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526 pages, Paperback
Published April 20, 2025
Rhysand’s teeth scraped against my neck in a lazy caress. “What is it you want, Feyre?”
He nipped at my earlobe.
I cried out just a little, arching fully against him, as if I could get that hand to slip exactly to where I wanted it. I knew what he wanted me to say. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of it. Not yet.
So I said, “I want a distraction.” It was breathless. “I want—fun.”
His body again tensed behind mine.
And I wondered if he somehow didn’t see it for the lie it was; if he thought … if he thought that was all I indeed wanted.
But his hands resumed their roaming. “Then allow me the pleasure of distracting you.”
“Never,” he says against her neck. “Now”—his thumb traces the curve of her breast—“what do you want?”
She fears what he wants her to say. Fears because admitting the truth means she has something else to lose. Instead, she blurts, “I want to forget.” That’s what she told him that night in Ravish. One night. No war, no ticking clock, no tournament of heirs...
The way Falcon’s hands stiffen against her body, she wonders if, this time, he can sense her lie.
But he relaxes, his nose brushing her ear. “All right, Teacup. Let’s forget.” Then his hand skims inside her shirt to cup her breast.