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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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A Fragile Little Flame

I know places we won't be found

Summary: Cassian has survived two wars and knows a thing or two about going up against a powerful adversary.

Nothing can prepare him for Nesta Archeron

my submission for @nessianweek

Read more on AO3

Warning: Dragons, mentions of past SA, human men

Mate. Mate. Mate.

It was all Cassian thought of. Day and night, ever since he’d first been hit in the face by her iron poker. Cassian ate, slept, and breathed Nesta Archeron. He thought he’d still want her, even if she hadn’t been his mate—Nesta was terrifying and fierce, an unstoppable force of nature he had no ability—or interest—in controlling.

He wanted her so badly it made his teeth ache. Nesta wasn’t like her sisters and Cassian likened her to a human General. There were rules she expected him to abide by and Cassian, by virtue of his birth and training, did as he was told. She wanted to be courted, to get to know him. And he came as often as he could with little gifts, hoping something might please his mate enough that she’d finally agree to let him mark her with his scales.

Nesta wasn’t the only thing Cassian was supposed to be thinking about. Five hundred years before, the humans wiped all dragons from the face of existence—or so they thought. He’d led one of the last battalions, had planned final last stand. There were enough to take down the humans, but not enough they’d last when the continent finally sent reinforcements.

And the king was dead, his son, too. Cassian’s friend. Rhysand.

It had been an agonizing decision. Did he preserve their dwindling ranks, or did he exact retribution? In the end, Cassian retreated and ordered utter silence. Let the humans think them dead. Perhaps, he’d reasoned back then, things would calm. They would become more tolerant.

With Rhysand and his father gone, Cassian had picked up the helm. Windhaven became his domain and for those five hundred years, Cassian had ruled as best he could. He wasn’t built for it—he did it because he loved his home, his people.

To learn that Rhysand had been alive the entire time, masquerading as a human king—messing with their minds so they never realized the same monarch had been overseeing them—well, Cassian was struggling with his grief.

His anger.

Rhysand wasn’t sorry. He offered no apology. He merely slaughtered his father and ordered Cassian to reassemble his army and fall into line. All of which Cassian had done. For him, it came at a massive personal cost. Some little piece of Cassian’s soul chipped away when he flew from Windhaven to Velaris. To Rhys, who merely embraced him. He couldn’t discuss it with Azriel, who was so wrapped up in his own mate he failed to see Cassian’s misery.

And not with Nesta, who resented him from taking her from that miserable estate when Eris Vanserra stole the continent's princess, risking outright war. Though Cassian was surrounded on all sides by people, he’d never felt more alone in his life. Cassian lay in bed, listening to Nesta down the hall pacing by the window like she always did. She was debating running away and he almost hoped she would. It would give him a reason to snap his teeth and snarl at something.

She settled but Cassian didn’t. And this night, he couldn’t force himself into sleep. He kicked off his blanket and dug out a pair of pants in the dark, hauling them over his hips and buttoning them just in case Nesta decided to peek into the hall. He’d heard her and Feyre talking about Rhysand’s nakedness and how off-putting it was. And he knew Nesta had been born to be some great lady.

A human males wife.

Not his mate.

She didn’t want to see his cock no matter how badly he wanted to show it to her. He’d done everything he thought he was supposed to. His whole life, Cassian acted with honor, with compassion and decency. For all the good it had done him, at any rate. Maybe he should have kidnapped her, too. Maybe he should have taken her up to his home hidden in the mountains, the place he went when he needed to think.

Cassian thundered down the stairs, not stopping even when he heard her door creak open. She was listening just as surely as he was. He cocked his head while pushing into the inky night air. Crisp and cold and drenched in pine. Just as he liked it. Cassian wouldn’t go far. Frustrated or not, Nesta was still his mate and still defenseless. Terrifying as she was, Nesta was still fragile.

Still his.

Cassian shifted, huffing steam into the chill as he stretched his wings. He’d been about to propel himself into the night when the window overhead opened and Nesta leaned out. He turned his head when she called his name oh so softly, tall enough he could bump his nose against the glass.

Nesta reared back, her silvery blue eyes wide.

“Are you leaving?”

He couldn’t respond. Cassian watched her.

Ask me to stay.

