eris vanserra apologist

fellow 20 somethings who fill the void with fandoms and taylor swift, say hey! (@/hoodwinkd on AO3)

[hoodwinkd1]

Fanfic Masterlist (SJM)

Multi-Chapter:

>Your Eyes Whispered (Eris x OC): AO3 || tumblr: Ch 1-3, Ch 4-7, Ch 8 -10, Ch 11-13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16 COMPLETE!

> the stars that shine (Hollin x Evangeline): AO3 || tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2

One-Shots

>Or It’s Gonna Go Down in [silver] Flames (Eris x Nesta): AO3 || tumblr

>What a Shame [they’re] Fucked in the Head (Eris x OC): AO3

[generalcassianweek]

Nesta and Cassian

art: bookshemisferium

[freyjas-musings-deactivated2025]

Here is my next commission of our favourite shadowsinger and his Priestess.... @romannaboch did the most phenomenonal job with this cute piece ....

Repost strictly not allowed

All characters belong to Sarah J Maas

[thewayshedreamed]

prompt: Nesta meets Cassian when she was human, still engaged to Thomas, before Feyre. They start a thing and then meet each other when Feyre visit her. (smut please)

This prompt has been sitting in my ask box for over a year now, waiting for the perfect bit of inspo to hit!

Well, Happy Kinktober, friends! Because this one will be shared soon, in combination with a prompt from @moodymelanist 😏

Snippet below:

A sharp cough and kick to his ankle brought him back to the present. Azriel eyed him curiously from the chair next to Cassian, his keen expression asking a hundred questions without the man uttering a word. His shadows danced over his shoulders, a bit more chaotic that usual, and Cassian wondered if they were the reason for Az’s check-in. Nosy little bastards.

“I’m good,” he murmured, shoving his food around with his fork.

He wasn’t good, not fine at all. Sitting near Nesta and treating her like a mere acquaintance was chipping away at his sanity in a way that had his heart pounding against the inside of his chest, and Azriel didn’t seem ignorant enough for his liking.

“You don’t look well,” Feyre remarked, her blue eyes round with concern. Cassian hated all the lies he committed by omission, especially when Feyre was so open and kind with him, but what was he supposed to say?

I met your sister months ago and slept with her. I wish that was the only time, but I came back more than once before I even knew you. Never mind the times I’ve traveled alongside you and Rhys. I’ve ended up in her chambers every time, her fiance be damned.

[mrthisisnotme-deactivated202411]

james: hey marls i heard you brought your mom to the yule ball

marlene: that's a good one jamsie, but i think you misunderstood, i brought YOUR mom to the yule ball.

effie *appearing out of nowhere*: hi jamie, isn't this fun?

james: MOM???????

[tamlinsimp]

This followed after Rhysand expressed not wanting to be a HL too. She went there. This girl went there and brought Tamlin even lower.  Tamlin has completely changed the way Spring Court is governed. During TAR, Tamlin mentioned not believing in enforcing ranks. His father was known for abusing power and his brutality. Hence his close ties with Hybern and Amarantha. His father killed humans. Tamlin, is about one of the few HLs, who have been shown to have remorse for humans. There are evidence to back this up sprinkled all over TAR.  Not to mention that he fell in love with a human. Tamlin CHANGED a lot in Spring court. He had a vision. A vision different than his father’s. 

“With the will and desire and passion to do it”  idk. So much desire and passion yet he hasn’t done squat to change HC or Illyria. People have mentioned that he could not due to ancient treaties, etc. Um no. Rhysand has broken numerous sacred Prythian laws, rules, and treaties. He may as well do the same to actually change and do something about the oppression happening in his court.  Also, I thought this was worth noting, Rhysand in TAR:  “No—and how could he? Not with the shame of his father and brothers’ brutality always weighing on him, the poor, noble beast. But perhaps if he’d bothered to learn a thing or two about cruelty, about what it means to be a true High Lord, it would have kept the Spring Court from falling.” This isn’t Rhysand with his fake persona on. We were shown that he actually rules this way. He’s perfectly okay with Az torturing for information. His governing over Hewn City is based on intimidation and violence. For example, he broke Kier’s arm for calling Feyre a wh/ore. There is no sense of comradery between him and those running HC and illyria for him, but mainly a relationship where one is feared and one is afraid. Rhysand governs using scare tactics everywhere else in his court but Velaris. And he actually uses this as well towards the whole Prythian. Hence, why he feels the need to maintain being so cunning and brutal so that he remains respected out of fear. 

