Give Me Something Beautiful
Summary: Mating bond snapped for Cassian and Nesta at the first dinner in the human lands (this was the prompt and this is still a drabble. A casual, very laid back 10k word drabble)
Note: MANAGE YOUR EXPECTATIONS
Read on AO3
“Do not embarrass me,” Rhysand snarled, eyes bouncing between Cassian and Azriel. Azriel remained stiff backed, his face all but carved from stone. Though Cassian felt the same apprehension radiating from Azriel’s rigid body, he forced himself to grin.
“Lighten up, Rhys,” Cassian said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth. “If Feyre’s sisters are even half as lovely and charming as she is, I suspect we’ll have a good time.”
Azriel’s frown only deepened. It was Cassian’s favorite game to play—how many times could he suggest he was interested in Feyre before Rhys snapped and finally admitted he was in love with her? At least once more it seemed, as Rhys merely ran a hand through his inky hair, a cool expression on the High Lord’s face.
Dumbass, Cassian thought loudly before slamming the mental walls of his mind up. Rhys’s upper lip curled, violet eyes flashing with irritation.
“I mean it. They’re human and we’re…”
“Their worst nightmare,” Azriel intoned flatly. Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, still smiling even as his gut clenched.
“That’s the spirit,” he said cheerfully. Someone had to keep the mood light though privately, Cassian was dreading this journey. He’d seen enough of Feyre and heard the ranting stories Rhys shared in private to know he had no interest in meeting either one of the Archeron sisters. At best they were neglectful and at worst, well…maybe he’d snap his teeth a little.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys ordered, reading Cassian’s thoughts. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to shout that so loudly. Azriel’s hazel eyes slid toward Cassian, one dark brow raised in question. Cassian shook out his hands.
“She’s just…so…young,” he finally said, unsure how else to word it. Sad, too, though there was no reason to rub salt in Rhys’s wounds. Rhys clenched his jaw and nodded.
“We need them. Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself,” he ordered, magic lacing his every word. Both siphons on Cassian and Azriel’s hands flared in response, their knees buckling as they forced themselves to remain upright. Rhys wouldn’t make them bow but he would make them yield.
There was no further conversation. Feyre sent word silently and Rhys’s expression immediately became one of yearning. Cassian and Azriel exchanged several glances on their way out the door. How did Feyre not notice? It was almost painful to watch, their dance one Cassian hoped never to participate in.
Sometimes, when he stood too closely to the pair of them, he swore what shimmered between his brother and Feyre was the ever elusive mating bond. And that made him nervous, too. Cassian recalled when his hand brushed the back of Feyre’s some little electric shock convinced him to put space between them as something strange raked down his senses. Something old, something that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
Feyre had gone ahead to plead with her sisters and her face told Cassian they’d agreed but reluctantly. Even now, Cassian wondered why they couldn’t do this simple thing for her. Why everything had to be so difficult for Feyre.
Such a fight.
He wondered the entire flight over, trying to untangle the knot that had built in his chest. The strangest feeling of excitement and dread had built until he was all but crawling in his skin. He wanted to veer toward spring, to circle overhead until he learned what Tamlin was up to. Let Rhysand play courtier—that had never been Cassian’s strong suit to begin with.
But Cassian suspected Feyre wanted her old life to converge with her new one, and for that reason alone he landed on the sprawling lawn with as much care as he could manage. Azriel had far more grace though he carelessly trampled some carefully planted tulips as he made his way toward the stone laid path.
They could smell the fear before they ever reached the door. Cassian marveled at the sprawling estate, trying to reconcile it with the story Rhys had told him regarding Feyre’s life before the mountain, before Prythian. He’d seen less wealth in castles—in some of the palaces High Lords occupied.
Feyre seemed ill at ease when she pulled open the door to allow them in. Tucking his wings in tight, Cassian tucked under the doorway to avoid hitting his head against the wood. None of it had been built with creatures like him in mind.
The cloying scent of salt and fear threatened to overwhelm him as Feyre beckoned for them to follow behind her. There was something else lingering in the air. Something sweet, some call that his gut answered even as his brain scrambled to untangle. Cassian’s own anxiety slid into pure, animal excitement. He’d heard human food was inedible but perhaps that was merely a rumor. The desert-like scent in the air was certainly making promises. A ribbon of vanilla and honey—or cinnamon and clove. Something warm, something that reminded him of untarnished snow and crackling, comforting flame.
It took Cassian a moment to realize the hint of metal sang just beneath the sweet, though he very much doubted there were those sorts of weapons in this place. Beside him Azriel didn’t seem to be concerned and Rhys was so busy studying Feyre with that familiar look of longing to notice anything else.
Cassian wanted to extend his wings and couldn’t quite figure out why. Get it together, he ordered himself silently. They were just humans and this was one meal, one night, and then one miserable meeting with the cunty queens he didn’t expect to help.
Cassian complemented the house, trying like he always did to ease some of the tension. It did little for the three people surrounding him. Feyre’s face was drawn and tight, which made Rhys edgy even as he tried to hide it. He’d sent his own wings away while Azriel had banished his shadows in an attempt to set Feyre’s sisters at ease.
Cassian sized the three of them up. Even without the magic rolling off them in obvious, visual waves, there was nothing that could be done that would make humans comfortable around them. They were so obviously different it was almost funny.
Almost.
Cassian took a breath and stepped into the brightness of dusk filled dining room. Two women stood just beside the window, gold gilding their brown hair. Swallowing, he took in the smaller one first—wide, nervous brown eyes bounced between him and Azriel, staring not at their faces but the wings just behind. They both attempted to tuck them tighter, stomach clenching in the process. Cassian wanted to reach for the twin swords strapped along his spine and resisted, not wanting to see the trembling female faint.
The taller sister stepped ever so slightly in front of her, amethyst gown whispering some silent warning. Cassian looked to her face, expecting to find similar beauty trembling back at him.
His whole body ignited at the sight of those silvery blue eyes staring directly at him with defiance. No fear, he marveled, drinking in the face of the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his immortal existence. Her high cheekbones, her curved brows, and her full lips set in a tight line made his blood sing, made him stand just a little straighter as though she outwardly demanded it.