Nesta hesitated, a delicate hand on the latch of the window. Whatever war she fought with herself died abruptly. “Try not to be too loud when you return.” Cassian snarled at her words, his decision made when she tried to shut him out. No more. Either she rejected him or she accepted him. No more in between. Somewhere in the last vestiges of his rationality, Cassian knew he was venting his frustration over everything into his situation with Nesta. He couldn’t calm himself down, not as he all but destroyed the second floor of his home dragging a screaming Nesta into the cold. He held her tight, taking flight before someone could come investigate.

Az would know where he’d gone, would maybe even understand why he’d done this.

“Cassian,” Nesta pleaded as he rose higher towards that crescent moon. He held her tight in his clawed foot, a truly terrifying way to fly. He knew if he set her on the ground she’d bolt and he’d have to shift to chase her down.

“Cassian!” Nesta tried again, fingers gripping him roughly. “I’m sorry, just…please. Put me back down.”

He couldn’t. He could merely make this as painless as possible. His heart pounded erratically in his chest at the sound of her terror, her fear wafting towards him with every beat of his wings. They had to go higher still, to the highest mountain peak. Only he could take her down, unless she wanted to climb a winding, narrow staircase of ten thousand steps. He very much doubted it—Cassian had managed it on a few rare occasions he thought to try, burning his unrelenting anger on the stone until he was broken apart and reforged anew.

Technically, the mountain home is a palace. And if Cassian wanted to be even more technical, it belongs to Rhysand. He abandoned it five centuries ago, and Cassian moved in. If Rhys wanted it back, he could physically fight Cassian for it. Especially now, as Cassian landed on the open air bridge made of iridescent moonstone to drop Nesta onto the sleek black marble floor. She hit her hands and knees, panting desperately for a steady breath of air.

Perched on the railing, Cassian bellowed out a warning to anyone who might have thought to come after him. Snarling a blast of burning fire, the scent would linger in the air for days. Come no closer.

His mate was here and for the first time since he’d met her, Cassian gave way to instinct. He was trying so hard to act as if he were one of the human males that she’d been bred for.

Nesta had been born for him. He was wasting his time trying to sell her on the merits of the two of them together because Cassian would always be a dragon.

He shifted, dropping to the ground beside her with a casual grace she lacked. Nesta rose to her feet, shoving him hard in the chest. He was unmoved, though he grabbed her wrists one after the other when she tried to slap him hard across the face.

“Don’t,” he warned her.

“Take me back,” Nesta demanded. Little tendrils of her golden brown hair danced around her achingly lovely face. Cassian was tempted to do as she said. It wouldn’t make her any happier.

Dropping his hold on her before he pulled her closer and kissed her, Cassian shook his head.

“No.”

He turned his back to her, intending to let her follow him inside where he could show her to her room.

“I’ll reject the bond!” she yelled after his back. He went so utterly still, his heart splattering to his feet.

Anger flared through him. “Do it,” he dared, turning to face her down. Nesta, with her iron spine, jutted her chin in the air as he approached. He wondered if it irritated her that she had to look up at him, head and shoulders shorter than him. “Say the words.”

“And you’ll take me back?” she asked, a distinct tremble in her voice.

Cassian’s smile made him feel feral. It would kill him to do it. He thought he’d have to throw himself in the sea rather than live another five hundred years without her. He swallowed.

“I’ll deliver you to whichever human lord you desire,” he told her hatefully. “Is that what you’d prefer? A mortal male to lock you in another pretty estate? To breed you as he likes?”

“Compared to being locked in your pretty estate and bred by you?” she whispered in response.

He exhaled a breath, stepping away from her. “If that’s what you think of me after everything, then I wish you would reject the bond.”

It was risky, turning his back on her. It went against every instinct and yet Cassian couldn’t stand another second in her presence. His legs trembled, his throat tight. He was seconds from throwing himself at her feet and begging forgiveness.

His words were no way to treat a mate.

Cassian waited for those words— I reject the bond. I reject you.

Instead, Cassian heard Nesta’s clipping steps behind him, all but jogging to catch up with his longer gait. Relief flooded through him. Angry or not, Nesta didn’t want to sever what existed between them.

Elain Archeron had told him she couldn’t feel the thread her and Lucien shared until she agreed to complete the mating rite. Nesta couldn’t then, either. Cassian had always been so cognizant of that, so careful not to overstep. Hope bloomed warm in his chest all the same as he glanced down at her. Nesta’s cheeks were blotchy, stained red against her fair skin.

“This room,” he told her, taking her up a flight of stairs and down a marble floored hall. “It’s yours.”

