bloodlust

19

The next morning, a knock sounded at her door. She startled, slowly rubbing her eyes and getting to her feet, swinging them off the bed to pad along the frigid wood flooring. When she opened it, her brows immediately pushed together. No one was there.

She almost didn't see it before she closed the door, but right before she did, the stack of books caught her eye. Eyes wide, she bent and picked up the stack of three beautiful books that appeared to go together as a set. She didn't have to read the note to know who they were from, but she opened it all the same.

Feyre,

I will be away on mission for a bit. Here are a few more friends to keep you company.

-A

She stared down at it for far too long before shutting the door and sitting the books stop the coffee table as she sat in the floor on the plush carpet. She studied the art on the covers and soaked it all in, as though this were the only time she'd see it.

These books, it seemed, were also enchanted.

Tracing her finger across the words, the book began to tell the story aloud. She leaned over the book, entranced by its story until her neck and back were aching from her bad posture. Then she took the book to her bed and bundled up and began listening to more of the story.

This protagonist was much different than the last. Brash, bright, and bold, she was unstoppable in her resolve, much like the princess in the last book. Except this story was about a princess born of stars, not of flame.

The part she found most interesting though, were the males in the story with large, feathered wings sprouting from their backs. She'd known of winged fae, but had never heard of fae that had wings like angels. Not demon's wings like Azriel's. The auburn-haired starborn princess fought alongside the winged fae that ironically reminded her of Cassian, from the short time she'd been around him.

The illustrations in the book even looked like him. It was bizarre. Was this something Azriel had noticed? Surely, there was nothing that could go undetected by him that she would pick up on. He was a spymaster for a reason, and she'd caught him whispering to the shadows that clung to him at times, watching them move like they not only understood him but could communicate back. She'd never seen anything like it before.

Eventually, she could no longer hold her eyes open and fell asleep with the book open in her lap. She dreamed of far away lands and creatures of all kinds. Of a world where these creatures could all live in harmony.

When she awoke, she nearly jumped out of her own skin.

Rhysand sat in a chair by the hearth that angled toward her bed. His long legs were elegantly crossed as he watched her closely. The energy roiling off of him was dark, to say the least. Her eyes fell to his hand where he gripped Azriel's note between two fingers. She didn't even have time to remember that the last time she'd seen him, his face had been pressed between her thighs.

Her mouth went dry. Although she was guilty of nothing, she felt remorse for everything. She felt caught in the spider web of Rhysand's expectations and demands. She swallowed, waiting for him to speak. He tapped his fingers and the card along the arm rests of the chair.

"I see you've been making friends," he said, blatantly mocking her.

"Rhysand-"

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't read." He said it like he was disappointed in her, like she'd wronged him in some way by keeping that information from him. She scoffed, anger rearing its ugly head in her chest.

"Why are you going through my things?"

"Oh, your things?" He scoffed a humorless laugh, his voice louder than normal, and she flinched. Rhysand wasn't one to raise his voice. He was livid. It was rolling off him in waves. It made her chest feel tight.