Chapter Text
Six weeks of living with Rhysand Havilliard, and somehow, I hadn’t completely lost my mind.
Yet.
It was a miracle, really, considering he was everywhere. His scent lingered in my clothes, his voice echoed in my head long after he left for work or hockey practice, and the memory of his hands on me, his mouth, was branded into my skin.
And Dorian, ever the menace, had made it his life’s mission to tease me about all of it.
“So, you and my dear brother,” he mused, sipping his drink as we lounged at a small, intimate bar near the theatre. “Are we calling it ‘dating’ or just ‘a catastrophic lack of self-control’?”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “We are not a couple, alright?”
Dorian’s smirk widened. “Ah, so just the mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex then?”
I choked on my drink. Actually choked.
Dorian laughed, looking far too pleased with himself. “Oh, come on, Feyre. Do you think I can’t tell?”
I scowled. “He’s just, he’s just being kind.”
Dorian snorted. “Kind? Feyre, the man looks at you like he’s starving. I swear, I watched him watch you eat takeout last night like he was deciding whether he wanted to devour his food or you.”
A shiver ran down my spine at that, but I shoved it down, ignoring the way my stomach twisted at the thought of Rhys watching me like that.
Because Dorian was wrong. Rhys wasn’t feral for me. We were just… having fun.
A little too much fun. And maybe, maybe, I had lost my heart to him a little. And maybe, just maybe, he was ruining me with the best sex I’d ever had.
But that didn’t mean anything. Right?
Dorian arched a brow, watching me closely.
I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just, it’s just sex. That’s all.”
“Sweetheart,” Dorian sighed, shaking his head, “you are so full of shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “Should I be honored that you’re so invested in my love life?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Dorian said smoothly. “I’ve got front-row seats to the slowest, most painfully obvious romance in history. I wouldn’t miss this disaster for the world.”
I shoved him. He only laughed harder.
Out of nowhere, warm, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and my entire body went still. My stomach flipped violently, but I knew before I even turned my head.
Rhys.
His scent, night air and citrus, the faintest trace of jasmine, wrapped around me as easily as his arms did.
“Miss me, darling?” he purred against my ear, his voice smooth, teasing.
I barely bit back a shudder.
Dorian groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Rhysand.”
Rhys only chuckled, his chest pressing against my back, his fingers skimming over my ribs before settling low on my waist.
Casual.
Like he loved me.
Dorian raised a brow, looking entirely too smug as he swirled his drink. “We were just talking about you, actually.”
Rhys hummed, amused. “All good things, I hope.”
I cleared my throat, ignoring the way my pulse pounded. “Depends on your definition of ‘good.’”
Rhys chuckled, dipping his head lower, right against my ear, as he murmured, “You look beautiful tonight.”
Heat licked up my spine, pooling low, and I swallowed hard, hating how easy it was for him.
How easy it always was.
“Didn’t think you’d be back yet,” I said, willing my voice to stay neutral.
Rhys only smirked against my skin. “Hockey practice ran late. Then I had a few things to handle at NC.”
Of course the Night Court. The business empire he was somehow helping run while also being a professional athlete.
Because, of course, Rhysand Havilliard had zero chill.
Dorian rolled his eyes, watching us like we were his entertainment for the night. “So, what, you finished up work and just had to find Feyre immediately?”
Rhys didn’t hesitate. “Obviously.”
I elbowed him. He only laughed, pulling me even closer.
Dorian’s grin widened. “Yeah, okay, I’m calling it, you two are a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”
I scowled. “We are not a couple.”
Dorian shot Rhys a look. “You hear that, brother dearest? You’re just a convenient fuck.”
Rhys made a thoughtful noise, resting his chin on my shoulder. “That’s funny, because she didn’t seem to think I was ‘convenient’ when she was moaning my na…”
I slapped a hand over his mouth.
Dorian howled with laughter.
Rhys’s violet eyes gleamed with mischief, but I didn’t dare look at him.
I could feel his smirk beneath my palm, could feel the way his lips brushed my skin, how his breath sent warmth curling through me.
I was so fucked.
Dorian groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. First, you’re taking over the business world, then hockey, and now, now, you’re stealing my best friend?”