“And yours?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Cassian opened his mouth to argue, but in truth, he wished it was. He merely shook his head.

“Downstairs,” he all but whispered. “If you need me…just yell.”

He thought she might reach out and touch him. Thought she might ask him to stay. Cassian would have done whatever she asked of him, even if it broke his heart. Nesta bit her bottom lip, nodding.

“I’ll need…I need my things, Cassian.”

He sighed. “I’ll get them for you.”

He turned his back not for the first time that night. He needed sleep and to reevaluate this entire plan. Needed to take her back before she stabbed him through the throat while he tried to sleep.

“Cassian?” Nesta called after his retreating back. He turned so fast the dark strands of his hair all but slapped him in the face.

“Yes?”

Her eyes flashed—not with anger, but hurt.

“Don’t yell at me ever again.”

It was the way she spoke those words that made his body run cold. The fear that laced through those eyes, the way her shoulders slumped. Another male had harmed his mate.

“Tell me his name,” Cassian whispered, daring one step towards her.

Nesta slammed the door before he could come any closer.

Cassian would learn this. He would teach her she could trust him, he would mark her with his scales.

And then he’d punish every male who had ever put their unworthy hands on her.

All in that order.

NESTA:

It wasn’t the first night she cried herself to sleep. Sometimes, Nesta thought she hadn’t stopped since her mother died, though she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She’d kept it together long enough to make sure Ferye and Elain were okay. Had taken over that miserable, crumbling estate when their father died, leaving no heir and no one but her to manage things. And she hadn’t let a crack show when Graysen had Elain dragged away in that cart, sacrificed to a monster she’d later married.

She cried that night, though. She cried thinking about the anger in Cassian’s usually kind hazel eyes and the way he’d spat those words at her. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t tried to strike her or grab her or any of the things Nesta expected. It was all on his face. His usual careful yearning was gone, blinked out and remade into something that hated her.

And even though Nesta wasn’t sure if she wanted what Elain and Gwyn had, she was certain she never wanted Cassian to hate her.

She waited until she heard his heavy boots fade before she burrowed her face in the pillow and wept. She wasn’t sure why. For the first time in her life, Nesta didn’t feel the crushing weight of the world bearing down on her. She felt free and had ever since Cassian had insisted she join him in Windhaven.

Nesta didn’t understand why she was making things so difficult. Not just on him—Gwyn and Emerie didn’t trust her, either. Not entirely, anyway. They watched her with wary eyes even as they included her and Nesta couldn’t blame them. She’d spent so long willing herself to be made of ice that even when flames licked through her veins, it burned cold.

She fell asleep to fraught dreams where Cassian made good on his promise. Where he took her back to Velaris.

Back to Tomas.

Nesta didn’t dare tell anyone what was waiting for her. Elain had been allowed to tell Graysen no because their father died before a contract could ever be drawn up. Feyre had chosen Tamlin, poor match as he was. But Nesta had been gifted to Tomas, and only luck had kept her from fulfilling her end of things. Some nights, Nesta wondered if he and his horrible father hadn’t figured out that a dragon had snatched her away—more likely, they thought she’d run if they noticed her absence at all.

Tomas was supposed to keep his distance after the night in the garden. It had been Lord Graysen, of all people, who had answered her call for help. Elain had been gone by them, sacrificed to the beast and Nesta had been desperate. Tomas was her fiance and a lord to boot. She’d gone promising him anything in exchange to get Elain back.

Foolish. It hadn’t occurred to her he wouldn’t want money. Nesta had just barely escaped a fate her friend Gwyn had not, and it had been another villain who intercepted her. Lord Graysen, obsessed with their lands, had banished Tomas. He was dead, beheaded and buried. She’d watched Lucien do it from her bedroom window.

All the while wondering how long before Tomas came back.

He wouldn’t find her here but gods, she knew he’d try. She was just another pretty trinket for his collection. He would absorb the Archeron lands and then it would be just as Cassian had said. He’d breed her until there was nothing left of her.

Nesta woke to hazy sunlight filtering through a gauzy curtained window. She was still in her dress from the night before, hair still braided in a crown around her head. She forced herself up, cracking her stiff joints as she made her way to the door. She needed something to wear and meant to cajole Cassian into taking her back.

As it turned out, there was no need. Her wooden trunk was placed right outside the door. Cassian had gone, just as he said he would. Why she doubted him, Nesta would never know. Cassian had honor, was a man of his word. Her chest ached thinking of his face from the night before.

