you. 

“I want to start a family,” you whisper. “I know that neither one of us come from a particularly positive upbringing, but I think you would make a great father. You have taken care of this house, this court, for centuries and I know that you’d do the same for our future children.”

Silver lines your mate’s eyes. Eris could see it now - you full and pregnant with his child, as radiant and glowing as you always were, but with a life growing inside of you that he helped create. He’d teach his son or daughter to ride through the jewel toned forests, train them to wield the fire in their veins, tuck them in bed every night, chase after them with your hounds, protect them from every harm and spoil them rotten with love and affection. For the first time in a long time, Eris allowed himself to dream because he knew that you’d be there to see it through.

A love like yours deserved to be immortalized.

“It would be an honor and a pleasure to start a family with you, my love. You are my entire heart. Any children you bear me will be a living, breathing testament of our love. I wish to make my High Lady a mother more than anything else in this realm.”

You beam, kissing your mate in response. “Then put a baby in me, Eris.” 

Eris kisses you deeply, snaking his arms around your waist as he guides your hips over his lap.

The sheets were clinging to my skin, damp with cold sweat, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. Blood rushed through my ears as my gaze darted over a high, dark ceiling, and for a second, panic and a dull pain rose in my chest, my body frozen still.

Then I realised that a weight was resting over my stomach and a scent was flooding my senses, so achingly familiar, my muscles melted.

Quickly, I turned my head, and my lungs squeezed.

In the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, I could see Rhys' dark shape stretched out on the mattress next to me, the dips and planes of his muscular back rising and falling slowly with his even breaths. His head was resting on the pillow next to me, his face turned my way, brows smoothed over and eyes closed. His dark hair was unruly and tousled from sleep, the swirls of darkness stretching over his broad shoulders and down the arm that was loosely resting over my waist, his skin radiating warmth through my thin nightgown.

My heart soared before free falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting against the echoes of screams and laughter in my ears, the feeling of cruel darkness and bound magic and hands slipping away into nothingness.

Suddenly, the air felt too stiffled, too stale, too reminiscent of the nightmare that had been reality.

Hastily, I slid out from under Rhys' arm, pushing the covers to the side and slipping off the mattress, my feet quick on the cool floorboards as I darted over to the huge windows soundlessly, tearing at them until they were wide open and a soft, cool breeze brushed over my skin.

My heart squeezed tightly, and I breathed in, quick and deep, the scent of sweet petals and night leaving an ache growing in my chest as my gaze darted over the garden below that was bathed in starlight, flowers glowing and faeries floating over the water reflecting the galaxies above.

My fingers curled around the window handle before loosening, and something in my chest quivered when I let my forehead sink against the cool wooden frame and squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still feel the heavyness on my chest, the ache pulsing under my ribs as images flashed before my eyes, and something closed around my throat.

Sliding my hand off the window, I looked over my shoulder towards the bed, and the ache in my chest soared at the dark shape still motionless on the mattress, breathing evenly.

Fighting against the sudden pressure in my throat, I moved, quickly slipping past the bed and out of the room.

The house was silent as I soundlessly hastened down the stairs, my long silk nightgown swishing around my ankles as I slipped past the table and opened one of the big windows leading out onto the terrace. The gentle night breeze whispered over my bare arms and shoulders, and I squeezed out into the night, the stone of the terrace cold under my feet before it was replaced by cool, soft grass as I hurried down the steps and through the high grass.

Faeries were swishing through the glowing flowers, darting towards me and showering me in golden dust, tittering softly and curiously before whizzing away again.

Slowly, my steps calmed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air, feeling flowers and high grass brush my hands, a gentle, soothing warmth slowly spreading through me that seemed to stem from the earth itself.

Next to the pond that reflected the galaxies twinkling over the mountains, I let myself sink down into the soft grass, stretching out and staring up into the sky. My palms pressed against the earth, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft hum of energy that slowly travelled through me, golden light lazily flooding through my veines until my chest squeezed and my breath shuddered.

My heart tipped over; I opened my eyes, and movement at the edge of my field of vision made me turn my head.

Something rose and pulsed gently under my ribs when I saw the dark figure standing on the terrace.

Even from a distance, I caught the moment violet eyes clocked me by the pond, bare shoulders sinking a little, swishes of darkness whispering into nothingness as Rhys' gaze pierced mine. Then he moved, beginning to slowly walk down the steps.

Resting my cheek on the grass, I watched as he came towards me, movements smooth and elegant, his tousled hair black like ink in the night, violet eyes reflecting the silver and purple above. His pants were sitting low on his hips, and something twisted in my stomach at the sight of shifting muscles disappearing into black fabric.

