#duke devlon

[nikethestatue]

The Agreement

Chapter 6

Azriel, Lord Night, Duke of Velaris

Azriel turned off the water in his shower and sighed, looking down at his rock hard erection, which he’s been sporting for what seemed like hours. Was he considering calling on his physician? Perhaps. If this thing didn’t calm down at some point, he would have to take drastic measures. Though what could a physician do in this–unfortunate–case? Give him some valerian root? Attempt to relax the randy duke whose cock was out of control? Good luck with that. Besides, what was he going to tell the dignified doctor about the situation?

Pardon, Dr. Dawn, but my manhood had been harder than granite and could probably tear through my trousers any minute now.

It would also require him to use words like ‘my member’ and ‘my manhood’, instead of ‘cock’ or ‘dick’ which was his preference. But he couldn’t very well announce to the doctor ‘my dick’s been hard for three hours now. I blame Elain’. Because technically, it was all because of her. Even more technically, it was actually his own fault. He was the one who left that unmistakably  possessive mark on her delicate, lovely neck. He was the one who sucked on her skin, who bit her and who made her wear his bruise, which stained her perfect flesh, reminding him every second that he glanced at it that she was his. It was his fault, and now he was paying penance for it. Because last night, Miss Elain Archeron simply floored him, when she arrived to dinner in a pretty dusty-pink dress, which he otherwise probably wouldn’t have noticed, but it did show off her bare arms and was revealing enough to allow a nice view of her chest and her neck. And that’s when he spotted the mark. In fact, bruises peppered her upper arms, her shoulder, and there was an explicit, delightful bruise on her neck. She tried to cover it with a lock of her golden curls, but it was no use.

She was still pouting from their afternoon disagreement, and when she arrived at the dining room, looking pretty, and acting snooty, he had to smile to himself. As if he was going to be deterred by her attitude! It was adorable that she was mad at him. He, in fact, kind of liked it, and was looking forward to kissing and fondling the attitude right out of her. 

Since it was only the two of them, it left Devlon as the one attending them at dinner, and Azriel, not being a stickler for rigid etiquette, also had Cerridwen assist, if there was need for extra help. Devlon always bristled at the fact that Azriel allowed women to attend at dinner, but Azriel cared very little and also, liked to tease Devlon until the man was in danger of popping a vein. 

Devlon had served at the Queen’s Court, and when there was an opportunity to serve as the Head Butler to the Duke of Velaris, he immediately latched on to the opportunity. Little did he know that the young Duke of Velaris liked to ignore all the rules, didn’t care for decorum, wasn’t interested in following prescribed etiquette, and was painfully wayward. 

“Good evening, Miss Archeon,” Azriel told her, as he sipped his gin and tonic, standing by the sideboard,  “you look lovely.”

“Thank you, sir,” she responded icily and it made him laugh.

“The colour becomes you,” he complimented her further, knowing that he was just annoying her now and sort of relishing in her foul mood. 

Miss Archeron has no idea what an arse he could be when he wanted to. So, he stepped towards her and cupped her face in his hand. 

She gasped and tried to pull away, but he only squeezed her jaw tighter and turned her face to the side, so he could kiss her cheek, and then her neck. 

“My lord,” she hissed, trying to swat him away, but he only kissed her harder, whispering, 

“I like seeing you wear my mark, Elain.”

Her fingers flew to the bruise on her throat and he kissed the tips of her fingers, before pressing his lips back to the bruise. 

“I’d like to see you wear more of them,” he suggested, his breath warm on her neck. 

She was shivering next to him, her bare arms covered in goosebumps, panting softly against his head, while he nuzzled and licked on her delicious skin. She tasted amazing. There was something uniquely hers about her sweet, floral scent–he could’ve sworn that it was honey. Yes, warm honey. He thought that he might want to kiss and lick on this perfect skin for the rest of his days. Her soft, small hands made an extremely feeble attempt at pushing him back, though mostly, she ended up kneading his chest with her fingers. Which he liked. 

All of this would’ve been better if they were naked though.

At that moment, Devlon arrived at the dining room, and Azriel stepped back, releasing Elain’s flushed face. 

Elain sat down, her breathing visibly uneven, while Devlon moved silently and expertly, serving consomme with dumplings. Azriel leaned back in his chair rather informally, paying little attention to the food.

“What have you been doing this afternoon, Elain?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

She couldn’t act pissy in front of Devlon, therefore, she answered calmly,

“I’ve been making plans regarding your messy garden, sir.”

Azriel laughed.

“Is it? Messy?”

Primly, she announced, “it’s unkempt. It needs care and some effort.”

“Ahhh. And do you wish to offer it care?”

She dipped her eyes down and chewed on her lip, before nodding.

“I would. I would like to care for it. Make it beautiful. Make it flourish.”

Azriel wasn’t sure if they were still speaking about the garden, or something else entirely.

“I believe that the garden would appreciate that. It does need care. It needs some love.”

She looked at him, her gaze testing and unimpressed. She read right through him, which amused him to no end, and while Devlon was busying himself with the fish course, plating the fillets, Azriel smiled and winked at her. 

“Anything else?” he pressed.

“I wrote a little…”

He raised his brow and said, “Indeed? What, may I ask, are you writing, Miss Archeron?”

She offered him a fierce look and announced, 

“A story.”

“Ahh, what about?”

She pursed her lips and remained quiet. Devlon set their plates in front of them–steamed turbot, with cream sauce–and Azriel told Devlon,

“Mr Devlon, I think Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Montrachet Grand Cru for the fish and the chicken course…”

Devlon’s eyes popped wide open when he heard the request. It was one of the most expensive wines in the cellar.

“My lord,” the butler began, but Aziel gave him a bland look, which brooked no argument.

“Of course, my lord.”

Once the butler was out of the room, Azriel stood up from his seat, walked over to Elain, while she watched him in alarm, and cupped her face between his palms.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” he asked and pressed his lips to her forehead. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and looked up at him.

“Have you forgiven me?”

He though for a moment and shrugged,

“I suppose, though I expect you to do a little more begging…”

“My lord!”

“Your lord would like for you to tell him more about your writing.”

“Oh…What about the begging?” she asked dumbly.

He barked a laugh and said,

“Oh, you’ll beg, sweetheart. Not yet though,”

“For what?!” she exclaimed.

He stroked her face with his knuckles, gently dragging them over her cheeks and lips. She was looking at him expectantly, blinking her huge gentle cow eyes at him.

“For your lord to make you feel incredibly good.”

He smiled and then nudged at her, “What's your story about?”

“About a girl who comes to serve in the household of a tyrannical duke!”

He chuckled,

“A tyrannical duke? I like the sound of it.”

