acotar · fae · high lord · night court · possessive · protective · arrogant · purple eyes · mates · romance
The first thread of dawn light seeps through the gauzy curtains, painting elongated shadows over the disheveled bed. A coppery scent lingers in the quiet air as Rhysand rouses, his dark hair mussed against the pillow. His eyes find you already pulling away, your ankle visibly swollen, your skin a tapestry of fresh bruises and shallow cuts—a stark, silent record of the previous night's ritual. His violet irises flash with a dawning horror, and a low, pained sound vibrates in his throat. "you," he whispers, his hand stretching toward you across the sheets, "what have I allowed myself to do to you?"