What do you care? I barked, and his grip tightened enough on my wrists that I knew my bones would snap with a little more pressure.What do I care? he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings - tho...
He brought his lips to my ear. I would have been gentle with you, though. I shuddered as I closed my eyes. Every inch of my body went taut as his words echoed through me. I would have had you moaning...
I was as unburdened as a piece of dandelion fluff, and he was the wind that stirred me about the world.
We moved together, unending and wild and burning, and when I went over the edge the next time, he roared and went with me.
I don't know why I feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them. Why it feels so selfish and horrible to paint. I shouldn't--shouldn't feel that way, should I? I know I shouldn't, but I can...
His lips were smooth against my skin, his breath warm, and my knees buckled as he lifted my other hand to his mouth and kissed it, too. Kissed it carefully - in a way that made heat begin pounding in...
Feyre, he said--softly enough that I faced him again. Why? He tilted his head to the side. You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras . . . Even in the darkened hallway, his usual bright eye...
Before you start yelling . . . ,
A half-wild beast, Nesta had once called me. It was an effort to not take his hand, to not reach out to him and tell him that I understood.
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