“You would!”

“Will it be an erotic story?” he inquired, to which Elain gasped and covered her face in her hands. He kissed her hands and wrapped her body within his big arms, pressing her to him. He was laughing merrily at her squirming discomfort. “You are adorable, lass. I, for once, would love to read your tales about John Thomas and Lady Jane.”

She whimpered in his arms, and he kissed her hands and the top of her head again. 

He was amused–Elain in fact knew the slang terms for male and female genitalia after all.

He disengaged from her quickly and suddenly and slid back into his seat. A heartbeat later, Devlon arrived with the wine bottle.

-

Azriel hadn’t slept, which was nothing new. Before the sun was even up, he went downstairs, to his private gymnasium, where he exercised with dumbbells, jump rope, and boxing. He always kept himself in top shape, and even participated in bare knuckle fights on a monthly basis, in underground fighting rings in Whitechapel. It wasn’t something that men of his status and circle did, but he figured that if they could be whoring with low born women in brothels, then why couldn’t he fight with dock workers and labourers for money? He didn’t take the money, but he liked to win and he donated the winnings to local charities. 

Looking down at his cock that was standing at attention like a faithful soldier, Azriel shook his head and sighed. He stepped in front of the sink and got his shaving kit ready. His valet had the easiest job in the world, because Azriel required very little assistance, but Balthazar was useful for other things besides pressing jackets and tying bow ties. Besides, Azriel simply preferred to do things himself. He was a man. He could dress himself. 

He lathered his chin, standing at an awkward angle next to the sink, trying to avoid smashing his cock into it. 

The fact that Elain was now under his roof, in his domain, under his control didn’t make things easier for him. She was no longer a hypothetical. She was someone he could have. And would have. And wanted to have. The conundrum that he was facing was rather simple–he didn’t only want her sexually, because the more time they spent together the more he enjoyed her and her personality. And that was a problem, because all he was supposed to have been wanting was her sex and her ripe, fertile body.

He finally was able to rid himself of his erection, though it took much longer than expected–a lukewarm shower, a shave, and finally the time it took him to dress. 

It was still only 7:30 AM  and it wouldn't be surprising that Elain was still asleep, but it didn't stop him from walking past her bedroom door three times in a row, in hopes of hearing any type of movement. 

Maybe he should order her to sleep with him, in his bedroom?

But then he’d never not have an erection.

But then he also wouldn’t have to be away from her. She’d be sleeping next to him, preferably draped over him like a blanket and he’d be perfectly pleased. 

But he also told her not to sleep with him in the same bedroom, as per their Agreement.

Yet he said that she is ‘not required’ which didn't mean that he couldn’t make it a requirement.

He was not a good man. He was not a kind, good, honourable man like his brother Cassian. Instead, he was a scheming, cold, truthless, needy monster, whose desire to dominate and win overrode all decency and good will. Perhaps the only good thing he’s done in his life was not divorcing his poor maimed wife Morrigan and not assigning her fate worse than death and dismemberment. Him being almost 30 years old, that wasn’t much of an accomplishment.

Like a vulture, he circled around her bedroom door, until finally, huffing in frustration, he made his way downstairs. Should he order Nuala to wake Elain up? Or should he simply require Elain to be awake and ready to receive him in any manner he wanted by 7 every morning? That seemed like a reasonable requirement to him. Besides, he needed to breed her, and that couldn’t be done on her own time.

His thoughts drifted towards a different direction–imagining Elain soft and warm, swelling with his babe, her belly curving with the heft of his child, her breasts filling with milk, her hips rounding for the birth.

He licked his lips, imagining putting her on her hands and knees and watching her heavy belly descend towards the mattress, while he entered her from behind, filling his hands with large, ample breasts. He’d fuck her often, and would try to be gentle. 

Which brought another thought into his head–they hadn’t discussed what would happen between the two of them once she was impregnated. Would they have to cease their relations? Of course, her pregnancy and her state would dictate that, but he now felt that it was an oversight on his part. He should’ve included the requirement of her sleeping with him and taking his cock even when she was pregnant.

Biting his lower lip, he frowned, pondering how to rectify the omission. That was stupid and shortsighted of him, but it wasn’t a total loss. She was naive and accommodating–he wouldn’t have to take it. She’d just give it to him. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, he’d teach her to enjoy sexual relations, and eventually, crave them. Crave him. Because he’d show her how to please him.

He trotted quickly downstairs, his clothes still unkempt: his waistcoat unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, the collar open. He preferred not to wear a tie until the very last moment before he absolutely had to wear a tie. He grew up in the country–with horses, and hiking, swimming, hunting, boating, and even fishing. All of his life, he found formality stifling, unnecessary and tiresome, which was a great point of contention with his stern, old-fashioned father.

Voices alerted him once he made his way towards the kitchen. He figured that Cerridwen might have already been up, preparing breakfast, and perhaps Balthazar was around, because it seemed that he was sweet on her, with both of them thinking that Azriel had no idea. Azriel had an idea, a very good idea, but at this time, he chose to look the other way, hoping that if his servants were intimate, then Cerridwen was smart about it. Balthazar better make an honest woman out of Cerridwen, if she fell pregnant. However, Azriel hoped that it wouldn’t go as far as that, and that Balthazar would be an honourable man and would ask her for marriage property. After all, debauchery was the privilege of the wealthy and the titled. Like himself.

The voices though, weren’t those of Balthazar and Cerridwen. They were all female.

He opened the door and entered the kitchen.

Laughter and giggling greeted him. Some sort of doughy mess was spread on the butcher’s block, and Elain was kneading it, her small hands strong and able, working the dough expertly, rolling and stretching and slapping. Her movements were confident, and a little sexual. The twins were hovering near her, one beating eggs in a bowl and the other was preparing the morning tea. Or coffee, for Azriel. 

He took a few moments to observe and enjoy the sight of Elain. She looked so happy, smiling widely, her thick golden brown curls loose and escaping from her pin. He’d have to help her out with that and see that beautiful hair tumble over her slender body. There were so many things that he wanted to see and explore with her.

She wore a simple linen housedress, with a few front buttons and some lace edging around the collar and the sleeves. The dress was loose and there was something about it…Azriel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it fit her…differently. 

“Good morning, sir!” she finally spotted him and smiled her beautiful smile at him.

The twins straightened and curtsied a quick curtsy. 