The silk of his pants swished against my skin when Rhys crouched down and let himself plop down onto the ground next to me. Then his shoulder brushed against mine and he stretched out on the grass, one of his hands sliding up to rest on his stomach. His body dwarfed mine even shoulder to shoulder, my feet barely level with his shins, and I stared at the side of his face as his gaze dragged slowly over the night sky above. Something dipped and swerved, squeezed and fluttered in my chest as my eyes flickered over his nose and lips, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones, and suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat.

“What happened?”

Rhys' quiet voice, deep and a little raspy with sleep, tore me out of the pulsing feeling under my ribs, and when I blinked, he turned his head to look at me.

I tried to swallow against the flutter in my throat, the ache in my chest that staring at him had awakened. Rhys seemed to misinterpret my silence, one corner of his lips tipping up gently as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

“As far as I know, you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night to lay around on the cold ground.” There was a soft twinkle in his eyes, but it couldn't hide the barely there crease between his brows, and something dipped in my chest when my shoulder brushed his and I felt a clenching sensation in my chest that wasn´t mine.

I blinked again, and the soft ache under my ribs pulsed.

“I had a dream.”

Rhys' gaze moved over my face. Then his quiet voice vibrated through me, gentle and even.

“What kind of dream?”

Something closed around my throat like an iron fist, and I stared at him, feeling a weight settle on my chest and pressure rise in my throat and eyes.

“Of the mountain,”, I whispered.

Rhys blinked, and I could see the muscles in his shoulder shifting, growing still.

“It used to be worse.” I tried a lopsided smile, but it felt weak, and a little uneven. “But it still comes back, once in a while.”

Rhys stared at me. Then he mumbled softly: “What do you dream of?”

Something started skipping painfully under my ribs.

“I see the faeries.” My whispered words were barely audible as my gaze dragged over Rhys' face, trying to ingrain every angle into my memory as pressure began to rise in my throat. “All of them. Caught and chained, tortured and mutilated in the revel. And I can't help them. I'm caught in the crowd, and I try to move, but no matter how much I fight, it's like I'm watching from outside my own body. And their pain breaks me apart.” My voice was weak, the images rising in front of my eyes causing the ache in my chest to grow.

“And then I see you.” My whisper broke as the pressure in my throat became unbearable, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rhys' face, even as my vision blurred and my lips quivered.

“And she's torturing you, and I can't move. I can't get to you. And I try to tell you, scream at you that I will get you out, but I can't speak.” My breath trembled as the ache in my chest spread, taking over every inch of my body until my voice broke and I felt something hot run over my cheek.

“And then in that dream, I wake up, and I'm alone. Seeing you, finding you, never happened. And I can't feel you.” I inhaled quickly, hotly, my chin trembling. “You're gone.”

Through blurry eyes, I saw Rhys stare at me, still, frozen. Then a muscle in his cheek shifted, and he rolled onto his side; his warm, calloused hand slipped up my neck to cradle the side of my face, and Rhys leaned down to press his forehead against mine.

“I'm here.” His deep, husky voice travelled through me, vibrating with sorrow yet so steady and firm that my breath shuddered.

My eyes squeezed shut as the ache in my chest rose and overwhelmed me, and I twisted, wrapping my arms around Rhys' shoulders, clinging to him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears roll over my cheeks, the ache in my chest pulsing.

“Look at you,”, Rhys mumbled hoarsely, his hands sliding over my waist as he slipped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his chest. “Really thinking it'd be that easy to get rid of me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in my chest.

“Wouldn't it?”

“No.” Rhys' mumble was steady, if only a little rough when he dropped his nose into the crook of my neck, causing a gentle shiver to travel over my spine. “You know I'm too much of a selfish bastard for that.”

I inhaled shudderingly, feeling my lips rise weakly as I whispered into his skin: “You're not selfish.”

“I am.” A calloused hand slid up over my back, the arms around my waist pulling me in tighter as Rhys curled around me and buried his nose at my shoulder, his low voice vibrating through me as he mumbled steadily: “Even if my soul was dragged from this world, I would still claw my way back to you.”

Something rose in my chest, wild and violent, and my eyes opened, a curtain of tears leaving the world blurry as Rhys' quiet voice washed through me.

“No one will ever keep me from you, take me away from you again. Wherever I go, it will only be with you.”

My heart soared before giving out, and I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling my leg slide over his waist as his tall body curved around mine.

“Sounds impractical,”, I whispered thickly, my breath hitching and causing my voice to break a little.

