Novel & Cerita Rhysand And Feyre

Glancing into his eyes with fascination, I watched the white swirling circles appear around his pupils and rapidly grow with intensity. “We can't help it, Freya. You are my Fianna and I am your Fennid. Basically, it's our kind's version of soul mates. Our one true love. There is no getting away from it, and we can't fight it either. So, you see, it's not your fault.”

Chapter 4 Tanya's POV I felt my body breaking. It wasn’t pain the way I had known it before. My bones felt as though they were stretching from the inside, my muscles elongating violently beneath my skin, following the trail of purple blood that had been exposed to the air. I couldn’t control it. The shift wasn’t coming from my willpower as it was ripping through me. “What are you doing? Capture her! Have her chained and locked up in the dungeon!” Tovar’s voice tore across the chambers, sharp and commanding, but laced with something else now — fear.

I don't know why I am whispering but his eyes move so quickly to mine that my breath seizes. There is always something about his presence that makes me unable to breathe. Something dark. Something enigmatic. He hardly speaks but when he does, it sends shivers running down my spine. Despite him being Zade's brother, we have barely said a word to each other. He only glances at me and nothing more. I don't speak either because something crippling in me always tells me to run away from him before something drastic happens. " Lyra Reyes," He whispers back in his husky low voice.

Xander’s POV My room walls had never been as small. I walked round in front of the fire, my hands rolled into fists, and the heat within me was more warm than the fire itself. My wolf, Feris, tore at my flesh impatiently, insistent, clamoring to get that single thing I had promised to deny him. Edrian.

I smiled, and to my surprise, she smiled back—just for a heartbeat—before looking away like she’d betrayed something by doing it. Still trying to act tough. “So,” I breathed, watching the sky, “do you really think we might die?” “Well, yes,” she said plainly. “There’s a probability. Everyone in that room knows it. We’re half-prepared to face Kyante, but we’re doing it anyway. For you. And for Rhaenan, mostly.” I glanced down at my hands. “I’ve known Rhaenan for four hundred years,” she continued. “He’s always stood tall. Strong, loud, sharp-tongued—the most insufferably charming faerie I know. But since Edina was taken, he’s been... different.”

“You think you can challenge me? You think you can meddle with things you don’t understand and not pay the price? That magical entity… it hurt you. It rejected you. Just as she will.” Rhys let out a weak growl, trying to push himself up, but collapsing with a pained yelp. He looked at Kieran, a defiant glint in his eyes despite his agony. “This… this has nothing to do with her choice, Kieran,” Rhys gasped, his voice raspy, his wolf form trembling. “This… this is about something else. Something… ancient.” He struggled for breath. “You don’t understand… you’re all blind.”

Alpha Tyrion added and my mouth hung open with shock and fear. Shifters! How would I fight against those predators?

And yet, he found himself watching her, waiting for her to say more. “I’m sorry about your wife. She truly didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Her eyes remained downcast, her breath shaken, Rhysand could see her lips quivering slightly as if… she was cold or whimpering? Rhydian stilled at her as he frowned. No one had said that to him before. Not a single person seemed to sympathize with him regarding his loss. “I don’t care what you think. I do not need your sympathy.” Violet didn’t mind the tension in his voice… she went on.

He leaned in to kiss my cheeks, whispering with a tone that I knew spelt rage. "Yeah, sure," I replied, putting up a tense smile as he walked away. "Wanna have a seat?" Rhysand asked, leading me onto a seat. I settled into the seat across from Rhysand, my hands resting stiffly in my lap. My fingers trembled slightly, the phantom sensation of Alex’s grip still lingering on my wrist. I could feel his eyes on me even in his absence—like an unseen force pressing down on my shoulders, warning me not to step out of line.

The one with the eyes that went red when he looked at me. “What—what happened?” I stammer, my hands trembling as I push myself back. “Where’s Betty? Who…who are you? Did…did you touch me?” He scoffs, like my panic amuses him. “Tempting,” he says, his voice low and smooth, “but that’s not my thing.” My stomach tightens. If anything, his calm makes me angrier. And more terrified. “I’m Rhysand,” he continues, stepping closer, each movement deliberate. He presses a kiss to my knuckle. “Vampire prince. And your mate.”