Death incarnate. Night triumphant.

Slade

*Gleam (Plated Prisoner) spoilers*

“My own good?” The question is like a snarl, caught in the web of scales on his cheek. His voice is right there, felt against my lips like the sweep of a tongue, sinking past my ears and settling into my chest and making my entire body go on alert…

“My own good was stuck on a pirate ship, with an aura like a beacon that flared across the Barrens,” he grits out, a thick spun voice meant to tie knots around me. “My own good was cowering before men who were nothing - fucking nothing - in comparison to her.”

All of my ability to breathe is gone as I stare at him in shock.

“My own good hated me, fought me, argued with me, but I didn’t care, because I watched her slowly come out of her shell, peeling back one layer at a time, and it was stunning.” He raises a finger in front of my face. “I got one touch. One taste, and if it was an act of selfishness, then you should know, it certainly wasn’t one-sided, Auren.”

feyre & rhysand 🦇 🌙

“You are to stay away from her.”

“You can’t order me to do that.”