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I loved that Nesta as an Autumn fae au!! And I kinda feel bad for Eris. Cassian's here to steal his girl twice now. I hope this is continued, it was such a fun idea

Ask and you shall receive …

Pt 2

Nesta felt like a child whose father was insisting on meeting the male who wanted to take her to the Equinox Ball. Eris certainly gave off the air of a disapproving father as he threaded her arm through his and glared crimson flames at the door, waiting for it to open.

“Stop,” she smacked Eris on the arm. “If you continue to act like an overprotective ninny I will be forced to kick you out.”

“I give you more freedom than any other advisor, Nesta.” Eris’ eyes were suddenly trained on her instead of the door. The flames no less intense. “Than any other member of my court, period. Because I care about you, yes.” He did. Nesta knew that Eris cared about her. He had since she and her sisters had come to the Autumn palace. Their father was a trusted merchant, valuable to Beron when he had been High Lord, and when their mother passed the man allowed Mr. Archeron’s daughters to be raised in his own nursery since the male was gone so often.

Oh, it was not generosity, to be sure. The three Archeron sisters had power Beron had always wanted. Magic was revered above all in the Autumn Court, and Nesta, Feyre, and Elain, nearly rivalled Beron’s own sons in power.

Beron nearly collapsed with joy when Elain and Lucien’s mating bond snapped into place. Nesta imagined he had still been waiting on her and Eris’ when she killed him with the power he tried to control.

“But also because you are more valuable to me than anything else in this world.” Eris’ words pulled Nesta back to the present. To the reality of this situation.

She smiled fondly. Eris had always been honest with her. He never tried to manipulate her or bend her power. It was her own and he asked her to dedicate it to his service. Which she did, and Nesta was glad she did. She believed in Eris’ vision for Autumn. She believed in the work she did. She … to be honest, she was sort of hoping Eris was right about her mate. That he was horrible. It would make things far simpler.

“Whatever happens here, Eris,” Nesta let a rare smile show, “I am not leaving Autumn. I am not leaving my position. I promise you that.”

“This should be an interesting conversation, then, Sweetheart.”

Nesta dropped Eris’ hand. She wasn’t even certain when she’d grabbed it, and spun towards her mate.

Hazel eyes burned the space where their intertwined hands had sat a second ago. A vein in the general’s neck looked close to bursting, but to his credit, he only flexed his absurdly large arms and rolled his shoulders back.

“I believe I asked to speak to my mate alone.”

“I do not belong to you,” Nesta said through gritted teeth. “You will not make demands of me or my time or dictate who is and is not allowed to be in the room.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, smirking. Amused, but not, Nesta noted, displeased. “You are not what I was expecting, Nesta.”

She hated the way her insides turned to warm jelly at the caress of his tongue around the syllables of her name.

“Perhaps you should raise your expectations, General.”

“Cassian,” he dipped his chin respectfully, “please.”

“Cassian.” The soft blend of those letters was like tasting chocolate cake for the first time. His name simply belonged on her lips, and there was no way to deny that.

The General of Night nodded, “I did not mean to insult you, it is only that in my experience Autumn tends to prefer it’s females silent and agreeable.”

“I am not my father,” Eris spat. Cassian only shrugged, as if to say same difference. “And I can assure you that Nesta Archeron is anything but silent and agreeable.”

“Don’t say her-” Cassian cut himself off mid sentence.

“What was that, Bastard?” Nesta gasped at Eris’ cruelty. She knew he could be nasty to his enemies, but this male did not appear interested in hashing out old fueds or antagonizing either of them. He seemed … like he was genuinely just there for her. “Don’t say her name?” The High Lord stepped between the mates and Cassian looked truly about ready to tear the head from his shoulders. “I have been saying her name since before you knew she existed. Nesta is my third in command and I know her better than you ever will, brute! I know her well enough to know that you could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve her! Cauldron be damned!”

“That sounds like a decision that she should make,” Cassian’s biceps flexed again, “not you.”

Nesta grabbed Eris’ arm and pulled him back several steps. Flipping him around and shoving against his shoulders. “What has gotten into you?”

