Synopsis:Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.
Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?
Two somebodies actually, Rhys replied. Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.
Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.
Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by starlight on the moonless night. She hadn’t realized how late it had become.
I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.
Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spine as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.
She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.
Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint-splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass, she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.
Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”
The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally, the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”
An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back the hood.
Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.
“Hello Feyre.” That was all Nesta said.
Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.
Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.
But stepping into the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.
Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestesses disappeared from the Library as well.
That had been nearly a year after Nesta. They had all suspected Neata, as later it was found that the last time Emerie had been seen in Windhaven was that day. But they had never been sure. All that was left of the priestesses was a note to Clotho not to worry, that they had left by choice.
“Nyx is growing up fast.“
Nesta was still staring back at Feyre, but as she continued to blink at Nesta, Nesta nodded towards the painting on the easel. Her face was impassive as she said “He looks like he is a handful.”
Nesta’s words caused Feyre to snap her mouth shut, which had been hanging open. “What? Nesta… where…how…why…” Silence filled the room as Feyre trailed off. Nesta continued to stand with that preternatural Fae stillness, but she seemed to be considering Feyre now.
“I came here with a warning for you and your court”, Nesta finally said.
Again, Feyre felt her mouth fall open as she stammered “Excuse me?”
Nesta let out a bored sigh as she moved to the cart next to Feyre’s easel and picked up a paintbrush to examine.
“I am sure you have many questions, but I only came here because there are some things you as the High Lady of the Night Court should know. There is a movement growing on the continent threatening Prynthia. I don’t believe the ruling powers of Montesere and Vallahan are involved, especially with the peace treaties you have established with them, but there may be some within those territories that support it. The majority of this group has been operating in the Wild Lands of the Faerie Realms on the continent. What I do know is that those involved with this movement believe there is a way to steal the power of Prynthia’s courts. They say the ruling High Fae power’s here come from a physical source in this land, and if found, they can take it for themselves.” Nesta twirled the paintbrush in her hand as she turned to face Feyre again. “This group has been trying to subtly infiltrate Prynthia’s courts, and we believe they have gained a source within the the Illyarians.” Nesta said all this deadpanned, returning to staring at Feyre with a blank face as she finished speaking.
Feyre’s anger came hot and fast. “Are you kidding me Nesta? What are in the Cauldron are you talking about!”
Nesta simply raised an eyebrow at Feyre’s outburst. “Which part of what I said was unclear? You and your court need to look into dissent among the Illyarians.”
Feyre let out a disbelieving laugh, “It’s been 8 years, Nesta!”
“Yes.”
“Eight years since you disappeared without a trace and now you come back and the first thing you tell me is this? With no explanation as to where you have been? What you have been doing? Seriously? That’s all you have to say after you ran away, never contacted your family, but apparently returned to steal weapons?” Feyre gestured to the sword on Nesta’s back.
Nesta examined the paintbrush in her hand, but said cooly “Since I created the weapons, it wasn’t stealing.” She looked up to Feyre, eyes chips of ice. “The what and where I have been are a long story. I only came to warn you.”
Silence once again filled the dim room.
“Why should I believe you?” Feyre asked, defeated.
It was Nesta’s turn to ask “What?”
“Why should I believe you,” Feyre repeated, “when you have done nothing to show that I can trust you?”
Nesta’s infuriating nonchalantness finally slipped a little, and Feyre felt a flash of anger. However, her voice was calm as she responded. “For all our history Feyre, did I ever lie to you, or do anything to make you think I wished harm on you?”
Feyre opened her mouth to respond “no”, but stopped herself. Looking at the Nesta before her, she didn’t know who this person was.
After a moment she said, “I don’t know.”
It was quick, but Feyre saw something flash in Nesta’s stormy eyes before her face was once again a mask of cool indifference.
“Okay then.” Nesta turned to return the paintbrush she still held to its proper place. “As I am sure the rest of your court will also need convincing, I can show you proof if you can meet me on the Obsidian Isles in the East Sea of the Night Court in two days. Noon, on the Northernmost island.
Feyre was really tired of saying this, but “What?”
Nesta let out an annoyed sigh as she clasped her hands together in front of her and said plainly “Bring your mate and court and meet me in two days to prove to you all I told you was the truth. Is that acceptable to you?”
Feyre nodded.
“Good. See you in two days.” With that, Nesta turned on her heels and stalked to the door.
Yet Nesta paused with her hand on the doorknob. For the first time since being in the room, Nesta seemed to waiver. She didn’t move, staring straight at the door.
“How is he?” She finally asked. It was barely audible, barely more than a whisper as if she was afraid to say it too loud. But it was the one thing Feyre didn’t need to ask what she meant.
“He searched for you,” There was too much, and not enough to be said.
Nesta turned her head, hand still on the knob, not to look back at Feyre but to stare at the wall to her left.
“He will come with you to the island.” Feyre couldn’t tell if that was a question or order.
Either way, Feyre said “Yes.” Even though she didn’t know if he actually would. Feyre didn’t know how he would react to any of this.
Nesta stood still for a second, before nodding and pushing open the door. She didn’t say another word as she pulled up her hood, stepped out, and vanished into the night.
Feyre didn’t know how long she stood there, staring out the open door into the dark. It was only when she felt an invisible weight lift off her shoulders, that she realized that the entire time she had been talking to Nesta, she hadn’t been able to feel her bond with Rhys.
Synopsis:Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.
Prologue: Disappear
Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”
It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.
She had gone too far. She… Oh, gods.
Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”
Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.
Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”
Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.
Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.
Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby…
But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.
As she ran, Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.
The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. That only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind.
Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.
Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.
Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end, he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.
No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.
Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparkling water. She wanted to disappear.
So do it A voice whispered.
Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.
Disappear
Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.
“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.
A voice Nesta knew in her soul.
As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.
I have gone back and forth loving and hating acosf, but finally pinpointed the breaking point for me. I hated how the story played out after Nesta told Feyre about the baby. There was so much potential with how that whole situation could be handled. Instead Nesta was blamed for everything, with no one else ever taking responsibility.
Because of that I have decided to try my hand at writing a fanfic starting from that point in acosf. Below is what I would call the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter.
I have never posted anything I have written before, so please be kind. I would love feedback on it and if people are curious I will continue it.
Prologue
Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”
It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.
She had gone too far. She… Oh gods.
Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”
Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.
Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”
Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.
Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the first friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.
Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby…
But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.
As she ran Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.
The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. They only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind
Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.
Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.
Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.
No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.
Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparking water. She wanted to disappear.
So do it A voice whispered.
Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.
Disappear
Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.
“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.
A voice Nesta knew in her soul.
As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.
•••••
Chapter 1 (1st part)
Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling?
Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?
Two somebodies actually. Rhys replied, Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.
Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.
Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by streetlight on the moonless night. She hasn’t realized how late it had become.
I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.
Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spin as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.
She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.
Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.
Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”
The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”
An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back their hood.
Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.
“Hello Feyre.” Was all Nesta said.
Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.
Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.
But stepping in to the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.
Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder, was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestess disappeared from the Library.
Confused, she patted the sheets beside her to find them still warm, as if he’d only just risen. It was hardly dawn, but she supposed it wasn’t abnormal for him to be up this early.
Her sleepy eyes trailed away from the abandoned sheets to the light coming from beneath the bathroom door, where she could hear the sounds of a bath beginning to fill. She slid out of bed, padding on bare feet to the door.
Cassian was washing his face in the sink when she came in, squinting against the lamp light. He smiled at her in the slightly fogged mirror. “Good morning, my love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She scrubbed her eyes. “What are you… why are you up?”
“I’m just gonna take a bath before heading into Illyria. They need me to speak to some of the camp lords.”
She grumbled and shuffled closer to wrap her arms around him from behind. “‘Ts cold.”
He ran loving hands up and down her forearms as she rested her head between his wings. “You can go back to bed, my love. I’ll be back later today.”
She let out a low whine and squeezed him tighter.
“Nesta,” he sighed, unwrapping her from him so he could turn around. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”
She deposited her face in his chest. “Mmm, no.”
“Well, I have to take a bath, so you can either get dressed or go get some more sleep. Aren’t you helping with the young Valkaries today?”
She whined louder.
“Alright.” Cassian bent down to pick her up by her thighs and she hooked her feet behind his back.
Burying her face in his neck, she began to grumble again when he made his way back into the bedroom.
“What?” he asked, exasperated.
Her hands lifted to tug at his hair. “Bath,” she mumbled.
“You don’t have to be ready for a few more hours, my love. You can take your bath later.”
“Noooo.”
“You’re just gonna fall asleep in the tub.”
“Nooooooo.”
He sighed once more before turning to set her on the bathroom counter. “Alright, but no funny business or I’m gonna be late.”
Nesta lifted her arms in signal for him to take off her sweater.
He peeled it off of her effortlessly before discarding his own night clothes and ridding her of the rest of hers.
The bath was thankfully big enough for them both as well as a pair of Illyrian wings. Nesta sighed in content when he set her in the water, blissfully hot. She tugged him insistently down in front of her so she could cling to his back once more.
He huffed but resigned himself to the treatment as he went about washing himself. Nesta laid her head on his shoulder, content to watch until his hands lifted to his hair.
She hissed, wriggling away from him. “Nooo. Let me.”
He looked over his shoulder at her to deliver a single brow raise. “You want to wash my hair?”
She nodded, moving to sit on the far bench. “Pretty hair.”
“Has anyone ever told you how articulate you are in the mornings?”
Her half-lidded eyes lifted to an almost-glare.
He laughed softly, but leaned into her arms.
She grabbed the pitcher beside the tub, filling it with water to pour over his head until his hair was as soaked as the rest of him. Then she lathered it with shampoo, her long fingers massaging his scalp.
Cassian let out an animal-like purr as he closed his eyes, his wings going limp inside the water. “Mmm. Fuck. So good.”
“Very articulate,” Nesta mumbled as her hands worked the soap in. Once he had almost fully melted, she rinsed it from his hair before reaching for the conditioner.
He turned onto his stomach as she did so, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. She didn’t mind, though. Not as his brow leaned against her sternum, his arms wrapping around her. He hummed while she worked the conditioner in, nuzzling into her.
She rinsed that too, his hair going silken in her grasp, and grabbed the rag he’d abandoned, filling it with soap. She scrubbed at his shoulders and upper back, down the column of his spine as far as she could reach. When she made to start on his wings, however, he lifted his head to glare at her.
“I said no funny business.”
Nesta pouted but resigned herself to rinsing the rest of the soap from his body. When she was done, he rose and lifted her with him, both of them dripping wet.
“Will you go back to bed now?” Cassian asked as he wrapped her in a fluffy towel and set her on the edge of their bed.
She shook her head, watching him in growing appreciation as he dried himself.
He huffed, grabbing his hair brush from the vanity.
Nesta snatched it from him, arching a brow when he tried to contradict her. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the space between her legs on the floor.
He plopped down at her feet and her legs swung carefully over his shoulders and wings to keep him in place. As she brushed through the dripping tangles of his hair, he massaged her calves, occasionally turning his head to kiss her knee.
“Stay still,” she said as she set the brush aside.
His hands paused when he felt her beginning to part his hair. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer and he didn’t push, instead surrendering himself once more to her ministrations.
Ten minutes later, she was done, finally allowing him to rise. He went to the vanity mirror to find four braids neatly worked along the left side of his head, stopping just above his ear. His smile was the one reserved only for her as he turned back. “Thank you, my love.”
She gave him a similar smile in return, if a little more sleepy, and let out a yawn, lifting her arms. He obeyed the unspoken command, moving her further onto the bed so she could lay properly on the pillows. “I’m going to cancel your training today,” Cassian said, working the towel out from under her.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Why?”
He tucked the comforter into her sides with expert care. “Because I want you just like this when I get home.”
She didn’t have the energy to fight, instead snuggled into his pillow. “‘Kay.”
He pressed a kiss to her brow, but she had already drifted off. “I love you.”
Author’s note: Hello, I’m back. My computer broke there for a while, but I was finally able to buy and new one and actually sit my ass in the chair to write. Anyway, this is like wholly unedited because I really wanted to just get it out there and posted because a few people have been asking if this series was going to continue. Enjoy!
For the first time in a long while, Nesta was cold. She stood on the beach wrapped in a flimsy shirt, listening for the sound of footsteps on the sand behind her. There weren’t any for a long while. Just this silence.
She took a moment to breathe and smelled dead fish.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” a voice came from behind her.
She didn’t turn, the wind ruffling her hair. “What do you need me to do?”
“Show me your siren form.”
At that, she looked over her shoulder. Hybern stood a few paces back, a woman to his left and a man holding a camera box. The carriage loomed behind them, horses nickering. Nesta tensed. “My face won’t be in any of the photos.”
“Of course, my dear. They will simply be for record keeping.” He showed his hands, palms up in a placating gesture.
He was lying. She knew photographs were expensive, but they were impossible to fake. No one would waste that kind of money if they didn’t expect profit.
She took a step back towards the sea. “Tell me what you plan to do first.”
“I have done my research on the mythologies. I have scoured the sea for your kind for decades and the people thought I was crazy. Now, I will have my proof.” He stepped towards her and she stepped back again, feeling the sea begin to lap at her heels.
“I will let you photograph me and nothing more.”
“That isn’t what we agreed to.”
He was right. They’d agreed to an experiment.
“I want scale and blood samples.” Hybern waved the man on his right forward. What she had thought held a camera, was actually simply a normal box. The man set it on the ground and lifted a syringe from it.
Nesta swallowed hard.
“What are you waiting for, my dear? You need to shift. We have an agreement.”
“Why did you let me think you had a camera?” It wasn’t even the right lighting for photographs. How could she have missed that?
“I do have a camera. We will take photos later.” Hybern spoke quietly with the other man for a moment before lifting his head. “Do you have gills? Where are they on your body?”
“No.”
“Really? How do you breathe, then?” He was moving closer, the other man coming in from the other side, as if they were trying to trap her against the sea.
“No. I will be breaking our agreement.” She was up to her ankles now in the surf, the sea waiting like a predator behind her.
Hybern laughed. “Oh, my dear. You don’t have a choice. If you will not come willingly, then I have other forms of persuasion.”
“There is nothing you can do to keep me.”
He sighed. “I really didn’t want it to come to this, but we had a deal and now you leave me no choice.” He snapped his fingers and the woman approached with a net. It was one of the large, sturdy ones, made for heavy extreme amounts of fish from the sea.
Nesta moved without thought, her body turning into a dive as her fin replaced her legs.
She screamed as Hybern slammed a knife through the end of her tail, pinning her in place. Her hands scrambled on the rocks while she felt another pair of hands on her, pulling at her golden scales.
“Where’s that damned syringe?” Hybern snapped. “Hurry up. Both of you.”
Nesta shrieked again when the net collapsed on top of her, the holes too small to fit her hands through. Her voice echoed across the beach as she was pulled out of the water. The waves chased her, spindly cold fingers grasping her skin, letting her slide easily over the smooth rocks.
She kicked out her tail, ignoring the spike of blinding pain in search of a way out of the net. Through its metal fibers, she could see the man Hybern had brought with him, carrying that syringe.
As he approached in quick, purposeful steps, she realized that it wasn’t empty. There was already liquid inside–likely a sleeping agent or something to weaken her.
No. If they got her to a separate location, she would be dead.
In her panic, she shifted back and forth between her forms, but found the pain to be worse as a human, drawing her back into her scales. She was crying as the man knelt beside the net and wondered what Cassian would think if he saw her right now.
Pathetic. His mighty siren reduced to a blubbering mess.
His siren.
Hybern’s man grinned a slimy grin. “Thomas sends his regards.”
She had made a vow when Cassian gave her his heart. A vow that had gone unbroken, her lips sealed shut against the song that threatened to pour out.
The man lifted the syringe.
She would break that vow.
The man froze in time as the notes started quietly, barely a whisper, but just loud enough to be heard over the crashing of the waves. His eyes widened, becoming glazed as the syringe slipped from his fingers.
The rocks crunched as Hybern yelled, “Plug your ears!” but it was too late.
“Will you give me your heart?” Nesta asked the man.
“Yes. Gods yes.”
“Take off the net.”
“No!” Hybern was still shouting and Nesta’s gaze snapped to him as the net lifted. His fingers were in his ears like a child refusing to listen, but Nesta could see the struggle. See his eyes roll back, then widen.The woman he’d brought was on her knees, crawling across the beach to Nesta.
“Grab the knife,” Nesta told her.
She scrabbled for where it had fallen, still sticky with seafoam. Hybern lunged at her, but his knees collapsed underneath him as another voice joined the song.
Nesta didn’t turn, not ready to see the other siren ready to drag her back to her watery grave. They would let her do this, at least. Let her deliver her hearts.
“Cut out his heart,” Nesta ordered the girl and in an instant she was on top of the other man, the knife sinking into his chest with animalistic fury. Nesta turned her face away to watch Hybern, who was clutching his head now.
When the girl finished, she returned to Nesta like an obedient dog, her blue eyes wide as saucers.
Nesta lifted her chin between thumb and forefinger. “And your heart? Can I have that one too?”
The girl nodded, knife turning in her hand. It sank with expert precision into the skin above her breast. She stared at Nesta with a pain-free expression, however, as she carved the center of her chest out, her body becoming weaker with every movement until she was dead.
Nesta took the knife from her and shifted into her human form, limping over to Hybern.
“I won’t give it to you,” he hissed into the remaining silence. She hadn’t even noticed the other siren stop singing. “You can’t have it.”
“I don’t want your heart,” Nesta said simply, and drove the knife into his neck.
His eyes widened, a gurgling sound coming from his lips as his hands reached up to scrabble at hers while she twisted the knife over and over again.
It was two passes before his head fell from his shoulders.
Nesta watched it roll across the beach.
Slow clapping came from behind her. She turned, chin raised and palms bloody. She’d kill a siren too. Whatever got in her way.
Amren had perched herself on a boulder, her tail as blunt and short as a sharks. “I thought I would come help. Well done.”
“You—”
She held up a hand, her nails catching the moonlight. “I’m not going to hurt you, dear girl, but we need to move and quickly. Every siren in a twenty-mile radius likely heard your shrieking.”
“What?”
“Why are you still standing there like a fool? Shift and lets go. Plans have moved up. We’re leaving tonight.”
Welcome to my poorly written siren au after binge watching Pirates of the Caribbean. Feel free to like, comment, and reblog. Feedback feed my weary soul.
After getting in trouble with their captain, Cassian and his brothers get their punishment in the form of a small, lonely boat trailing after their ship. Hours pass and day turns to night. When Rhys and Azriel are sound asleep, Cassian is greeted by a beauty in the waves with such a lovely voice.
Cassian listened to the gentle song of the waves, lying on his back to watch the stars up ahead. The boat beneath him rocked gently, tethered to the ship, Velaris, so they wouldn’t be lost at sea.
He and his brothers had pissed off the captain, Amren, for the third time this week, earning them all a toss overboard. Amren liked them enough, however, to also let down one of the boats used to take them to land. Cassian didn’t mind. It was quieter down here. The only thing he wished for now was a bit of rum and a lady in his lap.
His brothers, however, clearly did not have the same opinion.
Rhys kicked the bench Cassian was lying on. “We’ve been stuck out here for hours.”
At the stern, Azriel rolled his eyes. “She’ll reel us back some time.”
“You were the one that got us into this mess,” Rhys snarled at Cassian, who was pretending not to listen.
Indeed, it had been Cassian’s idea to change course while the captain slept, which had brought them within a hundred miles of the British navy. Then, when they pulled starboard to a smaller ship, it had also been Cassian’s idea to leap over the rail and onto the deck. He and his brothers had brought back rum, rather than gold or prisoners. It was only when the British ship was driftwood beneath the waves that Amren noticed the overly flushed faces of her three favorite, yet least favorite, pirates.
Then, like a good drunk lad, Cassian had spilled the reason they’d run into a British ship in the first place.
The alcohol had worn off with his dastardly plunge into the sea before he heaved himself onto the boat to find his brothers glaring at him.
“Man,” Rhys said, slumping down on another bench, “I’d kill to have Feyre with me right now.”
This time, both Az and Cassian rolled their eyes.