Look at me, look at me, look—
She stumbled backward, knocking into the sister behind her a mere second before all the air was expelled from Cassian’s lungs. A siphoned hand flew to his chest to try and steady his frantic heart. A muscle in his chest ripped open, unknown to him right until that moment when it was pulled taut.
“My sisters,” Feyre said, her voice faraway as though she were screaming to him underwater. “Nesta and Elain Archeron.”
Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. Cassian was certain he’d dreamt that name before. Rhys’s head whipped toward Cassian, eyes flashing.
What the fuck is going on? The High Lords voice rang through his mind, talons slicing his warded walls to ribbons. Cassian let him in, swallowing had as Nesta righted herself. He could hear her frantic heart, a mirror for his own.
There was ringing silence in his head as Rhys parsed through the last ten seconds and then a heaving, heavy sigh.
Cauldron fuck me, Rhys said.
“Get them out of here,” Nesta Archeron’s voice said, wavering even as her iron spine did not. Feyre gaped, face paling.
“You said—”
“I’ve changed my mind!” Nesta declared, her voice shrill. She was still looking at him, accusation lining those stunning eyes. “I want them out right now! Get them out of this house before—”
“It’s just you,” Rhys interrupted smoothly, reading Nesta’s thoughts quickly. Azriel looked over at Cassian, who’d thrown his hands up in defense. “Elain is fine.”
“What’s going on?” Elain whispered, tears brimming the bottom of her eyes.
Nesta’s upper lip curled over her teeth and though he knew he shouldn’t, Cassian grinned as his human mate turned to face off with the High Lord. She had to be crazy to think she could withstand him and yet Cassian thought if they came to blows, Nesta might come out on top from sheer will alone.
It didn’t stop him from daring a step toward Rhys.
“This is still my house,” she hissed, unaware that just behind her, Elain had clutched her cobalt dress in nervous, trembling fingers. Two fat tears slid down her cheeks, unnoticed as she waited to see what would happen. “Get him out of here.”
“My name is Cassian,” Cassian told her stupidly, wanting her to look at him again. “And I’m not leaving.”
Someone had to guard her, after all. He’d already promised Rhys he’d keep an eye on the estate though back when he’d agreed, he’d figured he’d fly a few circles overhead at night and otherwise keep his distance.
Now he’d be sleeping outside Nesta Archeron’s door whether she liked it or not. And judging by the anger radiating off that perfect face, Cassian suspected it would be the latter.
“No one is leaving,” Feyre declared, still bewildered. She stepped between Rhys and her eldest sister, looking between them both. “And no one is fighting. Whatever is going on—”
“He’s done something!” Nesta declared, crossing her arms over her chest. Cassian forced himself not to look at her breasts swelled over her neckline, eyes snapping back to her face. His mate—this was his mate. “You swore there would be no magic.”
Cassian couldn’t help his loud laugh. “I did something?” he shot back incredulously. “It was you, Nesta Archeron. You and your eyes–”
“That’s enough!” Rhys ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There was no magic. What you two feel…” he took a breath as both Azriel and Elain inched away from Cassian and Nesta instinctively, uninterested in getting caught in the crosshairs.
“Oh, no,” Feyre whispered, her expression falling.
“It’s a mating bond,” Rhys finally said, forcing the words out as though they pained him.
“It’s nothing,” Nesta insisted. Cassian pretended that didn’t wound him, forcing his smile to remain unchanged.
“We’ll see,” he replied.
“We should eat,” Elain said, catching the way Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel all stiffened at the suggestion. Rhys turned to Cassian, a warning in his eyes not to try anything when it came to Nesta Archeron. Cassian knew he was too confrontational without saying a word in response. If Nesta wanted to serve him, he wasn’t going to stop her. In fact, he welcomed her placing a dish in front of him even if it was the foul human food.
Anything that might make her feel the same instinctual need thrumming through him.
It was only Feyre and her nervous eyes that kept Cassian from doing anything but dipping his head. She wanted her sisters to like them and this new, unexpected roadblock had certainly thrown a wrench in those plans.
It was pure tragedy to see the dining table lined with silver dishes. While Nesta took the chair at the head of the table, Feyre began pulling open lids loudly, her frustration plain. She was the one who went around and served Cassian, dumping things indiscriminately onto his plate. Rhys and Azriel watched, serving themselves quietly and carefully in response to the clattering spoons.
Cassian sat as close to Nesta as he could get given her sisters now flanked her. It was amusing to think Elain might be trying to protect Nesta.
Feyre and Rhys tried making small talk and Nesta, who was practically burning for a fight, started with Feyre. Cassian was watching, shoveling food tastelessly into his mouth.
Do it, do it, do it— he was practically on his knees begging for her attention. When Nesta asked Feyre if their food wasn’t good enough, Cassian saw an opportunity and took it.
“I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”
Their eyes met, her brow arched. Cassian imagined many a male at withered to dust beneath that look but oh, how he savored it. For five hundred years, Cassian had been looking for a worthy opponent. Someone as strong as he was, as capable. Someone who might best him without the use of the High Lords magic–and even Rhys couldn’t beat him in a hand to hand fight.
“You might like my home,” Cassian told her, setting his fork back to the table. Nesta’s eyes flashed and Cassian wondered how depraved it made him to wish she’d fly across over those elegant dish ware and wrap her hands around his throat.
At least then she’d be touching him. And oh, but how he wanted to feel those hands against his skin, even if she was pummeling him into oblivion. Especially if she was pummeling him into oblivion.
Azriel coughed politely while Rhys stared up at the chandelier and too late, Cassian realized arousal must have been rolling off him.
“I might,” Nesta agreed with a predator's smile, “if it were burning to the ground.”
“That’s enough!” Feyre interrupted as Rhys’s fork clattered to his plate. It wasn’t, though. Nesta wasn’t finished eviscerating Cassian and Cassian was going to let her. He held her stare, head cocked.
I’m not scared of you, he thought. It was only half a lie. What happened when Feyre explained to Nesta how mating bonds worked? The female before him was likely to break it simply because she could. There was no love for his kind in those eyes.
“And when it's your home that's burning first?” Cassian asked her. “Mine has already been thoroughly wrecked and might have been nothing but ash if your sister hadn’t come along.”