“Good morning,” he said, folding his arms on his chest and watched Elain’s caramelly eyes track the movement. Oh, she liked that. So, shamelessly, he flexed his biceps for her, making them bulge under his shirt and the swallow that she produced without even noticing it, told him everything he needed to know. His mouthy virgin was attracted to him. He’d assumed that she didn’t find him unbecoming or repulsive and therefore signed their agreement based on some semblance of attraction, but yesterday in the garden it became quite obvious that she found him physically desirable. “I thought you were still asleep, Miss Elain,”

“No, sir,” she shook her head. “I slept, but not well. I could never sleep well in new places,”

“I am sorry to hear that. Were you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” she shook her head quickly, “it was incredibly luxurious. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I could’ve sworn that I heard walking in the hallway,”

The twins dipped their eyes to the ground, both hiding their insolent smirks, which made Azriel smile too. Nothing slipped by those naughty twins–they noticed everything. That’s why Azriel valued them so much and trusted them implicitly. Now, he trusted them with Elain.

“I wonder what it might have been,” he pondered dramatically. “Perhaps the rain drumming on the roof…”

“Maybe,” she nodded, thinking. “But it sounded like footsteps…”

“So you woke up and decided to start baking?” he jerked his chin towards the butcher's block, changing the topic of conversation.

She wrung her fingers and whispered, “it’s been so long, sir. Is this permitted?”

“Of course, Elain,” he assured her gently, and stepped into the kitchen. “The house is your house. You can do whatever you want…”

“Thank you, sir,” she looked up at him and he stupidly felt pleased with himself because he made her happy.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,”

“And I would like to eat it then,” he chuckled.

He looked at the twins and then read his expression immediately, as they made their way out of the kitchen. When she passed by him, Cerridwen stopped and said,

“My lord, may I go to the shops with Miss Elain and Nuala?”

“Is that the plan for today?” 

“Yes, lord, but I won’t be able to make luncheon,”

“Obviously you may go, Cerridwen,” he said simply. 

“Thank you, sir.” She beamed at him happily.

“I am a grown up,” he smirked, “I can make myself a sandwich or eat at a restaurant. In fact,” he reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a couple of bills, “buy whatever you want for yourself and have luncheon at a cafe,” he handed the money to Cerridwen. “But ladies, please be back before dinner. I’d like to dine with Miss Elain.”

“Of course, lord. Thank you.”

Thinking it was her cue to follow the twins, Elain threw a sad glance at the dough, and then began walking towards the door as well, before he caught her with his arm, and wrapped it around her waist.

She gasped and Azriel tsked, smiling at her,

“And where might you be going?”

“But I thought…”

“I thought you were going to feed me breakfast?”

“Oh, you want it?” she confirmed, grinning happily.

“Yes, I want it. I remember we decided you’d be eating at least two meals with me.”

She was soft next to him, her plump breasts pushing into his chest, her arms soft and smooth as well, and the hips that were just below his forearm nestled comfortably against him. He wanted to squeeze her bottom. Desperately. 

But he held off. For now. 

“Now, where is my morning kiss?” he asked innocently.

She stared at him, her body now fully moulded into his, and her gaze fell on his mouth. 

Azriel was intrigued. Would she actually go for a full kiss? Herself? Without deferring to him?

Loudly, and abruptly, she smacked her lips on his cheek and then said, “your morning kiss!” before wiggling out  of his embrace.

He barked a loud laugh and released her, though he took his seat by the counter and watched her go back to her dough. 

“What are you making?” he asked curiously.

“Currant buns!” she explained, as she began pinching bits of dough and rolling it into balls. Azriel didn’t comment, but watched her closely, especially how her breasts moved beneath the dress, swaying softly alongside the rhythm of her hands. 

“You are a good lord,” she commented offhandedly, brushing each bun with melted butter. Azriel watched her, enjoying the sight of every movement, every flick of her wrist, the way she handled the dough with such gentle care. Her neck bore a bruise from his mouth. He liked that even more.

“Why? Because I allowed Cer to go to the shops?” he chuckled.

“Not all lords would,” she argued.

“Perhaps. But maybe I am only doing it to impress you. And I am–what did you call me yesterday?--oh yes, a tyrannical duke.”

Her cheeks lined with pink and she laughed nervously.

“Why would you want to impress me anyway?”

He pulled out his cigarette case from his pocket and said,

“Who knows…Maybe I am an eccentric tyrannical duke.”

He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, while she wrinkled her cute little nose.

“Does this bother you?”

“No, not much. But I don’t think that it’s healthy,” she commented. 

“No?”

“Inhaling smoke into your lungs cannot be healthy,” she said reasonably and he realised that he never thought of it so simply. Perhaps, she was indeed correct.

“My doctor says that it’s not dangerous for my health,” he told her.

She huffed under her breath and he motioned his hand at her, noticing her derisive shrug, 

“Well, tell me more.”

“The same doctors wouldn’t wash their hands between patients only 20 years ago…some still don’t. I hope your physician is more knowledgeable and not so set in his ways,” she told him primly, arranging the buns on the baking sheet. 

“Hmm,” Azriel considered, saying, “you might be correct, Miss Archeron.”

“We are back to Miss Archeron?” she inquired archly. 

“Forgive me,” he smiled and inclined his head. 

“All I am saying is that I want my baby to get the best possible care and not from someone who thinks that smoking isn’t harmful.”

Azriel extended his arm across the counter and clasped her hand. Usually, he wouldn’t like to expose his arms quite so much in front of anyone, but with Elain, it didn’t seem uncomfortable, or unnatural. She hardly seemed to even notice them, as her other hand lightly caressed his forearm.

“Come here,” he whispered to her.

There was some worming feeling in his chest when he heard her say the words ‘my baby’ and how she wanted to ensure that her child would be cared for and protected. Elain was thoughtful and loving, fearless to the point of foolishness and Azriel knew that she would make a good mother. One day. One day she would have a babe of her own, maybe a few, and she would be a most embracing and caring mother to them. 

A twinge of sadness and regret invaded his chest when he realised that she’d never be a true mother to his child. 

He pulled her to him and made her stand between his legs, resting his hands on her hips. He could see her vein pulsating in her neck and before she could do anything, he pulled her even closer and licked along her jugular, tasting the frenetic pulse and the hot blood beneath his tongue. She whimpered in his arms, but settled obediently between his thighs, not attempting to pull away from him, which pleased him. 

“I am much happier when you are agreeable, Elain,” he murmured into her warm throat. 

“We agreed not to quarrel,” she reminded him breathlessly, and for the first time, her hands touched him willingly. He wasn’t sure if she realised it herself, but she threaded her fingers into his hair, holding his head closer to her neck. He opted not to point it out, loving how she held him, his her slim fingers pressed and massaged the back of his head. 

He hooked his finger in the collar of her dress and pulled it away from her neck, baring her collarbones and a bit of her shoulder. Kisses were allowed, so he did not need to ask for permission, but this–

“May I?” he groaned into her shoulder, as his fingers found the buttons of her dress.