Rhys' lips curved against my skin.

“We'll make it work.” His quiet words vibrated through me, steady and soft. “I'll just have to follow you like I always have.”

My chest tightened harshly as warmth pulsed through me, and I whispered, soft and weak: “What if I go somewhere you cannot follow?”

Rhys slid his arms closer around me, burying his nose against my skin as he mumbled back hoarsely: “There's no place in this world, or beyond, that you could go, where I wouldn't follow.” I could feel him swallow, then he added softly: “I'll always find a way to you.”

My heart tightened as my breath caught in my throat, and I clung tighter to him, feeling his body shielding mine as I curled into his chest and turned my head to bury my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my body shuddering with my exhale and the weight of tears pressing on my throat.

“Why?” The whispered words were trembling, thick, spilling past my lips before I could stop them, fueled by the ache rising under my ribs. But Rhys just swallowed, his deep voice soft in a hoarse mumble.

“You know why.”

My heart twisted and rose, higher and higher. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips quivered as I hastily burrowed my face in his neck and tried to breathe against the ache pulsing under my ribs.

The breeze whispered through the trees, faeries floating over the pond as the stars twinkled in the sky. Rhys held me until my lids were heavy, tears dried on my cheeks, my heart thrumming steadily against my ribs. Then he gathered me in his arms and moved to stand.

Something rose under my ribs, and when I pulled back just a little, my arms still slung around his neck, Rhys dropped his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over my skin as he turned.

My heart swelled in a flutter, and I clung to him, his arms holding me steady as Rhys started to walk back towards the house. I curled my arms around his shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling warmth pulse through me, strong, steady, Rhys' nose brushing my cheek when he pressed his forehead against my temple, carrying me up the stairs.

☆

I woke with the gentle morning breeze brushing over my skin, the scent of daybreak dew and fresh air filling my lungs, and my body buried in a warm chest, with the heavy weight of arms slung around me tightly and a scent in my nose that, even in the haze of sleep, made something tumble under my ribs.

My breath hitched softly, and I opened my eyes. My gaze focused on sunkissed golden skin and dark twisting tattoos over strong collarbones, and a muscled arm cushioning my head.

My heart toppled, and something in my stomach dipped.

You know why.

Rhys' hoarse voice echoed through my head, and suddenly, the flutter in my chest grew until there was a soft ache pulsing under my ribs.

Feeling a weight on my throat, I turned, sliding out of Rhys' arms as carefully as possible. My heart was thrumming against my ribs when I slipped out of the room, and trying to fight against the chaotic whirlwind in my head and chest, I moved down the stairs.

Golden morning light filtered through the windows facing the front garden, painting patterns onto the carpet and the books filling the shelves. I dragged open the window doors leading out onto to the terrace, breathing in deeply as my gaze moved over the garden dipped in the first golden sunrays, fairies whizzing through the air, carrying dew drops, giggling and tittering, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs.

Filling the kettle and putting it onto the stove, I pulled a pot from the cabinet, and a cup. Then, my hands no longer busy, I slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as my fingers flew over the cold marble, up to the ends of my hair before settling for fiddling with the thin strap of my nightgown as I stared into the garden, my heart pounding in my chest.

You know why.

Something in my stomach tumbled.

I did.

I had for a while now. Had felt the thought looming, bright and powerful somewhere beneath the surface. The beginnings of a realization, a vague shape, like an unspoken thought, a distant knowledge that I refused to grasp.

Because acknowledging it, just thinking it out loud would mean something so big, so terrifying it made something squeeze in my chest.

An explanation as to why Rhys had kept coming back to me. For the way he stared at me, the twinkle in those violet eyes, for that rising feeling in my chest I couldn't place and that radiated from him, for the closeness, the banter, the blatant flirting, the trust and the things he said, casually, easily, so so sure.

It made something rise in my chest.

There was something, a reason, a realization, just under the surface. And it terrified me.

Because what if I was wrong?

What if what Rhys was supposedly feeling was just fleeting, or not at all what I made it out to be?

What if what I was seeing was what I wanted to see – and not what was really there?

Something closed tightly around my chest as the flutter in my chest rose, soared higher and higher.

It would mean a broken heart.

My breath shuddered, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods, I'd been an idiot. Not realising, maybe refusing to see how my soul reacted to the male with the stars in his eyes, how my whole being seemed to respond to him.

I had fallen. Maybe slowly over the span of a century, maybe with a crash the first time I'd met him and felt him behind those walls.

Something squeezed under my ribs. It twisted before rippling away soundlessly, and a trembling breath left me as I opened my eyes and stared out into the garden, wide-eyed and utterly terrified.

