Answered Dreams (ACOTAR | ACOMAF | ACOWAR)

Chapter ☆ Seventeen

Feyre didn't dare open her eyes as she leaned on his shoulder- she'd see nothing but stars. She couldn't move- she didn't dare... her very bones were liquid. She could hardly breath as each breath rung out that last remaining spark of pleasure rolling over her. When she started whispering "I love you" with each release of breath, it was a mantra she would swear by for the rest of her existence. She didn't remember when she started lazily kissing along the skin of his shoulder, his neck, but she needed him - needed that connection as if he would be the only one to return the breath he had taken away.

Every nerve throughout his body still sang and screamed and tingled with the ecstasy, the euphoria of it.. His breath still rasping in his chest as he held her. Her skin was as slick and sticky with sweat as his own doubtless was, he noted as he traced his fingers idly along her rib cage. Marveling at the smoothness of her pale skin. She was a miracle, he thought. Clean of the dirty that stained him to his very soul. He could feel her through the bond, still coming down from her own high as he was, himself. Every 'I love you' sent a wave of emotion through Rhysand that he couldn't quite explain. But the closest word he could put to it was... relief. Relief and longing and endearment and a million other things that crashed over him like a wave lapping at the shore. Warmth arced across his skin, its source wherever she touched him. He felt the rest of his energy leave him as he melted into her touch, into her. And it was all he could do to remain upright, to keep from collapsing atop her.

Oh, she loved him with every fiber of her being. If their bond was a living thing to be touched, smelled, tasted - they were it. And she couldn't get enough, even if her body screamed at her in exhaustion and hunger raged through her. More more more - her wanting him was insatiable. She needed him like her lungs needed air. "Rhysand..." she breathed.

His name alone sent her skin on edge. She slowly brought a hand across his hard, slick chest, right above his heart, and felt it beat get under her palm. It beat In time with hers. It was the life force that kept them alive through everything they had endured, and she knew she would stop her own from beating to keep his going. She would die for him. Pushing up against that hand, she finally sat up to face him, fully aware of her legs wrapped around him, holding him inside her, not ready to let go just yet. And she met those violet eyes and knew they reflected everything she was feeling and everything she hadn't yet felt.

He felt her exhaustion mirror his own. Felt her hunger for food tinged with a deeper sort of hunger not to be sated by the kind of sustenance you could buy at the market. He knew- knew that that appetite would not be sated. Not for quite some time. Especially for the next few days. And it was an effort to set aside his own raging hunger for her. It was time to think about what she needed, not what she desired. Sleep. Food. Water. He knew they wouldn't get far into another round without collapsing.

But with her hand skimming the surface of his chest, he thought he might be willing to damn the consequences and see how far they'd make it. But then her hand came to a stop, just over his heart. He shut down all of his lustful thoughts. Which was almost more effort than he had to give. His hand came up to cover hers where it lay atop his pectoral. He heard her every thought down the bond. She was that tired, that she forgot to put her mental shields up. Or she'd let them down... let him in. He didn't think too much on that. "I would never allow that to happen," Rhys said, staring back into her eyes as she pushed off against him, sitting up. His voice tired, but strong in its conviction. He would not allow her to die for him. He would not allow harm to come to her, not while he drew breath. He would protect her from all potential harm. But then he realized what a hypocritical thing that was. That he would die for her, yet he would not entertain the idea of her even putting herself in harm's way for him. He didn't care. She was too precious to him.

She put her other hand on his cheek shaking her head at his conviction, smiling slightly as her eyes glazed over- love, exhaustion, she couldn't tell anymore. "I don't know which is worse," she started hoarsely, her throat dry from her exertions. "The insufferable Illyrian or the dominant High Fae."

"Oh, you'll learn to suffer through both," he said with a small smile of his own. "Come on," he cooed softly, his eyes alight as they stared down at her. He knew he would have to pull out of her.. Knew exactly how the cool air would feel like cold fire when it first assaulted his sensitive shaft, but... they had to eat.

"Mm," she relented, reluctantly agreeing, and she finally unhooked her legs to let him step away, but if she didn't eat- didn't sleep... She hardly had the energy to get down from the table. She felt her hand grab onto the edge of it, once she no longer had him for support. No, she would do no good for anyone if she didn't rest soon.

Rhysand slowly, slowly, slowly pulled himself free from Feyre's core. Doing his best to hide his wince as the cool air his the heated flesh of his cock. He was going to get her upstairs, and then he was going to get food, and then...

"I will be right back," he promised before he gently scooped her up into his arms. One arm around her back, the other around the backs of her knees. He cradled her to his chest as he carried her toward the stairs, toward their room so she could rest while he was gone.

The feeling of him pulling away- pulling out- was just enough to pull that last bit of pleasure from her, and she would have fallen off the table is he didn't take her in his arms. She was asleep against his chest before he reached the top of the stairs.

He knew she was asleep and he smiled down at her fondly. Pressing a kiss to her brow, he walked to their room- because that's what it was now, theirs - careful not to wake her. He laid her down on the bed gently, pulling the blankets up to cover her naked body. He took a moment to admire how peaceful she was while she slept before going to get dressed.

And Feyre slept. She slept peacefully. And without nightmares of the hell she once endured. She was safe, and comfortable, and even as her body relaxed and took the time it needed to reinvigorate herself, she knew she would sleep like that from here on out.

Rhysand tried to stave off his own exhaustion as he made his way through the streets of Velaris. His hands inside the jacket he'd pulled on over his sweater because it was gods-damned cold out here. It hadn't been a long walk from the townhouse to the smaller of his city's markets, and as Rhys picked out breads and produce and sweets and any sustenance that looked tasty, which was quite a lot, admittedly.

His arms laden with bags, Rhys walked back home. Home. Not just the townhouse, but her. She was his home. He would have winnowed in to avoid making more noise than necessary, if he had had the energy. But, seeing as almost all his reserves were depleted, he had to try and hold all the groceries with one arm as he fumbled with the door. Once inside, Rhys made for the kitchen to put things away and whip up a little meal for the two of them. He wouldn't burn it this time.

And while she slept, Feyre dreamed. She dreamed of Rhys, holding her in his arms, making love to her on the rooftop patio of their townhouse under the stars. She dreamed of walking through the city hand in hand, their people smiling and acknowledging them, not out of fear but mirroring the love and adoration they had for each other. She dreamed of a future- as his mate, consort, wife, High Lady- and the family they would one day have together. And none of those dreams once sent her running from the bed, wanting to puke her guts up. No, these were dreams to be cherished, and she would. Each and every one.