If She Had Known

The Painting

The rest of fire night was a blur. Seeing Rhys had taken me out of the mindset that kept me focused on getting through this time line. When the wave of power swept through the spring court, it was not Tamlin I blushed for. I thought of our night at the cabin, when I had accepted our bond. I wondered what Rhys would have done if I hadn't. He was High Lord. It was his duty to perform the Rite, so that magic may flow freely. I knew in my heart he wouldn't have forced himself upon me, but I shuddered to think of what he would have had to do.

It was true that the Spring Court's Fire Night was more vulgar due to the fact that it corresponds with the first day of spring— and also from Tamlin's inability to enter the new century— Rhys would have probably just conveyed the responsibilities to Keir once again.

It was a trial in itself to act as I had when Tamlin found me in the hall. I let him press me against the wall and bite my neck, even when I was repulsed by it.

"You drove me mad," he growled. "I searched for you, and you weren't there. When I didn't find you," He said, bringing his face closer to mine, until we shared breath, "it made me pick another."

I couldn't escape. I probably could , I just shouldn't. I should play the human falling in love. But that didn't stop me from wanting to claw his face.

"She asked me not to be gentle with her, either," he snarled, his teeth bright in the moonlight. He brought his lips to my ear. "I would have been gentle with you, though." The shudder that went through me wasn't one of desire. I felt echoes of it in the loose mating bond. I hoped Rhys was blissfully unaware of this. "I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre."

He ripped his claws free from the wall, and my knees buckled.

"Why should I want someone's leftovers?" I said, making to push him away.

It was still a shock when he grabbed my hands and bit my neck. It was a claiming. Even after he had just come from a cave with another, he claimed me.

I cried out as his teeth clamped onto the tender spot where my neck met my shoulder. I was pushed back into the wall as his bite became more of a caress, as his tongue traced over where his teeth had been.

The hot pulse of anger that radiated through my body didn't come entirely from me, but from whatever lingered of the mating bond. Rhys was that angry. I wondered at what he was doing to keep him from winnowing in and killing Tamlin.

Tamlin ground his hips against mine, but I couldn't bring myself to reciprocate. He was doing enough for the two of us.

He jerked away, finally. "Don't ever disobey me again," he growled.

I straightened. He grinned at me in that wild way, and my hand connected with his face. It was not a shock or in the heat of the moment. I relished the sting in my palm.

"Don't tell me what to do," I breathed. "And don't bite me, like some enraged beast."

And I am not yours to claim.

He chuckled bitterly. The slap from my human hand most likely hurt him very little. The first time this had happened, I had wanted more of this. Of Tamlin's mouth and teeth and tongue all over my body— between my legs. I had drowned in that need.

Now, I was drowning in the need to slap him again. With a knife.

His nostrils flared as he scented me— scented the burning, raging thought that was pounding through my senses. The echoes of what Rhys had elicited from me, combined with the fury of me needing to hit him. He thought they were both for him. The breath rushed from him in a mighty whoosh.