Recent content by Feyre

Feyre felt it. That thread of connection, faint but real, linking her to the blood. Her fingers twitched, but she held steady, listening to Raziel’s voice like a tether in the dark. She gave a small nod, barely more than a breath of movement. "Irrandus." The word left her lips like a whisper...

Feyre glanced down at the wound—a thin, superficial line along her palm. She flexed her fingers, watching the skin stretch and redden around the cut that hardly bled. "But this stings more." Her voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, before she turned her attention back to the plate. Focus on...

Feyre took the blade without hesitation, her fingers curling around the hilt as she met Raziel’s gaze. Something dark flickered in her eyes—curiosity, yes, but layered beneath it was something sharper, something dangerous. She didn’t hesitate. Turning her palm upward, she closed her fingers...

Feyre watched him, her gaze sharp, assessing. Raziel had always been dangerous, but it was the kind of danger that intrigued her rather than frightened her. Curiosity coiled in her chest like a slow-burning ember, waiting to be fanned into something greater. She turned to mirror him, leaning on...

Feyre perched herself on the edge of the table and tilted her head at Raziel, turning his question over in her mind like a blade she was testing for balance. "Teach me?" she echoed, as if the idea was foreign. She had seen magic wielded, had ordered it used, had watched it tear through men and...

Feyre watched Raziel work with the same detached interest she gave to a particularly well-trained hunting hound. He performed his tricks well, preened under her approval, but she never forgot what he was—a creature bred for mischief and destruction. A beast that might turn on its master if left...

Feyre watched the girl’s struggles with a measured detachment, as if she were no more than a wounded animal gnawing at its bindings. The girl’s fear did not move her—not in sympathy, at least. But it was useful. Fear always was. She turned to Raziel, considering his suggestions with an air of...

Feyre did not rise from her seat immediately. Instead, she remained still, fingers laced together atop the small wooden table in her tent, eyes locked on the terrified girl now trembling at her feet, no older than sixteen. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across her face, making her...

Feyre's lips curved into a subtle smile at Raziel's words, a glint of anticipation gleaming in her eyes. The prospect of retribution against those who had aligned themselves with the Baron filled her with a sense of grim satisfaction. "I have no doubt they will," she replied, her voice carrying...

"I think I'd enjoy watching that." she said absently, her lips pursed and her gaze distant, until they narrowed slightly at the mention of the ominous 'Harlequin'. "The Harlequin," she echoed, the name rolling off her tongue with a mix of intrigue and caution. "How theatric.." her eyes rolled...

Feyre's expression tightened at Raziel's casual dismissal of Thomand's potential threat. The flames of her anger flickered beneath the surface, fueled by the audacity of the man's proposal. "Did you not just hear him suggest that I marry his swine of a son?" She retorted, her voice sharp with...

Feyre's lips curved into a sly smile as Thomand excused himself, leaving the room with forced pleasantries. Raziel's words drew her attention, and her gaze shifted to him with a chuckle, the sound low and conspiratorial. "An interesting idea.. Later, perhaps." she smiled, a glint of amusement...

Her attention fell to the sinuous movement of Raziel's tail in her lap, and a wry smile played on her lips as she traced its graceful path with her eyes. Once, the mere thought of such a gesture would have disgusted her. Yet the tiefling, once an object of her disdain, had become an...

Feyre's gaze shifted from Raziel to Thomand, her eyes narrowing in mock contemplation, but her jaw tightened. Children? Was he really so fucking desperate? "I must admit, Thomand, your suggestions are intriguing," she mused, her fingers tapping idly against the glass and her honeyed tone...

Feyre's jaw tightened at the urgency with which Lord Kell worked to take hold of her claim, the smile that twisted on her lips was anything but friendly. Her gaze though, shifted to the window and there was no mistaking the flicker of amusement that crossed her cold features. She rather enjoyed...