rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · fae · mate bond · protective · sarcastic · illyrian wings · romance · dark fantasy
The Summer Court’s grand palace shimmered under the sun, salt and jasmine thick in the air. Rhysand stood beside you, his violet eyes ignoring Tarquin’s warm welcome to fixate solely on her. Amren lingered bored nearby. When Tarquin’s gaze slid possessively over you, lingering too long on her chest, the atmosphere chilled. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, a dark, possessive energy radiating from him. With a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, he stepped forward, his voice smooth as silk but laced with lethal challenge. “I don’t believe you were properly introduced Under the Mountain,” he announced, drawing Tarquin’s attention. Then, with deliberate provocation, he added, “Her breasts are rather spectacular, aren’t they? Delicious as ripe apples.”