bloodlust

11

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS ANGELS!!

Rhysand felt like he was going to crawl out of his own fucking skin. Whatever Feyre had given him, it made his skin a complete live wire of need. He slammed the door to his quarters closed, pacing in front of the roaring hearth he'd managed to light with his magic despite being so fucking distracted at the moment. 

"Wait," she'd said. Stopped him like she hadn't gotten exactly what she'd been gunning for. It was likely just another way to reject him, to fuck with his head and his pride. Why else would she have given him a lust potion?

His cock was unbelievably hard in his trousers, and the friction of walking was driving him insane, but sitting still was worse. How much had she put in his wine? How had he not noticed her take it, or her peculiar behavior as she sat next to him, almost smug with knowing the reaction she was causing. 

He had half a mind to summon one of his past paramours to take care of the ache, but it was so infuriating that all he could imagine was the soft pout of Feyre's lying mouth. He knew no one else would date the need thrumming through him right now. 

He was so beyond frustrated. What made her think she could just do this to him and get away with it? That she could have enough courage to drug a High Lord, but not enough guts to see through the consequences of her actions. 

He was in the middle of imagining all the ways he could get her back for this when a soft knock came at his door. He almost thought he'd imagined it at first, but then it came again. Sighing and running a hand through his disheveled hair, he opened the door to find Feyre stranding there, awkwardly picking at her nails and looking so guilty she couldn't contain it. 

"What do you want." He didn't quite meet her gaze. He was still too angry. 

"Are you okay?" She asked, worrying her lip with her teeth. He scoffed. 

"That's what you came here for?"

Doubt flickered in her eyes and she shifted her weight, for a moment debating if she should just leave the old dragon to brood on his own until he'd blown off enough steam to get back to a normal level. 

"I just wanted to know you were alright," she tried again. 

He glanced down to his rock hard cock inside of his trousers, irritation clear on his face. "What do you think?"

Her gaze followed his before she could stop herself, and she felt her eyes widen at the sight of just how big he was, even covered in clothing. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He arched a brow at her, waiting for her to meet his gaze again. When she did, his mouth curved into a slow smirk. 

"Couldn't resist, could you?" He purred, looming taller over her. "I see what this is about."

"Wh-what?" She stammered, taking a step back. "No, I just-"

"Hmm," he mused, watching her. His irritation faded into a mischievous desire yet again, the focal point of the potion once again taking a firm grip of his mind. 

"Well, now that I know you're fine, um..." She stepped back again, starting to turn to leave. 

"Would you like to come in?" He offered, opening the door wider for her. She peeked inside, her dark curiosity getting the better of her, even with her heart hammering so loud she felt it in her temples. 

"I shouldn't," she said stiffly. 

"No, you shouldn't," he agreed with a nod. "And yet here you are."

She chewed her bottom lip more, mulling it over. He extended a hand to her, and she hesitantly placed her own atop it, taking a slow step into his room and trying not to panic when he shut the door behind her, knowing she'd just caged herself with a hungry lion.