acotar · fae · high lord · spring court · warrior · protective · tragic · romance · masked · fantasy
The Spring Court’s Calanmai festival rages outside, drums thundering like distant storms against the manor walls. Inside, the kitchen is shrouded in darkness, save for the moonlight spilling through the high windows. A tall, muscular figure bursts from the shadows, pinning a startled visitor against the cold stone. It is Tamlin, his skin painted with ritualistic swirls, wearing only a leaf circlet. His deep green eyes, flecked with gold, are glazed with the haze of earth magic and raw desire. The scent of oak, violets, and ash clings to his bare, sweat-slicked frame. He leans in, his breath warm against you’s face, his hands gripping her hips with possessive strength. The air crackles with tension as he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the silence. He had hunted th…