Feyre was the girl he’d left at the last port. Cassian had always thought she was a little out there after learning she thought sirens existed. It was the whole reason she and her older sister, Elain, refused to join the crew.
Cassian stood, going to sit at the opposite end from Azriel so he could peer into the dark water. “If Feyre were here, we’d all have to deal with even more creaky hammocks, which is something I can live without.”
“I don’t know, Elain wasn’t bad looking. Maybe you could make some creaking of your own.” He could hear the grin in Rhys’s voice.
Azriel snarled softly. It was no mistake that if Rhysand was in love, Az was so smitten with Elain he wasn’t too far off.
Cassian faced his brothers, leaning against the bow behind him. “You both can stick with your cheap romances. I’m a pirate, through and through, and now pretty ankle is going to tie me down.”
“What about a pretty thigh?” Az teased.
“Or, help us all, a pretty breast?” Rhys laughed.
Cassian threw his brothers a middle finger. “You’ll both be laughing when your stuck on land with three kids each to boot and I’m captaining the Velaris.”
“In your dreams, jackass.”
“You think Amren will outlive me?”
“Oh, I know Amren will outlive you,” Rhys purred.
“Either way, you two will be playing Daddy and not in the fun way.”
Rhys threw a boot at him.
It landed in the water with a splash. Cassian cursed. “Those are expensive, dumbass.” He leaned over the rail, snatching up the boot before it could get swallowed by the sea, and paused. In the water, there was a glimmer of gold. Just a flash.
He blinked and it was gone, likely nothing more than a trick of the light.
More hours passed, the rocking of the waves gently lulling his brothers to sleep.
Cassian hummed out a tune, leaning against the bow to watch the stars above. He closed his eyes and the sea breeze brushed his face.
Then he heard it.
Softly, no more than wind against the waves, came a voice, singing the same song he had been.
He blinked at the sky, trying to decide if he was hallucinating or caught in a dream he hadn’t known he’d slipped into.
But… there. It was louder, coming closer.
He sat up so quickly the boat rocked. His brothers grumbled but neither awoke fully.
The singing… Oh, gods and ocean and sky, it was beautiful. High and sweet, the voice turned a rowdy sailor’s song into something too good for this world.
He scanned the horizon looking for the source. Dark waves greeted him.
The singing stopped, making him nearly sob at the silence.
It began again right beside him, making him start. He whipped his head around and found himself face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She had her pale arms propped on the rail and was laying her head on them. Framed by dry, golden brown locks, her face was stunning, perfectly arched brows, high cheekbones, steely blue eyes, and full lips parted in song.
She paused again, lifting herself onto braced arms. “Do you like it?”
With her lifted like that, he could very clearly see that she wore no clothes, her breasts peaked and magnificent.
His pants suddenly became tight. “Yeah. I like it. Please, never stop.”
She smiled a dazzling grin, pushing up even more to sit on the rail. Her legs were long and creamy, the product of every fantasy he’d ever had.
He must of been drooling as he looked upon the gem between them. She was naked and gorgeous and so… so close.
She stroked his arm, leaning closer and letting out a soft, musical laugh. “What’s your name, sailor?”
“Pirate.”
“What’s your name pirate?”
“Cass–Cassian.” He reached out as if in a daze, putting a hand atop one of those breasts. Gods, it was so soft, fitting perfectly into his palm. Gaping, he squeezed slightly, rubbing a pink nipple.
She laughed again and it was the most harmonic sound he’d ever heard. “I’m a little cold, Cassian, maybe you could warm me up?” He scrambled to strip of his jacket but she stopped him, putting a hand on his chest. “Not like that, silly.”
“Will you sing again?”
“I don’t think I have to,” she whispered, that hand on his chest pulling him towards her.
He shuddered. “Please. Oh gods, I’d kill to hear it.”
She sighed and let go of him.
He cried out as she slipped back into the water, latching onto her hands. “What–what are you doing? Come back here.”
“Why don’t you swim with me? We can sing together.”
He stood, stripping off his jacket, shirt, and boots faster than he ever had before. With no hesitation, he dived into the water, wrapping his arms around her. “Sing. Sing again.” The water was frozen and she wasn’t much warmer, but he didn’t mind at all.
She smiled and opened her mouth.
Cassian fell into a daze, ignoring the feeling of something wrapping around his legs, binding them together. He leaned in, kissing her throat to feel the vibrations of her voice through his lips. His hand went back to her breast, the other snaking down her back. Soft scales met his fingers where her ass should be, surprising him, but she kept singing, drawing him from his thoughts.
Her nails scratched lightly through his hair as he sucked on her neck, tasting salt water. She tugged his hair lightly, bidding him to pull back.
When he did, her eyes were brighter than the stars, hair fanned around her. She’d closed her mouth but the song was still going, leaving him heavy-lidded with lust.
“Kiss me,” she said over the music.
He leaned in, feeling the muscle binding his legs together contract, keeping him from kicking himself afloat. He didn’t mind, though, as his lips closed over hers–
“Cassian!” someone roared and he was yanked away.
He hadn’t even realized he’d gone under until air hit his face as his brothers grabbed at his shoulders, his hair.
The girl screamed, such a wrenching and ugly sound that it snapped him from his daze. He dared a glance down, finding a golden tail wrapped around his legs.
He thrashed, sputtering as he tried to free himself.
Around them, more sirens were screaming.
The one in front of him smashed his mouth into hers and he felt razor sharp teeth but thoughts flew from his mind at her kiss. He sank beneath the waves.
Another second and he was back up again, Rhysand’s saber cleaving into the flesh of the siren’s arm, while Azriel, appearing in the water beside him, waved a torch to fend off the others.
The siren snarled, her nails–claws–digging into Cassian’s arm. He ripped her hand off him and snatched the saber from Rhys. He plunged it beneath the waves, sinking it deep into her tail.
She unwound herself with a cry and disappeared.
“Get in the boat,” Rhys snarled, helping Az back up.
Cassian scrambled in after him, panting hard through his teeth. He lay on the deck and tried to shake away the feeling that tasted something like betrayal.
“What,” Az said softly, “the fuck was that?”
Cassian looked down at his chest, finding claw marks where she’d touched him. He cursed vividly. “I thought she was a woman, I swear. She had legs.”
“It was an illusion,” Rhys snapped, dropping his head into his hands. “Shit, I should have believed Feyre.”
Sorry about the wait and the short chapter, but I hope you enjoy.
Land, when she came to it, was welcome. Nesta climbed from the water on two legs and collapsed onto the sand until the tides rose and threatened to take her again. Then, under the cover of night, she slipped into the nearest village, snatching clothes from some poor woman’s home. She also managed to find some stale bread and sweaty cheese, gnawing on the food as she tried to figure out where she was.
And so her journey began.
Traveling across Asia, then Europe, it was months before she heard word of the Velaris.
“It was rescued by Hybern’s men,” a man said, wiping grease from his hands. “But that was months ago. No one has heard anything since.”
So she went to Hybern.
He was a busy man, living at the tip of Italy. It took her a week of pestering to get an audience.
Nesta didn’t bother to straighten her ragged clothes, to make herself look anything more than a beggar on the streets as she entered the ostentatious office.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
“Where are who?”
“They people of the Velaris. There had to be survivors.”
“Ah. I was wondering when someone would come asking about that.” He scribbled something on a paper before folding it and handing it off to a trembling servant. “Most survived. Casualties were few and far between thanks to my men.”
“What happened?” she breathed, trying not to let her relief show.
“Ship caught fire. Tragic, really. But… you don’t believe that, do you?” His cold eyes finally lifted to hers. “If I tell you where they are, what will you give me, little siren?”
“What do you want?”
He rubbed a hand across his beard, a smirk playing on his lips. “Would you give up that last hope? That last chance of being human? What about your memories? Would you give me those?” He leaned back in his chair. “You know, sirens only remember when they have given up their heart. A heart for a mind. Who has your heart, little siren? I want it.”
She didn’t answer and, carefully, pushed Cassian from her mind.
“I will tell you where your friends are if you will meet me on the cove at midnight tonight. I have an experiment I’d like to perform.”
“Done.” “Brilliant.” His wicked smile gleamed. “The people you are looking for have been imprisoned by the Navy for piracy. They were granted pardon on the condition that they work their sentences building houses for the homeless. Their workshop is three blocks to the East.”
She didn’t thank him as she rushed from the room.
Those three blocks were the furthest she’d traveled. She ran as fast as she could, finding the building instantly amongst the others. It was a large warehouse, nearly falling apart at the seams. From inside, she could hear the sound of hammers and drills.
Many men heaved and sweated the day away, driving cars to the build sites, stacked full of lumber. Nesta found Rhysand first, wiping moisture from his brow as he fed a length of wood through a saw, a black P branded onto his wrists.
He looked up when he felt her gaze, eyes widening as he realized just who stood before him.
Nesta could bring herself to say anything.
Rhys roared and launched himself at her.
She braced herself for the beating, but Feyre was there first, her arms thrown around her sister. Then it was Elain. Nesta thought her legs might have given out, but their embrace held her up.
Distantly, she heard Rhys yelling, but it was muffled, as if she were underwater. Elain pulled back, cradling her face like she was a child. “I can’t believe you’re okay. We didn’t know what to think when you both disappeared.”
“Where’s Cassian?” Azriela asked cooly from behind her. “If he’s dead, tell us now.”
Nesta wiped at her face, detangling herself from her sisters. “He’s alive.”
“Then where is he?” Rhysand snarled.
She swallowed. “I… I think we should all sit down.”
*****
Nesta stared at her hands in the silence.
Rhys was the first to speak up, his voice breaking. “This is all your fault. You did—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Azriel snapped. “We just… we need to find a way to fix this.”
“There’s no way,” Nesta whispered. “There’s no way to reverse the curse.”
“No way that anyone has found.” Elain glanced at her, eyes wide with hope. “According to the books, sirens have been around for hundreds of years. I’m sure… I’m sure we could find something.”
Nesta’s eyes burned, but she swallowed thickly as she said, “We can look.”
Feyre shook her head. “We’re not allowed to leave.”
“What? Why?”
She turned her wrist, revealing the dark P branded there. “It’s the law. It was either this or death row.”
Nesta’s upper lip curled and a bit of the siren surfaced. “I’m going to kill them all. Slowly.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She turned, finding Amren wiping her dirty hands on a rag as she approached.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re leaving. Today. And we’re going to find him.”
*****
Nesta couldn’t help but gape.
Because before her, balancing between beams thicker than her, was a pirate ship.
“This… you built this?” She looked at them all, caught a hint of pride on Rhysand’s face beneath all the fury.
“At night, when everyone was asleep.” Amren was dwarfed by the ship. “That’s what we’ve been doing all these months.”
“How… how did you hide it?”
“Nobody comes into this part of the warehouse. And those that wandered in, we offered a seat. Everyone wants out of here.”
The fact that such a large section of the building could go empty this long was astonishing in and of itself. “How do we get it into the water?”
“Connections,” Azriel said and that was all.
She didn’t dare to ask if she’d be welcome on the ship. She’d swim beside it if need be. “What did you name her?”
“Dreamer,” Feyre said, reaching up to run her hand across the boards. “We’ll leave tomorrow night if everything goes as planned.”
Nesta nodded even as her heart sank a bit. How long had it already been? Weeks? Months? Could they even convince him to come with them, or had he already… had he…
She pushed the thought away. She’d already crossed continents for him.
The ocean would be nothing.
*****
He stared at the girl beneath him as he ripped her heart from her chest. It was warm in his hand, a slight weight that he’d grown used to.
He left the corpse just above the drop off, strings of blood still drifting up from her body. The animals would get to her if the sea didn’t sweep her to shore first.
He didn’t know her name.
But his… What was it again? He’s heard it once, lifetimes ago, but it had been swallowed by the sea as all things were.
He backed away from the drop off, the endless ocean opening up beneath him.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
The evening passed in a blur of experiences, some arbitrary and innocuous, yet seemingly loaded all the same. Each bucket of water she hauled into a tent held a value she’d never known before it meant a wound could be properly cleaned. The sound of linen ripping into strips was rhythmic and comforting because it meant enough resources remained to treat the wounded. The crunch of earth beneath her feet was a reminder of purpose.
She was alive, albeit exhausted. Being uninjured and fully able-bodied, she found the motivation to keep moving. She had to keep moving.
And she had. She’d walked until blisters rubbed beneath her shoes, and her clothes were torn in various places. Dirt was smudged over her hands, the exposed skin of her arms. Pieces of her hair had long since fallen from her coronet, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. The wind had kept it out of her face well enough.
A certain trance had fallen over Nesta over the course of the day, and the sun had descended behind the rolling mountains before she finally relented and decided to rest. The healers within the camp had badgered her on it throughout the day, and none had been overly impressed with her stubbornness. They’d been grateful, of course, but they couldn’t afford another convalescent.
Nesta rubbed at her tired eyes, pausing before the canvas of her tent to press her fingers into her temples. Her eyes squeezed shut against the tension and ache she felt, and she loosed a heavy breath to ease what she could. Her arm moved the canvas flap aside clumsily, and she dragged her too tired body over the threshold.
She startled, and her steps came to an abrupt halt. It had happened so quickly that the tent flap brushed against her back when it eased closed, causing her to flinch once more. Seconds passed before anything began to make any sense.
Cassian stood over an expansive round table with a large piece of parchment held in place by weights at each corner. Some of his siphons, she realized, upon further examination. She watched as he studied the map, extending his arm to push several small pawns across a strip of land.
The fact that he hadn’t whirled on her, a weapon to her throat before she could blink, meant he knew no threat was present. Whether he knew it was Nesta in his tent remained a mystery.
“I—”she stuttered, unsure what to say. She blinked, damning the blush that rose to her cheeks. “Wrong tent.”
Cassian rested his fingers against the table top, his keen eyes continuing their path over the map. His wings twitched, relaxed. Nesta was fascinated by them. Studying their details, imagining the stories of every scar, was a welcome distraction from the compulsion she’d felt toward her destination.
“You’re welcome to visit anytime, Sweetheart,” he replied, mirth laced through the words. “Consider it an open invitation.”
The temper he stoked so artfully rose to the surface, even in spite of her exhaustion. Cassian didn’t deign to look in her direction, but she rolled her eyes at his comment anyway.
Nesta scoffed. “How gracious,” she deadpanned.
Why she hadn’t made any moves to leave was lost on her. Cassian had won the upper hand in antagonizing her, by insinuating she’d purposely shown up in search of his company. Nesta wondered why he needed such validations considering the high opinion he clearly held of himself.
Cassian made another adjustment to his formations. “If not for my stellar company, why’d you come in?”
The barb was loaded at the tip of her tongue, ready to cut into his arrogance and insufferable teasing— how each step had been a mistake, how her exhaustion had made her desperate enough to overlook details of the various tents. It dissolved when Cassian turned to address her fully, his features crumpling when he realized her state.
“Nesta,” he murmured, taking several slow steps in her direction. ”Are you alright? What happened?”
Whatever he’d been working on was forgotten. He scanned the space around them, gesturing to a small seating area near the table. When Nesta didn’t make any moves to take him up on the offer, his brow pulled together in a frown. She had no doubt that the same expression had compelled many others to comply with his every whim before, but unfortunately for Cassian, Nesta wasn’t much like them.
She held up a slender hand. “Don’t starting fussing. I’m fine.”
His wings rustled, pulled in tight. He crossed his arms and balanced his stance, settling into a form Nesta was all too familiar with from their many verbal spars.
“I asked you a question.”
“I answered it.”
Cassian’s eyes slid closed while he took a long, deep breath. The underlying sentiment was shared entirely, Nesta thought.
“The second part— what happened to you?”
His expression shifted with the question. It was something foreign, yet Nesta felt her body relax at seeing it. Even their sparring was comforting in its own way and gave her some semblance of solid ground, but she wouldn’t dare reveal such a thing. She squeezed her eyes shut against the burning and fluttered them open again.
“Nothing happened. I helped the healers today. I’m tired.”
Her spine bowed marginally at the admission, and as if that tiny change in her posture pained him, Cassian closed the distance.
“I should have known,” he said, his voice like warm rain. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’d have to be exhausted to end up here.”
His throat bobbed, and Nesta fought the urge to touch the skin below his jaw and trail her fingers over it. Blissful heat radiated off his body, warming her skin against the night’s chill, and she steadied her body against the urge to sag against him. Cassian fixed his gaze over her shoulder, ran a callused hand through his black hair.
“Thank you. I know they appreciated the help.”
Nesta nodded, her voice temporarily lost in favor of taking his intoxicating scent into her lungs.
“Come sit. I have tea. Have a cup, and you can be on your way if you want.”
“No need,” Nesta rasped, her throat tightening when his hazel eyes found hers. “I won’t keep you.”
Cassian huffed a sardonic laugh and reached out to wrap her hand in his. The touch sent a rush of sensation up her arm and through her chest; something she was all too willing to ignore. Without a word, he tugged gently and led her to the pile of pillows and furs nearby.
His scarred eyebrow lifted in challenge. “Sit,” he ordered.
The fight left Nesta entirely. The soft furs brushed the delicate skin at her ankles, and the promise of warmth was all it took to lower herself against several pillows. She arranged them to prop herself in a seated position, and by the time she got situated, Cassian was holding out a cup of steaming tea.
“I interrupted your work.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “I could use a break,” he admitted, pouring his own cup of tea.
“If you need to get back to it, I won’t bother you. There’s no need to entertain me.”
Cassian’s mouth ticked up in a small smile. He turned toward her and traveled the short distance to where Nesta was seated. He lay down on his side atop the palette of furs, allowing Nesta as much space as possible. He adjusted his weight to prop on an elbow, his other arm draped over his waist.
“Maybe it’s me that needs to be entertained.”
Nesta bit her cheek against the smile that threatened to emerge. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Certainly, there’s someone in this camp better equipped to do so.”
Cassian’s chuckle raked over her spine, sending gooseflesh over her body. “You’re closest.”
With a wink, he lifted his mug to his mouth, a smile still evident in the crinkle around his eyes. Nesta wanted to return the smile and throttle him in equal measure.
“It terrifies me to think of what would entertain you,” she quipped, taking a sip of her own tea to mask her amusement. It was harder to accomplish with Cassian’s responding laugh.
“I can imagine,” he answered, before trailing off in favor of the calming quiet around them.
Nesta closed her eyes, allowing herself the indulgence of such vulnerability in the middle of a war zone. She guessed she was safer doing so in the General Commander’s tent than anywhere else. The issue came when the quiet allowed too many of the day’s thoughts to wreak havoc on her mind. Before things could spiral, she heaved a breath, feeling an eerie and unexpected sort of calm tugging at the space between her ribs. She was thankful for the blessing to avoid such a display in Cassian’s tent.
His voice, raspy from the day’s battle, permeated her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”
She shook her head, blinking to orient herself back to the present. A part of her felt compelled to withhold the truth, but she couldn’t muster the energy.
“Today. So many people injured and in pain. It makes me feel ridiculous for daring to feel tired after a day of caring for them. It’s negligible by comparison.”
“I disagree,” Cassian replied, adamant. “What you did today was just as necessary as fighting to protect our people. Don’t underestimate it.”
Nesta nodded, running her index finger around the lip of her mug. She decided to bite her tongue rather than point out that they weren’t “their people” at all. Cassian was quiet for a moment until his eyes flitted to her face, a softness in his expression that she wanted to hold onto forever. It made him look younger somehow, like the deeply etched weariness of loss and pain disappeared entirely.
“I found myself wondering,” he began, pausing to find his words. “At times, while the fighting was happening, I wondered where you were. Hoped you were safe.”
Her throat constricted. They had lived habitually at each others’ throats when they bothered with one another in the first place. Cassian’s confession was equal parts confusing and frustratingly relatable. The brute managed to occupy far too many of her thoughts. It wasn’t for lack of Nesta trying to prevent it.
“I did, too,” she murmured, surprising herself with the truth. She cleared her throat, forced a surety she didn’t feel. “Every time someone was carried into the tent, I wondered if it would be you.”
