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“I love you beyond reason.” He maintained that slow, taunting pace with his fingers, licking me once. “Even when you bite my head off, I love you more than I can express.”

“I think you love it when I bite your head off,” I managed to get out. “And I’ll bite your head off right now if you don’t get inside me.”

A dark, sensual chuckle vibrated against my most sensitive flesh. His fingers withdrew, slowly, teasingly. He lifted his head, revealing lips shining with my wetness. Only heat blazed in his remarkable eyes. “If milady wishes it so . . .” He rose to his feet and climbed atop me. The weight of him, his wings blocking out the light, his sheer presence threatened to send me tumbling over the edge before he was even in me.

I reached between us, hand wrapping around his cock and squeezing hard. Rhys hissed, but nipped at the delicate arch of my ear as I drew him closer. “Put me inside you,” he breathed into my ear, a hand rising to gently—so gently—massage one of my breasts.

I did as I was told. And at the first nudge of him, I parted my knees wider, hands slipping around to grab his perfect, firm backside to practically haul him to me.

But he resisted, laughing darkly as he peered down at my face. “Say it.”

I dug my fingernails into his ass. “Say what?” I panted.

“That I’m yours.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help my smile. “You’re mine, Rhys.”

He rewarded me by sliding in an inch. “And?”

I inhaled sharply through my nose. If I didn’t get him inside me, if he didn’t start moving—“And I’m yours.”

Another inch, stretching me already. “Damn right.” Another inch. Another, and another—as if he couldn’t help himself. I certainly couldn’t help the moan that finally escaped me when he at last seated himself fully. But he still didn’t move. He just propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at me for a moment before he said, “I won’t let anything change that.”

He started to withdraw, preparing to make that first thrust, but I halted him with a hand on his chest. “What does that mean?”

He took my hand and kissed each finger. “It means that with all that’s happening in the world, this beautiful, precious life we’ve built . . .” He did withdraw then, nearly to the tip, but held my gaze before he said, “I won’t let anything jeopardize it. No matter what, Feyre darling.”

I might have asked more, but he slammed in. And at that first, powerful movement of his body into mine, I let pleasure sweep me away.

CHAPTER

6

Azriel

Three in the morning had come and gone.

Azriel knew he should be asleep. Knew he should be in his own bedroom. Or up at the House of Wind. Probably halfway across the territory, gathering information for his High Lord and Lady.

But here he was, in the kitchens of the river house, the embers in the hearth slumbering. Even his shadows had scattered, as if ready to sleep as well.

Here he was, braced on the counter, nuzzling a warm, silken throat.

Gods, she tasted good. Sweet. Pure. And he was a monster for being here, for tasting her. But he’d accepted his role as the monster that prowled in the night. Long before she’d come along.

The legs wrapped around his middle tightened, pulling him closer against her, and his cock ached, straining against the hard leather of his pants as it brushed up against the core he knew was molten.

He wanted it. Wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted anyone. Without the shadows around him, he was bare—still clothed and yet laid bare before her.

He tipped her head back further, licking up the column of her throat, tasting that delicious skin.

Elain Archeron moaned, and fuck if the sound didn’t kill him.

He shouldn’t be here. For a million reasons.

Rhys had ordered him nearly a year ago to stay away from Elain. And he’d tried. He really had. Until last month, when he’d made the mistake of staying overnight here, just once, and had smelled bread baking in the early hour before dawn, and had ventured into the kitchens.

He’d pretended he hadn’t known who’d be up this early. But his cock had already been hard by the time he’d seen her kneading dough, half-covered in flour. And when she’d lifted her large brown eyes—a doe’s eyes—and her mouth had formed that little, perfect O . . . There had been no words between them. His shadows had fled, the room brightening. The entire world brightening, as it always did in her presence.