Nesta hesitated long enough for Cassian to understand some small piece of the female tied to him by fate itself. Nesta didn’t know what had happened in Prythian, then. Didn’t know what had caused Feyre’s transformation or, if she did, she didn’t wholly understand it. Cassian imagined Feyre might have downplayed the worst of things to spare her sisters.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Nesta asked him, regaining herself with a quick blink of those mesmerizing eyes. “To keep my home safe.”
Cassian offered her a smile. “That’s exactly right.”
Azriel coughed again, his cheeks burning as he kept his eyes on his plate. Cassian’s smile slipped—he wasn’t aroused. Even Feyre couldn’t look at her sister, though she remained silent as Cassian realized this time it was Nesta’s faint arousal in the air, snuffed out like a candle when she realized herself. Cassian doubted she knew their senses had all caught it, and if anyone told her, Cassian thought he might kill them. Nesta didn’t seem like she handled embarrassment well and if she learned, Cassian was certain she’d lean hard into her anger and fear and he’d never scent it again.
Dinner passed quietly after that. Elain made awkward small talk with an equally awkward Azriel, allowing the rest of them to say nothing. And when they finished, both Nesta and Elain vanished, leaving only the latter to return later to show them to their respective rooms for the evening.
Neither Azriel nor Cassian commented on Feyre and Rhys sharing a bed chamber and Elain was far too modest to do anything but close the door quickly, eyes wide with embarrassment.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put you away from…” Elain chewed the inside of her cheek. Cassian only shrugged. It was to be expected that everyone would want him far, far away from Nesta Archeron. For all he knew, Nesta herself had ordered he be put outside. If she’d told him herself to sleep in the stables, he would have done it. She wasn’t going to speak to him and he wasn’t going to make things more difficult.
Elain vanished the moment she’d unlocked the door at the end of the empty hall. The best was big enough to accommodate his wings though little else. Cassian sighed, ignoring it and the roaring fireplace in favor of the large, closed windows. He flung them open and angled his head to look up at the sky. Stars were blotted out by gray clouds and though his eyes were sharp, even in the distance he could see nothing of his home.
Had he infuriated the Mother so badly she’d pair him with a human. How long would it take Cassian to convince Nesta she could trust him? And how much longer after that before time stole her from him? Cassian had an eternity ahead of him, stretching miserably as he considered that eighty years were nothing, and somehow everything all at once.
What was worse? Being allowed to love her for the span of time he’d been given, or her breaking the bond and knowing one day he’d feel it vanish from his chest like it had never been there at all. Potentially watching his brothers find mates knowing his own had rejected him, moved on, and died and he’d never have a fraction of what they did?
He was sliding into pity when he heard feather soft footsteps in the hall. Cassian turned from the window, bracing himself for a fight when the handle to the door turned. There she was—still dressed in the amethyst gown. Her golden brown hair was braided in a crown around her head while a silver necklace adorned the delicate column of her throat. Cassian couldn’t breathe while he looked at her.
Nesta kept her hand on the golden knob of the door even as she closed it. As if he might snatch her up and lock her away.
The thought was tempting.
“Feyre says this thing between us can be broken,” she began, saying the words he dreaded the most. Cassian kept his expression flat, not daring to let her see that one sentence threatened to unmake him.
Silence stretched endlessly, forcing him to speak. “Do it, then.”
Her eyes flashed. Cassian squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever words Rhys had told Feyre to tell Nesta—the words that would unravel the spell between them just as quickly as it had settled.
“Feyre says you plan to watch us after the queen's leave tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a question, though Cassian answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Even if I break the bond?”
“You think my help is conditional?” he challenged.
“You’re a man aren’t you?” she shot back. Cassian dared a small step toward her. Nesta didn’t flinch nor did she shrink back. She merely watched, waiting to see what would happen.
“No, Nesta Archeron. I am not a man.”
And because he was so very, very stupid, Cassian unfurled his wings just to illustrate his point. He was a fae male, not a human man.
“What’s the difference?” she demanded, her heart thudding so loud it was the only thing he could hear. Cassian couldn’t make heads or tails of the scent coming off her—it wasn’t fear or arousal, but something else. Something that excited him all the same.
“Would you like to find out?”
Say yes, say yes, say yes— “I don’t want you to…” Nesta took a breath, exhaling it slowly through pretty, pink lips. “We’re alone here.”
Careful so not to scare her, Cassian reached for the knife sheathed along his thigh. Nesta tracked the movement with that predator's gaze. She could have been a powerful warrior if she’d wanted to be. Could have brought kings to their knees with those eyes.
“Take it,” Cassian told her, holding the silver hilted weapon in his hands. “Put it under your pillow.”
“What will this do?”
“If you’re quick about it, and someone dares to try and sneak up on you, it’ll kill them ideally,” he told her, unwilling to admit how achy and tight he felt at the thought of her covered in blood. Furious, too, when he imagined the sort of person that might creep into her bedroom late at night.
“Buy yourself time until I arrive.”
Nesta darted forward, fingers brushing his own. “How will you know I’m in trouble?” she asked him, not moving away. She was close enough to touch, close enough to taste. Not this night, he knew. There was something lingering in her gaze, some old wound Cassian could guess well enough.
You’re a man, aren’t you?
Cassian would kill whoever had hurt her. Just the thought someone had been so careless with his mate made him want to roar, made him want to snap his teeth and dig his fingers into soft, breakable flesh. He wanted to bring her the head of that male for her approval.
“I’ll know,” he said instead, fighting to keep the fury from his tone.
“What if you’re not here?” she questioned.
“Then you fight until I can find you,” he replied, certain she would anyway. Nesta gripped the night tighter in her hand, sharp nails digging along her palm. He was going to touch her, he decided. Carefully and slowly, Cassian reached for her face and skimmed his knuckles along her high cheekbone. She let him, though she didn’t lean into the touch or otherwise show any appreciation for it. “You fight like hell.”
“And then what?” she whispered.
Gods, had anyone ever taken care of this woman—his female? Cassian considered asking her for a list of everyone who had ever hurt her, starting from her earliest memories and working forward.
He stepped closer, drinking in that warm scent. “And then I’ll lay the world in ashes at your feet.”
Nesta didn’t flinch, nor did she falter. She didn’t have to speak for him to know he’d get one shot to prove himself to her. One chance to show he meant what he said and that she could depend on him. That she could trust him.