Cassian nodded, considered her words. He allowed her a small mercy and chose not to dwell on them. They finished their tea in quiet contemplation, and Cassian got up to put their mugs away. Before he returned to his previous spot, he stopped near a large iron pot and lifted the lid. Nesta watched curiously as he grabbed a rolled towel and carried it over to her.
“Madja warmed these earlier. They’ve been soaked in water and a blend of healing oils. They’re good for soreness.”
Rather than hand it over, he lowered himself onto a knee in front of Nesta. He unrolled it from its original shape and worked it until he had it twisted the way he wanted. His features were schooled in concentration as he lifted it over Nesta’s head and rested it around the back of her neck.
She nearly moaned at the warmth of it, at the gentle brush of his fingers against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she swore she heard Cassian’s breath hitch each time he freed a rogue piece of her hair from beneath the towel’s weight. Too soon, he was pulling his hands away and settling into his original position across from her.
“Why do you fight?”
The question surprised him if his rapid blinking was any indication. He bit the inside of his cheek and traced an idle path over the furs in front of him.
“It’s what I know. It’s how I serve my court.”
Nesta wasn’t satisfied with his answer. She indulged in a quick glance over his form, how the loose ties of his tunic allowed a glimpse at his tattooed chest. He seemed so humble, so ordinary in that tent with her. As ordinary as a towering Fae male, strong as if he was carved from stone, could be, anyway. The image didn’t align with the Cassian she’d seen far more often. General Commander of the Night Court’s Armies. Member of the High Lord’s inner circle. War legend.
She got the impression he didn’t readily acknowledge his status or how important his survival would be to the Night Court.
“It seems it would make more sense to ensure you’re protected. If something happened to you, who would lead in your stead?”
“Rhysand,” he answered quickly, casually. “He’s made aware of all plans and strategies, and in the event he couldn’t, Azriel could do it.”
Nesta swallowed, trying and failing to mute the sound of his steady heartbeat. It felt too big for the space and fought to derail her focus, but it soothed her all the same.
“I don’t think that’s true. You realize you’re not so readily replaced, surely.”
Cassian’s gaze met hers for a split second and dropped to the space between them. “Careful, Sweetheart. That was almost a compliment.”
He huffed a laugh, and Nesta joined him for a brief moment. Easing onto his stomach, he rested his cheek atop his forearms and allowed his wings the barest stretch.
“There’s no point in arguing over it,” he continued. “For all we know, Hybern could use the Cauldron to obliterate the world tomorrow. It wouldn’t matter if I stood on the front line or in Velaris.”
The concept made Nesta’s stomach lurch. He’d said it in jest, she knew, but the mere possibility had her power threatening to rise to the surface. She closed her eyes and forced it under. What she’d stolen that day wasn’t inclined to go quietly; a prize she’d won and a curse altogether. Cassian studied her, and the action forced her back to the present.
“And to think, you would have spent your last hours with someone who stumbled uninvited into your tent and proceeded to drink your tea and use your things.”
His responding chuckle felt like he’d dragged the pads of his fingers over the knots of Nesta’s spine. He eased his eyes closed while he recovered and blinked them open lazily.
“We’re unlikely company, but we’ve done alright, I think.”
Nesta crossed her arms, feeling strangely exposed by his words. The walls she’d spent so much time carefully crafting had eroded without her notice, but they would slide back into place readily. They always did.
“What would you do— assuming you knew the Cauldron was going to dissolve everything— if you got to choose?”
She needed the deflection, to shift Cassian’s focus elsewhere. He’d be the first to point out how she began to withdraw, and she’d rather he didn’t. He thought a while on his answer; long enough for Nesta’s attention to get lost tracing patterns over his wings. They rested within reach, and her fingers twitched to physically trace those patterns against the thin membrane. As if he’d felt her intent, they retracted toward the center of his back.
“I’d fly. I would take my time appreciating Velaris and the Night Court, travel up to Illyria to visit all my favorite spots. It can be cold and brutal, but it’s beautiful if you know where to look.”
Nesta considered his answer. She hadn’t expected Cassian, of all people, to spend his final hours on his own.
“I thought you would say ‘with your family’ or something. It’s hard to imagine that you wouldn’t ride it out with them.”
His defined shoulders tensed in an approximation of a shrug. “Of course I’d stop by,” he teased. “But, I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to me. They all have others they would want to see and spend their time with— mates, family. I wouldn’t want to be yet another person they worried about.”
It was the genuine self-sacrifice that chipped away at Nesta’s defenses. His response had been so earnest that she knew he meant every word, and it inspired a sadness on his behalf and her own circumstances. She had no aversions to solitude, but she didn’t think she would need to excuse anyone of any obligation to her. She’d be alone by choice, first and foremost, but if she decided on the reciprocal, would anyone be there anyway?
“What about you?” he murmured. “How would you spend your time?”
Nesta took a moment to think. If the Cauldron obliterated their existence effective the following day, how would she truly spend her time? A weighted veil descended over her mood. She had barely settled into her immortality, so entertaining yet another endless death felt heavier than she cared to entertain.
“I don’t know,” she nearly whispered. Cassian’s brow pulled together in concentration, and he moved to sit up in front of her, as if hanging on her every word. “I’ve spent all these months trying to make peace with this version of my life. That hasn’t left much time to entertain my last days.”
He hummed, and the low tone of his voice floated over her skin like a phantom touch. A barrage of possibilities assaulted her— the roughness of his calluses, the taste of his skin, the fascinating texture of his wings beneath her fingers. Nesta shook her head to re-focus.
“I think I would spend it somewhere quiet with my favorite books. I’d surround myself in nothing but warm linens and keep a kettle of hot tea nearby. I would leave this world comfortable, I think.”
The words poured from her, and it wasn’t until she finished that she realized how true they were. Her human existence had included its fair share of pain, not to mention Hybern’s kidnapping and the bone-deep chill of the Cauldron. She wouldn’t go out that way again. She refused.
Cassian blinked, and Nesta wished she knew why his gaze felt so loaded. He recognized something in her, something in her pain and her past. Learning of his pain felt unbearable somehow, but she wanted so badly to understand. That conversation could wait for another time.
“No family for you either?”
He had found her sore spot efficiently, flawlessly. She shook her head to buy herself some time.
“I guess the more appropriate answer would be that I’d be mated to some Fae male by then, and we would spend it together.”
Cassian’s eyes snapped shut, but he opened them just as quickly. His expression seemed neutral enough, but something unidentifiable was off about it. Nesta studied him in the time between their words, trying to decipher what left her feeling hollow as he looked at her.
“I don’t know how it all works, but I doubt that’s in the Cauldron’s plans for me. I’d be satisfied enough with having a say in my death this time around.”
Pain flashed across Cassian’s handsome face, both at her words and something deeper. It was already gone by the time he spoke.
“I hear you. If it’s any consolation, it took over 500 years for me to believe that I have a mate, so I think it’s fair that you don’t quite have your mind around it.”
His words were acid dripping within her ribcage, but she forced the pain down with the same vigor she did her unwelcome powers. She would no sooner touch what the discomfort meant.
“You have a mate?”
She watched his hand lift to the back of his neck and traced the movement in his forearm when he squeezed his tense muscles. “No, not that I’m aware. I just meant I assumed I wouldn’t have one for a long time.”
The acidic burn was relentless.
“What changed your mind?”
Nesta held her breath while she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure why she’d asked at all, but she had the sense that his next words belonged to something much bigger than either of them.
Finally, he shrugged. “Maybe I started to want it more than I did in the past, or maybe it’s just a hunch. I wonder what it’s like, you know— what it feels like when it snaps into place.”
She swallowed against the sand in her throat, trying once more to avoid choking on her reply. “I wouldn’t have a clue to even speculate.”
Her words felt disingenuous, though that idea was absurd. They were as honest as she could manage, but they remained unpalatable. The combination of hers and Cassian’s thoughts on the matter intensified her discontent, and she brushed it off in favor stretching her legs in front of her.
“I suppose I’ve kept you long enough.”
She stood, soreness already roaring through her tired muscles. Cassian rose swiftly and held his hands out as if to brace her at the shoulders, but Nesta took a subtle step back. She couldn’t bear the contact; not if she intended to return to her tent with those walls still resolutely in place.
Cassian dropped his hands and nodded toward his abandoned map. “I should get back to it, anyway.”
“Alright. Thank you for the tea.”
She straightened her spine by sheer will. Turning for the tent’s opening, she focused to keep her pace productive without too much urgency. She eased it open and ducked her head in preparation to brave the cold air in search of her own tent. Cassian’s husky voice brought her to a halt and rooted her to the spot.
“Nesta?”
She paused, turning to him with the tent flap still within her grasp.
“Despite it all—“ he paused, fixing his eyes on the ground near his feet. His steps were silent as he traveled across the tent, stopping barely two feet away from her. Close enough to touch, to breathe in his distinct scent yet again. She’d know him by any of her senses, down to the nuanced sound of his twitching wings . “If the Cauldron were to level our world tomorrow, I’d be right here.”
Nesta swallowed, anything to buy her time to formulate a coherent response. The forgotten cloth around her neck has grown cold, sending a shiver down her spine. She slid it free and held it out, her breath hitching as his warm hand wrapped around the towel and her fingers. Without a second thought, she dropped the tent flap in favor of draping her free hand over the back of his palm.
Cassian’s throat bobbed, but the characteristic intensity of his focus remained on her face. His eyes scanned every plane, as intense as the chaotic beating of his heart.
“I like to think I’d find myself here, too.”
He gave a tight nod and pulled his hand slowly— so slowly— from between hers. At the break in connection, reality faded back into the fringes of Nesta’s attention. It poured over her like rain, leaving an unwelcome chill over her skin.
Cassian tossed the towel over his shoulder and turned back toward his work. With his back to her, those magnificent wings balanced behind him, he was every bit the warrior the legends made of his name.
Nesta allowed herself another second to take him in before turning to lift the canvas flap. She’d traveled a single step before his quiet voice stopped her once more.
“Goodnight, Nesta.”
She looked over her shoulder to find his attention fixed resolutely on his task, as if his parting words left him vulnerable in a way he wouldn’t allow her to see.
“Goodnight,” she murmured, stepping out into the frigid darkness.
——————————————————————————
If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, please send me an ask, a message, leave a comment, or mention being tagged in your reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!
[And, if I’ve left you off my list unintentionally, please don’t hesitate to remind me! No offense taken.]
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
Dani. DANI! What on earth has happened that I’ve forgotten how BEAUTIFULLY you write canon?!
This is so so gorgeous, so painfully sad and angsty and so… perfectly Nessian. The mate conversation? Amazing. The lingering touches? Divine. The mutual understanding that they’d be together in those last moments? Chefs fucking KISS.
I’d also like to shout out to your wing writing. Cassian’s movements were so spot on and it made me think of him in his true complete form rather than a modern au.
I LOVED IT. I bow down to you, Nessian queen.
(And also, thank you to our JP Saxe obsession and for it inspiring you to write this. I think this might by my favourite piece of yours ❤️❤️❤️)
Oof— you really knew how to hit a girl right in her feels
I just needed acomaf/ acowar Nessian. I miss that era so much— all the pining, and the profound longing? Unmatched. The way they say so much while actually saying very little; just in the nuances of their body language and in the subtext of the words they do manage to share. Ugh. I love them.
I wondered if I focused too much on Cassian’s wings, so this compliment has put my mind at ease in a big way I love the idea that he could be so imposing, so expressive while also being really gentle in the next beat.
Alright, I’m done gushing, I promise. Thank you thank you thank you for the kind words! It means the world, truly ❤️
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
“The evening passed in a blur of experiences, some arbitrary and innocuous, yet seemingly loaded all the same. Each bucket of water she hauled into a tent held a value she’d never known before it meant a wound could be properly cleaned. The sound of linen ripping into strips was rhythmic and comforting because it meant enough resources remained to treat the wounded. The crunch of earth beneath her feet was a reminder of purpose.
She was alive, albeit exhausted. Being uninjured and fully able-bodied, she found the motivation to keep moving. She had to keep moving.” — this is so wow. Just wow head empty just your incredible writing ability
“A certain trance had fallen over Nesta over the course of the day, and the sun had descended behind the rolling mountains before she finally relented and decided to rest. The healers within the camp had badgered her on it throughout the day, and none had been overly impressed with her stubbornness. They’d been grateful, of course, but they couldn’t afford another convalescent.” — Living for the healers begging Nesta to take a break and her refusing until everyone has been treated
“She startled, and her steps came to an abrupt halt. It had happened so quickly that the tent flap brushed against her back when it eased closed, causing her to flinch once more. Seconds passed before anything began to make any sense.
Cassian stood over an expansive round table with a large piece of parchment held in place by weights at each corner. Some of his siphons, she realized, upon further examination. She watched as he studied the map, extending his arm to push several small pawns across a strip of land.” — HEHEHEHEGE SHE GOT IN CASSIAN’S TENT BY ACCIDENT
“The fact that he hadn’t whirled on her, a weapon to her throat before she could blink, meant he knew no threat was present. Whether he knew it was Nesta in his tent remained a mystery.” — oh he definitely knows it you dearie
“Cassian rested his fingers against the table top, his keen eyes continuing their path over the map. His wings twitched, relaxed. Nesta was fascinated by them. Studying their details, imagining the stories of every scar, was a welcome distraction from the compulsion she’d felt toward her destination.” — Nesta has a wing kink and we know it. She thirsting over daddy general and I cannot blame her
“You’re welcome to visit anytime, Sweetheart,” he replied, mirth laced through the words. “Consider it an open invitation.” — why am I giggling like a school girl and blushing
“The barb was loaded at the tip of her tongue, ready to cut into his arrogance and insufferable teasing— how each step had been a mistake, how her exhaustion had made her desperate enough to overlook details of the various tents. It dissolved when Cassian turned to address her fully, his features crumpling when he realized her state.
“Nesta,” he murmured, taking several slow steps in her direction. ”Are you alright? What happened?” — the way he went from playful and flirty to worried and protective MY HEART
“Whatever he’d been working on was forgotten. He scanned the space around them, gesturing to a small seating area near the table. When Nesta didn’t make any moves to take him up on the offer, his brow pulled together in a frown. She had no doubt that the same expression had compelled many others to comply with his every whim before, but unfortunately for Cassian, Nesta wasn’t much like them.
She held up a slender hand. “Don’t starting fussing. I’m fine.”
His wings rustled, pulled in tight. He crossed his arms and balanced his stance, settling into a form Nesta was all too familiar with from their many verbal spars. — PLEASE HE IS SUCH A MOTHERHEN AND SO ATTENTIVE AND WORRIED AND I AM CRYING
“Nothing happened. I helped the healers today. I’m tired.”
Her spine bowed marginally at the admission, and as if that tiny change in her posture pained him, Cassian closed the distance.
“I should have known,” he said, his voice like warm rain. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’d have to be exhausted to end up here.” — married couple vibes, ABSOLUTELY MARRIED COUPLE VIBES
“His throat bobbed, and Nesta fought the urge to touch the skin below his jaw and trail her fingers over it. Blissful heat radiated off his body, warming her skin against the night’s chill, and she steadied her body against the urge to sag against him. Cassian fixed his gaze over her shoulder, ran a callused hand through his black hair.” — Be strong Nesta not to jump on him. You can do it even tho he looks like such a snack god knows I would not have any self restrain
“Cassian huffed a sardonic laugh and reached out to wrap her hand in his. The touch sent a rush of sensation up her arm and through her chest; something she was all too willing to ignore. Without a word, he tugged gently and led her to the pile of pillows and furs nearby.” — SCREAMING CRYING SCREAMING SOME MORE
His scarred eyebrow lifted in challenge. “Sit,” he ordered. — Yes daddy right away daddy I can lay down too if you want daddy
“If you need to get back to it, I won’t bother you. There’s no need to entertain me.”
Cassian’s mouth ticked up in a small smile. He turned toward her and traveled the short distance to where Nesta was seated. He lay down on his side atop the palette of furs, allowing Nesta as much space as possible. He adjusted his weight to prop on an elbow, his other arm draped over his waist.
“Maybe it’s me that needs to be entertained.” — THE WAY HE IS LAYING ON THE BED PLEASE SUCH A SEXY PICTURE AND THE DOUBLE MEANING OF HIS WORDS
“Nesta bit her cheek against the smile that threatened to emerge. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
With a wink, he lifted his mug to his mouth, a smile still evident in the crinkle around his eyes. Nesta wanted to return the smile and throttle him in equal measure.” — he almost made her smile TWICE SHSHDUDHDHHD
“Nesta closed her eyes, allowing herself the indulgence of such vulnerability in the middle of a war zone. She guessed she was safer doing so in the General Commander’s tent than anywhere else. The issue came when the quiet allowed too many of the day’s thoughts to wreak havoc on her mind. Before things could spiral, she heaved a breath, feeling an eerie and unexpected sort of calm tugging at the space between her ribs. She was thankful for the blessing to avoid such a display in Cassian’s tent.” — the way his presence calms her and how safe she feels being with him PLEASE DANI
“I found myself wondering,” he began, pausing to find his words. “At times, while the fighting was happening, I wondered where you were. Hoped you were safe.”
“I did, too,” she murmured, surprising herself with the truth. She cleared her throat, forced a surety she didn’t feel. “Every time someone was carried into the tent, I wondered if it would be you.” — I CANNOT TAKE THIS I SIMPLY CANNOT! Acowar!Nessian hits different because they’re not as traumatised and hurt by the world and their love is so shy and scared and hesitant it’s very very sweet
“Rather than hand it over, he lowered himself onto a knee in front of Nesta. He unrolled it from its original shape and worked it until he had it twisted the way he wanted. His features were schooled in concentration as he lifted it over Nesta’s head and rested it around the back of her neck.” — WHERE DO I FIND MYSELF A CASSIAN?! WHERE?! Btw given that you’re already on your knees just take the opportunity to ask for her hand in marriage
“She nearly moaned at the warmth of it, at the gentle brush of his fingers against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she swore she heard Cassian’s breath hitch each time he freed a rogue piece of her hair from beneath the towel’s weight. Too soon, he was pulling his hands away and settling into his original position across from her.” — Cassian almost jumping on her and losing his mind because she’s so close and she moaned and HE IS TOUCHING HER HAIR
“Nesta wasn’t satisfied with his answer. She indulged in a quick glance over his form, how the loose ties of his tunic allowed a glimpse at his tattooed chest. He seemed so humble, so ordinary in that tent with her. As ordinary as a towering Fae male, strong as if he was carved from stone, could be, anyway. The image didn’t align with the Cassian she’d seen far more often. General Commander of the Night Court’s Armies. Member of the High Lord’s inner circle. War legend.
She got the impression he didn’t readily acknowledge his status or how important his survival would be to the Night Court.” — sobbing she got it so right he’s so selfless and self depreciating Cassian please know that you’re very loved and important
“Nesta swallowed, trying and failing to mute the sound of his steady heartbeat. It felt too big for the space and fought to derail her focus, but it soothed her all the same.”— SHE CAN HEAR HIS HEART
“I don’t think that’s true. You realize you’re not so readily replaced, surely.”
Cassian’s gaze met hers for a split second and dropped to the space between them. “Careful, Sweetheart. That was almost a compliment.” — IT WAS SHE LIKES YOU PLEASE THIS IS HURTING ME WHAT IS UP WITH THE SPRINKLES OF ANGST
“She needed the deflection, to shift Cassian’s focus elsewhere. He’d be the first to point out how she began to withdraw, and she’d rather he didn’t. He thought a while on his answer; long enough for Nesta’s attention to get lost tracing patterns over his wings. They rested within reach, and her fingers twitched to physically trace those patterns against the thin membrane. As if he’d felt her intent, they retracted toward the center of his back.” — you can bet that Nesta obsess over Cassian’s wings now that they’re mated and Cassian loves it
“It was the genuine self-sacrifice that chipped away at Nesta’s defenses. His response had been so earnest that she knew he meant every word, and it inspired a sadness on his behalf and her own circumstances. She had no aversions to solitude, but she didn’t think she would need to excuse anyone of any obligation to her. She’d be alone by choice, first and foremost, but if she decided on the reciprocal, would anyone be there anyway?” — CASSIAN WOULD BE THERE HE WOULD VOLUNTEER
“I guess the more appropriate answer would be that I’d be mated to some Fae male by then, and we would spend it together.”