I loved him.

Maybe, it had always been there, lurking under the surface, in the way my breath seemed to hitch whenever I stared at him and he smiled.

I loved him. Was in love with him. So fiercely, so deeply, so all-consuming that it made my chest thrum, caused my heart to twist and soar, until the feeling filled my body. Slowly, creepingly, it had taken up every part of my soul and my being. Had made him a part of me, his pain, his anger, his sorrow, his happiness, all mine in a way nothing had ever been before. Had made him beginning and end and everything in between.

I loved Rhys.

“Shit,”, I whispered softly.

There was a low, deep chuckle behind me; and I jumped and whirled around.

Rhys crunched his brows against the light, purple eyes tired and twinkling, his voice, rough with sleep, vibrating through me when he mumbled with a smirk: “Ouch. Not usually the way I'm greeted.”

My fingers dug into the counter as I stared at him in shock, trying to breathe, my eyes wide and my heart pounding against my ribs. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, which I hadn´t thought physically possible, his hair was tousled and muscles were shifting under his bare skin as he moved past the table and rubbed his eyes.

Suddenly, heat was washing over me, and I tried to tear my gaze away, pull myself together. But my body refused to listen, stayed frozen in the spot as I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching harshly, and Rhys slowed to a stop. His gaze flickered over my face, and a soft crease formed between his brows.

“Darling?”

Maybe my shields had never been any good, and he'd been able to sneak past them all this time. Or maybe, the feelings whirling in my chest, the chaos and panic in my mind, were simply too loud, too strong, bursting through me, echoing outwards at a volume that meant he didn't even need to be in my mind to hear them.

Either way, Rhys stilled. Became frozen in the spot as he stared at me. Then he blinked, and his eyes shifted.

Turned swirling and bright like the galaxies in the night sky as the crease between his brows melted away into nothingness and he exhaled like he'd been waiting for a century.

“All this time.” His soft voice was hoarse as his gaze dragged over my face, slightly feverish, drinking me in. “And you still didn't see.”

My heart dropped and I could feel my lips part – then something in my chest shifted, and soundlessly, a wall crumbled.

A barrier of the mind, built around the male a few feet away, slowly collapsing into itself.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes darted up and widened as something in my chest rose.

I could feel everything.

Emotions so strong, they took my breath. Twined together so firmly, they were barely discernable; desperation, relief, adoration, want and need, twisting together into something hot and rising, growing into something all consuming.

I'd always felt Rhys, but never like this; had never felt his emotions, so deep and powerful and clear that they turned my doubts and fears to stardust, the ache in my chest blowing away into the sky, until my breath shuddered and my heart settled.

I inhaled softly, feeling my lips part as the emotions that weren't my own pulsed in my chest, steady, firm, unrestrained. Then I raised my head, and Rhys swallowed, his iris a night sky as his gaze dragged over mine, deep and feverish and swallowing me whole as he mumbled hoarsely: “There it is.”

A soft, breathy giggle bubbled in my throat as I stared at him, feeling pressure building in my throat and a flutter rising in my chest, growing with every second.

My fingers shook a little as I took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, and another, my eyes darting over Rhys' face, my heart swelling. He had grown completely still, like the smallest move could scare me away, like there wasn't something pounding against my ribs and swelling in my throat, causing tears to rise into my eyes as I lifted a hand and placed my palm on his chest.

The feeling of Rhys´ warm skin sent a shiver down my skin, just like the quick, racing beat of his heart as I stared up at him, feeling my bottom lip wobble a little even as I started to smile, slow and beaming. Then I opened myself and the whirlwind under my ribs.

Rhys' eyes widened.

A shuddering breath ran through him, and his hand flew up to cover mine, fingers curling around mine, holding on almost desperately, like he was afraid I'd pull away, break the thrum of emotion flooding through me into his body. Then a soft sound broke from his chest, and Rhys moved, forward and forward until my arm was trapped between us and the whole of his body pressed against mine, his free hand sliding up to cradle my face, and my heart caught in my throat when he dropped his head to press his forehead against mine.

The flutter in my chest rose, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out shakingly.

Rhys made a soft, hoarse sound deep in his throat, his hand slipping down the side of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed closer, and my heart shuddered. I could feel his body towering over mine, the way the muscles in his biceps shifted when his fingers slid closer around my hand, his warm chest pressing against mine -

Heat twinged low in my stomach, and my fingers curled against his chest.

A gentle shudder ran over Rhys' warm skin, and my breath hitched when he dipped his head to the side, his nose brushing against mine.

