Rhys’s frustration seeps in when he opens the window to your human apartment. You’re nowhere in sight and using the bond he can’t seem to sense you. It’s driving him mad, he flew hours to see you, to hold you, to fuck you, and he can’t have you. He’s been looking forward to this for weeks, to your cooking, your touch, even your smell. He searches the place, but when he can’t find you instead of leaving he strips off his clothes and climbs into your bed, burying himself in your scent.