Cassian’s eyes snapped shut, but he opened them just as quickly. His expression seemed neutral enough, but something unidentifiable was off about it. Nesta studied him in the time between their words, trying to decipher what left her feeling hollow as he looked at her. — CASSIAN WANTING TO TELL HER HE THINKS HE IS HER MATE AND NESTA UNCONSCIOUSLY WANTING HIM TO BE
“I don’t know how it all works, but I doubt that’s in the Cauldron’s plans for me. I’d be satisfied enough with having a say in my death this time around.”
Pain flashed across Cassian’s handsome face, both at her words and something deeper. It was already gone by the time he spoke.
“I hear you. If it’s any consolation, it took over 500 years for me to believe that I have a mate, so I think it’s fair that you don’t quite have your mind around it.” — CASSIAN HURTING BECAUSE NESTA IS TALKING ABOUT HOW SHE WILL DIE ALONE AND HOW SHE IS NOT DESERVING OF A MATE AND CASSIAN FEELING BAD BECAUSE HE HAS ALWAYS THOGHT THE SAME BUT NOW HE THINKS SHE IS HIS
“His words were acid dripping within her ribcage, but she forced the pain down with the same vigor she did her unwelcome powers. She would no sooner touch what the discomfort meant.” — NESTA JEALOUS BECAUSE SHE THINKS CASSIAN HAS A MATE AND IT IS NOT HER
She watched his hand lift to the back of his neck and traced the movement in his forearm when he squeezed his tense muscles. “No, not that I’m aware. I just meant I assumed I wouldn’t have one for a long time.” — and now Cassian to avoid the question because he doesn’t want to scare her saying he thinks she’s his mate
“Her words felt disingenuous, though that idea was absurd. They were as honest as she could manage, but they remained unpalatable. The combination of hers and Cassian’s thoughts on the matter intensified her discontent, and she brushed it off in favor stretching her legs in front of her.” — BOTH OF THEM THINKING THE SAME THING BUT TOO SCARED TO SAY IT THE PAIN
“She stood, soreness already roaring through her tired muscles. Cassian rose swiftly and held his hands out as if to brace her at the shoulders, but Nesta took a subtle step back. She couldn’t bear the contact; not if she intended to return to her tent with those walls still resolutely in place.” — SHE DOES NOT WANT TO LEAVE HIM I AM HURTING
“Despite it all—“ he paused, fixing his eyes on the ground near his feet. His steps were silent as he traveled across the tent, stopping barely two feet away from her. Close enough to touch, to breathe in his distinct scent yet again. She’d know him by any of her senses, down to the nuanced sound of his twitching wings . “If the Cauldron were to level our world tomorrow, I’d be right here.”
“I like to think I’d find myself here, too.” — THIS IS IT I AM JUMPING OUT OF A WINDOW
“Goodnight, Nesta”
She looked over her shoulder to find his attention fixed resolutely on his task, as if his parting words left him vulnerable in a way he wouldn’t allow her to see.
“Goodnight,” she murmured, stepping out into the frigid darkness. — I’m okay I’m fine I’m not crying it’s just a tree in my eye
As per usual, Babi, I’m humbled by your generous reviews! I don’t deserve you, but I’ll keep trying
I went from touched, to laughing, to emotional, and everything in between reading this! Your support knows no bounds.
But THIS—
“Acowar!Nessian hits different because they’re not as traumatised and hurt by the world and their love is so shy and scared and hesitant it’s very very sweet”
— made me smile hard. This is exactly what I wanted to come through in this one-shot. What would the development and trajectory of their relationship/ mating have looked like in the absence of such brutal trauma? If they hadn’t fallen apart at the seams and had to crawl back from it? If they’d had the luxury of time, of getting to know each other more organically? [You can ask @duskandstarlight. She had to listen to my rambling about this specifically when I was planning this fic ]
A millions thanks to you, my dear Babi! You make a girl feel loved ❤️
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
Well, yes Nesta, and there’s no reason to be jealous, he’s talking about you baby
“No, not that I’m aware…”LIAR.“…I just meant I assumed I wouldn’t have one for a long time” (wow, what a great save, general. Bet in his head he’s like: “Nailed it”)
“What changed your mind?”
Seriously, Nesta, c'mon, what’s wrong with you, can’t you tell? Wow, you must really be very exhausted (for Cassian’s luck)
I mean, yeah, the whole thing was so adorable, but this part especially, I can’t with my two dorks ❤
Our girl really was so affected by this mate business, totally ignoring the flashing signs that point to HER as his mate sweet little love.
And Cassian did his best to navigate the touchy subject, although I have no doubt that his internal monologue would consist mostly of screams
a/n: Shorter update for you all, but hope you enjoy! It’s short because I’m sticking with the one pov per part thing, and I want to do breakfast in Cassian’s.
“You were out last night. Again.”
The soft voice was distant and flat in a way it never used to be.
Nesta finished pinning up her typical, braided coronet and turned to see Elain sitting up in her bed.
“I awoke in the middle of the night,” she explained. “My dreams enjoy doing that to me these days. When I did, you weren’t in your bed.”
Nesta sighed and sat on her own bed, facing Elain. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I’ve been helping the healers.”
“Past midnight?”
“Sometimes.” Elain gave her a knowing look that was so classic Elain, Nesta couldn’t help but smile slightly before admitting, “But not last night. No. I was…with a friend.”
“Oh,” Elain sighed, nodding. “That’s good. Cling to your friends, Nesta. With their support, you’ll grow wings.”
Easy come, easy go. Nesta knew she was supposed to heed these comments from her sister. That they were some form of prophecy. But she missed the old Elain. The one who smiled and entertained, who liked meeting new people, who found enjoyment in every aspect of life. This Elain just felt like a shell of her old self, not changed just…emptied.
“Right…” Nesta stood, looking at herself in the small mirror provided over the basin. “Will you join me for breakfast?”
It was almost a full minute before Elain replied with an airy, “No.”
Of course not. She never joined for meals. But the fruit basket was less full than it had been the day before. So at least she’s been eating. And the bread and cheese Nesta brought back the night before was gone as well.
“Nesta.” She paused, fastening her hook as she started back out the tent. “You belong here, you know. More than me, even more than Feyre, I think. I’m glad you’re finding the comfort you never found back home. No matter who it’s with.”
Her feet quickened, but everything else in Nesta seemed to freeze over. As soon as she was out of the tent and far enough from her sister, she sank down onto a log.
Elain’s words were ringing through her like a gong, and Nesta couldn’t handle it.
What did that even mean? That she ‘belongs’ here? In this wicked, cruel, magical land. With creatures that would hunt her as much as any human. And Fae who…actually cared? Who wanted to help the humans, to keep them safe. Or, at least, were willing to do so since they needed to keep their own land safe as well.
But, no. Maybe that was true for some, but not all of them. Nesta knew, some of the Fae here truly did want to ensure humans were safe, even if they didn’t think about helping those living in squalor. She couldn’t blame them, really. That wasn’t their responsibility. And it was an easy thing to forget about, especially when dealing with problems closer to home.
Still, that didn’t mean Nesta belonged here. That she’d found comfort in this strange world. What a ridiculous notion.
Though, she had found some comfort, hadn’t she? She’d slept well these past two nights. The best she’d slept since Hybern. And she couldn’t blame the cot. Not when she’d been sleeping on the most plush beds she’d ever felt up in the Night Court.
There was only one other possibility.
No.
That couldn’t be it. That wouldn’t be it. She was just swept up in the war, and those earnest eyes, and the romance of it all. Nesta had certainly at least once read a book about a nurse and a warrior during a war, how they found love in a battle camp. Clearly she was letting the fantasy of her novels take hold of her life.
Well, no more. This wasn’t a book. She wasn’t in some carefully thought out plot that had a guaranteed happy ending. No, this story would likely end in tragedy or heartbreak, because that’s how real life always ended.
At least, that’s how it ended for her.
She could fix it, though. Stop getting swept away. Take back control and force some distance. Give herself a chance to think clearly, rationally. To step away from the danger that was Cassian.
It shouldn’t be too difficult. Right?
Quickly, Nesta made her way to the area where she’d had breakfast the day before. She’d find Cassian and Kastas, excuse herself, and be on her way to help the healers, away from Cassian. Simple.
The morning sun was just becoming visible over the mountain peaks, the sky painted in pinks and oranges no person could reproduce. A few warriors were appearing from their tents as Nesta walked, but most seemed to still be resting, possibly in need of a brighter sky to pull them from their sleep.
“Nesta!” The familiar voice called her name as soon as he was in her eye line. His dark hair was half pulled up in a messy bun, the rest falling in loose waves around his shoulders. She tried to keep her breath from hitching, but it was pointless. It was always pointless when it came to Cassian.
She walked toward him, noticing Kastas across the fire and giving the older male a kind smile.
“Mikrívasí, how are you this morning?” Kastas asked softly, stirring the eggs he was cooking.
Cassian scooted over on the log, but Nesta remained standing as she answered, “I’m well. I’m looking for Althea.”
“Surely you can have breakfast with us, first. I’m making bacon.”
Kastas’s hazy eyes were wide and pleading. Nesta wanted to say yes, but a quick glance at the other gaze around the fire reminded her why she needed to take a step back. It was too damn entrancing for her own good. “I don’t think so. We don’t know when we’ll need to move, so we have to make sure everyone is healthy and ready.”
Kastas scoffed, “Don’t be silly, mikrívasí. We’re Illyrians. Far tougher than we likely appear to you, I promise.”
“I’m sure you are, but I am here first and foremost to help, so I-”
“Althea!” Kastas called, waving to someone behind Nesta. She turned around to see the head healer walking toward them, her black hair braided back in a fierce hairstyle that was as fitting for a warrior as a healer.
The female offered a greeting nod to Kastas, saying, “Good morning.”
“Surely you can spare this lovely female for breakfast before you work her to the bone today,” Kastas requested. “She needs a proper meal in the morning.”
“Oh, of course, Nesta,” Althea breathed, giving Nesta a kind smile that sent her stomach plummeting. “In fact, I was just coming to find you and let you know that you can take the day off. There’s not much else to do, most of the warriors just need rest. So take it easy. You’ve earned the day.”
Nesta was certain she’d seen Cassian flash the same mischievous smile Kastas was now wearing as Althea said a quick goodbye. “Well, there we have it. Sit, mikrívasí. I wish to learn more about you.”
Schooling her features, Nesta took the seat beside Cassian, ignoring the questioning look he was giving her. She couldn’t risk meeting his gaze and giving him that access. He always read her so well, and if he knew what she was thinking, he’d find a way to charm her out of it. And she’d let him.
Damn her, but Nesta would let him in far too easily for her own good.
a/n: Do you see what I did with Elain? She’s not necessarily talking about Cassian…she’s a Seer, who knows how far ahead she can see. lol
Okay but I’m thinking back to ACOWAR and how Elain had a vision about Cassian’s death, well what if Elain told Nesta about what she saw and how she saw Nesta with him and that’s another reason why she pushed him away,..I know it probably wasn’t the case but the potiential that a lot of the ACOWAR storylines had really makes me want to write an ACOWAR fanfic from Nessian’s POV
Chapter 60 is definitely going to be a long chapter but everything for this chapter feel into place for me last week so I can’t wait to finish it and see what everyone thinks! Especially since there’s a POV in there that people who follow me won’t expect me to do. So that’ll definitely be fun to see everyone’s reactions!
Nesta breathed, eyes flickering to the ceiling as Cassian’s tongue ran over her causing her to moan. Her legs trembling at the orgasm racking through her. He hadn’t sunk into her yet, hadn’t pleasured himself by finding an oasis inside of her. He really did want to take his time.
His eyes flickered up to her, the hazel in his eyes burning brightly at the sight of her pleasure. She breathed out, his fingernails digging into the tender flesh of her thighs.
“Cassian.” She cried out, her fingers finding his.
“Come, Sweetheart.” He commanded as it rocked through her, letting him taste the force of it as Cassian kissed her inner thigh sitting up. His eyes still full of lust, still full of want for her.
“I want you. So bad.” Cassian breathed. His mouth crashing to hers, letting her taste herself.
“Then take me, Cassian.” She commanded, her lips finding his again, wanting nothing more than him inside of her before her phone went off startling both.
Fear slammed into her as Eris’s name flashed over the screen, Cassian’s eyes flickering towards it, before looking back at her.
“A friend of yours?” He asked as Nesta’s heart hammered in her chest.
“Cassian-I can explain. Just let me take this first.”
He pulled away from her, nodding as Nesta grabbed her phone racing to his bathroom and answering the call.
“What do you want?” She asked as Eris’s cool voice flowed through the phone.
“Wondering where my beautiful fiancé is or are you with that bastard you’re fucking?”
“That’s none of your business.” Nesta snapped as Eris sighed,
“Don’t forget Nesta, you’re my little fiancé, he may be fucking you, but I’m the one who your family gave you to.”
“I don’t belong to you.” She gritted as Eris chuckled.
“Keep telling yourself that.” He retorted, hanging up the phone as Nesta threw her phone to the ground, shattering the screen of her phone.
Nesta sighed pressing her forehead to the cold mirror, not sure what she would say to Cassian. What she could say as she took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t avoid him forever before she headed out the bathroom, her eyes flickering to where Cassian sat naked on the couch, waiting for her.
“I think we need to talk.” She started sitting on the couch opposite of him as his eyes roamed over her.
“Who’s Eris?” He asked, leaning back, exposing himself to her.
Nesta took a deep breath, waiting for her whole world to shatter, waiting for Cassian to hate her when she told him the truth.
She sat down on his loveseat, glancing over at him as his gaze on her turned intense. She ran her hand over her hair, finally speaking,
“Eris is my fiancé.” She confessed as Cassian’s eyes widened slightly.
“Your…fiancé? You’re engaged?” Cassian asked her, swearing that his words made her heart shatter.
She deserved this. Knew that she should have never gotten in this deep with him if she knew that it would inevitably end in their destruction. She needed to get everything out, even if this was the end for them.
“Yes. I’m engaged. And Eris is my fiancé. We’ve been engaged for a few months.”
“And you love him?” Cassian asked, his hazel eyes boring into hers.
“No…. I don’t love him.” Nesta answered him, realizing that it was true. She had never loved Eris. The closest thing she had felt for Eris was hatred.
“Then why marry him in the first place?” Cassian inquired. A fair question.
“Because my life is not that simple.” Nesta answered as she took in a deep breath, “My parents arranged the marriage. I had no say in it.”
Cassian walked over to her, tilting her face up so that her eyes met his, his thumb stroking her chin.
“Why?”
“Because we need this marriage with Eris to help out my family.” She confessed as Cassian sucked in a breath, kneeling before her. Taking her hands in his.
“Your family-“
“Is up to our eyeballs in debt, and mom think marrying into the Vanserra family will help our chances.”
“Why you?” He asked as Nesta searched his face, not a hint of anger on it.
“Because I have disgraced our family in the past. My mother calls it my contribution to this family.” Nesta confided in him.
“That’s bullshit.” Cassian breathed, squeezing her hands tighter.
“That’s reality.” She told him as his gaze flickered to her once more.
“Why then?” He asked suddenly.
“Why what?”
“Why did you sleep with me knowing it could risk your engagement?”
Nesta took a deep breath in knowing honesty was her only way through this.
“Because Eris had been cheating on me. Not with just one woman, but multiple, and I-I was so miserable. All he saw me was was a vessel. A woman he could control in any way he liked. I wanted to not be Nesta Archeron for the night. And I guess when I met you- “She breathed, “When I met you, you made me feel good for the first time in a long time, like sleeping with you was right and not-“
“Dirty or wrong?” He asked, she nodded.
“Does he know? About us?”
She nodded lowering her head down.
“He said he could care less about a low life bastard fucking me,” She gave a sharp laugh, it tasting bitter in her throat. “He won’t care as long as you don’t impregnate me and cause problem for his reputation.”
Cassian’s brows flew up in question at that last statement as Nesta’s cheeks flushed at what she had said,
“Not that you getting me pregnant would ever happen since we’re always safe, but you get my point.”
Cassian’s eyes scanned the length of her body, his head tilting to the side. Heat flooded his gaze.
“So, he doesn’t mind that we’re doing this?” He asked, not the question Nesta had expected out of his mouth next.
“No.” Nesta answered simply. Her heart fluttering in answer as he rose off the couch he had been sitting on and wandered over to her.
She tilted her head up, her long hair spilling over her shoulder like a fountain of golden brown. His thumb stroked her cheek, making her look up at him.
“Then let’s keep doing it.” He whispered, his mouth coming down to hers.
She tasted his kiss, the feel of his mouth more urgent than it had ever been before. He laid her body on the couch, climbing on top of her as his lips went to her neck, trailing it with his kisses.
She tipped her neck up to him, exposing her throat, giving herself completely over to him. To that feeling.
His hands squeezed her hips with his hands making her gasp at the feel of it. She needed him. Needed him more than she needed anyone else.
“Cassian.” She breathed.
“Yes, Nesta.” He hummed, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Cassian, I want-“
“Me?” He inquired as Nesta’s gaze flickered to him. Her body yearning for him.
“Yes.” She gasped out, his eyes flickering to his bed as a mischievous smile played on his lips.
“Then get on the bed, Nesta, and wait for me there.”
He instructed as Nesta’s chest heaved. She had seen this side to Cassian before, just never this intense.
Nesta took in a deep breath, getting off the couch and striding off his bed sitting on it, sinking down onto his pillows, taking in another breath as her chest rose and fell looking at him as he shook his head.
“I don’t want you there.” Cassian breathed as Nesta glanced at him puzzled.
“Where do you want me?” She asked, Cassian’s gaze wandering towards the end of the bed.
“I want you on your back and bent over my bed. “Cassian told her, his hand gliding towards his cock as she crawled to the edge of the bed, lying on her back, and bending over it, not sure what exactly they were doing and why he wanted her in this position.
“Perfect. Just the way I want you.” Cassian breathed out, his hand moving up and down his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before walking towards his mirror, grabbing it, and placing before her, she glanced at him.
“What is that for?” She inquired as Cassian gave her a smoldering glance that was so heated that she thought she would burn underneath it.
He climbed on the bed, spreading her legs so he could nestle himself in between them, his body brushing up against hers as he leaned in to whisper.
“I want you to watch what I do to you.” Cassian rasped, placing her legs over his shoulders as he dipped his head towards her center once more, licking her where she hungered for him the most.
She moaned watching her reaction in the mirror as Cassian licked, kissed, and tasted her, making her legs tremble before he asked,
“Does his tongue make you feel like this?”
She nearly paused at the question before he dipped his tongue into her core, fucking her with his tongue as she moaned, taking his time with her, coaxing her release out until she answered,
“No.” She moaned out. “Only your tongue has made me feel like this.”
His fingers slid inside her, stretching her out as she shut her eyes making him halt in his motion. She glanced at him.
“Keep your eyes on yourself, sweetheart. I want you to see for yourself how much pleasure I bring you compared to him.”
Nesta nodded, tilting her head back as Cassian began pumping his fingers inside her once more.
“How many fingers does he use, Nes?” He asked, coaxing something out of her that she didn’t think was possible.
“One. Two if I’m lucky.” She answered as Cassian drew his finger back, before adding two more in. Stretching her to the sweetest edge of pain.
She cried out in pleasure as he plunged them in. Cassian chuckling.
“You’re taking three well, Nes. I wonder how well you can take my whole hand.”
She breathed, no one had ever even attempted it.
She nodded feeling as Cassian added four fingers, pumping into her, and stretching her out before adding all his fingers. She cried out riding his hand. Wanting nothing more than for every part of him to claim every part of her.
“Gods Nes, You’re beautiful.” Cassian breathed, slamming his lips down to hers, savoring her taste.
She moaned in his mouth, pulling him closer to her, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck her., To taste her and claim her as his own.