“I can’t stand him,” Eris hissed. “I can’t stand that bastard and the way he is looking at you. This was a mistake. We never should have-“

“I am his mate, Eris.” Nesta dropped her hands from his shoulders, looking briefly over at the surprisingly calm general. “I am his mate and if he was truly what you tell me everyone in Night is then he would have snapped your neck for stepping between us. You know what it is to get between a male and his mate.”

“I’d still be more than happy to snap his neck,” Cassian growled, then turned his gaze, softer, up to Nesta, “I just got the impression you would not be happy with such an action.”

“I would not,” Nesta rolled her eyes. She turned back to Eris. “You have to trust me.”

The High Lord nodded. Flames still simmered in his gaze, but he raised his hands and nodded.

“I will not leave Autumn.” Nesta turned back to her mate, “You heard me say that when you walked in.”

He grimaced, casting a feral glare at Eris, but gave a shallow nod. “I will not leave Night.”

“Perhaps this is doomed, then.”

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Nesta Archeron.” Cassian grinned, taking several steps towards her.

Nesta’s breath caught somewhere near the top of her throat as he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear.

“You can winnow, I presume?” She nodded. “And these can come in handy,” he grinned wildly as he let his massive wings unfurl to their full size.

“What’s it like?” She asked on an uncharacteristically awed whisper, “Flying.”

Cassian’s grin widened, hands moving to settle on her waist, “Would you like me to show you, Nes?”

“No,” Eris’ disgruntled voice sounded behind them. “She would not.”

Nesta turned around to face her High Lord, displeasure written across her face. “We have a meeting,” he reminded her. Reminded them both.

“Another time, then.” Cassian bowed his head.

Nesta nodded her acceptance, “Another time.”

[unhealthyfanobsession]

If you're still taking requests, the Archeron sisters are born fae and Nesta is a high ranking member of High Lords Eris council when she meets Cassian, a sworn enemy, and the mating bond snaps in place

Oh this one really sparked creative joy …

(Pt 1)

“Who is that?” Nesta felt him long before he entered the room. Felt the air in the Day palace shift, felt a rush of sandalwood and aged pine waft over her senses. But she managed to wait until the male actually entered the room to inquire.

It was the first time the Night Court had deigned to attend a High Lord’s meeting in Nesta’s researched memory. Which was which was different from her own, relatively short memory, being only 91. Nesta’s researched memory spanned the entire history of Prythian. A carefully patched together collection of textbook chapters and stories from every High Lord she could get to drink a little too much honey wine. Which was every High Lord. Except for Eris, who she didn’t need to trick, and Rhysand, who she had never met.

Rhysand was a recluse. The Night Court it’s own beast entirely. Many said only evil existed there, but Nesta knew that wasn’t true. She knew that because while Eris went tight jawed whenever the topic came up, Helion’s eyes always slid into molten gold as he spoke of the Inner Circle of Night. Helion was a lot of things, but he didn’t want to fuck evil bastards. Well, other than her at times, Nesta smirked to herself.

“Absolutely not,” Eris shook his head. Readjusted the circlet on his brow and steered her away from the giant of a male whose gaze had settled quite determinedly on her. “I know you love to take a random delegate to bed for the week at such events, Nesta, and as much as it bruises my ego, I know that you are not a female to be tamed,” Nesta rolled her eyes at his dramatics. She just hoped he wasn’t about to propose again. Third in command of Autumn was a job she had fought and scraped and, quite literally, killed for. Lady of Autumn was a job she would kill to avoid. “But not him.”

“Not him?” Nesta turned her gaze back to Eris, “or not anyone from Night?”

Eris grinned, “Oh my sweet I would never be so cruel. If you drag that shadow singer into your bed I will raise a toast in your honour.”

Nesta smirked at the challenge.

“You never answered my question. Who is he?”

Eris sighed. Deeply. “Cassian. General of the Night Court.” Nesta raised her eyebrows, “Don’t look so impressed, sweet, I’m not used to the expression on your face. Throws off my delicate equilibrium.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, “I’ve just heard Night is quite the cacophony of forces blended into one. Must be difficult to manage them all.”

“Not for the right male.” Nesta didn’t look away from Eris as the voice flooded every sense in her body, starting on her right side. She only let out a heaving, exasperated breath. Great, another overpuffed, egotistical-

Breath caught hard in Nesta’s throat the second she turned to find herself face to face with the male. A spike lodged against her windpipe.