So alive with rage.

Tell me his name.

Nesta was so tempted.

Instead, Nesta unwound her hair and bathed in a chamber big enough for a muscled man with wings, practically swimming in the bubbled water. It was the happiest she’d been in a while and when she emerged, hair damp from the towel, her body clad in a soft silver dress with buttons down the front, Nesta thought she might seek out Cassian and see what he was doing.

Needle him a little. His presence was soothing.

As it turned out, Nesta didn’t need to. She pulled open the door, fingers sliding through her hair to rebraid it, and found Cassian waiting on the other side. His eyes widened at the sight of her unbound hair and too late, Nesta realized he’d never seen it. His own dark hair was half pulled from his ruggedly handsome face, the facial hair against his jaw neatly trimmed to stubble. She wondered, as she studied his face, what had given him the scar that cut through one of his eyebrows or the faint slice over the bridge of his nose.

In broad hands, Cassian held a tray of breakfast food. He meant to feed her? Nesta blinked, suddenly unsure what to say to him.

“I…” he trailed off, nostrils flaring. “You look nice.”

She swallowed, drinking in the brown of his skin and how nicely it offset the hazel of his eyes. He wore a dark tunic and his fitted pants and was perhaps more casual than she’d ever seen. No weapons or strapped leathers.

Just Cassian.

She couldn’t tell him that, so instead, Nesta nodded. “Thank you,” hating how her voice sounded so clipped and bothered. It killed the softness in his eyes. Walls up. She saw the way his spine straightened when he handed her the tray, how he no longer tried to touch her hand with his fingers. Why did he even want her anymore? She’d been making courting so utterly miserable.

Any other man would have given up. There was nothing to gain from her—Tomas was set to take it all. All Cassian would get was her.

Nesta walked the tray to a little table facing the window, curious about their new arrangement. “Am I supposed to stay in here?”

“You may go wherever you like,” he replied softly from behind her. Practically pleading. She knew what he wanted and some small part of her wanted to give it to him. Nesta couldn’t be nie and she couldn’t be compliant.

“But only in the house.”

She spun, catching the hard glint in his eyes. “There are ten thousand steps down the mountain, if you’d like to try your hand,” he replied. “Be my guest—”

“I still want to see Gwyn and Emerie,” she interrupted, cutting him off before he could say something they’d both regret. “Azriel promised to train me.”

“They can come here, then.”

“And my sister Feyre still needs my help with her wedding. I’m responsible for her dowry. You promised,” Nesta added, reminding him of what he’d said to convince her to come to Windhaven in the first place. His expression softened.

“I remember the agreement.”

“Do you?” she hissed, looking around the room. Cassian turned his back without a word, leaving her alone in that room, having made exactly no headway at all. Nesta sighed, arching her neck in an attempt to alleviate some of her stress.

Tell me his name.

She’d tell him and Cassian would kill Tomas and Feyre would lose what little standing she had left. Feyre and Tamlin were supposedly a love match. Feyre was already tainted by Elain’s association with a dragon. Two sisters mated to two dragons was intolerable and Nesta didn’t believe for a moment that Tamlin would stand beside her.

Especially if he learned Feyre technically had her own mate—the dragon king.

Nesta ate what Cassian offered gratefully before making her way through what could only be described as a palace. The man himself was nowhere to be found which suited her just fine. She was still warring between confessing everything and just ending things entirely. She didn’t want to. Cassian was all wrong. The opposite of what she’d been trained for and yet Nesta wanted what he was offering, certain it would feel like peace.

Nesta swallowed those feelings, just as she always had. Instead, she mapped out the palace. She found a large, empty dining room with a table big enough for twenty people. She wondered how often Cassian ate alone here. The image made her heart ache.

Nesta found a pool on the lower level, steam curling as it overlooked the sloping mountainside. She could picture Cassian here, too. She could picture him everywhere—in the bedrooms, the study, the lounge and finally, the library. The library made Nesta reevaluate every harsh thing she’d ever said to Cassian. He couldn’t have known the comfort books offered her and yet he still had this large, two story space.

Squashy, leather furniture draped with crocheted blankets broke up stacks that stretched floor to ceiling. A trailing staircase took her to the second level, the railing overlooking the bottom. There were books on every topic she could imagine—including Nestas favorite.

Romance.