My heart rose into my throat, and I swallowed, my hand uncurling slowly as I slid my palm down his chest. I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch as a shiver ran over his skin, his fingers twisting into my hair, and a tingle travelled down my spine when Rhys slowly nudged his nose against mine.

Something dropped very low in my stomach, heat rising up my body.

I swallowed, my free hand rising to cling to Rhys' side, and when I pulled my head back a little, just enough to look at him, his breath grazing my skin, my heart rose.

Rhys' eyes were glazed over with a heat that made something twist in my stomach. His iris was hazy and a few shades darker under heavy lids, a muscle in his jaw shifting and throat working, and his gaze was molten where it was glued to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even when Rhys had stared for too long before, something heated in his eyes, it had always been brimming under the surface, never quite so obvious.

Now, nothing was hidden. His breath was uneven, his lips parted and throat working, and his eyes, heavy lidded and dark, were swirling, feverish, wanting -

Rhys' fingers curled into my hair, and my body shuddered, something whirling and rising under my ribs as I dug my fingers into his skin and raised my chin without having control over it, Rhys' hot breath grazing over my skin when my nose nudged against his.

A deep sound rose in Rhys' chest, his eyes shifting into something even deeper and darker, and his hand slid into my hair when he dipped his head, his nose brushing against the side of mine, tantalizingly slow. Something clenched harshly in my stomach when I felt his hot breath grazing my lips, and a tingling shiver ran down my spine when I sank back down onto my heels and Rhys followed me, calloused hands pulling me closer and head dipping to -

"Hello?", a melodious, happy voice chirped from the terrace, and my heart jumped; my eyes flew open as I lightly pushed at Rhys' chest and whirled around, and Mor walked through the open window doors.

"Anyone he-", her gaze met mine, and she slowed to a stop, one corner of her lips quirking cheekily.

"Am I interrupting something?"

My heart missed a beat, and I hastily looked back over my shoulder, only to find Rhys' eyes on me like maybe, they had never left. There was a twinkle slowly spreading through his iris, and my heart rose in a flutter, because something had changed, obviously, something in that thrum against my ribs, and yet -

I narrowed my eyes in a soft glower, and Rhys slowly started to smile, lazy and brilliant.

"What are you doing here, Morrigan?" His deep voice rumbled through me even with him a foot away, his twinkling eyes never leaving my face.

Mor crunched her brows, seeming completely unbothered as she turned in a circle with a flourish.

"Well, you hadn't even told us this place existed until yesterday, and -", she looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly, "I was curious." Her twinkling amber eyes found mine, and her smile softened, though the light in her eyes seemed to brighten. "It's beautiful."

Something rose under my chest as my gaze flickered towards the garden without me being able to help it, my breath catching in my throat. "It is."

I could feel the weight of eyes on me, a tingle travelling over the side of my face, and I blinked, clearing my throat and grinning sheepishly at Mor. "Sorry, I didn't really expect anyone -"

"Obviously." Mor's lips twitched into a smirk as her eyes moved from Rhys, lounging against the counter in only pyjama pants and staring at me, towards my long nightgown, and I winced and quickly crossed my bare arms in front of my chest, feeling heat rising in my cheeks as I crunched my nose.

"Would you like some tea?"

"You know, actually,", Mor turned fully towards me and raised her brows, "I also came here because I thought it could be fun if I showed you the city today?" Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have some one on one time, if Rhys isn't too bothered by that." She winked at me.

"Why would I be bothered?" Rhys' eyes stayed on my face, one corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Well, you did keep her from us for more than a century, without telling us about her even once; which, by the way, is ridiculous." Mor's lips curved. "It's almost like you were afraid we'd steal her away from you or something -"

"Could we get breakfast?", I quickly interrupted, because Rhys' eyes had started to twinkle in a way that made shivers dance down my spine and something twitch in my stomach.

Mor turned her gaze away from Rhys, her knowing smirk bleeding into a genuine, beaming smile when she widened her eyes.

"Obviously! I'll show you all the best places, and more; do you have your dress yet?"

I blinked, then I turned my head towards her and crunched my brows.

"What dress?"

Mor parted her lips. Then she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, turning towards her cousin with an exasperated look.

"Rhys, you prat; you haven't told her?"

Rhys stared at me, his violet eyes twinkling when he said, deep voice absentminded: "Was busy."

Mor huffed, her lips quirking. "I bet you were."

Rhys just lightly rolled his eyes, and I quickly mouthed prat?, causing him to glare softly at me.

Don´t you dare.