“Cassian.” She breathed out, pressing her forehead to his.
“Tell me.” He instructed, catching her off guard. Plunging his fingers in once more.
“Tell you what?” She asked, trying hard to concentrate on him.
“Tell me that you’re mine.” Cassian gasped out.
Her lips trembled, her legs shaking as she neared her edge. Her nails digging down the length of his chest leaving scratch marks.
“I’m yours.” She cried out. “And you’re mine.”
He growled, hoisting her legs up on his shoulder, pulling his fingers out of her center, and guiding his cock through her wetness as his eyes bored into hers, pushing his cock inside of hers, bottoming out inside of her as she let out a moan of pure pleasure.
“Look at you.” Cassian grunted, pulling out nearly to his tip, before thrusting back into her.
She cried out, head tilting to where she could see herself in the mirror.
“Look at the sight of you when I’m inside of you. Do you look like that when he’s inside of you?”
She glanced at herself. At him moving inside of her, their hips joining together as if they were one. As if he had been specially made for her and she for him.
“No.” She gasped out, quickening his pace.
“Does he touch you the way that I touch you?” He asked placing his hand on her breast.
“No.” She breathed, his mouth pressing to her neck. Leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.
She kept her eyes on the mirror, on herself. God, she loved the sight of herself when he was inside of her.
“Get on your knees.” He growled out. “I want to see your face as I take you deeper.”
She glanced at him as he pulled himself out of her before she got on her knees, sinking down further, and lifting her hips for him to take her. To plunge himself deep inside of her until the only thing she could feel was his massive cock.
He lined himself up with her, slipping his cock inside of her, so deep that she swore she nearly saw stars already.
She sobbed as he leaned into her, pressing his chest firmly to her back and asked,
“How hard do you want it, Nes?” He rasped out, biting on her neck softly. Gods, she wanted him to fuck her until she forgot who she was. Forgot all the problems that were in her world. She gasped out,
“As hard as you want it, sweetheart.”
He growled, slamming into her to the hilt as Nesta cried out at the sheer size of him. He filled her, making her feel so full, as his hand went to her hair as his other wrapped around her throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her legs tremble and her core clench around him.
“That’s it, Sweetheart. You feel so good on my cock.” Cassian grunted out, “Like you were personally made to take my cock for the rest of your life.”
A shiver ran down Nesta’s spine at his words. At how much she wanted that to be true. His balls slammed up against her, trying to coax her orgasm out of her, but he wouldn’t get it so soon. Not until she had her feel of him.
“I want to see myself from your point of view.” She growled out making him halt. The hand in her hair easing as Cassian pulled out of her.
She turned towards him, heat in her gaze at the man before her.
“Get on your back.” She commanded, a mischievous smile playing over her lips. His eyes roaming over her bare body.
“Ask nicely and maybe I will.” Cassian retorted.
Nesta glared down up at him, wanting nothing more than for him to lie on his back so she could show him how much he meant to her. How much more pleasure he brought her compared to Eris, but if he was going to be like that-
She let her lose hair tumble over her shoulder, widening herself further for him as she caressed herself. Fully exposing herself to him. She so desperately wanted him inside of her, but if he was going to act like that, this would be her own personal form of punishment.
She circled her clitoris, plunging a finger inside of herself as she breathed,
“This could be you between my legs, but you’re playing hard to get.”
Cassian’s hungry eyes watched her as she plunged her fingers deeper into herself, appearing as if he were barely restraining herself, but held himself together, reaching his hand out to take her hand that was inside of her.
He pulled her fingers from herself, bringing her hand to where his mouth was as he licked her fingers, tasting each and every one.
She watched, captivated at his boldness, as his heated gaze flickered to her eyes, keeping contact with her. Before pulling her last finger out of his mouth and saying,
“All you have to do is say please, sweetheart.”
Her breath hitched, her center soaking wet and begging her to just say the words, to give him over the control for a split second.
“One way or another I’m going to get that release out of you, Nes. It’s your choice whether or not you want to reach release in your own way.”
She gulped, knowing that if she didn’t say please, he would spread her legs once more. And coax it out of her with his fingers, lips, and tongue. His talented tongue.
If she didn’t say please, she wouldn’t feel the rush of his cock spurting inside of her, covering his legs with his release. And she couldn’t stand that thought.
Couldn’t stand the thought of going home to Eris without smelling like another man. A better man. One that actually satisfied her needs. She needed him as much as she needed air to breath. So she stabbed down her pride and whispered,
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please Cassian, let me fuck you.”
He gave her a victorious, ruthful smile as he laid on his back to where she would be able to see herself in the mirror, stroking his cock so it was at full attention again and purred,
“Then by all means Nes. Take what you want.”
She breathed out, straddling his hips and grasping on to his enormous cock before aligning him at her entrance, sinking down upon his cock and letting out a cry of relief at the feel of him before he grasped her hips and looked up at her as if she were his goddess and he was preparing to sing her a prayer as she swayed her hips, taking his cock deeper inside herself as they both moaned at the feel of it.
She leaned down, kissing his neck in short, hungry kisses. Her nipples hardening in arousal at the sight of him barely holding on to his own release. Wanting to drawl it out so they could arrive at that edge together.
He grasped onto her hips, his nails digging in hard, hard enough that Eris would for sure see the indents of them when she got home and thrusted up into her just as she had took him deeper.
She gasped at that as they kept pace with each other. Trying to bring each other closer to the edge. She was almost there. Almost ready to go into pure ecstasy when Cassian growled out.
“Stay with me tonight.”
She panted, her mind ebbing, on the verge of a debt unknown to her as he slowed his pace right when she was at the cusp of falling away with him. She cried out as he moved in slow punishing thrust, drawling this out so she would give her answer.
“Stay with me instead of going home to him. We can do this all night if you just stay.”
Her lips parted in silent plea. Her body trembling, begging her for that release they both so desperately wanted. She rode him. Rode that high as she answered,
“Yes.”
He thrusted up in her then, his release shooting up into her, as her own release shuddered around him gripping his cock until his cum ran down her thighs and he own release coated him.
She collapsed on top of him. Both their bodies sweaty and spent as his hand roamed in her hair, running through it with her fingers.
His other hand drifting down between her legs to where both their releases laid between her thighs, slipping his fingers inward and pushing his release back inside of her. Like he wanted as much of his essence inside of her as possible. The thought of it making her tighten in response.
He hovered above her, claiming her with his kiss as he looked down upon her, smiling.
“Remember this the next time he tries to fuck you sweetheart. Remember how you called yourself mine.” He reminded her as he pulled away from her and went into his bathroom leaving her laying in his bed with her center throbbing in response reminding her exactly who she belonged to.
“So, how are things going with that girl you’re fucking?“ Azriel asked, sinking his ball into the corner pocket as Cassian grimaced at the fact that he was winning yet again.
Cassian’s grin widened at the thought of Nesta as Cassian made his move, missing the ball he was aiming for, irritation flashed through her.
"I guess your balls are the only ones that are seeing any action.” Azriel teased, his eyes flickering at how badly Cassian was losing.
“At least I’m constantly getting laid.” He shot back as Azriel grinned, hitting another ball into the corner pocket.
“Oh Cassian. Everyone knows the reason I’m not getting laid right now is because I’m not trying to.”
“Whatever. Let’s just finish the game.” Cassian growled, stepping up to make his next move before two women approached them. Cassian’s gaze flickered over to them. They weren’t bad looking, but they also were no Nesta Archeron. Not that Cassian was incapable of fucking one of them, but would they be nearly as enjoyable?
“Hello ladies, what can we do for you?” Azriel asked, his grin flashing to Cassian. He swore one of their legs shook at the flash of Azriel’s dazzling smile.
We were wondering if we could buy you two a drink?“ The bolder one asked, her dark eyes roaming over Azriel’s body in a bold gesture.
"I could go for a drink. What about you, Cas?” Azriel asked as Cassian thought about it.
Nesta wouldn’t be around tonight-She would be at her sister’s place dealing with the likes of Rhysand-but if he accepted this invitation-
He stared at the other woman, the one who was probably interested in him, her body seeming nice enough, but also seeming like she wouldn’t be into the same bedroom activities he was. Not the usual girl Cassian went for, but he also couldn’t let only Nesta warm his bed. He wasn’t the only one warming hers. Not with that fiancé of hers. Not when the only person Cassian had been dreaming about was Nesta.
“I’m in.” Cassian grinned as the woman smiled. It would definitely be an interesting night.
His lips found hers in a heated kiss, his hands traveling downward to her shirt wanting nothing more than to get rid of it. To get it off of her, and get this over with.
Cassian had learned at the bar that her name was Heather. She had seemed nice enough, and probably in another life, Cassian may have even like her, but this, why he had brought her home to his apartment, had nothing to do with wanting her. If anything he wanted her out of his life when the night was over.
Heather pulled away, breathless as Cassian leaned over pressing the button to the elevator to close it thanking God that they were the only two in the elevator.
She smiled, crossing her legs, as a smile pulled at her lips in anticipation. Cassian would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it too.
The elevator doors opened as they stepped out, Cassian taking his keys out of his pocket, ready to head down the hallway to get to his apartment as Cassian at what or rather who he saw there.
Nesta sat by his door, a bottle of wine in her hand as her gaze flickered to him before it landed on Heather. A fierce blush settling on her cheeks as she put two and two together making her stand so quickly that she almost tipped over at the movement. Shit.
“Who’s that?” Heather asked, crossing her arms over her chest. A look of disdain on her face.
“Someone who’s important to me.” Cassian answered giving her his own look of disdain. “Do you mind giving us some privacy?”
Heather scoffed, shooting a look at Nesta before saying,
“Whatever, you weren’t that hot anyway.” Heather huffed returning down the hallway, leaving him and Nesta alone.
“Nesta-” Cassian started.
“I’m sorry if I ruined your-whatever that was. I just-I didn’t know where to go.” Nesta said to Cassian as he took her in.
She wore the same outfit he had dropped her off in, goosebumps rose on her skin from the cold, her arms folding over her chest. Her eyes searched him, wondering if he would say anything.
“To be honest, you just saved me from what could have been the worst sex of my life, so I owe you one.”
Nesta scoffed adjusting her purse, and said,
“Please, she looked ten seconds from giving you the night of your life.”
“I doubt that.” Cassian stated grasping his keys and heading towards the door.
“And why is that?” She asked as he unlocked the door, throwing it open.
“Because she’s not you.” He replied, making her stand there for a few short seconds in awe.
“Are you going to stand there? Or are you going to come inside with that wine and have some fun with me?”
Her smile crept over her lips in satisfaction as she breezed past him, bottle in hand, as he followed her inside ready to keep all sorts of promises he made her that morning.
Nesta fiddled with the hem of her skirt, sitting on the couch as Cassian grasped the champagne glasses from the cabinet having a feeling that they would need the full bottle to get through the night.
She opened the bottle, filling both their glasses to the rim as he grasped the bottle, wanting nothing more than for her to look at him.
“What happened?” He asked as she glanced at him.
“What makes you think something happened?” She asked taking her glass and sipping on it.
“Because you showed up at my apartment saying you had no where to go.”
“What makes you think I just didn’t say that to get rid of your date?”
A smile crept over his face as he set down his champagne glass, glancing at her with heated eyes.
“Then I would say you’ve been very bad and I may need to punish you for it.”
Her breath hitched as he got off the couch, glancing over her like she was his to devour.
“Take off your underwear and spread those pretty legs of yours.”
She gazed upon him for so long he half expected her to tell him to fuck off, but her hands went to the hem of her dress, pushing it up to reveal the lacy fabric that was in between him and what he wanted, before she glanced up at him.
“If you want my panties off, why don’t you do it yourself?” She challenged.
Cassian tilted his head, drinking her in, a wicked smile touching his lips before grasping her ankles and tugging her gently to him, giving him a surprised yelp.
“If I have to take your panties, Nesta, you won’t have them when you leave tonight.”
Her breath hitched at that statement, but she held her resolve, flashing her teeth at him, daring him to take what he wanted.
A wicked chuckle fell from his lips as he flipped her over so she was belly first on the couch. Her marvelous ass exposed to him as he grasped those Gods damned underwear of hers and yanked them down so hard that he heard a rip from them within seconds.
Nesta grasped as Cassian rubbed his palm on her bare ass, smacking it as a surprise yelp fell from Nesta’s lips. He leaned against her, lips pressed to the shell of her ear.
“That’s one.” He whispered as Nesta breathed in and out. One word. One word of discomfort from those lips of hers and he would stop.
“One what?” She asked.
“One of three spankings I’m going to give you.” He smiled making her shiver in anticipation, baring herself to him.
He grinned, smacking her ass again.
“That was for the date.” Cassian told her as she breathed in. “Tell me why you didn’t hide when you saw us.”
“Because I wanted her to know.” Nesta breathed.
“Know what?”
“Know that you’re mine.” Nesta told her. A smile crawling over his face.
“Am I?” Cassian asked.
“What was the first one for?” She asked deflecting the question.
Cassian grinned, hovering over her body, getting closer to her ear.
“For not following directions.” He answered. “Now lift your ass up for me, Nes.”
She lifted herself up more as he smacked her ass, pressing himself closer to her, aligning her body with his so she could feel the warmth of his body and what she was doing to him underneath his clothes.
“What was that one for?” She asked, her voice low.
“For leaving my bed this morning when you were supposed to be warming it.”
Nesta loosened a breath as she answered,
“I can help warm your bed now.” She offered as he growled, putting his arms under her, lifting her up as he carried her to his bed, tossing her onto it.
She looked up at him with awaiting eyes as he pulled his bedside drawer open, pulling out a specific item that he had picked up that morning after he had dropped her off, her eyes widening at the sight of it.
“Is that a-”
Cassian nodded, turning on the vibrator, as her blue-gray eyes flickered to it.
“Brand new and just for you.”
Nesta let out a deep breath as Cassian climbed onto the bed, spreading her legs wide so she was on full display for him. Beautiful. And begging for a taste.
He pressed the vibrator to her clit causing her to gasp, throwing her head back.
“Does that feel good, Sweetheart?” He asked, turning it up higher. “Or would you rather I put it inside of you?”
She glanced up at him, spreading herself wider for him.
“I want-I want it inside of me.” She pleaded.
Cassian shivered at the heat in her voice as he ran the vibrator through her slick folds until he found her entrance slipping it inside of her, turning it higher as she gasped at the feeling of it.
“Cassian.” She cried out as he laid himself on top of her, pressing kisses to the side of her neck. licking the flesh there.
“I can’t wait to taste you.” He breathed, his lips traveling downward, pressing kisses to her chest as he moved the vibrator in and out of her, knowing that it would not feel the same as him, but loving the thought of getting her off in other ways.
Pants came from her lips as Cassian’s mouth went to her left breast. He sucked on her, feeling her pleasure in his mouth as his nails dug into her tender flesh keeping her there.
She bucked against him, her other hand going to her other breast as Cassian smiled.
A moan so loud Cassian almost thought it was a sob, rang through Nesta as he cranked the vibrator up higher almost to the highest setting it could go.
“Let’s see how much pleasure you could truly handle, Nes.” He breathed, spreading her legs further and nestling between them. His hazel eyes landing on her.
Nesta breathed trying to collect herself as Cassian pushed the toy in as far as it would go, feeling it bottom out inside of her.
His head lowered, his gaze settling upon her in pure, animalistic hunger as he took his first taste of her, causing her to cry out at the sensation.
“You taste like heaven, but I feel like it would probably taste better from the source.” Cassian growled, pulling the vibrator out of her, causing her to gasp at the loss as Cassian tasted her, moving his tongue in and out of her as his thumb circled her clit, not wanting her to lose any sensation.
Nesta’s hands plunged into his hair, pushing his tongue in deeper, curling it inside of her.
“Cassian-” She gasped out as he palmed her breast with his other hand, lifting his head to meet her eyes.
“I wanted to make up for the time we lost this morning. I’ve been ravenous for you all day.”
Nesta tilted her head back at that, her hips thrusting up, riding his face, keeping pace with his tongue.
“Then eat up.”
Cassian chuckled, her breaths getting heavy, her hands clutching his hair so hard that his scalp was becoming tender.
“Did you want to come, Nes?” He asked.
“Yes.” She breathed.
He smiled, plunging the vibrator back in her, hitting the highest setting as her eyes rolled back in her head, the cries ringing from her throat.
“I’m going to fuck you so so hard, you won’t remember any other girl before me.” She promised as he felt her orgasm pulse through her. He tasted it. Tasted her on his tongue and nothing, nothing had ever tasted as better as this.
She writhed beneath his mouth, his erection pressing so painfully hard against his pants, begging him to free it from the confides of his pants before his hands went to the buttons of his jeans, lifting himself up off the bed, and unzipping them, gazing down at her.
Nesta sat up, gazing at him with hunger in her eyes. He pressed his thumb to her lips, tracing them as she kept her gaze pinned on him.
“Are you ready to claim what’s yours Nesta?” He asked, climbing on the bed. laying down as she straddled him, her hands roaming up his chest as she breathed,
Wahey! I didn’t forget WIP Wednesday this time! Look at me go! My cousin is getting married this weekend, so I might not be able to update LOHLDOW until Sunday unless I’m magically able to finish writing before I need to leave for the wedding Friday. Sorry :( But I hope everyone enjoys this snippet! It’s more fluff :)
Cassian has his whole heart all in this one bed. Sure, it’s a bit of a tight fit, Mellie’s knee dangerously close to his stomach and Cassian needing to hold his legs at an awkward angle so as to not accidentally kick Mr Tumnus, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d happily take it every night for the rest of his life. And in this moment, Cassian wants to fully commit every second to memory, bury it close to his heart for safe keeping.
“Go to sleep, you weirdo. I can feel you staring,” Nesta’s mumbled voice comes from the other side of the bed.
Cassian snorts softly, but he shifts to lay more comfortably back against the pillow. He reaches across the bed so that his arm is resting across Mellie, his hand settling on Nesta’s hip. He lets his eyes fall shut, that exhaustion from earlier creeping back in, and when he finally gives in to sleep, it’s with a smile on his face.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
Dani. DANI! What on earth has happened that I’ve forgotten how BEAUTIFULLY you write canon?!
This is so so gorgeous, so painfully sad and angsty and so… perfectly Nessian. The mate conversation? Amazing. The lingering touches? Divine. The mutual understanding that they’d be together in those last moments? Chefs fucking KISS.
I’d also like to shout out to your wing writing. Cassian’s movements were so spot on and it made me think of him in his true complete form rather than a modern au.
I LOVED IT. I bow down to you, Nessian queen.
(And also, thank you to our JP Saxe obsession and for it inspiring you to write this. I think this might by my favourite piece of yours ❤️❤️❤️)
a/n: Happy Birthday to @nesquik-arccheron!! I have loved getting to know you, and I wanted to do a little something for you. Based on your reactions to food pics, I thought you might like this fluffy little scene. There’s basically no plot, I’m not sure how I feel about it, especially the ending, but it’s super fluffy. Hope you enjoy!
OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3
ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so… idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.
The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.
My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.
He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.
Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.
We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.
Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.
Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.
Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.
And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo–ie.me– so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.
But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.
I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.
Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.
That leaves… a widow?
The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.
So he must be joking.
I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”
“Volchonok.”
The Wolf Cub.
The cigar snaps in my fingers.
“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.
Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”
“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.
In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.
We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?
“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”
“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.
So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.
Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”
I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.
“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”
His lips twitch. “Ten million.”
“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.
Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.
Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.
“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.
“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.
“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”
He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.
So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”
It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.
Now I do.
Rhysand–the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place–nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.
“When’s all this happening, anyway?”
He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”
A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.
Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.
Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.
~Nesta~
“Chto sluchilos?”
I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.
“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.
I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.
Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.
I still haven’t.
I’m not signing anything until I meet this… Cassian.
God, what an Italian name.
An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.
I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.
But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.
My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.
Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.
I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.
As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.
What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty… colorful early on.
Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.
Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.
As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.
It would–should–piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.
So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.
Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.
But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.
In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.
My father is an arms-dealer.