She could remember sneaking her very first when she’d been ten years old and hiding it beneath her pillow. It had been too grown up—so many quivering bosoms and men’s appendages described as swords. And yet, it was all so thrilling to her, despite the sex. Stories of men willing to risk it all and women who were genuinely cared for.

Loved.

That was not the future promised to her, which only made Nesta want it more. She wanted someone like the heroes in those stories. A man who loved her beyond reason, who would have done anything for her. And she wanted to be that kind of woman, too. Nesta felt fragile as she pulled down a stack of covers that seemed interesting to her before tucking herself beneath a blanket.

She spent the morning tucked into a chair, reading something new until she forgot where she was. It was Cassian’s boots on the floor that drew her back to reality. He pushed into the library, a little basket in hand. He cocked his head, his expression unreadable and she wondered if they were about to have another fight.

“This is for you,” he murmured, striding into the library to offer her the basket. Nesta set the book face down on the arm of the chair, leaning forward to take the basket from his hands. It was her fingers that brushed his hand that time, touching the soft red scales that covered his wrist.

Cassian’s eyes fluttered shut.

“What is this?”

“For you,” he said gruffly, putting space between them. Nesta waited until he retreated before pulling aside the blanket atop the basket. Nestled inside was a fragile music box. Made of what she assumed had to be real silver, and shaped like a pretty, circular ball and when she slid her nails against the crease to open it, a familiar melody sang through the air.

How Cassian knew this was her favorite, Nesta would never know. She swallowed thickly, tears rising hot in her throat. How had he known? Who had told him? Holding it close to her chest, Nesta stormed from the library, her hurt threatening to spill out of her like a broken dam.

He wasn’t far. She found the general hovering just outside the door with a wary expression.

“Who told?” she demanded.

He huffed out a breath. “Are you angry with me?”

She was trembling. “Who told you, Cassian?”

“No one told me!” he snapped, closing the distance between them. Gripping her arms in his broad hands, Cassian stared down at her with the same overwhelming hurt that was all but drowning her. “I know you like I know myself.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Nesta wrenched from his grasp. She meant to give him back the music box, to make him regret having ever offered her this at all. She couldn’t do it. No one had ever given her such a thoughtful gift. Something for her, no strings attached. Cassian watched, that hurt softening into a wholly different emotion.

“Nes,” he whispered. She backed away, eyes burning.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Nes,” he tried again, watching her walk away from him. Nesta had to force herself to turn her back.

To walk away entirely.

CASSIAN:

Cassian woke in the dead of the night to utter silence. His body was tense—tight, like a threat was looming in the dark. He sat up, trying to recall the dream he’d had. Maybe that was what had pulled him, he thought. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, Cassian forced himself to breathe, to relax.

It didn’t work. Instinct said something was wrong, was urging him to fight. He pushed himself out of bed, fumbling for a pair of pants. He’d just slung them up over his hips when he heard what must have pulled him from sleep the first time.

Loud, terrifying screams filled the air, reverberating off the vaulted ceilings. Nesta. His mate was screaming with fear, was calling him for help. Cassian reached for a curved blade on the edge of his nightstand before running from the room. She was a floor above him, an offering he’d made so she didn’t feel like he was hovering over her shoulder.

It seemed like a mistake. What was in there? In the seconds it took him to reach her, every terrible scenario played out in quick succession in Cassian’s mind. Something had crawled through her window, was attacking her, was going to kill her—

He shoved open the door, blade outstretched, to find Nesta thrashing in her sheets. A sheen of sweat shone against her beautiful face, her too-thin body tangled in the blankets. He set his knife down when he realized the only foes she fought were in her mind. What haunted is mate? Who had harmed her so irrevocably that she was trapped in her own mind?

Panting with anger and hatred, Cassian went to her. She still needed him, even if she didn’t want to. He knew she’d wake up and shove him away, would cut him into bloodied ribbons for the crime of seeing her so vulnerable.

“Nesta,” he whispered, hauling her body up against his. Her cheek pressed to his bare chest, her arms sliding around his neck. “Nesta, you’re safe. Wake up.”

She clung to him, sharp nails slicing against his skin.

“Cassian?” she whispered, her voice so small. So fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss against her unbound hair.

“I’m here,” he agreed, heart pounding.

Don’t send me away. I love you.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked, her voice wavering. Her whole body trembled against him. It might have been funny, had she not been so scared and sad.

“No,” he lied, thumb stroking over her cheek. “I was still up. What were you dreaming about?”

She stilled. “Nothing.”