Feeling a slow, beaming smile take over my face, I widened my eyes and mouthed prat, and Rhys huffed, his lips curving until a wide grin made his cheeks crease.

Mor cleared her throat, and I quickly tore my eyes away from Rhys' face, feeling heat bleed into my cheeks when my gaze met Morrigan's, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Haven't told me what?", I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly and fighting against the blush growing on my face.

Mor sighed, but her lips curved as she raised her brows. "Summer Solstice."

My heart rose in a flutter, and my gaze darted towards Rhys as my lips parted.

"You - you celebrate that here?"

"Well, not as opulently as Summer and Day,", Mor waved her hand dismissingly, "but Rhys has started throwing a party every year still, because, well -", she smirked, "any excuse for a party is a good one."

Rhys' lips curved softly as his eyes pierced mine, a twinkle in their violet depths that made my breath hitch.

"Anyway, he holds it at the River House -"

I blinked before raising my brows.

"Another house?" I felt my eyes widen slightly as my head whipped around and I stared at Mor before quickly looking back at Rhys in disbelief, but he just shrugged, his smirk feline.

"Well, when we started doing the celebration, we decided to hold it there because the garden is just beautiful this time of year, though,", Mor turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes almost wistful, "definitely not as beautiful as this one."

My breath hitched as my gaze followed hers, and something fluttered against my ribs.

"The longest day of the year."

Rhys' voice made my heart dip, quiet like only I was meant to hear, and I blinked before tearing my eyes away from the garden, something rising in my chest when I found his twinkling eyes on my face.

"I know." I felt my lips curve softly even as I suppressed the urge to swallow, my eyes moving over his face. "The fairies dance through it; all night long."

Rhys' gaze pierced mine, deep, twinkling, like maybe, he could see the memories of midsummer nights in a wild garden and a dress whirling around my ankles.

"Maybe they'll dance with us if you're there."

I stared at him, and my heart began to slowly flutter against my ribs, more wildly with every second as I started to smile slowly.

"Is that your way of asking if I'll come?"

Rhys stared at me, something swirling in his eyes when he mumbled, slow, deep, steady: "Will you come?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked. Then I widened my eyes and whispered cheekily: "I don't think I have a dress."

Rhys' gaze heated. But before he could open his mouth, Mor chimed in, beaming happily.

"We can get you one! Today; I mean, it is in two days, but I'll take you to the best dressmaker of the city, you'll love it; and she'll have it done in time!"

I felt my lips part quickly, but before I could even make a sound, there was a soft huff; a familiar scent washed over me, and fingers slipped under my chin, closing my mouth again.

"Don't even think about it."

My heart jumped and my eyes darted up, and Rhys' lips curved.

I huffed and twisted my neck to get a better look at him, feeling my brows crunch in protest, but Rhys just sent me a wink. "You know arguing is pointless. I´ll get you a dress one way or the other."

Glowering up at him even as something jumped high in my chest, I narrowed my eyes even further when he smirked and dipped his head to mumble: "Just say thank you."

His warm breath brushed over my nose, and my heart dipped.

Staring up at him, I scowled gently. Then I turned my head and sent Mor a brilliant, cheeky smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Rhys huffed, sending me a glare, and Mor smirked and winked.

"My pleasure." She raised her brows and clapped her hands. "Alright, let's go! Though you,", her lips quirked, "might want to get changed first."

When I moved back down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed and tying off my braid, Mor was crouched in the middle of the garden, watching the faeries that seemed a little weary but curious when she beamed at them.

"You know she's going to put you through trying on dozens of dresses?"

My heart skipped, and my gaze darted towards where Rhys was leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and one corner of his lips curving as his eyes raked over my face.

"So?" I felt my lips quirk.

Rhys' iris twinkled.

"A lot of it will be Night Court fashion." His gaze dragged slowly over my body, one corner of his lips curving into a slow, lazy smirk. "It usually means little fabric."

I stared at him as heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly, something started fluttering against my ribs violently.

Slowly, I began to walk backwards towards the terrace, sending him a growing, mischievous smile.

"You know, if you want to see me scantily clad, you just have to ask."

Rhys' gaze darted up, his gaze narrowing in and growing dark and heated, and feeling my heart catch in my throat, I smiled beamingly and turned around with a breathed laugh, hopping out onto the terrace to meet Mor at the foot of the steps.

☆

Feeling a breeze brush some hair into my face, I breathed out softly, the warmth of sunlight dappled over my face making my lips curve without my doing.

"So..."

I blinked before opening my eyes and lowering my head, and Mor crunched her nose, looking at me curiously. "What's so special about Summer Solstice?"

