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“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell.
Her sisters
Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.
But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.
Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.
“They’re well, though?”
His hesitation told her enough.
“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly.
"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.
Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now.
Only then she realised something else.
“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister.
The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with.
Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds.
Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth.
A shudder ran through her at that memory.
Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers.
"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.
A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine.
“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising.
“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”
His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.
“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?”
She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her.
She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her.
And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge.
Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away.
Her heart was now hammering.
“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”
There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."
Those words did little to reassure her.
"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed.
Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily.
The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.
But...he was right. She needed to be clean.
Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood.
Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”
Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.
Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”
Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...
To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.
But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…
“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”
“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.”
A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”
Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta?
“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”
Feyre’s jaw dropped.
Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.
“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that? Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…
If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?
"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?"
Rhys grimaced, shaking his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."
"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?"
If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.
"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.
"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"
Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.
Their bed.
She was home. Finally.
Rhys sighed.
“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it.
“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”
Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this.
“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly.
Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.
The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?
“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.”
Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.
“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?
Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?
Rhys winced at her look.
"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel."
Feyre’s mind was racing.
Azriel and Alana. Mates.
She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years.
“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.
“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.”
“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either.
"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated." Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.”
"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated.
"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."
Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate.
"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."
"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."
Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes.
"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."
Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.
Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either.
"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."
"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.
Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”
Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was.
“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."
It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.
“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.”
“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."
There was a knock at the door at that moment.
Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.
“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?”
Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Feyre!”
Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.
Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.
She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…
Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.
She looked well.
That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…
Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.
She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up.
"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.
She grimaced.
Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.
It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow.
"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?”
She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.
Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.
She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat.
She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again.
I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.
The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel.
He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...
Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face.
Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love.
And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.
For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.
Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.
She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love.
A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her.
Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.
He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion.
It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love.
Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer.
He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…
Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.
He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted.
Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.
She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal.
What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.
A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.
He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige.
Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.
She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently.
This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things…
Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked.
I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it…
But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying.
Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long. And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.
Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort.
So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.
Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.
You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.
I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs.
And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?
Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.
And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel.
Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly.
Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.
Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting.
It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before.
Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest.
Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.
The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister.
Feyre could just stare.
She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were.
Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know.
“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him.
Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers.
“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself.
The reactions were immediate.
Azriel growled.
Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter.
It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.
“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say.
I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion.
“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.
"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"
Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them.
Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.
Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together.
"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.
Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him.
I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened.
Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation.
Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things.
It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach.
It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach.
Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.
Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue.
Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.
Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well.
That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth.
I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.
Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them.
Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked.
I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before.
Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said.
"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.
She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded.
Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight.
Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways.
I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight.
“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.
Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.
Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana.
Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.
Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.
Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips.
Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist.
"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.
Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction.
“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and Cassian actually growled at him. Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world.
“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.”
"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."
Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs.
“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears.
“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards.
Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too.
"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"
“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his.
In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently.
"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."
“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.”
“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered.
“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”
“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.”
“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully.
It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel.
"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.