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    Summary

    It wasn't often, but some days Rhysand would wake up feeling no more than a knife's edge away from fighting. Those dark shadows he commanded would puncture through his pores, twisting and turning as if in furious protest. In truth, the mating bond was chafing. Some days it chafed so badly it left his nerves somewhere between raw and ruined.

    Being so close to Feyre had a myriad of effects on him, both good and bad.

    And yesterday had been a bad day.

    Language:
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