The Night Tour

Quebec

Rhysand

Feyre is in my arms, sleeping soundly. Her silky hair has come out of her braid, and the golden brown waves frame her face. I debarked the plane a few minutes ago, and Feyre was becoming a bit of a weight. Though I dread the minute I have to let go of her.
Walking at the back of our entourage, we hurry out of the airport. Going through one of the back entrances, we quickly make our way outside and into our awaiting vehicle. I keep Feyre in my lap. She barely stirred during the whole walk, even with the occasional group of screaming fans. I laugh at the thought of how mortified she'd be when I tell her she slept through it all.
Sitting in our own corner of the vehicle I hope that she doesn't wake. I wouldn't want her infinite teasing about this.
I watch the green countryside and eventual houses and skyscrapers through the window. The cobblestone walks of Quebec were ancient, such contrast to the new towering glass buildings. I see signs in both English and French, ads for poutine, funky restaurants, and Canadian clothing companies.
After a few more minutes of driving, we pull up in front of our hotel, the Fairmont Le Château Frontenac. The exterior makes the hotel look like a grand castle. Towers plopped throughout the roofline, emerald green shingles shining, burgundy and beige stone making up the walls. The grounds are covered by a large garden. Tulips and other spring flowers are all over, creating a picturesque sight.
The whole gang piles out of the vehicle and we walk through the huge gold and glass doors. The lobby consists of dark wood and plush, heavy furniture. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and produce a low yellow light. Lucien goes to check in at one of the desks lining the room. He quickly returns with the keys in hand.
Strolling through the lobby (and ignoring the awed faces of fans), we head to the elevator which goes directly to our penthouse suite. The doors open to the grand entrance of the chambers. Marble floors, wood furniture and a sleek kitchen make up the common areas. Hallways branch out of the main area, 2 rooms per hall. Feyre and I would stay in one room, with Lucien and Elain across. Cassian and Azriel would share another one of the rooms while Amren, Mor, and Nesta would take their own space. You don't want to disagree with those three. When they need their space they need their space.
I bring Feyre to our massive room. The huge bed occupies the middle of the suite. Drapes hang down the side, and mountains of pillows lie over the white coverlet. Windows are situated on the whole wall, and one creates a door to the private balcony. Another door leads to a lavish marble bathroom.
I set Feyre down carefully on the bed. She wriggles in place for a moment then relaxes. I yawn and realize that I'm tired to the marrow as well. It couldn't hurt to grab a couple minutes of sleep. Kicking off my shoes, I sprawl onto the bed. Once my head hits the pillow I fall asleep in an instant.

Feyre

Slowly I stretch my arms out trying to dislodge the bleariness I get from first waking up, and feel a body next to mine. Popping my eyes open I see that it's Rhys. His heart shaped lips are slightly spread apart, and he looks so very vulnerable laying on his side. No smirk or coldness gracing his features. I stare at him, not able to get angry about him lying next to me when he seems so open.
I watch him sleep, noticing his long, coal black eyelashes that tickle his cheeks, his sharp cheekbones and jawline, the angle of his nose. All of it perfect. His eyelashes flutter for a moment, and then his stunning violet eyes open. He gazes at me with such happiness, as if I'm the best thing he could have asked for. Our eyes stay locked together in a somewhat intimate way. Figuring that it's best for us to actually talk instead of just this weird staring jumbo, I clear my throat, "Might I ask as to how I wound up in this bed?"
"Ah, the big question first. You won't even let a man properly awaken?" He looks at me with widened eyes. I only become amused by his pleading. "Well, you fell asleep on the plane, and I ended up carrying you all the way through the airport, in the car, and up to our room. There were many jealous fans I might add. Who wouldn't want to be carried by moi?"
I laugh tastefully, but then something hit me, "What do you mean by our room?"
Rhys turns over onto his back and stretches his arms up, which also makes his shirt ride up. I refuse to look at his muscular physique when there are answers to be told. He drawls, "We are dating you know, so it would be rather odd if we weren't sharing a room. Don't worry," he adds with a roguish wink, "I don't plan to get into any funny business with you. Unless you want to of course. I would never say no to a beautiful woman, such as yourself."
"I know this might be hard for you to hear, but I don't think you'll need to worry about that. I don't plan on scandalizing you too much. But one can dream." I give him a small, simpering smile. He just smirks in return.
Pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket I see that I have a short list of text messages: