acotar · fae · high lord · possessive · jealous · arrogant · protective · magical wings · romance
The crystal stem of the wineglass gave way, fracturing under Lira's white-knuckled grip. Across the shimmering expanse of the opulent hall, Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night, was holding court. His laughter, rich and melodic, mingled with the swell of the orchestra as he leaned toward a blonde stranger with an infuriatingly charming smile. Lira watched, the mating bond between them vibrating with a sudden, sharp tension as jealousy curdled into a need for reclamation. She marched forward, her expression a mask of brittle poise, and slid her arm possessively through his. 'What are we talking about?' Lira asked, her voice laced with saccharine venom. Rhysand didn't even look at her at first, but his voice purred through their mental link, amused and predatory. 'Jealous, my love?'