Rhys, still comfortably wrapped around me, didn’t even bother looking at his twin. “Not stealing, sharing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”
Dorian ignored me, leveling Rhys with an accusatory glare. “Tomorrow’s our day off from the studio. I just wanted to go out tonight, have a few drinks with my best friend, but nooo, Rhysand Havilliard had to come in and ruin everything.”
Rhys hummed, resting his chin on my shoulder again like he was perfectly content. “Well, darling, do you want to be stolen, or are you willingly coming home with me?”
Home.
That single word sent a ripple through me. Because it was starting to feel like home.
Thanks to Rhys, I had to lower my work days at Rita’s, he had conveniently slid a check under my coffee mug one morning, telling me that I didn’t need to exhaust myself when he had “more money than he knew what to do with.”
I had ignored that. But I had cut my shifts down to three mornings a week instead of seven. Not because I wanted his money, but because, deep down, I knew he was right.
And as for moving in permanently?
Rhys had suggested it so casually, like it wasn’t even a big deal.
“You know you can stay as long as you want, right?” he had murmured one night, tracing lazy circles on my back as I laid against his chest.
I had scoffed, keeping my tone light. “Careful, Havilliard, or I might never leave.”
“Wouldn’t mind,” he had said so easily, like he meant it.
And I had felt it then, that dangerous pull.
Because I wanted to stay. I really, really did.
I blinked back to the present, only to find Dorian smirking at me.
“Oh, you’re so gone,” he said smugly, taking a slow sip of his drink.
I scowled. “Shut up.”
Rhys chuckled, pressing a light kiss to my shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Dorian, I’ll let you borrow her for a few hours tomorrow.”
Dorian scoffed. “Borrow? She’s my best friend, Rhysand, you’re the intruder here.”
Rhys grinned lazily. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”
Dorian sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll allow it, for now. But tomorrow? She’s mine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gods, you’re both insufferable.”
Dorian just smirked, while Rhys, still draped over me, murmured against my ear, “Get used to it, Feyre darling.”
”Oh, I see how it is,” he huffed, downing the rest of his drink. “I’m just some forgotten soul, abandoned by my best friend in favor of my own twin.”
Rhys, still holding me against him, sighed like this conversation physically pained him. “Dorian, you’re being ridiculous…”
“Am I? Am I, Rhysand?” Dorian interrupted, looking deeply offended. “Today was supposed to be our evening, and now it’s all ruined because you decided to appear out of nowhere and steal Feyre away!”
I groaned, shoving at his shoulder. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re coming with us.”
Dorian blinked. “Wait, what?”
I stood, dragging him up with me, ignoring the way Rhys’s arms briefly tightened around me before he finally let go.
“You’re coming with us,” I repeated. “You’re going to call Manon, tell her to meet us at his house, and we’re going to drink Rhys’s stupidly expensive wine.”
Rhys lifted a brow. “My wine?”
I shot him a look. “Your ridiculous multi-million-dollar empire can afford to spare a few bottles.”
Rhys smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. “Darling, if you wanted to drink my wine, all you had to do was ask.”
Dorian still looked skeptical. “So, you’re bribing me with alcohol?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
His expression shifted. ”…Alright, I’m in.”
Rhys snorted. “That was easy.”
Dorian smirked. “I’m a simple man. Expensive alcohol and good company, it doesn’t take much to win me over.”
I shoved him toward the exit. “Then stop whining and call Manon already.”
Dorian grumbled something under his breath, but he pulled out his phone, already dialing.
Rhys caught my hand as I turned to follow. He tugged me close, his violet eyes shining with amusement. “Bossy tonight, aren’t you?”
“Get used to it, Havilliard,” I said, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to his jaw before pulling away.
Rhys let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he followed after us.
🤍🩰🌌✨
I should have known this was a bad idea.
The moment we stepped out of the bar, I wedged myself between the two Havilliard brothers, partly because Dorian was still grumbling about Rhys stealing me away, and partly because Rhys had that look on his face. The one that said he’d have no problem slinging me over his shoulder and carrying me home like some arrogant, smug bastard.
But the real problem?
