Rhys tried not to flinch.

He really did. Even though he could feel every single whimper and shudder and mewl of pleasure that was hurtling down the bond between him and Feyre.

He knew she was just playing her part. That she'd tried for weeks to stop Tamlin's advances and succeeded but that Tamlin believed he was her high lord - her fiance - her mate - even if there wasn't and would never be a mating bond between the two of them - and that as her high lord and fiance and mate he belonged to her and she belonged to him.

Rhys knew that Feyre had kept him shut out of her mind on purpose since she'd been back at the Spring court. That she'd slipped away for minutes every few days and opened that connection between them to let him know she was ok - that everything was ok. But he should have known, should have expected that Tamlin wouldn't wait forever to have her beneath him again. Should have remembered how quickly Feyre's defenses crumbled when she was being brought to orgasm over and over and over and over and ov-

He didn't flinch when the glass tumbler he'd been clenching for hours shattered in his hand and cut open the skin of his palm right at the moment Tamlin thrust his cock into his mate's, his wife's, cunt and she came again for the man who'd betrayed her in so many ways.

Rhys felt it the moment Mor winnowed back into the house, seconds after him, Feyre clutched firmly in her grasp.

Felt it the moment Feyre's defenses came down and she reached for him.

He schooled his features and watched her present their home to Lucien. Watched her present herself as High Lady of the Night Court. He resisted the urge to scoff aloud then. When he finally announced his presence and had dismissed their guests, he took her into his arms and simply let the scent of her - disguised as it was by blood and sweat and tears and Lucien fucking Vanserra - wash over him. Let himself breath and relax, for only a moment, now that she was back in his arms.

It was only when the tiniest trace of Tamlin, her other High Lord, reached his nostrils, that he winnowed them up the stairs.

He was gentle with her at first, let her be gentle with him.

Let her say her pretty lies about how she'd avoided Tamlin's advances her entire trip.

Let her unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his trousers till he was as naked before her as she was him.

Let her fall to her knees and worship his cock till it was thick and hard and throbbing in her mouth.

Let her stand before him and move back towards the bed, their bed . Rhys felt his cock twitch against his navel and resisted the urge to palm himself as he watched her fall back onto the sheets and spread her legs in invitation. He could hear Feyre teasing him through the bond but he refused to let her in - to give her any indication of his anger - of his jealousy.

Rationally he knew that she was his. That he was the one she loved, had married, was mated to. But she had loved Tamlin first. She would always, no matter how much he hurt or betrayed her, have a place in her heart for the bastard that had taken so much from Rhys. He wanted to erase every trace of the bastard from her body, till all that was left was him.

"I missed you," she purred aloud, pinching a nipple with one hand and cupping her bare cunt with the other. Rhys couldn't help but wonder how many times she'd said that to Tamlin. How often she'd presented herself like that for him.

He advanced on her quickly then and she squealed in delight when he flipped her beneath him and began to rut against her as he wrapped one hand loosely in her hair and the other fondled her breasts, pinching and pulling at her already erect nipples.

She didn't expect it when he gripped her hair tighter and stilled behind her.

"Who do you belong to?" He hissed, yanking on the fistful of hair he had wrapped around his knuckles till Feyre was arched beneath him. Her ass pressed firmly against the thick hard length of him.

She jerked beneath him in protestation and hissed beneath him, "nobody."

Rhys grit his teeth. He would not suffer her protestations. She knew, she fucking knew who she belonged to and whilst Tamlin might have permitted her to never submit to him, he was High lord of the Night court.

The most Powerful High Lord to ever walk Prythian.

She was his wife.

He would not suffer her protestation.

"Who," his hand crept beneath her and pressed against her mons, "do," one finger slipped into her dripping cunt, "you", two fingers, "belong," three fingers now, "to?" His thumb pressed against her clit and she shattered with a scream.

"The High Lord of the Night Court." She sobbed, trembling beneath him.

Rhys shifted his hips and slid his throbbing cock into her cunt then, biting down on his lip till he could taste blood. Feyre was shaking beneath him and he loosened his grip on her hair, wrapping his now free hand around her throat and pulling her back so that she was flush against him, panting in desperation as he fucked his cock into her. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He grunted, keeping her pinned against him when she realised what he'd said and attempted to jolt away from him. "Did you think I would believe your pretty lies about how you hadn't let him touch you?"

"Rhys!" She begged. He tightened his grip on her throat. "My Lord!" She beseeched.

"Better," he growled, angling her head so that she could hear him clearly as he breathed his taunts against her ear. "But not good enough. Did you know my love ," he spat the words, "that your mental defences are shockingly weak in the throes of orgasm," he shifted his hips and thrust harshly beneath her, eliciting a cry from her lips and relishing in the way she whimpered at his assault, "that I knew each and every time you went to bed with him. How sometimes it was not him who sought you out," another harsh thrust of his hips, another whimper, "but you who sought out him!" He hissed, dropping his hands from her and letting her fall to her knees before him. He leant over her, his chest pressing into her and his wings unfurled from where he'd kept them hidden, until they were surrounding them. Blocking everything and everyone but them out.

"Did you like it when he fucked you Feyre?" He moved his hand back beneath her and slowly, with barely a touch at all, caressed her clit. "Did you like it when he made you come all over his cock and his hand - when he told you what feeling the mating bond slip into place would feel like? When he called you his ?" Each question was accompanied by the slap of his hand on her clit as he brought her over the edge again and again and again until he was sure the words coming from her mouth were 'I'm sorry's' and ' i love you's' and 'yours' and he gripped her arse with his hands and began to chase his own release, spilling into her with a snarl.

"Mineeeeeee."

He slumped over her and pulled her into him as he rolled them until she was lying on top of him, his cock still pressed within her, still twitching and filling her with his seed.

"I'm sorry," She sobbed.

Rhys tightened his grip on her and pressed kisses along the column of her throat. "I know."

She nodded and Rhys relaxed and opened his mind to her, let her feel his pain. Prayed that she would understand exactly why he'd just treated her like that. He shouldn't have been surprised when she understood perfectly. Didn't try to justify herself or justify his behaviour either.

She knew what she was.

High Lady of the Night Court.

His Wife.

His Queen.

His Equal.

His mate.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and purred, "never again my Darling Feyre."