She was shivering next to him, her skin hot, and when he glanced at her face, her eyes were both hooded, but also sparkling warmly at him. 

“What do you want to do?” she stammered quietly.

“I just want to check something,” he said vaguely, grazing her shoulder with his teeth. 

“Will you bite me more?”

“Is that what you want?”

She nodded. 

“Of course,” he promised. His girl was an innocent–but not only in body. She was a girl of their time–kept pure and unaware of any sexuality, because their old Queen insisted on pretending that she was overly pious. Well, with all the children that the Queen had and considering her obsessive love for the late Prince Albert, Azriel somehow doubted that the Queen was as innocent as she liked to imply. Elain was though. And it was important to him that he passed no judgement on her desires, or that she thought that she was being shamed for her needs. If his girl liked biting, then bite her he would. 

He lightly clamped his teeth over the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she released a blissful moan, her eyes closing, her head falling back and exposing more of her neck to him. He kept kissing her, while his fingers undid the buttons of her dress. Once he was done, he didn’t uncover her, but let her come to, and then they both looked down between their heaving chests.

He waited for a moment, to see if she would react, or reject him, but she didn’t.

“What did you want to check?” she asked softly, panting. 

He cupped her cheek in his palm and made her look at him. His thumb skimmed over her cheekbone, and then brushed down her cheek and her jaw, before stopping at her mouth. He pulled her face closer to him and thumbed her parted lips, dragging his finger over her lower lip. She keened towards him, and he kissed her neck, before sliding his thumb back and forth over her lips. 

“Open up,” he ordered gently.

Her lips popped in an enticing O, and he carefully pushed his thumb inside her mouth.

She gasped, but sucked it in and just watched him and his reaction.

Well, she should’ve been watching the reaction down below, because  it was…immediate. And wild. His cock strained inside his trousers, awakened again, after Azriel had put so much effort into calming it down. But his sweet girl was gently sucking his thumb, and he was only human. And weak.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his breathing uneven, ragged almost, “that’s my girl…”

His affectionate praise caused the desired reaction from Elain. She perked up, instantly growing more confident and more eager. He smiled at her, letting her suck, while he stroked her face. 

“Are you being my good girl for me?” he asked with a smile, “did you do as I asked? And put on a pretty brassiere for me?”

That’s what was different about her.

At first, he couldn’t understand, but gone was the stiffness and the rigid posture that the corsets forced on the women. When she was rolling the dough balls, it finally dawned on him–the plump tits were moving beneath the dress. They weren’t hidden within the confines of the laces and bindings, but while contained, they definitely swayed attractively and the newfound movement made his mouth water. 

She attempted to answer, but he shook his head ‘no’ and said, “keep sucking”. 

She obeyed, while he parted the top of the dress and looked at her breasts.

He was correct. She wore a satin bind, which was trimmed with lace and had three mother-of-pearl buttons in the front. Her breasts were cradled in the satin, but Azriel immediately acknowledged his mistake–he should’ve ordered them in lace, with some satin trim, and not vice versa. He wanted to see her skin, wanted to observe the puckering of her nipples through the lace. The satin, while nice and luxurious, didn’t show him everything he wanted to see.

Pulling his thumb out of her mouth at last, he queried, “Do you like it?” 

She almost made to cover herself, but he stopped her and circled her wrists with his hands, before bringing her fingers to his lips.

“It feels…unusual,” she admitted, blushing prettily. “As if I am uncovered.”

“Oh,” he smirked a devilish smirk at her, “you’ll be a lot more uncovered very soon, dear girl.”

She looked at him and then pressed her lips to his fingers. 

God he loved it.

He loved her taking the initiative and kissing him herself. But he also loved that she kissed the ugliest, most maimed part of him so willingly. 

“Will we truly be in the nude?” she asked timidly.

“Absolutely. I want to see every part of you,’ he vowed hotly, watching her licked her lips and then bite the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “I want you spread open in front of me, sweetheart. You are too beautiful not to admire,”

“I am not that beautiful,” she protested shyly, though he knew that she liked the compliment.

“That’s for me to decide. And I’ve decided that you are gorgeous. And I can’t wait to explore every part of you…”

“I want to see you too,” she blurted out suddenly, and he grinned at her.

“Good. You will see every part of me as well. You will touch it and taste it,”

“Oh my,” she gulped nervously. “Will it be more than…fornication?”

“Oh indeed,” he promised. “So much more. I’ll have to use you in every manner imaginable, even if some ways don’t lead to conception,”

“But why?”

“Because it feels good. For both you and I.”

“I like the kissing,” she began to say, but he interrupted.

“That’s a start. How about this then?” he wondered and before she could say anything, he pinched both of her nipples between his fingers. He did it through the satin, but he did it hard. 

Elain cried out, stilling in front of him, her expression that of utter shock. He smiled at her, but did not let go. 

Her nipples were nice and thick, not tiny like peas, but nicely swollen with arousal and he fought the need to tear the stupid cover and bare her to him. He yearned to see those plump, full tits, and how she would swell for him. 

“Oh my Lord,” she cried out pathetically, once he twisted them and squeezed his fingers tighter.

“Tell your lord how it feels, my beautiful girl,” he encouraged her, lightly biting the tip of her ear.

He rotated the tight peaks mercilessly, rubbing and pinching them, upping the level of pain bit by bit, to see how much she wanted. Her stifled little moans told him that she was just enjoying herself. 

“Please,” she pleaded, his polite darling girl. “Please, it feels so…oh…fantastic!”

Her hands fell on his thighs and she squeezed them, keeping herself upright. 

“That’s good,” he approved. “Hold on to me.”

“Please. Please more,” she begged, whilst he released some of the pressure on her nipples and just worked them over with his thumbs now. 

“Does it hurt?”

She swallowed, squeezing his thighs harder, and shook her head.

“It’s good…it’s good if it hurts,” she confessed. 

“Good, my sweet girl. Embrace what you like,” he encouraged her, kissing her neck, gently dragging his tongue over her lips. She lurched towards him, wanting her kiss, but he tsked and chuckled,

“So eager,”

“Kiss me!” she insisted. “You promised. It’s part of the agreement.”

“I have some ideas for our first kiss. You’ll get it. And you’ll love it.”

He gave her nipples a sharp parting pinch, making her yelp loudly and then removed his hands from her breasts.

“You are simply delicious, sweetheart.”

Stumbling and mumbling something about her buns, Elain jammed the cooking tray into the oven and then Azriel caught her in his arms and placed her firmly in his lap.

He cupped her breast in his palm, but only squeezed and massaged it gently, acquainting himself with its delightful heft. For someone so slim and malnourished, Elain possessed lovely full breasts, which he promised himself to explore more and often. All the time, in fact.

“Is this courting?” she asked naively.

“It’s a little more than courting,” Azriel said, kissing her cheek lightly. 

Once the buns were baked, Elain removed them from the oven and allowed them to cool for a few moments, while Azriel prepared tea and coffee. She stared at him with ill-concealed shock, considering that he was a duke, and here he was, without a jacket or a tie, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and preparing drinks no less. 

“Not used to men cooking?” he chuckled. 

“My father never has. Though he is an invalid right now, he’s never even so much as boiled water in a kettle.”

Azriel then ordered her back in his lap and fed her the freshly baked buns, while she gulped a cup of freshly brewed coffee, moaning softly under her breath. Azriel was plenty satisfied with fondling her at his leisure, filling his hands with her breasts, something which she clearly enjoyed. Though he thought that the buns were delicious as well.

-

Azriel was standing by the window, drinking Irish whiskey. 

He’d spent most of the day at Westminster and never did he feel more pleased to return home than he did today. More than anything, he wanted to play with Elain and make her respond to him and his ministrations with her pretty moans and demands for more.

The dim street lights were illuminating the empty street outside, while rain was beating down ferociously. April showers would bring May flowers. Flowers that he was going to give Elain.

“Good evening, General,” he heard Devlon’s voice and in the next moment, heavy footsteps echoed in the foyer, before his brother entered the salon.

“‘Evening,”

“What are you doing here?” Azriel demanded.

Cassian’s dark brow furrowed and he said,

“It’s Tuesday? We dine together on Tuesday. Or do I have my days mixed up…” he looked around in confusion. Azriel sighed.

“No, no, it is Tuesday,”

It dawned on Cassian and he grinned, asking, “are you entertaining?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Azriel said evasively. 

“And what manner is that?”

Azriel went to pour Cassian a drink and his brother made himself comfortable on the sofa, clearly with no intention of leaving. 

“How are you doing with all your lording and passing laws that us plebes must adhere to?” Cassian inquired and Azriel couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s blase attitude. 

“Goodness you are odd, aren’t you,” Azriel mused.

“Yes, but think about how sad and empty your life would be without me in it,” Cassian shrugged, taking a generous sip of his whiskey. 

Azriel couldn’t argue. Cassian was the closest being in his life–a friend, a brother, a colleague–all rolled into one.

“So, who is she?” Cassian asked bluntly.

The answer came from Elain herself, who entered the room, looking down at her dress.

“Good evening, sir,” she said, without looking at Azriel. “How do you like this dress that we bought today?”

Azriel glanced at her–it was a deep cobalt velvet dress, with fluttering chiffon sleeves and splashes of sequence to add some dimension to the dress. It draped her shoulders beautifully, leaving them almost bare, and with a good amount of smug satisfaction, he noted a smattering of bruises on her neck and shoulders. 

“You look enchanting as always, sweetheart,” he said with a smile, watching her.

She lifted her eyes at him at last, and smoothed the dress over her belly and her hips.

“It’s been so long since I’ve worn something so lovely, sir. Nuala insisted on me buying the dress and I couldn’t resist!”

“And I am glad that you didn’t resist, darling Elain, and that she was persuasive. You look stunning.”

“You do,” Cassian’s voice boomed from the sofa, and Elain jumped with fright.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, but Azriel was at her side at once, and wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her in place.

“Elain, may I introduce my brother,” he said calmly. “Lord Cassian, General Night.”

Cassian stood up and Elain gaped at him and his immense stature, before curtseying before him.

“General,” she extended her hand to him and Cassian bent to kiss it.

“Miss Elain, I presume?”

“Yes, Elain Archeron,” Azriel said.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Archeron.”

“General, I read about you in the newspaper,” Elain said, while Azriel led her to the dining table and pulled the chair for her. 

“Indeed? What did they say?” Cassian smirked. “Something horrible?”

“No,” she laughed. “It was the story about you in the war–crawling for three days, when you were wounded, while a hungry tiger stalked and tracked you.”

“And here I am!” he laughed. “In one piece.”

“Thank god!” 

“The dress becomes you, Miss Archeron,” Cassian complimented her and Azriel threw him an annoyed look.

The dinner was pleasant, but Azriel wanted to crawl out of his skin.

He wasn’t worried about Cassian judging him, or even Elain–Cassian was wild and debauched and usually lacked judgement. However, Azriel wanted Elain’s attention only on himself. Cassian was handsome, funny and free and ladies gravitated to him. While Azriel might have been considered more handsome, he also had a quiet, surly and closed-off personality. He wasn’t engaging or kind like Cassian. And while Elain listened to his brother ramble on about his adventures, Azriel seethed and wished for this damned dinner to be over.

He also didn’t want to reveal Elain or his plans just yet–to anyone–and now, it was all out in the open. He’d have to explain. He’d have to reason and confess why he was holding this beautiful girl virtually hostage in his house, while paying her money to breed her. That was the only reason why she was here–to take his cock and his seed, so he could impregnate her. There wasn’t a way for him to make it ‘pretty’ for Cassian’s ears.

At last, eclairs and coffee were served, and at the sight of the pastries, Elain’s eyes lit up with excitement. 

It pleased Azriel.

Yes, he did it for her. He told Cerridwen to bake or buy pastries for every dinner and seeing Elain so pleased in a most childish, adorable way was exactly the reaction that he was hoping for. She glanced at him, gratitude shining in her eyes, and he inclined his head, confirming her suspicions. 

“Give my compliments to Cerridwen,” Cassian said, “she outdid herself tonight!”

They were done with dinner and Azriel could sense that Elain was growing tired.

“I will,” Azriel promised and then got up from his chair and came behind Elain. He stooped and cupped her face in his hand from behind, before tilting her head and kissing her neck. 

Cassian watched the exchange in silence.

Elain blushed intensely, but didn’t say anything. 

“Good night, sweet girl,” Azriel whispered into her neck, and she lightly stroked his cheek. 

Cassian got up and bowed his head.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Archeron. I should like to see you again.”

“You will,” Azriel told him dryly.

“Well, that’s wonderful.”

-

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!!” Cassian bellowed once Elain was upstairs and the doors to the smoking room were tightly locked.

Azriel didn’t answer, but only went to pour himself a drink.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Azriel?” Cassian demanded, walking back and forth erratically, his wide stride eating up space again and again as he circled the room.

“I will breed her and have an heir,” Azriel announced bluntly. Better to get it over with.

“No. No you will not!”