A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.
He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.
He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.
It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.
I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.
But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.
The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.
Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.
Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.
I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.
I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.
“Starik,” I tease. Old man.
He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.
The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.
It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.
My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.
We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.
My new home.
“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.
“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.
His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstaticsilence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s… house.
It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.
I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.
A butler–seriously, a butler–opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.
The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.
Ridiculous.
One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.
But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes–property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.
The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.
One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.
The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.
That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.
My fiancé.
Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.
Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.
For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daringsomeone to swing at him.
If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.
His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.
His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.
His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.
Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.
He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush.Jesus, he’s toxic.
He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.
Which is notwhat I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.
His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.
So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.
I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.
Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.
~Cassian~
I think I’m in love.
Fuck.
She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.
Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.
Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.
I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.
But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.
And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.
She also didn’t say hello.
Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is,but… I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.
I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.
Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.
Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.
He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.”Good luck.
As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.
He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.
“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.
I sigh, because I have a feeling interestingisn’t going to cover it.
The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.
Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle
The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.
Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.
He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.
Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.
He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.
“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.
My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.
As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.
Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”
A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”
His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.
He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”
“Not when I speak English.”
Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.
“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.
“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”
He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”
An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.”I’m sure you would.
His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.
“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.
Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”
I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”
He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”
Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.
To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.
I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”
Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
~Cassian~
My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.
I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.
Fuck,she’s hot.
It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.
Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.
Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.
Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.
My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian–an enemy–but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.
What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.
I grit my teeth and look out the window.
Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.
Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.
Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.
I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.
By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.
Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.
As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”
It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”
My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.
Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.
Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.
“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.
She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”
I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.
“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.
She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.
Like I said, not what I was expecting.
~Nesta~
Things with Cassian are going… well, I guess.
He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.
He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.
I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.
As it should be.
The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.
But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are–for the first time in history–not the priority.
The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.
All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.
But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera–a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.
It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.
When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door–changed nightly–and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.
“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”
I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.
It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.
Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.
Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.
One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.
“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”
“Permanently.”
His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.
“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.
He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.
Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.
The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.
My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.
The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”
His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”
“One and the same.”
“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”
My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.
“My Capo.”
That gets my attention.
Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?
Something isn’t right.
I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?
A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?
Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”
He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.
Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.
I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.
But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.
It’s a prenup.
One I’ve never seen.
And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.
A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hellis going on?
I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.
Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.
Which means…
Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”
“What the hell have you done?”
He sighs. “What needed doing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marryingthe bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”
His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”
“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”
There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”
I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.
“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”
My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”
All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.
This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.
Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.
I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara–notorious playboy of New York–is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”
I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”
“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”
“Da.”
Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.
One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”
“Alexei-”
“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”
“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”
He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.
My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.
“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.
Easy.
“I’m… sorry. For lying.”
I’m so shocked he just apologized–something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life–it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”
I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.
I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.
By the time I sneak in the apartment, it’s the middle of the night. The boxes in the corner tell me my fiancé is here, has officially moved in with me, and I take a moment to appreciate how fucking weird that feels.
I might be appreciative of all things women and have definitelyearned my reputation as a player, but I’ve never had a woman live in my place.
It’s… weird.
I walk quietly through the place, passing the guest room she’s sleeping in, and into my room.
Then pause, because it turns out she’s not in the guest room.
Nesta’s sprawled in my bed, on my side, hair spilling over my pillow like liquid sunshine. The moon seems to favor her, highlighting the features I have a hard enough time avoiding looking at during the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about how much more difficult it’s going to be to sleep now.
But I refuse to leave my own room, since this very well could be a power play, so I just walk to the attached bathroom, close the door, and sigh.
Looking in the mirror proves I look like shit, and I wonder what Nesta will think when she wakes up next to me.
She probably won’t care.
I have a feeling it takes something pretty drastic to shake that blasé attitude out of her.
After taking a cold shower to minimize the bruising, I pad across the room, grab some boxers, and slide into bed next to my blushing bride to be.
She shifts and turns onto her side, and I realize she’s stolen one of my t-shirts to sleep in. It’s ridiculously big on her, falling off her shoulders, and not nearly thick enough to hide what’s underneath.
Fucking hell.
Even asleep, I can’t ignore her.
Her smell–citrus and jasmine and vanilla–is fucking all over me, stuffing itself in my nostrils and not letting me relax.
I’ve never been this attracted to how a woman smells.
Most times, perfumes and lotions and whatever other sorcery women lather on themselves has the opposite effect, actually.
But all I can think about right now is rolling over and burying my face in her neck. Then burying a different part of me in her.
Even though I should turn over and at least try to sleep, I let myself look at her.
Her lips are slightly parted and look like they’d taste like candy, and there’s a serene, peaceful expression on her face that’s so different from the fierce one she usually wears.
She wiggles, somehow sliding closer, and murmurs, “Stop staring at me.”
I chuckle, and the simple fact that we’re laying in bed whispering to each other does strange things to my head.
Nesta apparently agrees, turning over and facing away from me. I take a moment to appreciate the sweep of her hips, and she seems to know exactly what I’m looking at when she says, “Goodnight, pervert.”
A smile threatens to bloom, so I wipe my hand across my face and smother it.
Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.
~
When I wake up, I amend my statement. Marriage definitelywon’t be so bad.
I’m wrapped around around Nesta–which probably happened the instant I fell asleep–and my nose is against the soft skin of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the smell of her over and over again.
She just feels… right.
She’s relaxed against me, which is surprising, considering where my hand is.
One very numb arm is under her head as a makeshift pillow, but it’s the other one that’s interesting. It’s wrapped around her narrow waist, holding her tight to my chest and ending in the hand cupping her breast.
She’ll probably kill me the second she wakes up, but it might be worth it.
Fuck, she feels good against me.
But I realize I’m acting like the pervert she accused me of being, so I slide my hand down, towards the more neutral territory of her stomach.
I’m helpless, however, to stop myself from kissing the side of her neck softly.
She stirs, and I freeze like a red-handed thief.
But she just turns over in my arms, pressing her front to mine, and slips an arm around my waist, sighing sleepily. Her hand roams over my back, nails raising goosebumps in their wake as they softly trace over my skin.
She blinks her eyes open, takes in our tangled up position, and says simply, “Huh.”
“Yeah,” I respond like a monosyllabic idiot.
Clear blue eyes on mine, she brings her hand up to my face and lightly touches the split lip I’m sure is puffy as hell.
Fucker had a fast right hook.
“You made me a lot of money last night,” she murmurs, tapping my lip once, then twice.
“What?” I ask, too turned on and dizzy to focus on what she said.
She was there? She saw me fight?
A strange sense of male pride goes through me at that, considering I won.
“I had the bookie place a bet for me,” Nesta says, stopping that caveman train of thought in its tracks.
“How’d you know?”
I keep my fighting far away from the public’s eye, going clear across town to Lucky’s. It’s a small shipping company, and Lucky, the man who runs the place, uses some empty containers to host fights every week.
He knows who I am but doesn’t care, claiming he’s too old to be scared of some “young Mafia punk.” He also doesn’t allow cell phones or recordings, and there’s no written records of the fights.
She raises an eyebrow. “You realize Alexei owns that entire shipping yard, right?”
I had not.
“Huh,” I say, stealing her line from a minute ago. “And you bet on me? Why?”
“Call it intuition.”
I remember the way her eyes tracked over me yesterday, like there wasn’t anything she didn’t see, and I realize she knew I like to fight from the second she saw me.
“Glad I could help pad your bank account,” I tell her, smiling. “And I’m glad you make yourself at home in my absence. But just for future reference… I sleep on that side of the bed.”
She leans in, lips an inch from mine, and whispers, “Not anymore, you don’t.”
A rough smile is all the warning I give her before I pull her close and turn over, practically throwing her to the other side of the bed.
I don’t know what I expect her to do, but it sure as hell isn’t jab me in the ribs, crawl over me, and retake her original spot.
Prodding my ribs, I notice she hit me right on a pressure point. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
She grins, a challenge lighting up her bright eyes and making her look even more alive.
“Oh,malyshka,” I whisper, somehow knowing calling her a pet name will piss her off. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“Bring it, stronzo,” she shoots back, calling me an asshole in my own fucking language. Disrespectful.
I grab her wrists to try and pin her, but she’s fucking fast as an adder, slipping out from underneath me and poking me in the ribs again.
I step it up a notch, and for a few moments, we’re busy wrestling in bed.
It’s honest to God the most fun I’ve had in ages.
I’ve never met a woman who knows how to fight, much less one I can’t seem to pin. I have a hundred pounds on her, yet more than once, I’m the one struggling.
She continues pressing pressure points, some I never even knew existed, and despite the fact it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, I find myself laughing.
By the time I eventually just tackle her and press her into the mattress with my weight, I’m out of breath and can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it is.
I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, my legs on top of hers to keep her from doing something clever like kneeing me in the balls. “Slippery little sucker, aren’t you?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then she tilts her head back and laughs.
Watching that stony exterior crack might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.
She comes alive, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her laugh is a beautiful sound, light and airy and I can’t stop myself.
I drop down and kiss her, pressing my smile to hers.
She stops laughing.
And then she sighs, and the sound is so goddamn pretty I almost can’t take it.
She pushes up on my hands, hands wanting freedom, so I release her wrists and brace myself on my elbows above her. Nesta winds her arms around me, hands delving in my hair, and kisses me back.
I try to keep my weight off her, but she’s having none of that and wraps her legs around me and pulls me down, fusing our hips together.
I press myself against her, and she arches up in response, drawing a low sound out of my throat.
Now that my hands are free, they roam through her hair, across her sides, down her thighs.
She’s so goddamn soft.
She moves against me like it’s second nature, kisses me like she can’t get enough.
And when I move to kiss a path down her throat, inhaling that intoxicating scent as I suck on her skin, she softly moans my name. I feel like I’m on fire, and her saying my name like that that does absolutely nothing to help, so I bite on the junction between her shoulder and neck in retaliation for being so addictive.
She says my name, then again, and I notice it isn’t in the same soft tone as before.
My head snaps up, gaze finding hers to try and figure out if I did something wrong.
Her lips and cheek are rosy, blonde hair a halo around her.
“I think we should wait,” she states, even though she doesn’t make a move to leave or throw me off. And I know now she definitely could.
“For what?”
Her lips twitch. “Our wedding.”
It takes me a long time to respond. “Are you a-”
“No,” she says, looking at me with a teasing look in her eyes.
“Oh.”
“I just think it’d make it better,” she reasons.
Personally, I think it’d be perfect right the hell now, but I nod like I’m not hard enough to deform the mattress I’m pressing my hips into. “Okay.”
“Okay,” she mutters back, and we spend a moment lying there, breathing each other’s air. Until, “I should probably get up, then.”
Because I suddenly know a total of one word, I just reply, “Okay.”
I roll off of her and onto my back, putting a hand over my eyes so I’m not tempted to look at her ass as she gets up and pads to the bathroom.
I listen to her shower and get ready, all the while wondering how the absolute hell I’m going to live with her, have her sleep in my bed, without actually having sex with her.
She’s tempting enough wearing fucking work clothes, but if I wake up again with her in my arms? Fuck.
I could always go to someone else, but for some strange reason, the thought of being like every other man in the Cosa Nostra and having a mistress makes me sick. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a matter of two whole days, I’ve become completely wrapped around Nesta’s finger and don’t want to hurt her like that.
The object of my obsession comes out, walking over to the closet in a towel, and I look at the ceiling in misery.
Maybe I should stay in the guest room.
~
By the time I can breathe again and have gotten over the feeling of my balls fucking falling off, Nesta’s gone. She got dressed like nothing was the matter, asked if I was going to sit on my ass all day, and told me she’d be back later tonight as she slipped out the door.
It’s still early, and I wonder for a second where she’s going, but then shrug and stop sitting around pining.
I put on a dark suit–something I only do when I have corporate shit to do–and drive further downtown to Sera. It’s my first day, and I scheduled an all-staff to meet everyone and introduce myself.
I park and walk through the bank, nodding to the teller who opens the secondary bank door and lets me in the club. People are waiting inside, which is a little strange since I’m five minutes early, but I’m not complaining.
I take in the faces I’ve spent the past couple days memorizing as people file in. The staff is interesting, to say the least. More than a few have records, and some are from places of the world I’ve never heard of.
The investors come in last, the only corporate-looking people in the room. They come up and shake my hand while the employees choose to watch me with a strange look in their eyes.
Once everyone’s inside and seated, I smile and introduce myself.
“My name is Cassian Azara. I’m the new owner of Sera, and I just wanted to come by, introduce myself, and meet you guys.” No one smiles back or says anything, but I don’t let it bother me. “The change in management won’t impact the day to day aspect too much. I like the way things are and don’t plan on changing anything, but let me know if you need anything or have suggestions.”
One woman sitting in the back speaks up, her voice clipped and irritated. “What’s the point of taking over, if you aren’t changing anything?”
I don’t really know what to say, so I ask back, “Do you have a suggestion?”
She rolls her eyes, looking pissed as hell, and pulls out her phone.
Weird.
I stop speaking to the group, and the investors make a point to shake my head again. After they’re gone, I walk around to introduce myself individually, finding the general vibe to be… definitely not welcome.
I understand it’s weird for a stranger to come in and claim they’re the boss, but I just said it shouldn’t impact their lives too much, so I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting.
Some people ignore me, some look at me with irritation, and some just get up and leave.
I turn to the bartender, one of the only ones who didn’t act like he wants to stab me with a rusty knife, as he leaves. “Is there a reason they all hate me?”
He gives me a strange look over his shoulder. “We’re all pretty fond of the previous owner.”
Alexei? These people all like Alexei?
I’ve never heard a nice word about that man, but I guess he won their loyalty over time.
Whatever. If these people like that cold bastard, they’re sure to love me.
~
What feels like a full twenty-four hours later, I walk through the door to my apartment and realize how fucking wrong I was.
The employees of Sera do notlike me. I dealt with business of my own after the quick meet and greet this morning, then came back to do management stuff at six.
Immediately, I was met with complaints and broken things and inventory problems and about a million other things I don’t have to deal with at my other properties.
I’ve never met a group of people so difficult to work with.
Nesta eyes me as I come through the door, tilting her head curiously. “You look like shit.”
There’s something… interesting about her tone, but I shrug it off.
I wish I could lie and say she looks bad, too, but she somehow looks perfect and fresh as a daisy after whatever she’s done all day.
“Long day.”
She raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the top of her laptop.
“The employees at Sera, one of your dad’s old clubs, aren’t too happy with me taking over. They were a pain in the ass all day.”
Nesta looks at me for a while, something I can’t read playing in her gaze. “Huh.”
I grab a beer from the fridge and fling myself down next to her, looking over at her with my patented bedroom eyes. “You know what would make me feel somuch better?” I ask, innuendo making the answer pretty obvious.
“Minet?”
My brow furrows. “I don’t know what that means.”
She sighs, getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head in a way that makes her dress slide up her thighs. “Look it up, big boy. I’m going to bed. And before you ask, no, that isn’t an invitation.”
“Stay on your side,” I warn with a grin. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass again.”
Nesta just scoffs, taking her laptop up the stairs and disappearing into my… ourroom.
I look up minet,smile, and yell, “That’s exactlywhat I was thinking!”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear soft laughter and know she heard me.
Sighing about my lack of minet, I pull out my own computer, planning on going through some of the complaints I received tonight. But something makes me pause and remember the look on Nesta’s face when I told her about my day.
And her tone… it was amusement,I realize.
I pull up the deed and find out why.
Sera, and the building it’s hidden within, never belonged to Alexei. They were bought and built by little miss Nesta Orlov.
Interesting.
I keep digging and find out why the employees there are so loyal to her. One way or another, she saved them. All of them.
The bartender with the criminal record who struggled to find employment, the street performer who was sleeping on a park bench, the dancer who was denied a VISA until Nesta met with the governor on her behalf.
Every single employee is somehow bound to Nesta, somehow in her debt.
It’s fucking genius.
Instead of spending money to buy loyalty, she chose people who’d give it to her for the simple price of a job.
No wonder they hate me.
Maybe it’ll blow over when we announce our engagement at the party and they realize she’s still in the picture.
Although for some reason, I have the strange feeling that what happened today was just the beginning.
It takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize what she’s doing.
Six days, to be exact.
Which, granted, isn’t actually that long. But I should’ve known that Nesta Orlov–a cold, calculating business savant–is fucking with me.
Wearing my shirts to bed, waking me up with lingering kisses and only pulling back when I’m past the point of return, making sure to brush up against me whenever we both reach for something.
Hell, two nights ago she sat on my lap to show me the list of guests who’ve RSVP’d to our wedding. On. My Lap. I swear she wiggled, too.
Ironically, it wasn’t any of those things that cued me into her game. It was another woman entirely showing up on my doorstep, soaking wet.
The stranger had brushed past me into the apartment like she had every right to, and the basic, very male part of me taking in the dress completely see-through because of the rain was too occupied to stop her.
A strange part of me thought she looked familiar, even though I’d feel like I remember someone who looks like fucking Irina Shayk.
Eventually, I got around to asking who the hell she was, and she’d told me in a thick Russian accent that she’s Ana, a friend of Nesta’s. At least, that’s what I think she said.
Without further explanation, Anahad stripped out of the dress, tossed it at my chest, and asked, “Dush?”
Remembering that word, I pointed up the stairs towards the guest bathroom. Naked as the day she was born, she’d spun on a heel and walked to the shower.
Needless to say, I’d been a little confused.
I’d called my wife, but she’d declined and sent me a text back. In a meeting. Be back late tonight. A friend of mine might stop by to get out of the rain.
Confusion grew into suspicion, because it sounded a little too much like the intro to a bad porno. Wife gone for hours, beautiful, very naked woman needing to use my shower… yeah.
Suspicious.
And I could’ve sworn I’d seen her before with one of my old business partners.
Deciding I had to know, I’d pulled up my contacts and called him, regardless that it was six in the morning where he lives.
“What the fuck do you want?” he’d yelled when he picked up.
“What was the name of that girl you were with a few years ago? The one in Monaco?”
He’d shouted some obscenities at me in Italian, asking if I was seriously calling him at this hour to ask about a girl.
“Just answer the question. Tall, looks like Irina-”
“You mean Ana?”
“Yeah.”
He’d laughed for a solid two minutes. “Man, I thought she got out of the game. Good for you, though. She’s a great fuck, well worth the money.”
That’d reminded me why I hated this bastard, but I’d still asked, “What do you mean?”
“She’s a prostitute, Cassian, or at least she used to be. I hired her to travel with me for a while because I was too lazy to work to get laid.”
“Thanks, man. Sorry I woke you up.”
He’d just laughed. “Give her my number for me, yeah?”
I’d hung up and started trying to figure out what the hell a woman of the night was doing in my apartment on a night my fiancé has to work late.
Nesta playing a prank? Testing to see if I’ll be like most Made Men and cheat the second the opportunity presents itself?
Maybe she wantsme too. She’s been home by now the past week, and the timing of her friend coming here the one night she’s out late is weird.
But why would she want me to sleep with someone else?
Flashing back to Rhys’s lecture from a week ago, I’d remembered him saying the word ‘prenup.’
Following a hunch, I’d pulled up our marriage contract and scrolled to the attached prenuptial agreement.
I am such a fucking idiot.
~Nesta~
Ana climbs into the car, wearing a dry dress and a smile.
I nod and wade into traffic, heading towards the airport. She only came in to help me with this… favor, and I promised I’d buy her a ticket anywhere in the world. Along with a favor of her own, which she can collect at any time.
I fucking hate giving out open-ended favors like this, especially since the last one I gave Ana resulted in me getting shot at.
But I accepted with a smile, because I honestly felt a little shitty for even asking.
We met when she was still working as a call girl in Moscow and started trading favors the same night. I’d stopped a man from being too rough with her, and a month later she’d used her access to introduce me to a hotel owner in Cairo.
We don’t see each other often, but I guess she’s the closest thing I have to a friend. I don’t see her often, which is my fault, but no matter when I call, she always answers.
We’ve been trading favors for six years, but even I felt a little shitty about asking her to come out of retirement to seduce my fiancé.
