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“Never fall in love with someone that won't fight for you because when the real battles begin they won't pull your heart to safety, but they will their own.”
― Shannon L. Alder

“His skin was darker than I'd remembered- golden now, rather than pale.

Pale, from being locked Under the Mountain for fifty years. I scanned him, searching for any sign of the massive, membranous wings- the ones he'd admitted he'd loved flying with. But there was none. Just the male, smirking at me.

And that too-familiar expression- 'How dare you-'

Rhys snorted. 'I certainly missed that look on your face.' He stalked closer, his movements feline, those violet eyes turning subdued- lethal. 'You're welcome, you know.'

'For what?'

Rhys paused less than a foot away, sliding his hands into his pockets. The night didn't seem to ripple from him here- and he appeared, despite his perfection, almost normal. 'For saving you when asked.'

I stiffened. 'I didn't ask for anything.'

His stare dipped to my hand.

Rhys gave no warning as he gripped my arm, snarling softly, and tore off the glove. His touch was like a brand, and I flinched, yielding a step, but he held firm until he'd gotten both gloves off. 'I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no.'

'I didn't say anything.'

He turned my bare hand over, his hold tightening as he examined the eye he'd tattooed. He tapped the pupil. Once. Twice. 'I heard it loud and clear.'

I wrenched my hand away. 'Take me back. Now. I didn't want to be stolen away.'

He shrugged. 'What better time to take you here? Maybe Tamlin didn't notice you were about to reject him in front of his entire court- maybe you can now simply blame it on me.'

'You're a bastard. You made it clear enough that I had... reservations.'

'Such gratitude as always.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury