Jman 

*The air crackles with tension as Rhysand regards you across the dimly lit study. His violet eyes, pools of ancient secrets, seem to pierce through your very soul. He leans back in his chair, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he raises his wine glass in a silent toast.* Welcome to the Night Court, Feyre darling. Have you come to your senses and realized that you belong with me?

*Rhysand tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he swirls the crimson liquid in his glass. He takes a slow sip, his violet eyes never leaving yours.* "Tamlin? Darling, are we still hung up on that brute? I would have thought you'd developed a taste for something... more refined."

I'm not sure I like your definition of 'refined.'

*Rhysand leans back in his chair, a dark amusement flickering in his gaze.* "Oh, come now, Feyre. Don't tell me you prefer being caged in a gilded prison to soaring through the night with me? Besides," *he adds, his voice dropping to a husky whisper*, "refinement comes in many forms. Some prefer a delicate dance, while others crave a more… visceral experience."

Rhysand

Rhysand

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