ACOTAR One~shots [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Ensnared

Rhys pulls a nasty prank on Feyre while in the forest near the Illyrian Steppes, and Feyre enacts a plan for revenge.

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It had worked once before, she thought, as her fingers swiftly set up the snare she was so familiar with. She kneeled down on the forest floor, setting up a simple rope snare, one she had set up a hundred times before, with some minor adjustments fit for a High Lord, of course. But Rhys is much smarter than Tamlin.

An old memory washed over her, and suddenly, she was in the library in Rhys’s home, her pen poised over a piece of parchment with familiar handwriting, her brow furrowed. Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord. She chuckled under her breath, remembering his successful, if not arrogant and obnoxious, attempt to teach her how to read and write. She hoped that she had become more cunning than him, if only to see the look on his face as he dangled from a nearby branch in the dense forest.

They had been in the Illyrian Steppes for a time now, presiding over Lord Devlon’s camp and making sure the women got the chance to train. Az and Cassian were there now, and she and Rhys had gone for a walk in the forest – well, mostly walking, with plenty of interludes for kissing and… other things. In the middle of a particularly steamy kissing session, without warning, he shot them into the sky, only to drop her from a healthy distance up in the air. Her scream didn’t get the chance to leave her lips before he caught her only a hand’s breadth away from the ground. She had sworn revenge – especially after he laughed himself hoarse for minutes on end once he deposited her lovingly on the soft bed of pine needles and snow. She wasn’t even sure it would work, but it was worth a try. Especially when there was not much else to do out here, and she had finished her training with Cassian that morning.

So she sat in her perch in a nearby tree and waited.

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Rhys chuckled as he watched his mate set up her cunning little snare, no doubt to get him back for his devilish prank earlier. He felt bad, but probably not as bad as he should feel. He still couldn’t fathom how this amazing, strong, fearless woman could take on fully-grown Illyrian soldiers and brave the Court of Nightmares, but flying still made her anxious. That would have to change.

He had to admire the effort, as well as the skill it must have taken to learn how to put together something so effective and discrete, something so lethal. As he watched, a thought came to him. It involved some well-placed winnowing, as well as some necessary seduction on his part. Oh, wouldn’t that be delicious.

Feyre darling, where did you wander off to? I’m missing you terribly, and it’s so, so cold out here.

He felt her slip through that crack in his mental shields, the one left open just for her, and an image filled his mind of the previous night, where Feyre had showed off some of her newest purchases from that infamous little store in Velaris with all of the pretty, lacy things.

Are you warmer now? He could almost hear her smirk.

I’d be warmer if you were here to replay that for me in person.

Come and find me so I can warm you up. I have a surprise for you.

I hope it doesn’t involve clothing. He laughed softly, and he could feel her pleasure at the other end of their bond.

He walked out from behind the tree he was hiding behind, and stalked toward her with feline grace. “Hello, Feyre darling.”

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