“Yes, I will.”

“This is a gently reared girl!” Cassian was waving his finger in the direction of Elain’s rooms. “This is not a whore or even a peasant girl who came here to,”

“I know who she is,” Azriel sighed, his head hanging low. “But I’ve made up my mind,”

“You are going to destroy her life!” Cassian hissed. “Why?! Why do this to her?”

“I am not,”

“You absolutely will and you know it! You will destroy her reputation. You will,”

“Shout all you want,” Azriel was shaking his head dejectedly. “But I am not letting her go,”

“What is this, Az?” Cassian stopped stomping about. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need an heir,”

“There are other ways to beget an heir!” he yelled gruffly.

“I am not letting her go,” Azriel repeated. “This is not your concern, Cassian.”

“Who is advocating on her behalf?!” Cassian demanded. “I bet she never even told anyone about this…this…madness!”

“Who she chooses to tell, is her business. I didn’t want to tell you, but here we are,”

“Azriel,” Cassian implored again. “For the love of god, think! Think, mate. Think with your head and not your cock,”

“Fuck off,”

“I will, once you realise that this is the wrong thing you are doing. She is an innocent. A virgin, I bet,”

“Of course she is,”

“And if you haven’t breached her, then it’s not too late. Let her go. Pay her a few hundred quid, and you’ll set her up for life. This is the only honourable thing to do!”

“Cassian,” Azriel tried again, feeling the truth of his brother’s words in his gut. Cass was correct of course. He was absolutely right. Azriel didn’t have the right to selfishly destroy Elain’s life–deflower her, fuck her, breed her, and then take away her baby.

“Are you lonely? Is that what this is?” Cassian asked, his voice softening. “I know it can’t be easy for you after Mor, but,”

“This isn’t about Mor. But why is everyone entitled to happiness?” Azriel cried out petulantly, “but me? Why should my wife fall off a fucking horse and lose her abilities and functions,”

“You could divorce her,”

Angrily, Azriel shouted, 

“I can’t! And you know that! I can’t divorce Mor,”

“The courts would understand,”

“It’s not about the courts! Should I divorce her, she loses my protection and goes back to her hateful father. He will send her to live in an asylum where she will be treated worse than an animal, forced to lie in her own waste for days on end. Do you not understand that, Cassian?”

Cassian collapsed in an armchair and buried his head in his hands.

“I like Elain,” Azriel pleaded quietly. “She is…she is sunshine. She is goodness. She is everything I didn’t know I wanted. She is kind and sweet and she…she stops and pets every dog that she sees! She has no money, but she gives a copper or two to all the vagrants on the streets. She bought me a pastry when she knew she’d come and see me…Even today, she returned from her shopping, and she had bought me a tie,”

“With your own money,”

“It’s irrelevant. I cannot let her go!”

Cassian looked straight at him and said solemnly,

“But you must. You know you must. That’s the only kind thing to do. Care for Elain the way you care about Morrigan.”

“I can’t,” Azriel gasped.

“I know, brother. But you will.”

-

Later that night, Azriel stood at Elain’s door, his head and his heart both pounding painfully in unison.

Cassian was correct.

He had to let Elain go.

She was a dream. 

And a dream she would remain. 

No damage was done yet.

Cassian was correct.

She still had her virginity, her dignity and her honour. He didn’t mar Elain with his darkness, with his greedy need. She remained as he’d found her. 

His sunshine.

And he was going to let her go.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep10 pt 1: Yugioh Predicted the California Drought

Ah, my break is officially over, and it’s a new year, and so far, this year kind of sucks so lets get distracted and watch some TV. IF ONLY we could solve the world’s issues with a bunch of lost children from Japan carrying magical paper cards, amiright?

Anyway, Seto reflects on these cards that he came alllll the way to California to learn about, only to learn about them, and then decide “Yeah I didn’t really want to know that, Yugi.”

I just want to remind everyone that last episode I said “and now Kaiba has joined the party” and it lasted like less than one conversation with Yugi before Seto was like “oh hell no” and just walked out in that purple ball gown, trailing behind him like a complete diva.

Yugi needs to curse his friends to like him more often, is what I’m saying.

(read more under the cut)

So, staring at the fallout of their rekindled friendship with Kaiba that lasted less than a minute, Joey makes an observation.

And then Yugi just wonders “the hell is this plot supposed to go if a Kaiba isn’t here to abduct my family/tell me what to do/get abducted themselves?”

So they decide to reach out to the only other person on this show with a degree than Seto Kaiba.

(And TBH, Seto probably just decided to buy a new degree in graphic design from Devry so he wouldn’t have to finish public school and spend another millisecond in the same room as Joey Wheeler.)

And I have to give Yugi credit for finally deciding to visit the only adult he knows in America. Way to finally find an adult, Yugi. Took 4 season’s but you’ve finally done it. Gonna go visit Arthur Hawkins and dance awkwardly around this Rebecca situation that I guess Tea is fine with now. She used to be jealous, but I think Tea genuinely enjoys spending time with Rebecca now. The jealousy kind of disappeared once the plot picked up.

And Kaiba just takes off in the most wasteful plane ever invented, off to destroy precious fossil fuels on some other side of the planet.

Kind of weird that Tea would rather fly in that asshole dragon plane than Duke Devlin’s sweet retro car, but youknow...I’ve mentioned before that Tea is secretly just a Kaiba-lite without the cards. Of course she’d prefer an asshole dragon jet.

And Yugi would be able to fit in the suit-case compartment of the dragon jet. Just put the suitcase on Mokuba’s lap, and then stuff Yugi into that little slot, he’d be fine.

And honestly Kaiba made the correct choice, because what these guys had to go through is absolutely ridiculous. First off, Duke is like “Oh, this is really close to here” (remember they are in the Financial District of SF) and he just turns directly off of 101 and blows through some bird sanctuary somewhere.

Like y’all, everywhere that doesn’t have a house or a cow field on it in the Bay Area is a protected bird sanctuary, weird fact about the Bay Area, and Duke killed so many birds this episode. The South Bay is SO DEVELOPED.

Course, that is again assuming that the art staff knew that they were drawing the Bay Area, which they SUPER DID NOT.

Now this rock structure, I’m sure, is there to mimic the next shot with the giant ass building--it helps make pleasing screen transitions. But...at what cost?

AT WHAT COST?

Just....

Like I am starting to think the landscapers only knew how to draw one type of mountain and that was it. Square mesas only. They were just unprepared for hills. And like...we only have wild grass that is green like this for like...2 months of the year. That’s it. That’s what my Winter looks like, it’s when the grass is alive.

How did this happen?