We were sitting on the steps of a fountain, the water splashing and bubbling in our backs, a thin paper bag between us on the grey cobblestone, smelling of the buttery pastry I had bought in a shop in one of the countless alleys.

Mor had kept her promise, taking me for breakfast in a small café right at the Sidra. Then she had pulled me into the maze of alleys, streets and squares.

First, she'd taken me to the workshop of her favorite dressmaker, located in a beautiful townhouse in the Rainbow, the artist's district. It belonged to tall, slim High Fae who was clearly familiar with Morrigan, and who had, very happily, pulled all the stops when Mor had winked at her.

Mor had made me try different silhouettes, and I had wandered the aisles and aisles with fabrics, my breath catching at the colors and stitchings. We'd agreed after a while, and when we had left the shop, there'd been a rough sketch and fabric sitting on the dressmaker's desk and my heart had been beating against my throat.

Now, the afternoon sun was shining in the sky over the small park that stretched over a little hill surrounded by tall sandstone buildings, their roofs glittering in the light. Trees rose into the sky, offering shade, sunlight was dappled in swaying patterns onto the grass and the cool stone of the fountain where we had decided to take a little break, and my feet were aching and my heart was full.

I needed a second to tear my eyes away from the sight of the city stretched out before the mountains. Then I blinked and crunched my brows, looking over at her.

"What do you mean?"

One corner of Mor's lips curved gently. "You just... you looked so surprised."

I felt my heart rise in a soft flutter against my ribs, and I hesitated for a second, then I turned my head and gently narrowed my eyes at her curiously.

"How long have you been... celebrating it like this?"

Mor furrowed her brows, shrugging softly as she plucked a piece off her pastry.

"Not long actually. I think Rhys decided to make it a new tradition not quite a century ago, fairly out of,", she blinked, her words slowing as her eyes suddenly began to twinkle softly, "thin air..."

I stared at her, a quick flutter beginning to build in my chest.

"What does it mean to you again?" Mor stared at me, her lips curving.

"It's..." I swallowed softly. "It's a celebration. Held by the fairies, every Summer Solstice. They gather and dance, from evening until deep into the night. All of them, sprites, pixies, nymphs, wraiths, all coming together, celebrating light and life and -" My breath hitched. "Magic."

Mor's warm eyes were glittering.

"You think he -" My voice broke off, my breath catching in my throat.

"Started celebrating it here because of you?" Mor's lips tipped upwards, and she blinked and raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling in the light. "That does sound awfully like him."

Feeling my heart pounding against my ribs, I stared at her, something suddenly tingling in my stomach.

Mor's smile widened a little. Then she blinked.

"You know, he never told us about you." She raised a brow, her iris sparkling. "Not once."

I huffed gently.

"I know." Shaking my head softly, I turned my head, crunching my brows gently as I blinked into the sunlight. "He told me about that, after I got mad because he turned up, winnowing in even though he was badly wounded and exhausted,", a breath left me, "idiot."

Mor giggled, and I felt my lips curve.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze flicker over my face, warm and bright. Her throat worked. Then she whispered softly: "Thank you."

I blinked. Something in my chest rose and tightened as my gaze darted towards her, and Mor breathed out, her smile a little uneven when she stared back at me.

"I've known Rhys practically my whole life." She furrowed her brows gently, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He's always carried - a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it just got more when he became High Lord. He always took on everything, had to be strong, for everyone. He lets us know when things are heavy, but - he never fully lets us in." She huffed. "He doesn't want to burden us." Shaking her head gently, she hesitated before looking over at me, one corner of her lips rising gently.

"But then he started disappearing, just for a few hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. He never told us where he was going;", she raised her brows, "I always assumed he was just - taking a breather somewhere, taking some time by himself. But whenever he got back, he had that light in his eyes." Her iris started to twinkle as she stared at me.

"That was you." She blinked, her voice a little hoarse when she whispered: "You saved him. Because you saw something in him he lost the ability to see. And because when you showed him that, he believed you. Because he saw something in you too. That same thing that makes him stare at you like you put the stars into the sky." She swallowed gently, and her eyes flickered over my face. "It's like with you, he can just be."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, something suddenly tight in my chest.

"He told you all of that?", I whispered.

Mor's lips quirked gently.

"Not everything. But enough." Her gaze flickered over my face. "He told us about you only after he came back from -" She broke off, her eyes welling with grief. Then she looked back up at me, her iris shimmering as she raised a corner of her lips.

