Feel in the mood for spicy prompts today!!!

Any Nessian/Nesta related questions??? I feel like answering some.

The next chapters of both Symphonia and Hearts set Aflame are long ones! Sorry for the long wait!!! But I’m going to try to get them up ASAP

I’m half tempted to write a snippet where the cauldron when Nesta is inside of it shows her a vision of her and Cassian together in the human lands and her mother is still alive in this one.

If everyone enjoyed Toxic Queen Part 8 then I can’t wait until everyone read what I have in store for part 9. I’m going to make it extra spicy

“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,

“Gods, yes.”

“Nesta around Gwyn was a wholly different creature than who she was with the court. They didn’t tease or laugh with each other, but an easiness lay between them that he’d never witnessed, even when Nesta was with Elain. She’d always been Elain’s guardian, or Feyre’s sister, or Cauldron-Made.
With Gwyn … he wondered whether Nesta liked the girl because with her, she was simply Nesta. Perhaps she felt that way around Emerie, too.” -ACOSF Chapter 27

Whenever someone asks me why I love the Valkyries I’m just going to show them this quote.

In the Night Court with the IC and even in their old house with the Feyre and Elain, Nesta still had to hold up a certain image because she was so used to that after being around these people after so many years or just because of the things these individuals heard about her.

With Emerie and Gwyn, there’s none of that. Neither of them had any sort of negative reaction to the animosity Nesta displayed.

““He does, but I am …” Fine. If the female could be blunt, so could she. “I’m cut off.”
Curiosity flooded the female’s eyes. “Why?”
Nesta stiffened. “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that.”
The female shrugged.” -ACOSF Chapter 9

“I doubt you’ll enjoy the way I speak to most people,” Nesta said.
Gwyn snorted. “Try me.”
Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again. “Get out of my sight.”
Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. “Oh, you’re good.” Gwyn turned back to the stacks. “Really good.” -ACOSF Chapter 9

Both of these women just understand Nesta and from the very first moment looked past her front. There was no history between them before they met, no Feyre or Elain to talk about their messed up family dynamics, no high tension first meeting, there was nothing but a clean slate for the eldest sister and that’s what she so desperately needed in my opinion. If there’s one thing I adore about Nesta’s journey it’s that she was able to find two friends, two sisters who see, acknowledge, but also look past her faults and love her.

I just absolutely adore these girls and I’m so excited to see their dynamic more in the upcoming books.

duskandstarlight:

Embers & Light: Chapter 46

Notes: Hello everyone, I’m so sorry for the delay between updates but please know that I intend to carry this fic through to the end! I love writing it and I’ve especially loved writing this chapter–I am so excited for you all to read it. I am really sorry for not replying to say many of your wonderful comments–I’m getting to that now–but please know every one of your comments makes my heart squeeze and motivates me to keep writing!

For any of you who haven’t seen, I’ve recently written a modern Nessian au called A Golden Opportunity. If you want some fluffy Nessian then go and have a read! Click here to read it!

Dedicating this chapter to @simpingfornestaarcheron and, of course, my beta @noirshadow for only adhering to Illyrian holidays and reading this over for me just before Christmas!

Chapter 46
Nesta’s POV

The kiss wasn’t like the others they’d shared. Cassian tasted of tears and desperation—of the warm relief brought by a shard of sunlight as it crept across shade. Like home.

Cassian’s mouth pressed firmly against Nesta’s. Lingered. Again. Again. Again. As if he couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop reassuring himself it was her that was pressed against him, her body arched desperately into his, her hands knotted in his hair.

And every press of his lips wasn’t fuelled by desperate, grappling lust but the love that Nesta now realised had underpinned everything from the very beginning, even as it hid in the shadows.