“Good night, Cassian,” she said, holding his gaze for only a moment. His knees wobbled as some invisible force pushed on his shoulder, demanding he bow. He hadn’t done so since Rhysand’s father had been alive and had always been immensely resentful of it.
But now Cassian made himself low, eyes averted before his lady.
“Good night, Nes.”
The meeting with the queens was predictably shitty but Nesta was unpredictably passionate. He’d expected his mate and her sister to side with the queens but Nesta had spoken up, arguing in favor of aligning with the fae. And though Cassian didn’t dare say so out loud, he did wonder—and hope—that some of that was his influence.
Maybe she didn’t want to see his home burn as badly as she claimed.
Cassian returned that night, flying silently through the darkness, desperate to see her. The cord in his chest shimmered, bringing him directly to her bedroom window. He could see her brushing out waist length, golden blonde hair in front of vanity when he knocked softly on the glass. She turned, eyes narrowed.
Nesta snatched up a dressing robe, covering the silken night dress that hugged every lush curve of her body and threatened to knock him from the sky before she opened the window.
“Haven’t you heard of the front door?” she hissed while Cassian wedged his too-large body into her bedroom.
“And scare your servants?” he retorted, eyes falling on the bed in the center of the room. She’d pulled the cream colored bedding back in preparation for sleep, filling his head with lewd, inappropriate thoughts. What did she do when she was all alone?
Nesta ran her tongue along her teeth. “I figured you’d sit on the roof like a gargoyle.”
He laughed. “It’s too cold for that. I think I’d like to warm myself in front of your fire.”
Her eyes were slits as he made his way toward the marble hearth, hands outstretched. “You’re supposed to be keeping us safe!”
He flashed her a grin. “No place is safer for you now—”
“And what about Elain?” she demanded, hands on her hips. Cassian forced himself not to let his gaze slide down her body though he so desperately wanted to make his appreciation plain. Nesta was too proper to enjoy that from someone she still didn’t trust, and Cassian was in it for the long haul. He could be patient, could let her come to him when she was ready.
“She’s two doors down, Nes. I think I can make it in time,” he replied. “No one is going to hurt you.”
She bit her bottom lip, some of that apprehension shining through.
“I won’t let them,” he added. “If I can’t be here, I can send warriors—”
“No more fae—”
“Humans, then?” he suggested, though humans weren’t likely to be helpful if it were his own kind hunting them. No one knew about Feyre’s sisters as far as Cassian knew. Just him and his brothers…and, he supposed, Tamlin in Spring Court. And while he had no love for the High Lord of Spring, he didn’t think Tamlin was the sort of male to harm unarmed, defenseless females. If he had a problem with Rhysand, he’d bring it to their doorstep for a fair fight.
“Who are you so afraid of?” Cassian asked her. “Tell me their names.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t hide his blood lust. “You know why.”
“So, is this how the mating bond works for you, then? It makes you stupid?”
Cassian laughed again. “Sweetheart, I was born stupid. Your sister is my friend—I would come even if you were nothing more to me than that.”
“She says you’re the General of the Night Court.”
Something about hearing his title on her lips made Cassian tight again. He resisted the urge to adjust his pants in favor of taking a steadying breath. He was the master of his own cock—he wasn’t going to let her see his erection unless she wanted to.
“Yes.”
“You’d send your own soldiers to guard us?”
“If it helped you sleep at night,” he replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Do you still have the knife?”
Nesta strode to her pillow and pulled it back so he could see she’d done exactly as he said. He had to touch her again. Cassian knew he was going to leave, that he’d go sit on the roof just like she wanted him to so she could sleep. She didn’t move as he came toward her, her spine utterly straight.
He touched her cheek again.
“Sleep well, Nes.”
“Good night, Cassian.”
Every night after, Cassian came through Nesta’s window. She showed him her knife, he touched her face, and then went to keep watch on the roof. It was taking a toll on him—during the day, Cassian helped train Feyre, too.
“When are you sleeping?” Rhys asked him when Cassian stumbled into the town house for breakfast.
He only shrugged. “When I can.”
They were still waiting on any word from the queens about the other half of the book.
“Feyre said Nesta agreed to some of my men to stand watch. Take a night off.”
“Why don’t you take a night off?” Cassian snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. Without Azriel as a buffer to soften Cassian’s words, all he had was the simmering irritation of Rhys at the other end of that table staring him down.
“Cassian—”
“Are you ordering me to?” he demanded, dropping his fork to the wood so he could cross his arms over his chest. “Because I made her a promise.”
“Fuck—no, I’m not ordering you to, but you’re going to get hurt if you keep this up,” Rhys retorted hotly. “Tell her to give you a bed at least. Sleep somewhere in that fucking house, I don’t care. I need you if things get bad.”
“Maybe you should train Feyre then,” Cassian said, holding Rhys’s gaze. “It doesn’t have to be me.”
Cassian had begun to suspect Rhys’s reasons for not training Feyre were the same ones that kept Cassian on Nesta’s roof each night. He’d kept his mouth shut about it and his suspicions to himself and all he was asking for similar courtesy from Rhys.
“You’re my best warrior,” Rhys replied evenly. “And she trusts you.”
Absently, Cassian wondered if Rhys would care half as much if the bond had snapped between him and Elain. He read Rhys’s dislike for Nesta plain as day on his face. Five hundred years hadn’t broken the brotherhood between them but this might.
“Maybe you should, too,” Cassian said simply, rising from his chair. Rhys wasn’t giving him an order, which meant Cassian would continue on as he had.
Though, that night when he slipped into Nesta’s window like he always did, she was already in bed. Blanket to her neck so he couldn’t see an inch of her, but more relaxed than she usually was. He caught a book face down in her lap and wondered what she liked to read.
“Are you okay?” she asked harshly. Too much like Rhys, he decided with some irritation.
“Fine,” he grumbled, raking both hands through his shoulder length hair.
“You look—” she stopped herself when he pinned her with his stare. “Rhys sent warriors. Did you see them?”
“I did,” he agreed. They’d been skulking about the perimeter, just out of sight from the humans. Any fae lurking, though, would clock their presence immediately.
“You could go home tonight if you wanted?”
