Illyrian Bonds

9

A/N: So sorry about your long wait, but you should give me all ur thoughts in the reactions and comments. It's so incredibly fun to see what you guys say hahahaha. LOVE U FOR READING XOXO.

Climbing out of the shower, Feyre exhaled deeply, closing her eyes to steady herself as she stood in front of the fog-coated mirror. She'd expected Rhys to jump on her and punish her the moment she walked in the door, but she should have known her High Lord better than that. He was not one to make rash decisions. No, Rhys was the kind to plot a slow revenge.

    Still, no one had been here when she'd returned to their bedroom from their overnight stay at the cabin in Illyria. Cassian and Azriel had made themselves sparse the moment they'd re-entered the House, more than likely in hopes of avoiding catching Rhys' attention

    Feyre wrapped the soft white fabric of her towel tighter around her body, grabbed her pile of discarded clothes, and dropped them in the hamper. She walked to the door, flipping off the light as she walked back into the dim light of their bedroom.

    The air felt alive like someone was watching her. Shivering, Feyre narrowed her eyes to search the darker corners of the room in search of the source. A snap of fingers had candles around the room blazing to life, sending shadows of dancing orange and red hues scattering across the walls.

    Rhys stood a few feet before Feyre, eyes alight with sinful intentions. He was dressed in his usual all-black, face twisted into possessive anger. He looked like a wolf stalking its prey. He took a languid step forward, causing her to subconsciously take a step backward.

    "R-Rhys," she stammered, swallowing.

    One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward slightly as he prowled another step forward, tilting his head to one side as he studied her every reaction. His deft fingers found the buttons at the wrists of his sleeves and began unbuttoning the fabric there, rolling them up to reveal the swirling black tattoos that wound up from his forearms to shoulders, sprawling down across his broad chest. All the while, his eyes never left Feyre's.

    She squirmed under the weight of his attention, unsure of what to do. A slight scuffling sound had her head whipping behind Rhys. Her jaw dropped as she saw Cassian and Azriel's huge hulking figures sitting in two chairs, arms bound behind their backs. Azriel looked fucking furious, his nostrils flared as he glared ahead at the back of Rhysand's head. Cassian, however, looked positively glib as he lounged back in his chair, looking at Feyre. Catching his eyes, heat swirled low in her stomach, excitement and fear of what Rhysand was going to do making her throb.

    "Hi, baby," Cassian grinned at her. Her cheeks heated as she rolled her eyes, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from laughing. Rhysand cleared his throat, snagging Feyre's full attention once again.

    "Something amusing, Feyre?" Rhysand asked, voice firm.

    She chewed the inside of her cheek to fight the mischievous grin that threatened to spread across her face as she felt Cassian's oozing smugness and the way it made Rhysand prickle. She shook her head. He nodded, frowning.

    Rhysand turned a chair she hadn't even noticed he'd been standing in front of to face where he kept Azriel and Cassian bound to their own chairs. Rhys sat down, spreading his legs dominantly as he patted his lap.

    "Come sit, Feyre," he instructed. "Let's have a talk."

    "Can I at least get dressed?" She rolled her eyes with a huff.

    He looked over his shoulder, eyes blazing with anger.

    "Do I need to tell you a second time?" He snarled.