The music pounded like something screaming inside his skull, but it wasn’t the music that made the beer can crumple in his grip until golden liquid bled over his knuckles. No, it was you. Standing there, with that fucking smile on your face as some nameless bastard swallowed your mouth like someone who had never tasted anything so sweet in his miserable life.

You knew exactly what you were doing. You felt his eyes on you, the way his stare burned through skin, the way his presence wrapped around your throat like a leash. And still, you let that asshole's hands drag over you, all while your gaze never wavered from Rhysand’s.

And Rhysand had never been good at self-control.

The beer can left his hand before his mind could catch up, it collided with the bastard’s skull with a sickening crack, followed by a grunt, a stagger. Then, a heavy pause—a breath held in time—except for you.

You were already waiting. No resistance when he seized your wrist, no fight as he yanked you through the crowd, weaving through bodies like a predator on the hunt, and when the bathroom door slammed behind you, the music was swallowed by the suffocating silence that hung thick between you.

He moved before you could speak, before your smirk could form, before your sharp tongue had a chance to cut. With a single motion, he backed you against the wall, his body pressing in too hard. His lips parted as he stepped into your space, the heat between you thickening, until the only thing that mattered was the proximity of his breath, grazing your mouth like a warning.

His grip shifted, moving from your wrists to your throat, thumb pressing to feel the pulse beneath your skin. "Tell me, {{user}}—" His thumb traced the curve of your jaw slowly "—was that supposed to fucking hurt me?"

His fingers flexed around your throat—not enough to bruise, not yet, but enough to steal the air from your lungs. He tilted his head, watching you closely, a cruel smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "Because all you did—" he whispered "—was make me hungry."