How did Cassian explain she was home? The thought of sleeping in his own bed while she was out here felt unbearable to him. So he shook his head and went back toward the window, well aware Rhys was going to chew him out for it in the morning.
“Or—” Nesta took a breath, leaning forward. Strands of that thick, long hair spilled over her delicate shoulders and fuck he wanted to bury his face in it so badly it hurt. “You could stay in the house tonight?”
Relief flooded through him. “That would be nice.”
“You look like you need sleep,” she said, gesturing for the robe hanging from her vanity chair. Cassian picked it up, drinking in the scent of her skin wafting off it as he handed it to her.
Turning for the fireplace, he let her dress without being watched. She was quick about it, hair tucked into the neck as she beckoned for him to follow. Cassian all but tripped over his own feet, joining her in the hall. He expected to be sent back into exile across the estate but Nesta merely pulled open a door right across from her own.
Her scent was all over it. Cassian stepped inside, drinking in that large bed and the dark sheets neatly tucked against the mattress. Looking at her, Cassian silently questioned when she’d put this together. Nesta would never answer, but the insight was helpful. Nesta was observant—knew he needed a place to rest. And she’d made him one and then, he supposed, waited to see if he’d keep coming back before she offered it.
She hesitated at the door. “Well–”
“Wait!” he said, reaching for her slim wrist. Nesta let him touch her, eyes sliding between his hand to his face. “Thank you, Nes.”
Her cheeks warmed. Gently, she pulled from his grasp, rose up on her tiptoes, and pressed a feather soft kiss to his cheek.
“Good night, Cassian.”
It was the best night's sleep he’d ever had.
He was going to have to leave her—for several nights while they tracked Hybern’s spies down. Cassian was dreading that conversation more than any other in his entire life. He’d put off leaving as long as could, but after a while there was nothing left for him to do but take off for the house.
He found Nesta pacing her bedroom, arms wrapped around her body tightly. Her head snapped to the window when he tapped nervously and those silvery blue eyes that so often looked at him with nothing but disdain were filled with relief.
Cassian didn’t know what to make of that. Still, he slipped in, bracing himself for her anger.
“Where have you been?” she asked, eyes scanning him. “I thought—”
“I’m fine,” he said, reaching for the tops of her arms.
“Where were you?” she demanded, hair spilling like liquid gold down her shoulders. Nesta’s bottom lip wobbled and Cassian thought he might die at the sight. “I thought—”
“I’m fine,” he promised. Nesta wrenched from his grasp, dressed in a red night dress nearly the same shade as the siphons on his hands. Had she done it on purpose or was it merely an accident?
“You always come at the exact same time—”
“I was afraid,” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips in a rush. “This is the last night I’ll be here for a while. I need…I have to do something and I won’t be able to watch you. I don’t want to let you down.”
She was watching him. “Let me down?” she questioned, each word carefully enunciated. Cassian braced himself for her to break his heart—to tell him she didn’t care enough about him to be disappointed by him. That everything that had happened was merely his imagination and he was nothing at all to her. “How could you possibly think you could let me down, Cassian?”
He swallowed hard. “You will be alone in the house again. And I swore I’d keep you safe.”
“The soldiers will remain,” she said, coming toward him. “And I still have your knife. I’m not disappointed—I…”
Cassian waited, holding his breath. Nesta exhaled slowly, eyes closing for just a moment. When she looked back at him, he knew he was going to kiss her. He wasn’t leaving without knowing what she tasted like, if only to motivate him to finish his job quickly so he could return to her.
“You could never disappoint me, Cassian.”
“Give me time,” he replied, reaching for her face. This time, when he cupped her cheek, Nesta leaned into the touch. He angled her face while lowering his own slow enough that if she wanted, she could pull away.
She didn’t.
Gods, but Nesta Archeron had the power to fully undo him. Her lips were soft and warm, her heart pounding just as loudly as his own. The bond in his chest writhed with delight despite the utterly polite, impossibly chaste kiss he offered her. Nesta was a lady and Cassian wasn’t stupid. In a better world without the looming threat of war or the fear humans had of the fae, he’d have been allowed to walk up to her door, declare his intentions, and court her the way he was certain she would have preferred.
He didn’t have those things, but he did have five centuries of restraint. And he needed all of that practice to pull himself back when her bed was right there, and his nose was burning with the sweetness of her arousal.
“Wait,” Nesta whispered, trying to curl her fingers into the leather of his chest.
She didn’t need to beg him. Hell, Nesta didn’t even need to ask. Cassian kissed her again, letting her feel some of his own desire that raced through him day and night. It was Nesta who wound her arms around his neck, pressing her warm, soft body against his own. Cassian let her take the lead, his mind blissfully empty of anything but the way her lips fit against his and the sweet taste of her.
He didn’t realize he was gripping her hips until Nesta swayed, unable to keep herself upright on her tiptoes. Cassian ought to have known better—but he was stupid, just as he’d told her he was. Adjusting his grip, he hauled her up so she didn’t have to stand at all, but could brace her body weight against his arms.
He half expected her to slap him for it. Instead, Nesta sighed, gripped his face, and kissed him again. She didn’t wrap her legs around him which was for the best—if he’d felt the heat of her cunt against his body he probably would have gotten on his knees and begged her to let him fuck her. Cassian was positive she’d never been touched before. The first few kisses had been sweet but clumsy, though Nesta was a perfectionist and by the time he dared to trace her bottom lip with his tongue, she kissed him with the expert precision of a female who knew exactly what males liked.
She opened for him, drawing a ragged, desperate moan from his throat. She tasted better than she smelled, her tongue soft when it met his own.
“Nesta,” he said, the words both prayer and plea as he spoke them directly into her mouth. She swallowed it greedily, kissing him again and again with the same fevered want he felt. This was his mate, in his arms, kissing him. Cassian understood why people were wary of mated males now. He would have gone to war for her. She could have pointed him in any direction and he’d have withdrawn his sword and done as she demanded.
He supposed the world ought to be grateful all Nesta wanted was peace.
Raging hard by the time Nesta slid from his grasp, Cassian could do little more than breathe through his mouth. “I um,” she began, wrapping her arms around her body. “I don’t…”
“I know,” he said. She had no experience with this and Cassian wasn’t going to push her. Not now, not when he knew the kind of heat racing through her. “I’m going to bed. You should, too.”
