Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

You're Mine

There was really only one place she could be. My instincts hurtled me toward that spot with alarming speed, but it still took me the greater part of a day to get there.

The wind was absolutely brutal at my back. The first few hours were nothing more than an effort in keeping concentration on the repeated boom of my wings to stay airborne. The muscles trembled and struggled through the initial currents, but then I was up, up in the sky, a light rain cooling my brow and guiding me north.

To Feyre.

And even as I landed in the lakeside clearing and saw the smoke billowing out of the chimney from the little cabin where candles twinkled inside the windows, I felt nervous, undeserving of the woman inside who I’d lied to for so long.

But I was done hiding. I was done with the lying. So long as she let me stay, I would give her everything.

I walked through the snow, still so pure and fresh this far north in the mountains, and paused on the doorway. It was quiet inside, but I could smell her. My fist instantly pummeled the door with a loud groaning that rattled throughout the house - begging her for an answer.

A light shuffle of footsteps, a pause, and then... there she was. Feyre.

Her scent hit me in full force as the door opened, the pine and grass, the warm sun and even some lingering hints of jasmine and sea from when we’d been together. When she’d saved me. It was potent enough to distract me from the appearance of paint that covered her hands and clothes. Inside, the scent lingered further.

It was a long, tense moment as we stared at each other. I had no idea how long it lasted, only that I was beside myself with relief when Feyre’s eyes softened and she stood aside to let me pass. In her cream colored sweater, hair mussed up and paint staining her fingertips, Cauldron - she was a dream.

And so was the inside of the cabin.

My family had kept this property for centuries, our own private retreat. Morrigan and I had come here so many summers as kids, even if just for the week. And when we got older, I brought my brothers to hunt in the fall. There wasn’t a single square inch of it I didn’t know, didn’t have a memory of some sort connected to it. And now, Feyre had added several dozen more.

The walls were covered in paint. Fresh coats slathered here and there with drawings and sketches of... everything. Flowers on the tables, icicles and springtime blooming on the walls. The cold wood paneling was now suddenly full of color and warmth. I might have sworn or gasped surveying it all, until my gaze landed above the hallway threshold and saw what was perhaps the most interesting detail of all.

“You painted us,” I said, my first words. And indeed, Feyre had. Four sets of eyes belonging to the four most important people in my life, save for her, sat above the threshold watching. Mor kept Azriel close, followed by Amren, and Cassian rounded out the right.

Feyre watched me carefully. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind... How could I possibly mind? What she’d done was... stunning.

“Azriel, Mor, Amren, and Cassian,” I said, naming the eyes one by one. “You do know that one of them is going to paint a mustache under the eyes of whoever pisses them off that day.”

I tore myself away to look at her, feeling my breath catch in my chest all over again. She was smiling, or at least, trying very hard not to. “Oh, Mor already promised to do that,” she said.