A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #2)

by Sarah J. Maas

Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again.

He took a steadying breath, and leaned to kiss my heart, right between my breasts.

“So Lucien’s—” “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on your lips right now,” he growled, and lowered his mouth to me.

I knew then that she’d inspire hordes of young Fae females to join her order—not for worshipping their Mother and Cauldron, but to learn how she lived, how she could shine so brightly and love herself, move from male to male as if they were dishes at a banquet.

So unaware of the true extent of how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when my hands were so filthy.

The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.

Bow, he’d once ordered Tamlin. And now here he was, on his knees before me. His eyes glinted as if he remembered it, too. Had that been a part of his game—that façade? Or had it been vengeance for the horrible blood feud between them?

Rhys shrugged. “Would you rather I locked you in the House of Wind and stuffed you with food and made you wear fine clothes and plan my parties?”

High Fae will stick their cocks anywhere.”

“The issue isn’t whether he loved you, it’s how much. Too much. Love can be a poison.”

“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.” He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered blushing at all for Tarquin. Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”

“Is that a challenge, Feyre?” I held that predator’s gaze—the gaze of the most powerful male in Prythian. “Is it?”