She nodded her head, watching him walk to her bedroom door.
“Cassian?”
He turned back to look at her. Beautiful. She was so damn beautiful.
“Be safe.”
He smiled.
I love you too.
“What happened to you?” Nesta demanded. He’d promised to come back after that last meeting with the queens—the one where she’d begged for help and was rebuffed—and had found himself battling Hybern. In the aftermath, Cassian hadn’t meant to fall asleep in a chair, but by the time he’d woke it had been morning and Rhys wanted to plan their trip to Hybern.
Cassian shook his head, reading the fear on her face. “I’m sorry. Nes, I’m so sorry—”
“
You’re hurt,” she said. Cassian, who’d been covered in cuts and bruises since he’d been a boy, had forgotten he might still bear some of those wounds on his skin. He waved it off but she was coming to him in that red night dress and who was he to deny his mate the chance to fuss?
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ve had worse.”
The fear etched over her expression threatened to undo him completely. Holding her face, Cassian repeated, “I’m fine, Nes.”
“I’m not,” she whispered, so softly only his fae hearing caught it. He swallowed hard.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Stay with me?” she asked, fingers curling over his wrist. There was an unspoken please in her gaze, one he knew she didn’t dare speak aloud, if only to preserve some of her pride. Was she unaware he’d have done anything she asked him to.
“In here?” his eyes drifted to the bed. Nesta nodded her head, her mouth set in a determined line.
“Yes,” she said, looking him over with open disapproval. “And not in that.”
Cassian was still in his fighting leathers. He blinked. “I…I don’t have anything else to wear.”
It took Cassian too long to understand what Nesta wanted. Even after she sauntered into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, staring openly at him. Was he supposed to undress in front of her? Surely…surely she’d murder him for that?
“Are you coming to bed?” she asked him.
“Yes?”
Cassian decided he’d just…start taking off his armor and stop whenever she told him to. He started with his weapons, setting them all gently against the same vanity she kept her jewelry. Nesta watched, knees drawn up, her eyes wide and hungry. That, he decided, must be a good sign.
He removed his boots next, unlacing them slowly just to test that this was all read and actually happening. Nesta never took her eyes off him, even when he reached for the straps of his clothes. “Have you ever seen a naked male before?” he dared to ask, his words so obviously nervous it almost made him laugh. Had he ever been naked in front of a female before? It didn't feel like it—not with the way his fingers were stumbling over the clasps of his clothes.
“No,” she breathed. Cassian cleared his throat. He’d be the first, then.
Nodding, he didn’t dare look at her again until he was wholly unclothed. Erect, too, which certainly didn’t help things. He could feel her eyes on him and when he dared to look, was relieved to see nothing but pure, undiluted arousal gracing that beautiful face.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, grateful he sounded sensual rather than desperate. Nesta cocked her head, gaze wholly on his cock. It twitched beneath her scrutiny, too optimistic given the company in which they stood. For all Cassian knew, she merely wanted to look at him before she sent him on his way.
“Promise you won’t hurt me,” she said instead, her voice crisp and careful. Cassian reached out for the bedpost to keep himself upright.
“I swear,” he said. “Nesta, surely you must know…you must know I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”
“And if I told you to throw yourself from the roof?” she asked. Cassian held her gaze.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I know,” she replied before curving a finger, beckoning him forward. Cassian tripped over his own feet, flopping to the bed. Nesta laughed—actually laughed—which propelled him toward her.
That smile turned her already stunning face into something ethereal. Cassian crawled to her, blanketing them both beneath his wings when he reached her face.
Holding it in his hands, he murmured, “You’re so damn beautiful.”
“Cass,” she murmured, her smile softening. That was enough. He didn’t need her to say anything else and didn’t think Nesta was able to. Maybe she never would be. Maybe it would be her lifetime of knowing she felt the same without ever hearing the words spoken.
It was enough. Ghosting his lips over her own and ignoring the way his cock was throbbing, Cassian murmured, “There will be nobody else. For either of us.” He wanted her to know that it had already been decades upon decades of no one already. That for as long as she’d been alive, there’d been only one person, for a quick, brief moment that had left him feeling less satisfied than before. And he wondered if somehow he hadn’t known his mate was out there waiting for him, tempering his hot blood.
And Cassian knew when Nesta left the world, he was likely to go with her. Once they’d finished with Hybern, he resolved himself to see Helion Spell-Cleaver’s libraries and ask if there wasn’t some spell that might bind them, might strip him of his immortality so he could live one last lifetime with her.
Just the thought eased the tension weighing him down. Surely he wasn’t the first fae to love a human. Cassian kissed her and Nesta kissed back, pouring all her unspoken emotion into the act. It made him want to cry, made him want to be the sort of male who wrote sonnets and expressed himself with eloquence and ease.
He had his hands and his mouth, though. And Nesta would know, by the time they finished, the depth of his devotion when it came to her. There would be no question of it, nor would she ever doubt him. It was selfish, but in his mind, Cassian was hoping he’d convince her to leave the mortal lands and live with him in Velaris where they’d be safe—and together.
And if they succeeded in Hybern and prevented a war, Cassian could see no reason why she couldn’t, though he could imagine a million reasons why she wouldn’t. Elain, primarily, who was still engaged. Perhaps once Nesta saw her married, he rationalized.
Focus, he ordered himself. He was too distracted by too many possibilities when Nesta Archeron was warm and pliant beneath him. Willing, too, given the arousal perfuming the air around them. He was nervous, reaching for her shoulder—at any moment Cassian expected Nesta to hit him hard, to scream at him, to demand he get far, far away from her.
Nesta’s teeth nipped his bottom lip, pulling a soft moan of pleasure from his throat. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her delicate arm. It convinced him to keep moving, his hands skimming the sides of her body until he found the hem of her night dress.
“Arch your back,” he whispered against her mouth and Gods, but she did it without complaint. Nesta blinked open those big eyes, her lashes dark and thick and then, like every fantasy he’d ever had, did exactly as he asked. Cassian groaned without meaning to, swallowing hard as he raised the silken material over her head and then tossed it to the floor.
Naked.
Cassian could only stare at the unblemished body of his mate, unhidden by any blanket, though if someone were to fly by all they’d see would be his massive wings obscuring her from view.
