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Sarah J. Maas

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“I moaned then, tilting my head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on my waist, then moved—one going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us. This—this moment, when it was him and me and nothing between our bodies … His tongue scraped the roof of my mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of me, and I gasped, my back arching. “Feyre,” he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark solstice morning. His tongue swept my mouth again, in time to the finger that he slipped inside of me. My hips undulated, demanding more, craving the fullness of him, and his growl reverberated in my chest as he added another finger. I moved on him. Lightning lashed through my veins, and my focus narrowed to his fingers, his mouth, his body on mine. His palm pushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and I groaned his name as I shattered”

“Rhys shuddered, and I watched his cock twitch. “Play later,” he ground out. Indeed. His mouth found mine, the kiss open and deep, a clash of tongues and teeth. He lay me down on the pillows, and I locked my legs around his back, careful of the wings. Though I stopped caring as he nudged at my entrance. And paused. “Play later,” I snarled into his mouth. Rhys laughed and slid in. And in. And in.”

“One second, he was in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the broad head of him; the next, his hands were on my waist and I flipped onto my front. He nudged my legs apart with his knees, spreading me as he gripped my hips, tugging them up, up before he sheathed himself deep in me with a single stroke. I moaned into the pillow at every glorious inch of him, rising onto my forearms as my fingers grappled into the sheets.”

“... so I leaned down and put my mouth on him. He jerked at the contact with a barked, “Shit,” and I laughed around him, even as I took him deeper into my mouth. His hands were now fisted in the sheets, white-knuckled as I slid my tongue over him, grazing slightly with my teeth. His groan was fire to my blood.”

“But this part of me...' Mor wiped at her tears with her free hand. 'It didn't matter as much, when my family disowned me. When they called me a whore and a piece of trash. When they hurt me. Because those things... they weren't part of me. Weren't true, and weren't... intrinsic. They couldn't break me because... because they never touched that innermost part of me. They never even guessed. But I hid it... I've hidden it because...' She tilted back her head, looking skyward. 'Because I live in terror of my family finding out- and shaming me, hurting me about this one thing that has remained wholly mine. This one part of me. I won't let them... won't let them destroy it. Or try to.”

“Nesta let out a low laugh. 'If you want someone to blame for all of this,' she said to Tamlin, 'perhaps you should first look in the mirror.' Tamlin snarled at her. Cassian snarled right back, 'Watch it.' Tamlin looked between my sister and Cassian- his gaze lingering on Cassian's wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. 'Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

“She was shaking so badly that she tucked her hands into her pockets and clamped her lips together to lock up the words. But they danced in her skull anyway, around and around. You should have gotten Dorian and Sorscha out the day the king butchered those slaves. Did you learn nothing from Nehemia's death? Did you somehow think you could win with your honor intact, without sacrificing something? You shouldn't have left him; how could you let him face the king alone? How could you, how could you, how could you?”

“She'd claimed it would be fine to die for her friends, that it was fine because they had made it, they had won, but to be killed by this nobody- Nesta snarled. She had nothing left. Her body had given up on her. Like so many others had. ... She was alone. She had been born alone, and would die alone, and this awful male would be the one to kill her-”

“Go,' Cassian managed to breathe. 'Go.' 'This seems familiar,' the king mused. 'Was it him or the other bastard who crawled toward you that day?' Cassian was indeed now crawling toward her, broken wings and leg dragging, leaving a trail of blood over the grass and roots. Nesta rushed to him, kneeling. Not to comfort. But to pick up his Illyrian blade.”

“Come on,' he coaxed. 'A few more feet and you can sleep.' She didn't move. As if she couldn't. He told himself it was because she'd fainted and might not be sturdy, but he walked back to her. Crouched and picked her up in his arms, pack and all. She said nothing. Absolutely nothing. But he knew it was coming- that storm. Knew that Nesta would speak again, and when she did, he'd better be ready to weather it.”

“What are you thinking about?' Helion drawled as they approached a shut wooden door. Cassian straightened. He hadn't realised his thoughts had dragged such a scent from him. He grinned. 'Your mother.' Helion chuckled. 'I always forget how much I like you.' 'Happy to remind you.' Cassian winked.”

“Long-limbed creatures like shards of ice given form stalked past, tall enough to plant the cobalt-and-silver banners atop various tents; wagons were hauled by sure-footed reindeer and lumbering white bears in ornate armour, some so keenly aware when they ambled by that I wouldn't have been surprised if they could talk. White foxes scuttled about underfoot, bearing what looked to be messages strapped to their little embroidered vests.”

“Every hated enemy, every moment she'd been powerless against them simmered to the surface. And with each movement of the sword, each breath, a thought formed. It echoed with each inhale, every thrust and block. Never again. Never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone's mercy. Never again would she fail. Never again, never again, never again.”