Anyway, Mai is alive, and really upset about it. Will she at all reflect on her behavior, and realize that if the main mini-bosses are telling you to knock it the hell off, then maybe there is something wrong with you? Like these are two people who I assume harvested a ton of souls off screen like actual serial killers and they’re like “Girl. You’re like being hella mean right now and need to tone it down.”

I mean, if Mai gets better, than that basically gives Joey absolutely nothing to do in this season so, gotta keep Mai completely bonkers. There she goes. On a motorcycle.

And if you thought Yugioh was done throwing recreational and vintage vehicles in your face, well don’t worry, they even got the OG vintage vehicle, check this one out:

A freakin horse.

And I have to tell you...horses are hard to draw and animate and Yugioh doesn’t do a great job and it is wonderful. I love seeing this horse kind of awkwardly stumble around. It’s very good stuff. Like clearly these artists do not love horses as much as they love one of these:

Of course, get allllll the vehicles in this episode, Yugioh, bring back Marik on his yacht, I dare you.

And then...this very bizarre set of things happen in succession. I’ll just show you.

NICE.

WOW.

That entire house just exploded.

Not just a part of it--but the entire freakin house.

They were there for like less than 30 seconds, and just demolished that entire house like it was Independence Day the movie.

And like that whole house situation was pretty bonkers anyway, not sure why they need a planetarium when they research undersea structures, but youknow what? Arthur Hawkins would. 

And don’t you dare do the math and think about how much a house with a planetarium and a horse stable in it would cost in Silicon Valley. It’s way too depressing, trust me.

And yes, that probably exists. Lots of horse people in Los Altos, and it makes me wonder if maybe they based Rebecca’s home on Stanford University? Maybe? I feel like these animators think Stanford is in San Fransisco. That one seems likely to me.

Also, kudos to the horse that it got blasted 50 ft away by an explosion and not only is the horse completely OK, but so is all of her groceries. That is one power horse, right here. I mean the groceries are still covered in so much horse ass smell, but youknow, Rebecca’s 12 so it’s not the horse’s or Rebecca’s fault that she has no idea how groceries work. We should just be glad that she bought vegetables when she went to the store and not just 8 cartons of pop tarts.

So, hours pass, no police show up, and Yugi and co walk into this bleak situation.

Fortunately, the massive explosion did not explode the truck-led RV outside.

A truck that...could’ve been used to go and get the damn groceries, may I add. If Arthur Hawkins used the TRUCK and done his own job without sending his granddaughter into a modern town on a horse, then he would have been at the grocery store and his house would never have exploded. This one is on Arthur, honestly. Then again, he seems like he kinda has the parenting skills of Yugi’s family, who just kinda...delivered him to San Fransisco un-aided and was like “have fun storming the castle”

This ship is kind of hilarious in action, not gonna lie. Yugi’s here with a grandpa who came back from the dead and is like “They don’t really need your grandpa, so he’s probably fine” and it’s like wtf. That’s terrible advice, Yugi.

Anyway, they apparently needed the Oricalchos necklace that Yugi handed off to Arthur back in like the first episode. So Yugi didn’t exactly mean for this to happen, but yet again, because Yugi and Pharaoh can’t be bothered to keep track of their own magical items themselves, someone else goes off with them and gets super screwed. Again. At least Arthur isn’t totally evil (although he still might and go rogue like Marik, and we all know that would be a very funny hairstyle if it happened)

So Rebecca happens to have this necklace just on your person (WTF, ARTHUR THAT’S YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER) and she gives it back to Yugi, where it should have stayed in the first place since he’s haunted by powerful ghost powers and is the only one here that can handle all these haunted Mordor rings. (just remembered he left Bakura’s ring in Japan. I’m sure that’s not going to be a problem later.)

So, that’s all for Part One. As you can see, I’m a little behind schedule, but youknow, I got lazy over the break, and then I drew Joey Wheeler a bunch when I planned to be typing, and it was overall a really great use of my time. No regrets.

And if you just got here this is a link to read the Yugioh recaps from the start. One of these days I’ll put the link into seasons but that does mean I have to retag stuff.

[shallyne]

SJM game: Chased by...

A generator chooses a Villain that chases you and 10 characters that get split into 2 groups who could defend you. You can only choose one of the groups to defend you.

You are getting chased by Maeve

Group 1:

Azriel, Clare Beddor, Lord Devlon, Drakon, Einar (Autumn King)

Group 2:

Hunt, Declan, Bryaxis, Duke Perrington, Aedion

All characters are randomized, I did not choose them specifically. Just added their names to the generator. Round 2 because I added characters of the sjm universe

[wingsofanillyrian]

Would you Take an Arrow for Me? (Feysand)

Anonymous asked: “ Can you please write one where in the middle of Feyre and Rhysand angst fighting, Feyre sees an attacker from the corner of her and quickly pushes Rhysand out of the way so she takes the full blunt pain of the ash arrow? And Rhysand loses it”

Full Fic Masterlist

Send me a request!

Feyre’s POV

Rhys had been on my nerves all day.

He’d agreed to take me with him to visit Devlon’s camp, but had neglected to inform me that he didn’t plan to let me out of his sight. I had intended to gain some hand to hand training experience from some of the battle hardened Illyrians, but hadn’t been able to focus with Rhys’ burning gaze tracking my every move.

I doubled over as my opponent’s staff landed a jab at my stomach for the third time. The lead trainer clucked at me, shaking his head.

“Your thoughts are elsewhere,” he said, eyes flicking above us to the edge of the pit. Frustrated, I growled and threw my staff to the sand.

“I’m done for now. Thank you for your time.” Without another word, I turned on my heel and exited the pit. Rhys said something as I stalked past, but the blood roaring in my ears drowned it out. He caught my elbow, forcing me to face him.

“Feyre, what is it-“

I whirled on him. “Do I need to be babysat?”

Rhys blinked once before releasing my elbow. “What? I’m not babysitting you. I’m just making sure you’re safe.”

“Damn it Rhys, I can protect myself!” He opened his mouth to either argue or agree, but I cut him off. “You know what, I’m not fighting with you about this here. If you really want to discuss, I’ll be waiting outside the camp’s border.”

I tromped past the gathered warriors, unflinching under the weight of their stares. Not every day that you witness a High Lord and Lady duking it out. The wards zinged against my skin as I crossed the camp’s barrier, instantly feeling more at ease.

I breathed the crisp autumn air deep into my lungs, letting the scent of dry leaves cool the anger in my veins. A twig snapped behind me, and I knew it was more for by benefit than an accident.

“I’m sorry you felt that I was babysitting you.” Rhys’ inky, thoughtful presence enveloped me as he came to a stop a few feet behind me.