Nesta reminded him of the wildlings out east. Of Lucien, even, from the forest. Alone and uncared for for so long, she didn’t know how to trust him. Maybe she had trusted a male once and he’d hurt her.

She let him hold her, stroking her hair until her wild heart slowed. He knew he needed to go before she came to her senses. Before she realized he’d witnessed something vulnerable and meant to punish him for it. Cassian’s heart was already bruised when it came to Nesta—he couldn’t take any more rejection.

Pressing one last kiss to her head, Cassian began untangling himself.

Nesta grabbed his bare bicep. “Wait,” she whispered, her voice practically a whimper. It made his chest ache. What haunted her?

Who hurt his mate?

“Yes?” he managed, his voice trembling. She looked up, those silvery blue eyes glowing in the dark. Beautiful—she was so stunningly beautiful, even when she was sad. Even when she hated him. Cassian still couldn’t believe she belonged to him at all. He couldn’t fathom what he’d ever done to deserve her.

“Stay with me?” she asked, scooting on the bed to make room. “Please?”

“You…” he swallowed. “You do not need to beg me. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Her scent was everywhere, burning his nostrils. His body reacted and Cassian, terrified his cock would ruin this moment for him, settled on his back and drew her against his chest so there was no danger of anything touching her that shouldn’t. Nesta trembled even beneath the blanket, even with his body radiating heat.

Cassian stroked hair from her face. “What do you dream of?”

She said nothing. He supposed he should have expected that. He took a breath. “I dream of the first war.”

She twisted, arms resting on his chest. “The first war? You were alive for that?”

He nodded. “I was young…barely older than you are now, when they came. We weren’t prepared. I was lucky that day. I was up here with Rhysand…my mother was in Windhaven.”

“How did they get up here?”

“There used to be a path. It was crossable in the spring and summer months. We traded between us. It was tense at times…but peaceful during others.”

“What shifted?”

Cassian didn’t know, could only shrug his shoulders. “I think there was frustration brewing among the humans. It was a dry season—everyone was hungry. I suspect they were looking for someone to blame and were tired of resource sharing. They did not burn any of our crops but raided them instead.”

Nesta rubbed his chest soothingly. “You dream about that?”

He laughed humorlessly. “No. I merely think about it. I was too young to be in charge of anything back then. My mother still made dinner for me each night.” Gods, but how he missed her.

“I dream of the aftermath. Of the bodies of children and females…how they used to rip off our wings and staple them to posts in warning. How many we lost…and how I became general by default. It was my decision to back down. To hide.”

He swallowed hard.

“I never wanted to have to make that decision.”

Nesta lowered her mouth, kissing his chest. It was the first kiss she’d ever offered him. Cassian had been so afraid to tell her that story, that she’d think less of him.

“You did what you had to do, Cassian. There are no good decisions in war.”

He blinked back his own tears, swallowing his regret. No one had ever told him that. Azriel had merely nodded tightly, falling in line obediently, though Cassian knew he hadn’t liked it. Azriel had wanted retribution.

Azriel didn’t want to lead. Rhysand chose to hide with his traitor father among the humans, biding their time for five hundred years. And Cassian was alone, shouldering the burden of those decisions silently. He resented it, though he was trying not to. Rhys expected him to fall back in line, but Rhys had lived in a palace.

Rhys had let those males send human females to die, appeasing their lust for blood and their hatred of their own kind. It had taken a human female to motivate the prince to finally act. Cassian had a lot of regret about that, too. He felt like a failure across the board—a failure to his people, a failure to his mate and her family, and maybe worst of all, a failure to himself and his own values.

“It’s not your fault, Cassian,” she whispered, drawing him back to the present. “You’re one man. You can’t be responsible for every decision someone else makes.”

“Someone has to,” he whispered. “Someone has to take care of them.”

Nesta exhaled warmly against his body. “And who takes care of you?”

He almost said his mate. He didn’t dare, not when he was holding on to her by a thread. At any moment, Nesta might quit altogether, might demand he release her. Take her back. Cassian took her wrist in his hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said.

Nesta swallowed, twisting so her cheek was back on his chest. “Cassian?” she whispered.

He held her tighter, catching the quaver in her voice.

“Yes?”

He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, thudding wildly with fear. She reeked of it. He was so desperate to know what scared his iron-spined mate. What could make his lovely female quake with fear? She’d stared him down with an iron poker, after all. She’d looked their king in the eye with nothing but disdain.

