If She Had Known

Last chance

Because of the bargain I had made with Amarantha, my trials were now in such a short amount of time that I was no longer subjected to three months of exposing myself and being drugged to dance in a terrifying strangers lap.

No, this time I only made appearances at two revels, and the lap I found myself in was my mate's. The one person who could bring me any semblance of sanity or security in this hellhole. For the first time in months, I awoke in his embrace. To his gentle touches on my back, fingers in my hair and the warmth of his wings wrapped tightly around us. Our own little bubble of light in a sea of darkness.

It was such a confusing experience. I had gotten used to waking up alone and dreading that cold spot next to me, or feeling the emptiness when I reached over my cell floor for him and the reminder of where I was like a slap to the face when I found I was not in our bedroom in Velaris. I had stopped reaching over all-together. But then, when I wasn't expecting it, I crumbled.

I had stirred as I slowly woke, and rose completely when Rhys pressed a tender kiss to my forehead and whispered, "Good morning, my love." I was so happy for it that I soaked it all in, and then remembered the cruel world outside the shelter of his wings. My bottom lip trembled. Rhys' eyebrows drew together at my quickly changing emotions, but I ducked away from his eyes and tucked my face into his shoulder, gripping him tighter. His hands stopped their tracing and bound around me so tightly like he could keep me from evaporating.

I took as deep a breath I could manage with his arms like a band of steel around me, inhaling his scent. It calmed me like I knew it would and I was saved from another breakdown like last night. No matter what changed, everything stayed the same.

"You're safe." Rhys spoke into my hair. He didn't murmur it like you would to a child, reassuring them of something you could never promise, he spoke it with the finality of the High Lord of Nightmares, as if he was daring someone to contradict him. His tone made me shudder. "I'm here. No one will touch you."

I had a feeling that if I had accepted his offer of friendship the first time I found myself down here instead of choosing to only see his dark villainous surface, he would tell me the same things. Whether we had been mated or not, he had loved me even then.

I moved my face from his chest and rose onto my elbows. His wings made room for me, but did not unravel. I stared down at him, taking in every detail of his beautiful face and knew he was doing the same for me. This. This is what we should have had. Should have always had. No words needed to be spoken, mating bond or not. I knew the shift of his eyes, the creases on his brow. I had no mental shields to protect myself from his daemati powers, but I wouldn't shield from him now even if I could. He said nothing when he entered my mind, but just held me there. I felt bad for everyone out there who didn't have a daemati mate who could hold them body and soul.

Without thinking, I lowered my lips to his. It was one of the slowest of our kisses. We simply wanted to breathe the same air, to be close to one another. Yes, I'm still here, we said. My tongue traced his bottom lip and was easily granted access. Neither of us moved faster than the pace we had set. His own tongue found it's way to mine and it was a game we had played a thousand times. I threw my leg across him so that I was straddling him and fully laid my weight on his torso. His hands found my hips as they so often did, pulling and pushing me until I whimpered. I could feel his grin in our kisses. He chased the sound, picking up our pace ever so slightly. I became desperate in the need to feel him, with one hand in his hair, the other working its way between us to the button of his pants.

His hand gripped my wrist to stop me. "Please," I gasped, desperation, longing, and lust crowding its way into my voice. A growl erupted from his chest with the sound of it and momentarily stayed him. I managed to make some headway when he dropped his head down on the pillow and groaned. "Feyre," I wasn't sure if he was calling my name in pleasure or warning, but I chose to hear the former.