And then they’d see the Mother, because he was pretty sure he’d kill someone for even trying.
“Nes,” he whispered, certain it was sacrilegious to even touch her. Nesta trembled, waiting for him to say something but words were failing Cassian. In five hundred years, he had nothing that compared to her, to how beautiful he found her, how much she meant to him.
Shaking his head, certain he’d say the wrong thing, Cassian returned to kissing her. That was safer, and an easier way to express himself besides. Nesta seemed relieved, returning the gesture with the sort of gusto that made him half wild with need. Cassian touched her with less hesitation, cupping the breasts he’d spent the last few weeks trying so hard not to look at. It seemed worth it to him, not. She was so fucking soft, so warm and willing that his hips jerked in response.
Nesta did, too. She moaned softly, her tongue clashing with his own. He wanted to feel that tongue against his chest, his stomach, his cock. He’d teach her when he came back. He’d show Nesta exactly what he liked, how to get him off in as few touches as possibly—and how to prolong things for as long as she wished.
Cassian was so wrapped up in the fantasy, he didn’t notice her reach for his wings until she ran her finger along the edge. His hips jerked again and Cassian came without warming, grunting roughly. Nesta laughed again, her eyes wide with delight.
“Did you just—”
“Yes,” he said, catching her by the wrist and pinning it over her head. “An Illyrian’s wings are very sensitive.”
“They’re soft,” she said without an ounce of repentance. Privately, Cassian thought it was better this way—now, when he entered her, he wouldn’t be so fucking close. He wanted to see Nesta Archeron come all over his cock. He wanted to see his proper, well-bred lady unspool around him until she was just as wanton as he’d always imagined.
Before she could come on his cock, though, she needed to come on his tongue. That he knew with absolute certainty. And since he’d come twice, she needed to, too. Besides, Nesta Archeron was untouched and had asked him not to hurt her, which meant he needed to work her into what was twitching between his legs.
“Yes,” he agreed, kissing the corner of her mouth. “The only part of me that is, too.”
“Male pride is something else,” she crooned as Cassian licked a path down her neck. He hummed his agreement before drawing one of those rosy nipples into his mouth. She tasted so fucking good it made his chest ache. It also silenced Nesta, who raked her nails into his hair. She undid the messy half knot he’d thrown in right before leaving, tossing the leather strap somewhere in the room. He’d never find it again, a small price to pay if it meant pleasing her.
“If I do something you don’t like, I need you to tell me,” he said, looking up at her flushed face. Nesta was uncharacteristically speechless, nodding her head while Cassian continued his path between her legs. He dared to spread them wide, to look at her flushed, gleaming sex.
“Promise me, Nes. I need to hear you say it.”
“I promise,” she whispered, arching when his thumb slicked through the wet. Cassian circled her clit, watching the way her hips bucked without warning.
“Do you ever touch yourself like this?” he asked. It was something he’d wondered many times while sitting on her roof. More than once he’d been tempted to fly down just to see and knew he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself if he’d found her with her hand beneath the sheets.
“Yes,” she whispered. He groaned at the thought.
“What do you imagine?”
“You,” she rasped, reaching for his head as he replaced his thumb with his tongue. “Cassian—oh, gods—”
Oh, gods, indeed. She was sweet like that first scent of her, a reminder of walking through her house all those weeks before. Cassian had intended to go exceptionally slow, to draw the night out. He was running out of time and he knew it—a claw raked against his senses as Rhysand demanded to know where he was. Cassian shoved him out.
Bother someone else he thought viciously. He’d return before dawn, but for now this time was his. Rhysand wasn’t allowed everything. Certainly not when Nesta’s legs were spread wide and she was gripping his hair so roughly there was real danger she might rip it from his head.
Cassian licked again, and again, and again, until he too was fucking the sheets and his cocking was practically weeping precome.
Focus, he ordered himself again. It was too easy to get lost in instinct, to chase what felt good and forget that his mate was more than just new to being touched, but human, too. Whether Nesta agreed with him or not, she was fragile—breakable even. Bruises wouldn’t heal in minutes and he’d be damned if he was the one who was the cause of that guarded, suspicious look in her eyes.
Cassian slid a finger into her body and nearly came again. She was so tight, so wet and warm clenched around his one finger that he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped him. He needed to work her up to taking him but more importantly, he needed to be inside her. Forcing himself to breathe, Cassian continued to lick as he worked a second, and finally a third finger into her.
Nesta was panting, writhing her hips on the sheets until the corner peeled from the mattress and bunched around her shoulder.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he rasped, though his words were half for himself.
“Don’t stop,” she said. It wasn’t a plea so much as an order and the soldier that had been trained in him practically since birth straightened to obey. He couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and Cassian supposed it was lucky all she wanted was for him to keep going. He focused, trying to treat what he was doing clinically though he was failing miserably. His cock throbbed between his legs, wedged against his body and each time he moved his hands, his wings brushed over her shoulders.
“Cassian,” she panted. His name on her lips was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. He was unraveling just as quickly as she was. Nothing had ever filled him with more relief than when she broke apart, her hand covering her mouth so the whole house wouldn’t hear her. He’d bring her to Illyria just as soon as he could, if only to hear her scream.
Even if it meant he had to bring her back when he finished. Maybe she’d enjoy flying. Cassian hoped so.
“Cassian—” Nesta gasped when his mouth covered her own, forcing her to taste her release still branded on his tongue. Nesta moaned, legs still wide as he positioned himself between them.
Forcing himself to remain still, he let her watch through half lidded eyes while he licked the taste of her from his fingers.
“Tell me to stop if I hurt you,” he whispered, notching the head of his cock against her still throbbing entrance. Nesta nodded, swallowing audibly. She was wet, she was aroused, and he’d used his fingers to try and ease her into the thickness of him. There was nothing else he could do other than go slow and let her adjust inch by inch.
Even if it was torture to do so.
“Breathe,” he said again, once again speaking more to himself than to her. “Just breathe.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
“It’s not supposed to,” he replied, sliding himself further into her body. It was heaven and hell, her cunt so tight he couldn’t think straight. The bond in his chest writhed desperately, begging him to take more, to do it all much quicker.