“Feyre is getting married,” she said, her lips dragging over his skin. Cassian forced himself not to react, to only hear the words coming out of her mouth.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. He very much doubted Rhysand would let his mate marry another male without some sort of fight.

“She loves him,” Nesta tried to explain. “He…he helped us, when Elain was taken. He kept Graysen from all but taking the estate. He’s…he’s decent enough.”

Hardly high praise, and yet Cassian didn’t argue. Nesta was working herself into something and he wanted to hear it. He merely stroked her back, waiting for her to continue.

“Being here with you…being with you…it could ruin that marriage.”

His stomach splattered in his chest. “Oh.”

He didn’t know what else to say to her. Cassian needed to step away. He knew what was coming. She was going to reject him, reject their bond. He couldn’t even fault her for it—the reasoning was good. Compassionate.

He pulled his arm from beneath her, sitting up. Nesta lunged, that scent of fear stronger than before. “Please don’t go,” she pleaded.

“I can’t…” his voice was raw even to his own ears. “I’ll take you home in the morning.”

He swung his legs off the bed but Nesta was quicker, holding his bicep in both hands, her nails slicing against his flesh.

“Cassian, please listen.”

He paused, daring to look over at her. Her eyes glimmered with water, rimmed red from those unshed tears. Cassian swallowed his own grief and sat back on the bed. He still wanted to help her, despite his fractured heart.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m engaged.”

The world seemed to rip open. Blood roared through his ears, drowning out any sensible, rational words he might have said in response. She was his mate. He’d been courting her for months. How could she possibly be engaged to another male?

“How could you not tell me?” he said, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Nesta let go of his arm, hugging her chest tightly. “I thought you’d leave.

Cassian was falling to pieces. “Leave my mate?”

“I didn’t understand! I just…a lot of men have courted—”

“You’re my mate,” he repeated. “That…engaged?”

“My father arranged it before he died and my fiance…our estate is worth a small fortune, Cassian. I’ve put him off, but…”

Cassian couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t her fault and still she was breaking his heart. He rose to his feet quickly. “You intend to marry him.”

“I have to marry him,” Nesta whispered. “I have no choice.”

He almost fell to his knees and begged her to let him kill the male. Kill his whole family, even. Cassian could spare her, he reasoned. Could fix this the only way he really knew how. And

Cassian understood that Nesta didn’t understand that Rhysand was going to have her sister one way or the other and her sacrifice would mean nothing. Her sisters would find happiness and she, it seemed, would doom herself to a small life with some human male.

Cassian only wanted to know one thing.

“Is he kind?”

Nesta looked down at her hands. Cassian thought he could survive it if he knew she was being cared for.

“Does he love you?”

She didn’t answer. The last pieces of his heart ground to dust, leaving him empty and wrecked. She couldn’t even lie to him. Couldn’t promise she’d find peace in this marriage. Cassian turned his back to hide his own sorrow.

“I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

He left her in her bed, all but running from that room.

Cassian left his heart with her.

NESTA:

Nesta paced back and forth. She hadn’t expected Cassian to agree so easily. She’d hoped if she told him, he would offer to help her. Would think of some solution Nesta had missed, something that would preserve Ferye’s engagement while freeing her.

He’d just…let her go. And it angered her, at first. Filled Nesta with a rage so white hot and cold that she’d almost followed after him to scream in his face. Why didn’t he fight back? He said he wanted her and then he just…let her go. She wanted him to react, to refuse to send her back. That’s what Azriel would have done, she reasoned.

The fire had banked to nothing by the time Nesta understood why Cassian walked away. He’d told her, hadn’t he? When he’d explained the war and what haunted him—all those decisions he’d made that he didn’t want to in service of some greater good.

Cassian was never going to force her to stay and she’d been too cowardly to tell him what she wanted. She needed to just ask him for his help.

No one had ever helped Nesta. Not her mother, who had often taken a switch to her knuckles when she spoke back—training Nesta to remain silent. To be obedient. And certainly not her father, who had never once cared if he made a decision on her behalf that hurt her. Her sisters were too young and Nesta had never put that burden on them. She’d merely been the shield. If someone needed to put their body in front of the firing squad, it ought to be her.

She knew where his room was without ever being told. She just knew. Nesta pushed open the door and found him standing in front of his window. Still shirtless, his golden brown skin edged with blood red scales. Cassian was beautiful. His hair was unbound, hanging in soft, dark waves that brushed over his shoulders. What would it feel like to run her fingers through it?

