32
Reine
"Rhys, by all the gods—" I bolted upright and away from the s*x-sated gargoyle and the promise of the first good night's sleep I'd had since coming to Faerie. Before I could come up with something suitable to threaten my brother with, a yowling, spitting ball of fur materialized in the middle of the bed, prompting both me and Lawrence to tuck our legs up at the same time Rhys burst through the door.
I can only imagine the tableau if someone had come in and snapped a picture—a shocked Fae with a scarred cheek, his mouth open in shock and already melting into a delighted grin as his face reddened, one hand on the door. Two lovers squished against the headboard, his wings at awkward angles (mine were furled) with the end of one spoke tangled in my hair. A very distressed gray cat