She’d cackled when I told her what I wanted, then asked if I was serious.
And even though it’d left me with a sick feeling in my chest, I’d said yes.
I had to remind myself to keep emotion out of it, remind myself why I need him to cheat on me. My wounded pride and sense of commitment to Cassian doesn’t outweigh my career.
“How’d it go?” I ask, keeping my voice and face neutral of all emotion even though I feel like screaming at the thought of Cassian touching her.
“It didn’t,” she responds with a laugh, both appeasing me and pissing me off.
I almost swerve the car into oncoming traffic. “What?”
There wasn’t a straight man alive who could resist Ana. I’d seen someone literally offer her an island in return for one night.
“He is in love,” she says with a smile.
“Again,what? With who?”
She shrugs, looking in the visor mirror to fix her makeup. “He didn’t say a name. Just milyy malen'kiy volk.”
Sweet little wolf.
Damn.
Oh, I hate him.
Ana continues, blind to my building rage. “He told me he thinks I’m beautiful, but this woman has captured his attention so thoroughly he can’t think about anything but her. He said she’s the sun to his moon, the light of his life. That without her, he’s nothing.”
I roll my eyes so hard I worry they might get stuck. “Blyad’,” I curse, ignoring the strange look my friend gives me.
He knows.
~Cassian~
I have to admit Nesta’s thoroughly kicked my ass for the past week, but now that I know the game my little wolf is trying to play, I have a plan to catch up.
When she walks in the apartment, I’m waiting, prepped and ready for battle.
She looks over at me, steely blue gaze hardening at the sight of my victorious smile and goes straight for the bottle of vodka in the freezer.
“Long day?”
She pours a solid four shots in a tumblr, sips it slowly, and turns to me with a small smile. “Slight hiccup at work. Nothing serious.” She eyes the mess in the kitchen and raises a blonde brow. “Did you kill someone in here?”
Wouldn’t be the first time, but no. “It’s just marinara sauce, sweetheart. I’m making lasagna.”
I walk over and take the glass from her, setting it on the counter. And then, for the sake of the mission,I slide my hands in her hair, tug her head back, and press my mouth to hers.
Because she’s a fucking tease who’s trying to drive me to fuck someone else, she kisses me back naturally. Despite knowing she’s faking it… I have to wonder.
Whatever.
Her breasts are against my chest as she goes on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck, and my hands slide down to her ass, taking measure of her soft curves.
Even though I’m doing this strictly to get back at her–don’t think any different–I groan at the taste of her as she opens her mouth and meets my tongue with her own.
I sweep her up and carry her to the living room, putting her down on the couch and bracing myself on top of her.
“Cassian-” she starts, planning to give me blue balls for the fifth time in as many days.
“I know.”
But I don’t stop kissing her, don’t stop myself from sliding down the couch and shouldering her legs further apart. Her brows raise, since the plan of what I want to do is clear in my eyes, and I can see her trying to read if I’m being sincere.
She’s too fucking observant.
I let some of the desire I feel into my gaze, let her see a piece of how crazy she drives me. It’s enough to convince her, and she gives in, she falling back against the sofa and angling her hips towards me.
I press a soft kiss to her inner thigh, smiling when her breath hitches.
But the same time the timer on the stove goes off.
“Oh no, dinner’s ready,” I say brightly, like I didn’t time this shit down to the second. I hop up off the couch and go to retrieve the lasagna–which I spent all day on Facetime with my cousin learning how to make.
She mutters a pretty creative curse as she follows me, settling onto a barstool and watching as I spoon platefuls of food out for us.
“How domestic of you,” she teases. “Can I expect this every night?”
I snort and make my way to sit next to her, swapping her tumblr of liquor for a glass of wine. “Considering it took me three hours, no.”
“You didn’t grow up learning how to cook? I thought that was an Italian staple.”
“Not for men.”
A sour look crosses her face. “Oh, right. Because you all expect to marry a good Catholic woman to cook and clean for you and have your babies.”
She doesn’t need to point out the disparities between gender expectations to me. I have female cousins who love to point out how much harder their life is than mine. But just to provoke her, I ask, “Speaking of… you’re not on birth control, right? It’s a sin.”
She bites her fork so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t break a tooth.
We continue acting civil as we eat, and the conversation flows surprisingly well. I learn she likes to swim and read. I tell her about my friendship with Rhys. It’s almost… normal.
And when she slips her heels off, leans back in her chair, and puts her feet in my lap, I don’t think she does it to mess with me.
I can’t help but thinking that we’re surprisingly well matched.
She’s a business guru but doesn’t like the dirty aspects of what we do, and I’m the exact opposite. I’d rather get my ass kicked in a dirty alley than sit in a business meeting for more than twenty minutes.
If Sera wasn’t in between us, I’d think we might be able to make this shit work.
But it is, and I’m not giving up the club. I just have to make it three more weeks of her driving me crazy, and then she’ll stop driving me crazy and I can put it behind me.
Or at least I think so until she says, “You realize until you sign the deed over, I’m not sleeping with you, right?”
The wine glass in my hand connects with the counter hard enough I fear it might break. “What?”
Nesta leans further back in her chair and closes her eyes, for all the world looking like she couldn’t care less, even though I know that isn’t the truth. “You heard me, Cassian.”
I almost get distracted by the way she says my name, but force myself to focus. “Are you serious? You won’t have sex with me unless I give it to you?”
Her eyes open suddenly, an angry flash of blue. “Giveit to me? It’s mine. You stoleit. You didn’t build it, buy it, or even fucking earn it.”
“No, but I negotiated for it. It’s mine now.”
She snorts, closing her eyes again, back to being composed. “And how’s that working out for you? Employees cooperating? Because I heard an interesting rumor the investors have received a number of complaints about your management.”
My jaw sets in a painful click, but I don’t let it slip that she’s gotten to me. “Why do you think that is, hm?”
When I read the prenup, I figured out why the employees hated me before they even knew me. She’d left early that morning to meet with them before I did.
Her lips twitch. “Regardless of the why, I’m willing to bet the board votes you out within the month. Which, conveniently, is before our wedding, meaning I won’t have to wait for you to giveme anything. I wonder who they’ll replace you with.”
I don’t know why, but I have the strangest urge to smile.
She’s so goddamn frustrating. But at the same time, she’s fucking amazing.
Fierce as hell, taking me to bat without breaking a sweat. And so distractingly beautiful it’s hard to remember that I hate her. I almost, almost,want to concede.
But giving up isn’t in my nature.
It’s just me versus her at this point, and I only have to put up with her shit for three more weeks. Three weeks of blue balls and unruly employees, then I can get back to normal, new club to boot.
No matter what, I’m not losing.
She smiles like she knows what I’m thinking. “You’re so predictable.”
My eyes narrow, but I force myself to take a breath and ask calmly. “How so, little wolf?”
She sends me a glare for the nickname, but her voice is nothing but civil as she responds, “You might look different from what I was expecting, but I had your character pegged before I ever laid eyes on you. Headstrong, cocky, entitled. You’re the fucking Made Men starter pack.”
My jaw’s so tight I make a mental note to call the dentist.
“You don’t even care that much about the club. You just like it and want it, and your entitled ass thinks that’s enough.” She rolls her eyes. “Once you realize running the place doesn’t involve violence or your form of excitement, you’ll get board. You probably won’t even want it, but your pride will prevent you from selling it back to me.”
My pride’s always been my biggest weakness, and it’s a little annoying how easily she picks up on that. It’s like she fucking sees my soul or something.
Nesta laughs, noticing the uncomfortable way I shift in the chair.
“You don’t know me,” I argue. “You’ve been here a week.”
“I can prove that I do. Did you or did you not protest the marriage because I’m Russian?”
I roll my eyes, because of course I did. “As if you don’t hate me because I’m Italian.”
“I don’t,” she says simply, honesty ringing in her voice. I almost smile, but then she continues, “I hate you because you’re an asshole.”
Well, that hurts a little.
My temper gets the better of me, and I lash out in turn.
“You know what, I might’ve considered selling the club to you if you’d made me an offer before, but now I think I’ll keep it.”
I mean to provoke her, but she just smiles. “And you know what I think?”
She stands up and leans close, brushing her lips against my ear as she whispers, “I think you’re going to sign it over to me and begme to take it. You’re going to apologize, admit you want me more than a club you’ve been to once, and swallow your goddamn pride.”
So confident in that statement.
So confident I want her enough to sign over a club that’s been on my radar for six months.
I exhale through my teeth. “We’ll see about that.”
I’m so worked up, I almost don’t know what to do when she slides her arms around me and kisses me like she didn’t just spend the last five minutes insulting me.
The adrenaline confuses rage for lust, and I grab her hips roughly and pull her into me, biting her lip in punishment for being so damn irritating.
She kisses me until I’m dizzy, pulling away with a lingering kiss on my bottom lip. My hands instinctively fist in the fabric of her dress to keep her against me, and she laughs softly as she steps away. “Like I said. You won’t make it a week.”
A week later, I’m exceptionally proud to say I haven’t given in yet. No matter how much I want to.
Tensions the past seven days have been… high, to say the least.
Both of us are doing our absolute best to drive the other insane.
She’s doing it so I either sign the deed and give in or turn to someone else, both which would give her Sera back.
I’m doing it because if I have to suffer, she can bet her pretty ass she does, too.
Ironically, tonight’s our engagement party. A celebration of our undying love and an announcement to the world the Russians and Italians of New York should no longer hate and murder each other.
They’re allowed to be sexually frustrated as hell, but no, they can’t kill each other.
I’m waiting for the little minx who’s spent the week making me regret ever even asking for the club, drinking bourbon so I’m too drunk to even be tempted by her–which is likely enough to kill me–when she finally deigns to grace me with her presence.
I take one look at her, starting at the high blonde ponytail that would wrap around my fist at least twice and ending at the very high, very red shoes I immediately want by my shoulders.
“Fuck.”
Obviously the reaction she was looking for, she smiles.
Her dress is a cream color thing that clings to her curves and is short enough to showcase her long legs. It’s somehow classy, while low enough to draw my eyes to her breasts as she comes down the stairs towards me.
Nesta stops right before me, close enough I smell the jasmine and vanilla of her skin, and looks at me through her lashes.
I turn my gaze to the ceiling, vowing to keep it there until I trust myself to not do something stupid like tell her she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m so fucked,” I mutter hopelessly.
If possible, she comes closer, sliding all the interesting, female parts of her against me. “You would be if you just gave me back my shit.”
I glare down at her. “I don’t like to lose.”
“Would you really be losing?”
I keep my mouth shut, because the answer to that question is a big fat no. God, she’s good.
“Tell me again why you refuse to put us out of our misery?” I ask in return, trying to remind myself who the fuck I am.
Even though I wonder if it is ourmisery. I can’t read her, can’t tell if this is affecting her like it is me.
She gives me a cold look. “What do you see happening after we get married, exactly? You think you’ll work a few hours at the club I spent three years building from the ground up, come home and eat a home cooked meal, then fuck your complacent little wife however you want?”
I have no idea what to say, because when she puts it like that, I sound like the biggest douche in the world.
Nesta sees the hesitation in my eyes and rolls hers. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow you to disrespect me like that, stronzo.”
“I respect you,” I say immediately, meaning the words.
“Just not enough to value my career.”
“Nesta-”
“Deal with it. If you somehow keep the board from voting you out in the next two weeks and manage to not sleep with me–which is unlikely, considering the way you look at me–the club will be yours.” She takes a step back, steeling her spin. “But I will not.”
I’m conflicted as hell, torn between wondering if she’s just playing me or being sincere.
Apparently done with the verbal smackdown, Nesta spins towards the door.
Hand on the handle, she turns back around and cocks her head. And then she answers the questions I hadn’t realized I’d been too scared to ask.
“No and yes.”
My brows raise. “What?”
“No, it hasn’t all been just me trying to mess with you. Yes, I want you as much as you want me. But I respect myself too much to allow someone who blazes into my life and steals something from me without a care or even a real negotiation to have my body, too.”
She walks out the door, leaving me standing in the living room stunned.
I eventually follower her down to the garage and we leave for the party Rhys is hosting for us downtown. But even though I go through the motions once we arrive, my mind is on the woman next to me the entire night.
I hate admitting it, but she’s right.
I took something that belonged to her, didn’t even question talking to her first, then acted like she was in the wrong for doing whatever she could to get it back.
I’ve said I like how strong and independent she is, but I tried to take that independence and turn her into something else. I bulldozed my way into her life, then acted like Iwas the one inconvenienced by it.
And seriously, why am I even fighting for this place? Yeah, I like it and think it’s unique, but the place is above board. Which to me translates as boring.
The past two weeks, I’ve had to go to investment meetings, deal with sending out the nightly invitations for entrance, and plan events for upcoming holidays. Things I never do with my other properties.
I hate managing things–I hire people to do that kind of thing for me. But I know I can’t hire someone, because who the hell besides my fiancé would do the job right?
No one.
I realize that on the drive home, and it gets me thinking. By the time we’re inside the apartment, I’m already mentally finalizing the details.
I tell her I have to take care of something, go to my office, and close the door.
Then I pull up the marriage contract, along with the deed to Sera, and hit print.
~Nesta~
A week after our engagement party, I realized I’ve started to lose hope.
Cassian’s managed to wrangle or bribe or threaten the board into not voting him out, and the employees have stopped calling me to ask when I’m coming back. He hasn’t touched me or tried to seduce me in six days–probably a record for him–and I start to feel like I’ve lost.
My club will be his in a week, and after we’re married, only him signing the deed over will get it back. Something that will never happen, considering it’d be a serious hit to his pride to do something as weak as give me what’s rightfully mine.
My club will be his, but like I said, I won’t.
Which honestly is just as upsetting.
Even though he’s a stubborn, boneheaded stronzo with a big enough ego for us both, it’s hard for me to overlook the moments of the past three weeks that haven’t revolved around Sera.
Little moments that have made it harder for me to pull away from him.
He’s made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, whether with his foul sense of humor or stories about his violent, wild childhood. He stopped leaving the toilet seat up when I pointed it out. He hasn’t said a word about me ordering take-out all the time or working in bed while he tries to sleep.
He even dealt with one of Alexei’s buyers for me when they tried to renegotiate the price originally agreed upon.
And he hasn’t really pressed the celibacy thing. Sure, he’s complained about it enough for me to want to smack him, but I don’t know any other Made Men, Russian or Italian, that would’ve respected my wish after how much I’ve teased him.
If he would just-
I cut that train of thought off and focus on the report in front of me, because at this point, it’s obvious he won’t.
I sip my wine, which is starting to grow on me, and look over shipment records from one of Alexei’s yards, flagging crates that need to be smuggled instead of brought in through the main channels. Repressing a groan at the thought, I realize I’ll have to go down one night this week and make sure they arrive without problem.
I take another long pull from my glass.
“Drinking to forget?” Cassian asks, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom and looking me over.
I shrug, not much in the mood for banter.
“I got you something.”
Sighing, I reply, “Yeah, me too. It’s on the nightstand.”
His brow furrows as he walks over and picks up the ring box, opening it to look at the titanium band inside.
Just another symbol of our lifelong, happy, sexless marriage.
He puts the ring back in the box and extends a hand. “It isn’t a ring.”
“What is it?”
“Get your ass out of bed and find out.”
I would, except I don’t want to. And I don’t really want whatever stupid, materialistic thing he’s bought me-
He closes my laptop and pulls the cover back, ducking when I swing a fist towards his head. “Violent little wolf,” he teases.
“Stop calling me that,” I demand, trying in vain to keep the blanket on me so he can’t tell I’m not wearing anything underneath the t-shirt I stole from him.
He pauses, sighs, and scoops me up, blanket and all. “I love watching you fight how much you love me calling you that.”
“I don’t have to fight anything except he overwhelming urge to smack you.”
Cassian just huffs, walking us out of the room, through the living room, and into his office. Then he puts me down, smacks my butt to get me moving, and grunts when I elbow him in the ribs.
“Maybe this will fix your bad mood,” he mutters, flipping the light switch on and bathing the office in golden light.
I take an involuntary step forward, eyebrows going high on my forehead.
I’ve only been in here once before, just long enough to notice the obnoxiously big desk and wall of windows behind it. I’d taken in the black leather couch and wing-backed chairs, determined it was a typical male office for a typical male, and vowed to work somewhere else.
But that was a while ago, and it’s obvious he’s done some home improvement.
There are decidedly now twodesks in the corners near the windows, angled in to the middle of the room where two cream-colored leather chairs sit. The desks are identical, mahogany and classic without being ostentatious.
A rug covers the hardwood floors, a deep maroon color that matches small details throughout the room.
It’s beautiful.
Cassian leads me with his hands on my shoulders to one of the desks, and I let him guide me around to the chair and push me down in the soft leather.
I look up to ask him what this is about, but he jerks his chin to the desk where to two papers lie.
One is the deed to Sera.
A rush of surprise goes through me as I see he’s transferred the building back over to me, even going so far as to deem the process irreversible. It’s signed and dated a week ago, the night of our engagement party.
My eyes are shiny as I look at the other document and read through it.
“What is this?”
“A partnership, of sorts,” Cassian explains, leaning a hip on the- mydesk like he did in his Capo’s office. “You’re now a partner at my businesses, and if you sign, I’ll be yours.”
My eyes find his, and I see that he’s serious but still choke out, “What?”
He smiles and shrugs, like signing over half of your life’s work is easy. “You had me pegged when you first saw me and figured out I’m a fighter. I hate everything about running a business except the in-person negotiating and knitty gritty shit. It’s boring to me, and while I can do it, I’m not nearly as good at it as you are.”
“Cassian-”
“So run them both. I’ll do the day to day shit I know you hate, and you’ll do the rest.”
I can’t hardly process what he’s saying.
“What if we disagree?” It’s a valid question, considering we’ve basically been fighting the entire time we’ve been engaged.
“We talk about it and try to figure it out. And if we can’t, the original owner has the final call and veto power in all situations.” His eyes say he knows how important it is to me as he says, “You’ll still be in control of your property, and I’ll still be in control of mine.”
I don’t know why I’m still asking questions, because it sounds great, but there’s one more thing I want to know.
“Why?”
He sighs, sitting on the desk fully and looking down at me with open, honest eyes. “Because I’m tired of doing this shit alone. I’m tired of going to work and dealing with every single thing and then coming home and having no one who understands.”
He looks out the window, shoulders tight. “I thought you’d be like my friends’ wives, which is why I was such an ass. I thought you’d be just another thing for me to take care of, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize you could be my partner,not just my wife.”
His eyes are back on mine, the heat in them making my heart pound. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I’m sorry I stole Sera in the first place, then refused to hear you out and give it back. I have a tendency to be a little stubborn.”
My lips twitch, and his eyes soften at the sight.
“But what you said about respecting yourself stuck. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t respect you, because I do. You’re smarter than me, cool when I’m rash, and have the mind for business I never have.” He smiles softly. “I know you’re just as alone as me, and just as tired of it. So say yes.”
I feel a smile on my face as I get to my feet, moving to stand between his thighs. “Are you just doing this so I’ll sleep with you?”
He sighs, dropping his head in shame to rest against my chest. “You caught me.”
My arms wrap around his shoulders, his going around my waist, and I use the opportunity to play in his hair. It’s so soft and curly, and he makes a content sound as I run my hands through it.
“Are you saying yes, little wolf?” he murmurs against my collarbone, dropping his head to rub his face across my breasts.
I roll and tug his hair to keep the randy bastard away. “Yes, pervert,I’m saying yes.”
Cassian smiles a big, goofy smile so ridiculously charming I lean in and kiss him.
His hands lock at my waist, resting on the curve of my back, and for a moment, he just lets me kiss him.
It isn’t our first kiss by any means, but it’s the first one where neither of us have ulterior motives, so I take my time.
I kiss his top lip, his bottom lip. Find I like them both equally.
My hands work across his shoulders, the thick muscles contracting under my hands, and I sigh his name.