Keep reading

this was so perfect omg. every chapter you write feels like my favorite but i know this one is definitely my favorite one

ladynestaarcheron:

Eat or Bed - Part 3

ao3master post

so first and foremost thanks to @skychild29/@that-golden-lyre (the same dadrie in two different accounts) for beta-ing.

second thanks to all of you for support and encouragement!!

now. as i have mentioned this is my first time writing smut and i’m the girl who wrote a whole-ass nessian novel where they have three kids and no sex scene so this is like a big deal for me. so as a fair trade if you like it please let me know!!

okay enjoy!!

—

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learns, is that he is the most brilliant person in the world, but sometimes he acts like an idiot. Not because he is one, but because he likes to. Enjoys driving her absolutely spare with her antics. A quiet place to regain some sense of self the House of Wind is not.

Almost everything he says to her, he says to infuriate. She’s constantly lashing out at him, and he bites right back, taunting her to decibels she’s never reached in her life before. And when it’s not to turn her mad, it’s teasing. Nesta picks up on his pattern quickly: when she is quiet and distant, when he fears she will fade into her pain and memory and drift away, he attacks. Anything to draw her out. But the teasing, the sexual inneundos and too-lingering gazes…those are when she is better. When she has enough presence of mind to focus on a book, when she comes back from a peaceful luncheon with her sisters.

It’s entirely unnerving, to learn just how clever he is. To have all of that military strategy focused on her. She feels him clock her every move, file away hesitations and stammers and hisses and quietudes to dissect. So it does not take her long to find a house of her own.

Keep reading

duskandstarlight:

Embers & Light (Chapter 47)

Notes:Hi everyone, thanks for being so patient for the next update. I really hope you like this chapter, it was so lovely to write (mainly because it’s been such a long time coming!) Let me know what you think–and please reblog if you enjoy it :)

I know a lot of you have been asking (very nicely!) when you might expect updates from now on. I promise I won’t be abandoning this fic, but it’s more likely to be three week/monthly updates from now on (blame my current workload!) I’m also working on a second chapter of my modern AU A Golden Opportunity so expect a Nesta POV from that in the future.

Have a great Sunday!

Chapter 47
Nesta

The stew was shared and eaten, but neither Nesta or Cassian were thinking of the food by the time the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl.

Everything in Nesta had turned hyper-aware, as if her body had fine-tuned itself to feel everything of Cassian: his breath skimming the shell of her ear as he spoke. The reverberation of his chest against her back. The lazy, burning journey of his thumb as it swept a repetitive path at the juncture of her thigh as it met her hip.

Tension had existed between them before, but this sensation, this acute reaction to Cassian’s touch, was so off the charts that it had created its own new scale.

Keep reading

literally every new chapter of this fic becomes my favorite but this one was so amazing. the way your write romance is so perfect i love it

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

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.

Parts 2/3/4/5 – pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

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.

“Ty vresh’,” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

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. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

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Damnation Series

Parts 1 /3/4/5 

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

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.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Damnation Series

Parts1/2 /4/5 

_________________________________________________

~Cassian~

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.

____________________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Damnation Series

Parts1/2/3 /5

______________________________________________________

~Cassian~

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.”

_________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

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).

Also drop book recs in the comments please :)

|1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|

__________________________________________________

~Nesta~

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

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I Voted

For NESTA to get the happiness she needs in ACOSF.

Normalize This…

It’s ok to hate the main character and consequently most of the series but still love it for the side character that carries the story emotionally and makes it relatable because they are not perfect and neither are you.

Nesta. Nesta. NESTA

Nessian Head Cannon

Even when depressed Nesta keeps all the newspaper clippings or updates on what the heck Cassian is up to.

Kind of like Nathan and Haley from OTH

People! Please comment with your favorite Nessian moment!!! I need some good nessian crap to get me through this week. I’ll start it off

My favorite Nessian moment is….

Right before the meeting of the high lords when Nesta and Cas talk as everyone is leaving. All of it! How she changed her mind to be more active in the war and didn’t want to be a coward. How he was so excited to see her. How they communicated by understanding and not so much words. I love that Nesta was vulnerable and safe and Cas saw that and her. I loved it!!!