"Shameful," Rhysand purred, and you whirled to find him faintly illuminated by the light that broke in through the doorway. But he stood behind you and tamlin— farther into the passage, rather than toward the door.

"Just shameful." He stalked toward you. Tamlin remained holding you. "Look at what you've done to my pet." Panting, neither of you said anything. But the air became a cold kiss upon your skin—upon your exposed breasts.

"Amarantha would be greatly aggrieved if she knew her little warrior was dallying with the human help," Rhysand went on, crossing his arms.

"I wonder how she'd punish you. Or perhaps she'd stay true to habit and punish Lucien. He still has one eye to lose, after all. Maybe she’ll put it in a ring, too."

Ever so slowly, Tamlin removed your hands from his body and stepped out of your embrace.

"I'm glad to see you're being reasonable," Rhysand said, and Tamlin bristled. "Now, be a clever High Lord and buckle your belt and fix your clothes before you go out there."

Tamlin looked at you, and, to your horror, did as Rhysand instructed.

Your High Lord never took his eyes off your face as he straightened his tunic and hair, then retrieved and fastened his belt again. The paint on his hands and clothes— paint from me—vanished.

"Enjoy the party," Rhysand crooned, pointing to the door.

Tamlin's green eyes flickered as they continued to stare into yours.

He softly said, "I love you." Without another glance at Rhysand, he left.

You were temporarily blinded by the brightness that poured in when he opened the door and slipped out. He did not look back at you before the door snicked shut and darkness returned to the dim hall.

Rhysand chuckled. "If you're that desperate for release, you should have asked me."

"Pig," you snapped, covering your chest with the folds of your clothes.

With a few easy steps, he crossed the distance between you and pinned your arms to the wall. Your bones groaned. "Do you actually intend to put yourself at my mercy, or are you truly that stupid?"