The real problem hit me about five minutes into walking.
Because suddenly I realized that Dorian and Rhys weren’t just brothers.
They were twins.
Not just in the way they shared the same devastatingly sharp cheekbones, the same highborn, effortless beauty that was clearly genetic. No, this was something else entirely.
It was the movement.
The way they walked, shoulders rolling in sync, their long, effortless strides eerily matched. The way they turned their heads at the same fucking time when I sighed too loudly.
The way they both had that same damn smirk when they knew they were being insufferable.
“Oh, gods,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. “Why am I only realizing this now?”
“Realizing what, darling?” Rhys drawled.
“That you two are” I gestured between them wildly, “like this.”
Dorian snorted. “Like what?”
“This!” I practically shouted, stopping in my tracks. “The synchronized walking, the same stupid smirks, the eerie twin mind connection or whatever the hell this is!”
Rhys and Dorian exchanged a glance.
The SAME glance.
They both turned back to me at the exact same time, their smirks widening in perfect unison.
“What are you talking about, Feyre?” they said, at the same fucking time.
I gaped at them.
“Nope.” I spun on my heel. “I refuse to deal with this tonight.”
Dorian burst out laughing. Rhys just wrapped an arm around my waist, dragging me against his side.
“Relax, darling,” he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. “You’re not losing your mind. We just happen to be”
“Superior in every way?” Dorian supplied.
“Exceptionally charming?” Rhys countered.
“Devastatingly handsome?”
“Devilishly intelligent?”
“The pinnacle of genetics?”
“The greatest gift to women?”
“Oh, fuck off,” I groaned, shoving them both away.
Dorian wheezed with laughter, practically doubled over. Rhys just grinned down at me, violet eyes twinkling as he caught my wrist and pulled me back to his side.
“Face it, Feyre,” he purred, “you love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
“Mmm,” Rhys hummed, kissing my temple before releasing me.
“Just wait until you see us drunk,” Dorian added, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Then it gets really fun.”
I stared at him. “That sounds like my actual nightmare.”
“It’s definitely mine,” a familiar voice chimed in.
I turned to see Manon, arms crossed, golden eyes flicking between the two brothers with undisguised suspicion.
“Great,” she deadpanned. “Now there’s two of them.”
“Oh, witchling,” Dorian cooed, reaching for her hand. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
Manon let him kiss her knuckles but arched a sharp brow. “I barely tolerate you, princeling.”
“That’s just her way of saying she loves me,” Dorian muttered to me.
Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get inside before Feyre starts reconsidering all her life choices.”
“Too late,” I muttered, but followed them anyway.
🤍✨🌌🩰
”Alright, Feyre, focus,” Manon murmured, squinting at the ridiculously large collection of wine bottles displayed in Rhys’s kitchen. “If we’re drinking his wine, we’re drinking the best of the best.”
I huffed a laugh, crossing my arms. “You act like this is some life-or-death decision.”
Manon turned to me, dead serious. “It is.”
Dorian was behind us, sprawled lazily against the counter, watching with thinly veiled amusement. Rhys stood next to him, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips.
“You two know you’re overthinking this, right?” Rhys mused.
Manon shot him a glare. “You shut up. This is a sacred process.”
Dorian grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Manon ignored him, finally reaching for a deep, red bottle that looked expensive enough to pay my rent for a year.
“This one,” she declared, handing it to me like she was bestowing a royal decree.
I took it with a raised brow. “Any reason why?”
“It looks obnoxiously expensive,” she said simply.
Rhys chuckled. “A solid method, I’ll give you that.”
I was about to open the bottle when a loud, dramatic voice boomed from the doorway.
“What’s this? A wine party without us?”
I turned, startled, just as three new figures stepped into the apartment.
The first was a broad-shouldered, grinning menace of a man, dark-haired and absurdly tall.
Cassian.
I recognized him instantly, because how could I not? The man had commanding presence written all over him.
Beside him was a quieter presence—Azriel, I assumed. Dark-haired, with piercing hazel eyes and a stillness that was almost unnerving.
But the third person, the third person was a gorgeous blonde woman, dressed in an outfit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined.