"He was - a wreck, when he got here. But you - you kept him afloat. He was waiting for you. It felt like he was holding his breath. And then you turned up and..." She breathed a brilliant smile. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Mor sniffled and beamed. "It's like he's come back to life, in a way he's never been before. Like something has - settled, fallen into place."

Something welled over in my chest, and I turned my gaze ahead, fighting to swallow against the pressure in my throat as I stared down the hill and over the roofs of the city, glittering in the sun, trees swaying gently in the breeze.

"Yes,", I whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze move over my face, bright and warm. Then she turned back ahead as well, and together, we stared over the city.

"It's beautiful,", I mumbled softly.

Mor´s lips curved upwards, her voice a little hoarse when she mumbled back: "It's the Court of Dreams."

☆

The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains, painting the skies pink and violet, the first stars twinkling high above when I slipped through the gate and breathed in the scent of flowers and grass and warm evening air.

Mor had dropped me off at the winding street before winnowing away, though not before pulling me into a hug so tight, my ribs had cracked, but I had just squeezed her back, feeling the scent of her perfume rising into my nose and her hair tickling my skin.

Slowly making my way around the house, I inhaled deeply, feeling warmth spread through my chest when I saw fairies whizzing through the air over the pond, giggling and chasing each other.

"You took your time."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Rhys, lounging on the steps leading up to the terrace, watched me, his violet eyes reflecting the stars blinking in the sky when he lightly raised a brow. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, leaving me here all by myself -"

A soft snorted laugh built in my chest, and I sent him a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you were perfectly fine entertaining yourself for once."

"I wasn't. I got so bored I actually went to do some work."

Giggling softly, I gently kicked his leg before plopping down next to him, breathing in deeply. His scent rose into my lungs, and my heart missed a beat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' twinkling iris flicker over my face. "Did Mor drag you from shop to shop until you fainted from exhaustion?"

I crunched my brows and looked over at him. "Why, do you think I look the part?"

Rhys' lips curved.

"Did you find a dress?" His gaze drank me in as a crease formed in his cheek, and I stared back, my breath catching and my heart thrumming against my ribs.

"Yes." My voice was a little soft, a little breathless as I tried not to stare at the curve of Rhys' lips and the small dip in his cheek, his skin glowing in the sunset.

"And?" His voice trickled over me, slow, deep, matching the volume of mine as his gaze dragged over my face, heated, swirling.

I felt my lips tick up as I shrugged one shoulder gently, innocently. "And what?"

Rhys stared at me, his arm brushing against my back, sending tingling shivers down my body, and slowly, one corner of his lips curved. "Where is it?"

I huffed softly. "Not yet made."

"Shame." Rhys' eyes were twinkling. "You could let me take a peak."

I widened my eyes and whispered with a bright, cheeky smile: "Where's the fun in that?"

Rhys slowly started to smile brilliantly, his eyes crinkling, and my breath caught in my throat.

For a second, we stared at each other, something trumming in my chest and twisting in my stomach, then Rhys blinked, his eyes never leaving mine as he mumbled: "I think I might have to take the couch tonight."

I could feel my brows crunch in confusion. "Why?"

A deep crease formed in Rhys' cheek, his iris twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. "Because I'm not sure I would be able to control myself if I saw you in that flimsy nightgown again."

My heart dipped, and suddenly, something hot trickled down my spine.

"I could leave it off."

Rhys' iris hazed over, a rough sound breaking from his throat, and I hastily bit onto the inside of my cheek as a laugh bubbled in my chest, mixing with a rising, fluttering feeling.

"Beast,", Rhys mumbled, his husky voice leaving something twisting down in my stomach.

I shrugged, feeling my lips curve as I turned my gaze back towards the garden. "I mean, if you can't handle it -"

Rhys' gaze narrowed in on my face, became deep and twinkling, and something toppled in my chest as I nearly bit down onto my lip, wondering what on earth I had been thinking.

Swallowing it down, I looked over my shoulder, and Rhys stared at me, gaze molten and dark as slowly, a slight smirk made his lips curve, playful and mischievous.

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart swerved sharply.

I blinked, then I shrugged softly, smiling back cheekily. "I don't know, is it?"

Rhys breathed a deep chuckle and leaned forward, and I felt myself freeze when his warm breath brushed over my lips. Then he gently nudged his nose against the side of mine and mumbled, his lips almost brushing my cheek: "Careful." He pulled back just enough to stare at me, his violet iris reflecting the sky as they dragged over mine, twinkling. "I don't lose."

"First time for everything,", I whispered back breathily, feeling my heart rise into my throat, and Rhys slowly started to smile.

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