“Felt like?” I forced my voice to remain calm and steady. “Rhys, what kind of image does it present to those men if I can’t do anything without you hovering over me?” I shook my head as I faced him.

“You can do things without me, you’ve proven that-“

“But they haven’t seen any of those things first hand. I want them to be able to see me as their equal, and I can’t do that with you breathing down my neck!”

“Feyre, please, look at this through my eyes-“

“What do you see? Do you see a pitiful being that needs your protection? I can take care of myself! What are you so afraid of?“

“What am I so-“ He chuckled, the sound low and unnerving as he raked a hand through his hair. “Do you even know what they do to females in those camps? The horrible things the males do when they think no one’s watching?” I stiffened at the words.

“They wouldn’t dare touch me.”

“You’d be surprised!”

“Even still, that’s no reason for you to-“ I sucked in a breath, my focus narrowing to a glint of light over Rhys’s shoulder.

In an instant, time thickened to the consistency of syrup; everything flowing at a snail’s pace.

I saw the ash arrow whiz through the trees, tracked it’s path through the brush. It was going to impale Rhys, a clean shot right through his heart. He’d be dead in seconds.

I had barely a moment to decide, but then again, there wasn’t a decision to make.

I threw my entire body weight at him, knocking him out of the arrow’s trajectory. Birds cawed as they fled from the disturbance. I didn’t register the hit, but I knew immediately that something was wrong.

My mind was fuzzy. Spots blinked in my vision. As if outside my own body, I touched my bicep, fingers coming away wet. Distantly, I recognized the scarlet color as blood. My blood. I felt the shaft of the ashwood arrow protruding from the flesh.

And then the pain hit.

Searing, bone-deep pain lanced through my left arm, coating my veins in pure, liquid fire. Someone was screaming, probably Rhysand. Maybe it was me.

I remember crumpling to the ground and Rhys kneeling over me. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he shouted something, but the ringing in my ears was too loud for me to hear anything.

Black tinged my vison as a fresh wave of white-hot fire licked through my body. My fingers clawed at the dirt, my mouth open in a silent scream.

End this, I begged through the bond, the only thing tethering me to consciousness. Kill me, kill me, kill me-

Stop it, he growled back, suddenly fierce as he lifted me into his arms. The movement jostled the arrow, twisting it and exposing me to more of the splintering ash, bringing more agony. I was bleeding too quickly, I could feel the liquid dripping from my dangling fingers.

I was going to die. But I couldn’t leave him without saying goodbye. I fought against the black tinting my vision long enough to choke out three words down our bond.

I love you.

I plunged into the black abyss, never expecting to return.

***************

Rhys’ POV

I replayed the moment over and over in my mind. I’d been screaming at her, more upset and annoyed in that moment than I had ever been before. One second, she was flinging more poisonous words back in my face, and the next I was on the ground.

It had taken me a few precious moments to realize what happened.

And then I saw the blood.

There was so much blood.

It poured from around the ash arrow that had punctured straight through her arm. She’d touched it then, activating the detrimental effects of the wood.

For as long as I live, I will never forget her scream.

It tore from her throat, a blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream that rattled my bones. With half a thought, I misted every foreign body within the dark forest as I scrambled to her side.

“Feyre, darling, stay with me baby,” I pled, cradling her face in my shaking hands. Her breathing was labored- not a good sign. The ash must’ve pierced an artery, the poison coursing through her veins already reaching her vital organs.

And she was losing more blood with each increasingly weak beat of her heart.

My tears splashed onto her cheeks as her eyelids slid shut. I pulled her into my lap, the arrow twisting. Her face contorted, mouth open in a silent scream as she convulsed.

“Feyre, it’ll be alright, I love you, I love you, I love you-“

End this. Feyre’s strained, broken voice filtered through our bond. The words clanged through my entire being.

Kill me, kill me, kill me-

Stop it. I hefted her fully into my arms, phantom pains pulsing through my own arm. I knew they were but shadows of what she was enduring.

She was slipping away, our bond dimming with each moment. It guttered and flickered, like a candle in the wind.

I winnowed us to the nearest camp, directly to the healer’s tent. I remember screaming for someone, anyone, as she told me she loved me one last time. And then she was asleep.

***************

She’d been asleep for three days.

Over the course of those three days, healers came and went, Cassian and Azriel cried- actually cried- at their High Lady’s bedside, and Mor had taken one look at her, at the pus leaking through the bandages, and hurled her guts up.

I paced. I sat at her side, holding her hand, begging her to wake up. It was a futile effort though; she couldn’t hear me.

Her mind was shielded by a wall of solid onyx stone, not a single crack for me to slip through. I didn’t know if she was going to pull through. I became a rubber band stretched taut; one tiny incident away from snapping.

The healers had told me that the arrow had nicked her brachial artery, and that she was lucky to be alive. Most people bled out within the space of a few minutes. They said it was the strength of our mating bond that had kept her alive.

They told me it was good that she was asleep. Because that meant her body was healing. Because she couldn’t feel any pain. I tried to accept their reasoning, but I just wanted to look in her beautiful blue eyes one more time.

But she didn’t wake up.

I didn’t stop pacing.

Two more days passed the same as the others.

But then she tugged at our clouded bond.

A tiny crack in her mental shield appeared, allowing me into her consciousness. Where there had once been blindingly bright light, I found only a dim spark. But it was something at least, and I sobbed with relief.

Tenatively, carefully, I called out to her.

Feyre?

The spark flickered, dimming further. My heart lurched, and I clung to her hand like a lifeline.

Feyre, come back to me. I love you, Feyre darling.

Nothing happened. The light stayed as it was, a barely-there pinprick of her consciousness. Fresh tears spilled from my red, puffy eyes, dripping to the sterile sheets. So this was it, then. Her shield was cracking because she was dying, slipping further and further away with each passing breath.

This was her goodbye.

“Feyre, I want you to know that I will always love you.” I smoothed a hand over her golden hair, committing the feeling to memory. “I will look back on the love we shared every day for the rest of my life. And I promise-“

Sobs wracked my body as I struggled to find my voice again. It was too hard- too hard to imagine going home without her.

“I promise our daughter will know how brave, strong, and courageous her mother was. She will know that you loved her, and are watching over her.”

I kissed her hand, lips wet with salty tears. “I love you.”

Her conscious flared. Wild, senseless hope flared in my chest. My heart pounded as I tried to rationalize the momentary flash. Maybe I’d imagined it in my grief, or it was just her way of pushing my buttons one last time. But I had to make sure.

Feyre?

A pause, long and heart-wrenching. And then a single syllable from her.

Rhys.