She didn’t hesitate. She just strode forward, grinning, and held out a hand. “You must be Feyre. I’m Mor.”
I blinked, shaking her hand before glancing at Rhys, who was smirking far too much for my liking.
“Rhys talks about you,” Mor said, conspiratorially.
My eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
Mor’s grin widened. “Oh, yeah. A lot.”
I shot Rhys a look. He just winked.
“Alright, enough chit-chat,” Cassian boomed, slapping a giant hand on the counter. “It’s drinking game time.”
I groaned. “Why do I feel like this is a terrible idea?”
Cassian waggled his brows. “Because it is.”
Dorian exhaled through his nose. “Absolutely not.”
Cassian ignored him completely. “Time for ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Drink up, people.”
Rhys chuckled, taking the wine from me and popping it open. “This should be fun.”
Dorian let out a slow, miserable sigh. “We are adults. Grown, functioning,”
“Functioning is debatable,” Azriel muttered.
Dorian ignored him. “…adults. There is no reason for us to be playing this game.”
“Oh, I completely agree,” Mor said cheerfully, pouring herself a very generous glass of wine. “Which is exactly why we should do it.”
Rhys, lounging beside me on the couch, smirked. “Scared, brother dearest?”
Dorian shot him a look. “Of you? No. Of whatever horrible secrets Cassian is about to expose in the name of drinking? Absolutely.”
“Damn right,” Cassian grinned, lifting his drink. “Alright, let’s start off easy. Never have I ever… been arrested.”
Mor, Azriel, and Cassian all drank.
I blinked. “That was the easy one?”
Mor grinned. “Rhys didn’t tell you? We have a fun past.”
Rhys, the bastard, just chuckled into his drink.
“Alright, my turn,” Dorian said, looking far too smug as he leaned back in his seat. “Never have I ever been pathetically in love with the person I live with but in complete denial about it.”
My entire body locked up.
Rhys did not move.
I turned my head slowly to face Dorian.
He just smiled sweetly. “Drink up, Feyre.”
Cassian howled with laughter. Azriel smirked behind his glass. Mor beamed.
Rhys, the absolute menace that he was, urged me to take a sip of wine.
My mouth fell open.
“Excuse me!”
“Oh, finally,” Dorian sighed dramatically, slamming his drink down. “Took you long enough.”
“You are the worst person alive,” I hissed at him.
“And yet,” he mused, “I am not the one who just drank to being in love with my roommate.”
My face burned. Rhys just chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this.
“Alright,” I snapped. “That’s it. We’re changing games. Truth or Dare. Now.”
Cassian gasped. “Oh, Feyre, you beautiful, chaotic soul. You have no idea what you’ve just done.”
I ignored him.
“Fine,” Mor said, sitting up. “I’m going first. Feyre—truth or dare?”
I did not trust that smile.
Dorian sighed dramatically beside me. “Pick truth. Save yourself.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Dare.”
Mor’s grin sharpened. “Perfect. You and Dorian, do a ballet pose.”
I stared at her.
Dorian choked on his drink. “Oh, absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Mor cooed. “You two are dancers. Impress us.”
Cassian leaned forward, way too excited. “Yes. Show us the magic. Lift her up, Dor. Spin her around. Make it romantic.”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You all are insufferable.”
Rhys, lounging beside me, smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’d like to see this.”
I shot him a look before turning to Dorian. “Alright, let’s do this.”
Dorian sighed but stood up, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. But if I throw my back out, I’m blaming you.”
“Such confidence,” I muttered, stepping toward him.
Mor was grinning like she had already won something. Cassian was vibrating with excitement.
“Since I don’t have my pointe shoes,” I said, shifting my weight, “we’ll keep it simple. A basic lift.”
Dorian eyed me. “You sure? We could just stand here and pretend.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I smirked.
“Oh gods,” Dorian muttered before holding his arms out.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the familiar ease of working with him, the way my body already knew the movements before I even thought about them.
Dorian lifted me effortlessly, his hands firm on my waist as I stretched one leg behind me, my back arching just enough to make the movement graceful.
A perfectly controlled, elegant pose, even without pointe shoes.
