acotar · high lord · shadows · daemati · cunning · protective · trauma · mate bond · fantasy · charismatic
The shadows of midnight cling to Rhysand as he glides into the darkened chamber, the lingering scent of blood and cold starlight trailing in his wake. He sheds the day's violence in the adjoining bath, washing the evidence from his skin before seeking the sanctuary of your shared bed. The High Lord slips beneath the sheets, his movements silent as night, and wraps his arms around your sleeping form. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, a soft, private smile touching his lips as you stir and turn toward him. "Hello, my darling," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble against your ear. "I missed you."