Answered Dreams (ACOTAR | ACOMAF | ACOWAR)

Chapter ☆ Fourteen

"You'd cook for me?" Rhys asked, his head tilting to the side slightly as he studied her face.

"No, I said I'd make soup. I don't cook." Feyre perked a brow. "Why?"

"It's just... traditionally speaking..." He stumbled, trying to find the words to explain the significance of it. "The first meal a female serves her mate is... important." He said, quickly followed by, "It signifies that she accepts their mating bond," he said, his gaze fixed on hers.

She wanted to laugh- as if the turn of events from that evening weren't significant enough. But there was something in the way he said it, in the way he looked at her that she kept that laughter contained. She looked at him, her brows furrowed slightly as if there even need to be a question. "Of course I'd serve you a meal, Rhysand."

All humor had left his face, his demeanor. He took a shuddering breath. It shouldn't have meant so much to him. Shouldn't have felt like something solid had just hit him in the chest when she'd said that. But the traditions of his people had been ingrained into him from such a young age that they had become almost an integral part of his existence. And even though she'd given him her body, had let him worship at her feet... this was something symbolic, something of almost a deeper significance. And she would do it. "So we're not going to the restaurant after all?" he said thickly, trying to lighten the mood again. But a silent question lay beneath those worse. Was she ready to take that big of a step with him now? Or did she need time.

She looked at him for a moment, feeling the staggering relief through the bond, and she swallowed. And nodded once. "Let me put some clothes on and I'll meet you in the kitchen," she promised gently. She swept a quick kiss against his lips and moved off of him to get out of the tub.

Reluctantly, he retracted his arms; allowing her to move from his lap. He nodded slowly, watching her as she got out of the tub. He'd stay in the tub a few moments longer before getting out himself to meet her in the kitchen. He'd use those few moments to regain his composure. And so he sunk lower in the now-murky bath, letting the water assuage him.

She knew he watched her as she walked from the bathing room, but was grateful for the reprise as she padded back to her room, shutting the door behind her. Making sure her mental shields were up for the moment, she let out a shuddering sigh as she leaned against her door. The significance of what she was about to do was suddenly weighing upon her and she felt her hands begin to shake like a bride on her wedding day. She smiled to herself slightly, realizing it might as well be. This was new to her, these Fae traditions but it was clear by Rhys' reaction that it meant so much more to him than a simple meal. Pushing herself off of the door, she walked over to her armoire and began rifling through her clothes...

During the remainder of the time he spent in the bath, he did indeed clean himself. Just as had been his original intention. He even washed his hair which was now sodden and dripping into his eyes. He ran his fingers through it, combing it back and out of his face. He loosed a sigh. He hoped Feyre understood how significant this was. He'd reached out to try and see what she was thinking, but she'd put that damned wall back up. Another minute later, after he'd noticed his fingers beginning to resemble raisins, he finally got out of the tub.

She picked an outfit of blue and silver in the usual Night Court fashion, and after brushing through her wet hair, she pinned it up on each side with silver combs. Sliding into silver satin slippers, she walked to her door and placed a hand on the knob. She could do this... this was a step toward the most important decision in her immortal existence. Letting loose a sigh she opened the door and walked down towards the kitchen.

Rhys took longer in getting dressed than he usually did if only to give her time alone to think without his presence distracting in any way. He shook the excess water from his hair and towel dries himself before wrapping the towel around his waist and trudging down the hall to his own room. He didn't bother closing the door as he let the towel drop and he rummaged around in his closet for something comfortable rather than an outfit that was visually or aesthetically pleasing. The kind he'd usually wear. Settling on a pair of black pants that were looser than he normally wore, but still moderately tight fitting, and a shirt of midnight blue that cuffed at the wrists. Once he was dressed, he took a steadying breath and headed for the stairs and the kitchen below.