It was worth it once he was seated wholly inside her, gazing down at her lovely, flushed form to find her looking right back at him. Nesta squeezed, punching the air from his lungs.
“I’m not breakable, Cassian,” she told him. Cassian didn’t know if he agreed, though he did gather up her wrists to hold them over her head. Nesta arched, testing his grip which was ironclad and unmovable.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, lowering his head and rolling his hips at the same time. Nesta’s breath caught. “Do you want me to fuck you, Nes?”
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes fluttering shut. Cassian thrust into her, testing to see what she could take.
“How about this?” he asked, pumping harder. Nesta whined softly, her breasts bouncing when he did it again and again. She was so responsive and so wet. Cassian had once prided himself on his ability to last. What a joke. He wasn’t going to make it another five minutes. Cassian reached between her legs and began to rub at her clit again, focusing on a steady rhythm rather than winding her up. There would be time once they were out of Hybern. He’d explain how to accept the bond and he’d have that time with her.
He wondered if she knew the writhing need she felt was a result of their shared bond. Cassian might have told her if he’d had the capacity for speech. All he had was her beneath him, dragging her nails down his shoulders now that her hands were free. As she built back up, tightening around him with each new wave of pleasure, Nesta’s back left the bed until he was practically holding her in his lap with a shaking arm.
“Nesta,” he whispered into her hair. He was praying and he knew it and when Nesta’s teeth sank into his shoulder, biting to keep her from screaming again, Cassian could only plead, “Nesta.”
He was asking for mercy, for forgiveness, for absolution.
His orgasm shot through him like a storm, swallowing him entirely with violent, incandescent pleasure. More, more, more, something begged. He couldn’t, though. Not tonight, not yet. Working to catch his breath, Cassian merely held her until there was nothing left inside him. He could feel his release sliding between the space of their bodies, joining his original mess on the sheets.
Nesta wound her arms around his neck, face buried in his skin. “You’re leaving.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I’ll be back,” he swore. “And nothing will keep us apart again.”
He could all but smell her doubt, but Nesta nodded her head. “We’ll…we’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll have this time, Nes. I promise.”
Somewhere in the darkness, Cassian could hear screaming. Her screaming. Wake up, wake up, wake up— he groaned, lifting his head to try and get to her. A million knives cut into his back pulled him back under, but not before he saw Nesta Archeron fighting like hell. Screaming her lungs out, trying to get away.
You promised! You promised! Cassian could hear Nesta screaming it in his head. You promised to keep me safe!
He reached for her, fingers gripping the cool, smooth floors. Groaning, he tried to drag himself forward.
Darkness swept over him again.
You failed.
You promised.
Cassian woke with a start, bucking in bed. “Nesta,” he breathed, ignoring both Rhysand and Mor sitting in his bedroom. “Where is Nesta?”
Mor’s pretty face paled, confirming all his worst fears. Dead—Nesta was dead. Scrambling, Cassian reached into his chest but nothing was there—only empty space where a bond had once been.
“Cassian,” Rhys said, rising to his feet, palms outstretched.
“Don’t,” Cassian warned, ignoring the pain radiating in his back. His wings. He’d forgotten his wings, shredded to nothing by Hybern. Twisting, he found them intact, bound carefully in gauze. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Nesta is alive,” Rhys said, his face carefully neutral. “She’s upstairs with Elain.”
“I need to see her,” Cassian said, ignoring that he was only in a pair of shorts and couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. He remembered nothing of coming back, of whatever had been done to repair his body. All he remembered were flashes of Nesta, a gag in her mouth and her wrists bound. Of the Cauldron, of— “Right now.”
“Cass—”
“Right! Now!” he roared, pushing past two of his oldest friends. Neither of them tried to stop him, nor did they follow him. If Nesta was alive, why couldn’t he feel her? Why was the bond silent in his chest—a gaping wound that said she’d died? He didn’t believe Rhys or Mor, though rationally he knew they wouldn’t lie to him.
Cassian forced himself up a winding set of stairs where the scent of Nesta was stronger. Heart pounding, he braced himself for something horrible. Maybe, he thought wildly, she’d broken the bond while he’d been unconscious and that was why he couldn’t feel her. Surely the magic would still obey her?
“Nes?” he called carefully, his palms clammy. Swallowing, Cassian made his way toward the study. “Nesta?”
He pushed open the door just as she stood, smoothing out the same amethyst dress she’d worn when they met. Cassian gripped the door frame, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. It was Nesta—and it wasn’t. Her beautiful face, her lithe form but magnified in the glow of immortality. Her eyes, lined silver with concern as she came toward him. And her ears…delicately arched through her neatly braided hair.
“You’re awake,” she said, stopping close enough to touch. Cassian forgot about the pain of his back in favor of his fractured heart. He took a breath as the bond returned, snapping as it once had all those weeks before. He caught her eyes flutter shut, saw the flickering relief grace her features.
“You died.”
It wasn’t a question. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move as she nodded her head. “Yes.”
The noise that escaped him drew her attention. Cassian didn’t care, reaching for her even as his legs gave out. The two of them fell to the floor in a heap of limbs, smooshed together as he tried to piece it all together. She’d gone in that Cauldron and he…he’d let it happen.
“I’m sorry.”
Nesta twisted, mindful of his bound wings, so she could hold his face. “For what?”
“I promised to keep you safe—”
“I fought,” she whispered, interrupting him before he could fall apart. Tears pricked the back of Cassian’s eyes. “Just like you said. I took something, Cassian, I…”
Nesta swallowed, eyes darting toward the hall as though she expected someone to come bursting through.
“I think I came back wrong.”
Cassian shook his head. “No—no, you’re perfect. We’ll figure everything else out together. You…are…you’re living here?”
Nesta looked over his shoulder again, lowering her voice. “We can’t go back.”
We. Elain. “You’ll stay with me. I won’t leave you. Not again. Never again.”
Nesta pressed her forehead to his. “Okay.”
Raking his fingers through her hair, Cassian repeated himself. “I’m sorry, Nes. I’m so fucking sorry.”
But it was Nesta—sweet, too forgiving Nesta, even if no one but he knew it—who said, “I love you Cassian. There is nothing you could do I wouldn’t forgive.”
He didn’t plan to test that theory, though. “I love you, Nes. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
She took a breath. “Together.”
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