Cassian’s hands fist in the fabric of my pajamas–which happen to still be his shirt–and draws me closer. He kisses my neck, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, biting down softly and making me gasp. “It drives me crazy.”
His hands slip to the back of my thighs, then I’m on his lap, knees on the desk next to his hips. “Youdrive me crazy,” he clarifies.
He kisses me again, hands sliding up my thighs to my ass to grind me against him. Callouses scrape against my skin as he sweeps the shirt off and tosses it behind me.
“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to take me in.
The fact that he’s still fully dressed while I’m in nothing but my underwear makes me feel even more exposed, doing strange things to my mind. I start unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses down my chest.
He teases one with his hand while he takes the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak. I squirm, pressing my hips more fully against is, but he holds me still, kissing and teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.
“Cassian,” I murmur, tugging his hair to pull his gaze to mine. “Thank you for the desk. I love it.”
His brows furrow, and I can see him start to think about how much I’ve teased him, but before he can worry that’s what I’m doing, I whisper, “Now fuck me on it. Please.”
A muscle in his jaw flickers, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.
Before I can say another word, he stands and spins us around, sliding me on the desk. He holds my thighs around his hips, and then an idea seems to dawn.
“Wait right here.”
“Seriously?” I ask, even though he’s already half-way out of the room.
“Don’t you dare fucking move!” is the shouted response.
I roll my eyes, but he’s back quickly, holding the red stilettos I wore to our engagement party. I howl with laughter, and a faint blush colors his cheeks, but he stays firm in his desire and puts them on the floor beside my feet.
Then he leans against the window and watches while I slip them on.
His golden eyes blaze as I lean back on my elbows and slowly spread my thighs, in nothing but lace panties and heels.
“I’ll buy you all the desks you want, if you sit on them like that.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, and he’s suddenly on me, leaning over me to kiss me in a frenzy.
I rip his shirt open, and he doesn’t even break the kiss as he throws it to the floor. I hear the telltale clink of a belt, and then he stands up to slide my panties down, grab my legs, and guide them up.
I feel him brush over the center of me, instinctively lifting my hips to give him a better angle.
But he doesn’t give me what I want.
Cassian just stands there, gaze gliding from the hells on his shoulders to the apex of my thighs.
“Hold that thought,” he mutters, dropping to his knees and putting his mouth on me before I can even blink.
My back leaves the desk, a gasp escaping me.
“Cassian.”
“I want you to come on my tongue, thenyou get to come on my cock.”
“Cassian.”
He hums, the sensation sending shivers down my spin. He kisses me like he’s doing it for him, not me, mouth on every part of me it can reach.
I can see the lines of his tattoos on his shoulders, the top of his curly hair. It’s too much to handle, so I just lay back down on the desk and throw my hands above my head to hold on to the edge of the desk.
The only time he stops is to tell me things that apparently can’t wait five minutes, but I don’t even care because every word out of that sinful mouth makes me burn hotter.
“Come for me,” he demands breathlessly a few minutes later.
“Don’t boss me around,” I groan, even as I do exactly what he wants.
He lets me ride it out, dropping kisses to my thighs and stomach and hips.
As soon as I catch my breath, he’s on his feet, putting me in the exact position I was in earlier.
And then he’s pushing inside me, and I honestly almost come again from the feel alone. “Thank God,” I groan, the past three reminding me of the misery teasing him put me through.
“Fucking hell, you’re perfect.”
Hands on my thighs, he holds me in place as he starts to move. But as he picks up speed, going harder with each thrust, his hands have to slip to my thighs to keep me still.
I say his name, sounding like I’m begging him for something, and he groans. His head’s thrown back, bare skin shining and making him look likesome sort of beautiful devil.
“Hurry up, little wolf,” he almost pleads.
The sound of that stupid fucking nickname does me in, and I come with a loud moan. I would’ve kicked him in the head if he hadn’t immediately dropped down on top of me to kiss me without abandon.
His hips still but he keeps kissing me until he has to break for air.
I’m boneless and limp beneath him, and he looks me over with male satisfaction.
Then his mouth drops open, betrayal in his eyes, and he says, “I just realized you didn’t speak even French! All these weeks of me fucking fantasizing about that… well, I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”
“Accorde moi un instant,” I pant in French, asking for a moment.
He grins down at me. “Take your time. We have a lifetime.”
My lips twitch, and I don’t stifle the urge to smile.
I’m about to say something, but then his expression turns serious. “You realize I have to fuck you on my desk now. Equality and whatnot.”
I laugh and pull his mouth to mine. “As long as you know I’m still not giving you my side of the bed.”
He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “We can share.”
~
We get married seven days later, surrounded by a crowd of family, dirty politicians, thieves, drug and arms dealers, and friends.
In the past week, we’ve solidified our business model to a thing of perfection. I handle public relations, real estate and development, and negotiations for the shipping business. Cassian handles both the Bratva and Cosa Nostra soldiers in New York, training new recruits, drug distribution, and negotiations for the arms business.
Basically, I do what I’m good at, and he does what he’s good at.
I know it’s ridiculous to trust someone with half my business after only a month of knowing them, but like Cassian said, I was tired of doing this shit alone.
I’d been dreading the future, dreading taking over and doing everything myself. And now I don’t have to.
I have him to lean on, him to trust.
Looking up, I notice him watching me as we dance, not at all paying attention to the crowd. “What are you thinking about, little wolf?”
“I’m thinking how I thought of this marriage as nothing but an alliance at first. I guess it still is that, but… it’s also more.” He spins us around to the music, watching me with a knowing expression. “You’re more to me than that. And I’m… I’m happy. Working with you and the thought of our future makes me happy.”
He smiles.
“You love me,” he states with quiet confidence.
My heart starts pounding, because I’ve never told a living person that before.
But it’s never been true before, and it is now, so I respond steadily, “I do.”
“I love you, too, Nesta Orlov. Have since the moment I saw you.” He sounds so relaxed about it, the words falling from his lips so easily.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” I ask, not understanding how he’s the calm one all of a sudden.
“Anything you love something, there’s the risk you could lose it or it could hurt you.” Cassian brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But I could never be scared to love you.”
I shake my head and start to say something, but he cuts me off.
“Every morning, when you wake up, there’s this little moment where you look around, confused. And then you look at me, and that hesitation in your eyes just… melts.” He dips me, wrapping his arms tight around me. “You look at me like you trust me, and love me, and want me.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That look is worth every risk and hardship and whatever else loving someone entails.”
I kiss him back as he brings us to standing. “Italians are such saps.”
He shows off the smile I’ve realized he only gives me, and I say the words I know he needs to hear just as badly as I did. “I love you, Cassian. You’re worth the risk, too.”
The completion of the longest fic I’ve ever written (thank the good Lord). Thank you for reading this far!
My sister requested a very… interesting plot for Manorian so that’s the next long thing I’ll write but I have a few short things planned for Feysand and Elriel (I love all my children equally).
The look of shock on the governor’s face was almost comical as he looked at the picture, then back at her, then the picture again.
“What have you done? Where the hell is my son?”
“Safe. For now. And just in case you get any ideas, if I go missing, he’s dead.”
“So you aren’t working alone,” he figured, narrowing his eyes. “Who in their right mind would help a criminal like you?”
Cassian’s smiling face flashed in her head, but she pushed it away. She didn’t need to be distracted right now. “I’m not a criminal. You and your son framed me for that murder, and we both know it.”
Governor Wilmington just shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do,however, know that you’re admitting to kidnapping, which is a crime. One I’ll see you rot in jail for.”
Nesta sighed and plopped in one of the chairs in front of his big, imposing desk. “If I end up in jail, your son ends up six feet under.”
He gritted his teeth, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “What do you want, then? Money?”
She wasn’t surprised his mind went there, but she still laughed like she was. “I have more money than you, governor. I want my life back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Blake killed that dealer, not me. Find a way to get those charges off my back.”
It was his turn to laugh, apparently. “You want me to save my son, just to throw him in prison for the rest of his life?”
“At least he’ll be alive. And who knows? Maybe he’ll finally get clean in prison.” She allowed a small smile to grace her face. “Although that’s never been what you wanted.”
“Oh?” he asked innocently.
“I know all about your deal with Blake. You’ve been profiting off the drug trade in LA for years, using your son as a way to find out who runs the biggest game that week. It’s smart, I have to admit.”
The governor reclined in his chair, bracing his interlocked fingers across his stomach. It was a power move, but she didn’t let it intimidate her in the slightest. She just did the same.
His eyes narrowed, and she smirked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes, my son uses, but that’s why I’ve built my whole platform on the war on drugs-”
“You can cut the shit, gov. Felons can’t vote, remember? Although, I have to wonder how the good, law-abiding citizens of California would feel if they knew you were double dipping.” She tilted her head. “I can’t imagine it’d get you reelected.”
“You mean good, law-abiding citizens like Elain and Feyre?” he shot back, making Nesta see red.
She almost, almostlaunched herself across the desk to teach him to never speak about her sisters, but she kept it in check.
Cassian got them out. They were safe.
“Was that a threat?”
“Of course not, dear. I don’t make threats. I just tell the honest truth.” He looked around the room. “And the truth is, whatever you think you’re doing, you’re not.”
“I have signal jammers, so if you’re attempting to record this conversation, you might as well just stop now. And I’ve signaled to my guards.” He tapped the underside of the desk where the panic button probably was. “You’re not walking out of here alive, unless its in handcuffs.”
Nesta forced herself to have faith in the plan and the other two people involved in it. For once, she was relying on someone else and not fighting this battle completely alone.
It was both a wonderful and awful feeling.
She didn’t let her bravado slip, though. Not for a second. “Then Blake and I will have a marvelous time together in hell, waiting for you.”
The governor laughed, and she smiled back, the two of them acting like they didn’t hate each other’s guts. “I’ll find my son, and after I yell at him for being so stupid, it’ll be business as usual.”
Business as usual meaning being a corrupt, horrible human being who’d covered up a murder.
“Since I’m surely about to die, tell me. Why did you cover for Blake? We both know it wasn’t for love; you’ve hated him since he was a teenager. Do you really make that much money off of what he does for you?”
Come on come on come on. He was close to giving up the answers she needed, she could tell.
“How about this. Tell me where my son is, and I’ll give you the answers you want so badly. You’re still not walking out of this room, so it doesn’t really matter.”
She shrugged. “Deal.”
“Where’s my son?” he demanded immediately, and she rolled her eyes.
“You must think I’m stupid if you think I’m giving you that before I get answers. Answer my question. Why’d you do it? You’re a piece of shit, but I figured you’d at least have a line for murder.”
He sighed and looked down his nose at her. “I covered for my son because he made a mistake, and there happened to be a solution.”
“You mean me.”
“Yes, you. You were there, and he knew your sisters and how to keep you quiet. His life went on fine, and once we covered up his connection to the dead dealer, our business went on fine.”
So close. “So it was about greed, then.”
“My idiot son is a complete waste of space. He blows through money and can’t hold down a job and is a general pain in my ass.” He shrugged again. “But the kid finally figured out how to be valuable to me.”
“So Blake gets to keep partying and your offshore bank account keeps growing. All while I rot in prison or an unmarked grave.”
“Pretty much.” He smiled cruelly. “You have to admit, it worked out well for us.”
“So far, at least,” she agreed.
“Now, where is my son?”
Laughing, she got to her feet and gestured to the door she’d come through. “Oh, he’s asleep in a car across the street.”
Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He was in the trunk, still passed out from his second round of FBI-grand sleep serum, ready to be carted off to jail.
The governor’s face went through a wheel of emotions so fast, it was hard to keep track. Shock, confusion, anger, then something a little terrifying.
“You’re lying. My guards would’ve told me if they’d seen him.”
“Your guards are getting coffee two blocks over, governor. They never got your signal.” Thanks to Azriel and his very handy hacking abilities. He’s shut down the panic button the moment she’d walked in the building.
“So it turns out I willbe walking out of here,” Nesta told him with a grin. “And with evidence that you framed me for murder and are a corrupt, criminal politician. I do hope you have a nice time in prison.”
“It’ll be your word against mine,” he threatened, eyes making it clear he was sure he’d get her to back down. God, how many people had he used that defense on?
She pulled out the tape recorder, the same one she’d stolen from Cassian’s jacket all those nights ago when everything had changed. “No. It’ll be your word against… your word.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of stress behind the motion. “I told you-”
“Your jammer is experiencing technical difficulties, I believe.”
Also thank to Azriel. She had to admit the man had proven himself to be just a little helpful today.
“I don’t believe you.”.
She re-winded the tap a few seconds and let the last part of their conversation play out loud. He was breathing quickly and had an angry, betrayed look in his eyes that made her smile. Apparently, he wasn’t used to not getting his way.
“Youbitch,” he spat, moving too quickly for her to figure out what he was doing. He reached under his desk, and she wasn’t fast enough to duck behind a chair before he had the gun pointed at her chest. “I’ll just have to take care of you right here, then.”
She opened her mouth to try and talk her way out of this mess but was interrupted by a deep, very welcome voice saying, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Well, maybe Cassian was just a little helpful, too.
He was standing behind her in the doorway to the main hall, gun pointed at the governor, a dangerous look in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” the governor demanded, still holding the gun.
The side door to his right was the next to open, and she breathed another sigh of relief at the sight of Azriel, gun in hand. “You’re under arrest. Drop the gun.”
His mouth dropped open, and she chuckled at the sight. He said something low under his breath, and the air seemed charged with something as he glared at her.
And then he pulled the trigger, and everything changed.
Nesta flew backward, the chair she was sitting on falling over with the force. She gasped against the pain that exploded across her chest, barely hearing the other gunshot go off.
Holyhell.
Cassian was in front of her immediately, hands seeking out the place the bullet had connected frantically.
But then he found it, pulled it out of the thick Kevlar layer beneath her shirt and sighed, his relief obvious. “Now imagine this had hit your skin somewhere. Like maybe your leg.”
“Shut up,” she wheezed, her chest still unbearably tight. God, that had knocked the wind clean out of her. “I’ll never shoot you again.”
He smiled, eyes going back to the governor who was now laying on the floor screaming.
“Oh, stop crying,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just your shoulder.”
She laughed, then discovered it hurt her bruised ribs even worse and stopped. Cassian grabbed her under the shoulders and gently lifted her to her feet. “You good?”
She nodded.
Azriel leaned down to cuff the governor and asked, “Tape recorder?”
She handed it to Cassian and he smiled down at her, a proud look on his face. “Give us a minute, Az.”
He rolled his eyes but dragged the still-crying governor out into the hall and closed the door behind him.
Nesta looked over at Cassian, both of them taking a minute to just stare at each other. “So what now?” she asked quietly.
Honestly, she never would’ve expected this moment to come. She’d put the plan at having maybe a 50% chance of working, and now that it had, she didn’t exactly know how to feel.
He shrugged. “Now we get your record cleared, release a press statement about the governor, and go for the maximum for both Blake and his dad.”
Nesta nodded. “But… what now?”
He brushed a thumb over her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Now you go home, Nesta.”
~Two months later, Nesta~
Nesta supposed that at least one good aspect to living in Nebraska was that she’d gotten used to the cold. Because once upon a time, this water would’ve forced her to wear a wetsuit or stay on the beach, but now she hardly noticed the biting chill of the Pacific as she tilted her face to the sky and grinned.
She laid down on her board and breathed deeply, still not quite over how much she’d missed the smell of the ocean.
It’d been two months since she was cleared of all charges, and she’d spent every single day here. She surfed at sunrise, when the waves were high and the water empty, then came back to the beach with her sisters most nights.
God… seeing them for the first time in over two years had almost broken her. They were so different.Their lives had changed and they’d grown up so much since she’d last seen them.
Feyre was married and extremely pregnant and Elain had started her own business, becoming one of California’s top businesswomen almost overnight. Seeing their faces… it was the first time Nesta had ever cried in public.
They’d come to the police station after everything had been finalized, and she was pretty sure the cops there thought they were all mentally unstable with how much sobbing had gone on.
After a very lengthy conversation where she’d explained everything, she’d vowed to never leave them again. And she meant it.
This was her home.
She’d never really appreciated it until she’d been forced to leave, but now that she was back, she wasn’t leaving.
The slight slapping of water pulled her from her thoughts and told her someone was coming, and she smiled as Cassian said, “Hey, mermaid.”
She opened her eyes to see him swimming up to her board, long curly hair slicked back and shiny with water. “Hey.”
He was still working at the FBI and traveled all over but had moved his permanent address to Santa Barbara so he’d see her more often. He came into town for a few weeks, then was gone for a few.
It wasn’t ideal, but she knew he wouldn’t work there forever, and this worked for them right now.
“You didn’t sleep out here, did you?” he teased, reaching her and propping his head up on the board near hers. He’d gotten here last night and after a quick and dirty hello, he’d pretty much passed out like the dead.
Nesta rolled her eyes and rolled on her side to face him. “I tried to wake you, but-”
“I don’t think anything would’ve woken me up last night,” he admitted with a grin. “Except maybe you shooting me again.”
She laughed and splashed water at him. “That was months ago. I’m a different woman now.”
He put an arm on the board and grinned up at her, eyes flashing in a way that told her he was about to say something inappropriate. “Shame. Violent women turn me on.”
“I can always try to drown you if you want,” she offered, only half joking. They still spared and trained together whenever they could, and the only thing she loved more than surfing was beating him.
“You might want to in a minute.”
Her eyes narrowed on instinct, and he laughed, then gripped the side of her board and pushed, tipping her over.
She splashed into the water next to him, the chill on her sun-warmed skin a shock to her system. But she wasn’t mad in the slightest.
The playful look in his eye and the big smile on his face made her want to kiss him, not drown him.
“You’re such a child,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders while he held the board to keep them afloat.
“You love it.”
“Maybe a little.”
He was quiet for a moment, and some of the teasing light left his eyes. “And you love me.”
It was said as a statement, but it sounded more like a question. And it was one she knew the answer to.
God, she did. She loved him.
She was pretty sure she’d loved him since the moment he’d shown up all those months ago.
Not to mention he’d given her her life back and made her laugh and was so impossibly good to her.
So she shrugged and murmured, “Maybe a little.” Which was an understatement, and they both knew it.
Cassian smiled, pulling her forward to press his lips to hers roughly. “Then I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Two things, actually. One, I love you too. A lot. Even though you shot me and ran away from me and have violent tendencies.” She rolled her eyes. “And two… I quit my job.”
Her eyebrows flew up at that last part. “What?”
“I quit. I was tired of it, and I missed you, and I got a job at CBI, and Azriel is quitting too, and-”
“Cassian.”
“Yeah?”
She kissed him again, softly this time. “I think that’s great. If it’s what you want.”
“It is,” he confirmed, arms tight around her waist.
“Then I have to tell you something, too.”
He raised a dark eyebrow, water running down his face in a distracting way.
“I want you to move in with me.”
She was living in her old condo again, and it was home to her. And… he was home to her. She wanted him with her, all the time.
“Okay,” he agreed without a second thought, kissing her cheek and laughing.
“Really? That’s it?” she asked, not quite believing he’d just agreed with her that easily. “What about-”
He cut her off by kissing her, and she smiled against his lips as she wrapped herself tightly around him.
For the first time in years, she had a future she actually wanted.
For the first time in years, she had a home and a life and her family and someone who cared about her, someone who’d always fight for her.
For the first time in years, she was happy.
________________________________________________
As always, cheesy ending. I honestly don’t know why yall worry so much when I always have such soft ass endings lol. Thank you for reading <333
Summary: Nesta Archeron raised herself on Fairy tales, so she knew how they went. And when she was offered her first real choice, it’s hard to deny the facts in front of her. She was locked in a tower, guarded by a dragon, and a prince was offering her a chance at freedom. The prince would never love her, and she would never love him. But she loved her freedom and she loved the idea of not hiding parts of who she was.So she went.And then the dragon huffed and puffed and… well… you know how the story goes.
*The Nesta agrees to marry Eris and Cassian loses his mind story that we have all been collectively craving and despising at the same time. Happy ending planned, but get ready for the A N G S T*
I READ ALL 6 CHAPTERS IN ONE SITTTING I AM OBSESSED