He turned, his expression guarded again. She wanted to see him like he’d been in her bed. Vulnerable and open.

She had to meet him somewhere, she reasoned.

“I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, closing his bedroom door quietly behind her. “Please don’t take me back.”

Cassian crossed the room in an instant, sweeping her off her feet to hold her against his chest. He fell into his bed, arms around her so tight it stole the breath right out of her lungs. He had his face pressed into her hair and his body shook silently. She didn’t dare look up to see if he cried or not. She merely let him hold her like she was something precious. Something he cherished.

Cassian got himself together with several loud gulps of air. “Tell me what you want, Nesta. Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t be responsible for ruining Ferye’s wedding,” she whispered. She didn’t believe for a moment that Rhysand would somehow scoop Ferye up at the last minute. He’d had several chances with Feyre—including a night where he’d been entirely naked—and Feyre remained unmoved. Ferye could be stubborn that way.

Cassian tangled his fingers through her hair, tilting her head until she was looking at him. His expression all but smoldered, his eyes slightly reddened from the tears he’d shed. She reached up to caress his face.

“I can’t marry him.”

He lowered his mouth and Nesta didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. Cassian’s lips found her own, gentle and soft. A perfect rebuttal to the kiss Tomas had forced upon her. There was nothing disgusting about the moment and instead of fear and revulsion, Nesta felt undiluted want.

She let herself run her fingers through his hair, let her nails graze against the neatly trimmed stubble of his jaw. He moaned softly, pressing his luck to let his neck kiss slide into the first. They were on dangerous ground. Attraction had never been their problem.

It was everything else. Nesta didn’t stop him even when she knew she ought to. Even when he shifted her so her legs straddled his lap and his hands held her hips firmly. She could feel his desire through his pants and her nightdress. She didn’t stop him when his tongue slid over her lips, begging to be let inside and certainly not when she did what he wanted.

Cassian tasted like the cold air smelled. It was Nesta’s turn to moan, to kiss him with that same frantic need. Nesta clung to him like a life raft, her own tongue finding his own to taste, to touch. Her body seemed to understand what to do instinctively, rolling against him in search of friction. An ache was building between her legs and no amount of rubbing against him would fix it. And while Nesta’s hands roamed over his skin, touching his scales, his muscles, his skin, Cassian kept his hands firmly on her face.

She understood why. She was carried away which meant he had to stay in control. But oh. How she thought she’d like to see him wild like he’d been when he’d come to rescue her. Cassian had been terrifying in his beast form, wings flared in defense of her.

Cassian was the one who broke the kiss, gasping roughly as he held her face in both hands. “Nesta,” he panted, her name a prayer on his lips. “Nesta.”

She swallowed hard. No one spoke to her like that. Spoke about her like that. Cassian thumbs stroked her face, forehead resting against her own.

“Don’t leave me, Nes,” he whispered.

She curled her arms around his neck, burying her face against him. Nesta didn’t want to leave him. She wanted a way out of her fathers mess. She didn’t know how long they sat there like that, wrapped up in the other. Holding each other like a lifeline. That’s what he was to her—Nesta’s head stayed above metaphorical water so long as she could count on Cassian.

“Surely there is a way out,” Cassian finally murmured, kissing her temple. “Tomorrow, I’ll speak to Rhysand about it.”

That made her nervous. “If he interferes—”

“Do you trust me?”

The words robbed her of breath. That was what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? Did she trust Cassian to uphold his word and help, or did she assume she’d have to do this by herself? It was so dangerous to be vulnerable, to risk getting hurt. He might disappoint her. Might hurt her.

Nesta’s heart pounded erratically in her chest as anxiety rose in her throat. It was not in her nature to yield an ounce of control.

“I trust you,” she replied. Cassian’s eyes fluttered shit, his relief palpable. He kissed the corners of her mouth before sliding her out of his lap. Cassian pulled her into his bed, arms wrapped around her body, face nuzzling against her neck.

“I’ll keep you safe, Nesta.”

She turned to look at him. To ask him the same question she’d asked mere hours before. “And who takes care of you?”

The faintest hint of smile danced over his beautiful face.

“My mate.”

#nessian #nessianweek #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian archeron #cassian x nesta #nessian supremacy #yay cassian!#probably the best dragon of the group tbh #he is doing his dragon best #itll be fun to watch him become feral over the course of the next few chapters

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