Cassian whooped. Azriel actually looked impressed. Mor was practically beaming.
But it was Rhys’s reaction that made me pause.
Because he wasn’t smirking.
He wasn’t making some arrogant remark.
No, his violet eyes were watching me, something dark and unreadable flashing in them as he studied every inch of my body, the effortless way Dorian held me.
“Should I be jealous?” Rhys mused, his voice too casual, his smirk returning just slightly.
Dorian groaned, setting me down. “Yes, Rhys. Be jealous of my impeccable ballet skills.”
Cassian, clearly bored of watching from a distance, suddenly grabbed me.
I barely had time to react before I was hoisted into the air onto Cassian’s shoulders.
“Cassian!” I shrieked, grabbing onto his hair to not die.
He just laughed, steadying me with ease. “Now this is a real lift!”
Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Cassian, put her down before she kills you.”
“Oh, please,” Cassian scoffed, spinning me around. “She loves it.”
“I will end you,” I hissed.
Mor howled with laughter. Azriel just took another slow sip of his drink.
“You alright up there, darling?” Rhys teased, his gaze still locked on me.
“I hate all of you,” I muttered, but let Cassian spin me one last time before he finally set me back on my feet.
Dorian patted my shoulder sympathetically. “See what happens when you enable them?”
I glared at Mor. “You’re evil.”
She grinned. “You love me.”
I just groaned, reaching for my wine.
🤍✨🩰🌌
I was never drinking with these people again.
Absolutely never.
“Alright,” Cassian declared, “it’s Mor’s turn. Truth or dare?”
Mor, lounging back in her seat like the queen of chaos, smirked. “Dare.”
Cassian’s grin turned downright feral. “Perfect. I dare you to text Helion something completely inappropriate.”
Mor snorted. “That’s not a dare. That’s a Friday night.”
Cassian looked personally offended. “You mean to tell me you’ve already sent this man scandalous texts?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Mor said breezily, already pulling out her phone.
Azriel sighed deeply, like he was reconsidering his life choices.
Rhys chuckled. “You’re all going to corrupt Feyre.”
“Oh, please,” Dorian muttered. “She’s worse than all of us combined.”
Mor gasped. “Rude. But not untrue.”
I just smirked into my drink, watching as Mor typed out a ridiculous message to Helion.
“Sent,” she announced, tossing her phone onto the couch.
“What did you say?” Azriel asked, mildly concerned.
Mor grinned. “I told him I was thinking about starting a new life as his personal wine servant and that I wanted to bathe in his golden bathtub like a goddess.”
A pause.
Cassian wheezed.
“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, blinking. “Golden bathtub?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mor said airily. “Helion has this massive, obnoxiously gold bathtub. Pure vanity. I love it.”
“Of course he does,” Rhys muttered, shaking his head.
Cassian grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, next round!”
“Wait, wait,” Mor interrupted, eyes gleaming. “Dorian, truth or dare?”
Dorian groaned. “Truth.”
Mor smirked. “Have you ever done something so embarrassing you still think about it at night?”
Dorian deadpanned. “I was born embarrassing.”
Cassian nodded sagely. “True.”
Dorian scowled. “Fine. You want an actual answer? When I was fifteen, I was at this fancy gala with my parents, and I tripped down the stairs in front of everyone. But that’s not the worst part.”
Rhys was already grinning. “I remember this.”
Dorian glared at him. “I tried to recover, but instead of standing up gracefully, I knocked over an entire tray of champagne, onto a very important politician’s wife.”
Cassian lost it. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Dorian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “To this day, my mother won’t let me forget it.”
Rhys patted his shoulder. “It was truly a spectacular disaster.”
“I hate you all,” Dorian muttered.
“Alright,” Cassian announced, grinning wildly. “Truth or Dare has been fun, but I think it’s time for a third game.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like that tone.”
“You’re going to love it,” Cassian promised. “It’s called King’s Cup.”
A collective groan went through the room.
“Cass,” Mor sighed, “last time we played King’s Cup, Az ended up stuck on a roof.”
Azriel sipped his drink in silence, as if recalling a deeply traumatic memory.
Cassian just grinned. “Exactly. Let’s play.”