“You,” he breathed.” Smirk falling from his face. The clear desire for conquest that had been present only a second ago eddied completely and he raised a single, reverent, hand.

Nesta moved backwards to avoid physical contact. “Well,” she looked back up at her High Lord, “this is going to be a problem.”

————

“I’m not leaving her here.” Cassian slammed his hand on the table that he, Rhys, and Az sat at. Their own private wing in Helion’s palace had never felt too small before, but now…

“No,” Rhys said dryly, “obviously she would not stay in Day.”

“I’m not letting her go back to Autumn!” Cassian growled, in no mood for Rhys’ pedantic word play today. “No way in hells. I’m not letting-“

“This is not some random Autumn court citizen,” Rhys seethed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “She’s not a victim or a prisoner to be liberated, she’s,” Rhys sighed, “she’s his third in command for Cauldron’s sake!”

“Eris is very determined to make her second in command,” Azriel said carefully. A shadow curling around his ear, whispering all of Autumn’s secrets.

“She doesn’t look like a general.” General was not the second position in Night, but it was in most of the other courts. Including Autumn, by Cassian’s recollection. Second in command was a big burly male named-

“Let me rephrase.” Azriel levelled Cassian with a blank stare. “Eris has offered the female a position that does not usually come with power, but promised it would make her second in command. To entice her to accept.”

Cassian went still. Rhys swore under his breath. “Right.” Cassian cracked his neck to the side, “I’m going to murder him.”

“Cass!” Rhys’ voice was more exhausted than it was authoritative. “There are so many reasons you can’t murder Eris. As you well know.”

“If he doesn’t give me my mate-”

“Listen to yourself,” Rhys shook his head. “You sound like everything you hate about Eris. Give her to you? She is not a new sword, she’s a person, Cass.”

“She. Is. Mine.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. Rhys cocked his head to the side. They didn’t know what to do with this version of Cassian. It wasn’t him. Really, it wasn’t. He believed that females had a right to choose. He would never force a mating bond. It was wrong and horrible and…

She was his.

He was hers.

She was his.

He was hers.

That was all he could think. Every rational thought in his mind was wiped clean by that pulsing, vibrating set of truths inside of his brain.

He commanded armies but was no longer in control of his own body. His body, he suddenly realized, had never been his own. It was never created for his own protection or pleasure. It was for hers.

He existed because of her.

And now people, his own brothers, were trying to tell him that he wasn’t allowed to find her. The reason for his existence.

“If you try to make me leave this court without her I will level your entir-“

“Let’s just talk, before we make threats we don’t mean.” Azriel broke in amicably.

“Oh, I mean it.”

“I am not trying to deny you your mate, brother.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’m just being practical.”

Easy to say when your heart wasn’t crashing a tidal wave against your chest and your mind wasn’t completely clouded with-

The door opened. “Easy, general,” Helion grinned. “Only me.” Cassian snarled, unimpressed. “Well then, I was expecting some tension, but this - he’s usually the reasonable one.”

“Liar,” Rhys scoffed. “You will have to forgive my brother. I’m considering sending him home until he regains control of his mental faculties.” Cassian did not appreciate the joke and growled yet again, lower and deeper in his throat.

“Poor Nesta,” Helion sighed. Cassian went still. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t even know her name yet. She and Eris certainly did rush off quickly.”

“Nesta,” Cassian whispered, the name a prayer on his lips.

“Yes, Nesta. Brilliant female, proud. Beautiful, obviously. Cold, but in a calculated sort of way. Brilliant really is the word. Makes me consider this whole equal match thing the cauldron claims.”

“Where is she?” Cassian took three quick steps forward, stopping just short of fisting his hands in Helion’s tunic.

“Not back in the Autumn Court yet, thanks to me.” The High Lord of Day looked down on him. “But I won’t let you see her until you get it together.”

————

“Let’s just go home, Eris.” Nesta sighed, turning to look out the wall of windows in their private rooms. Helion did always give them a particularly nice suite.

“This isn’t a delegate who got a little too attached over the course of a week, Nesta.” Eris shook his head, “You can’t run away from this. You have to talk to him. He will find you if you don’t. He’ll … you don’t know what the General of Night is capable of.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, “So enlighten me.”

“They call him the Lord of Bloodshed,” Eris sighed, moving to sit next to her. Eyes trained seriously on her face. “500 years ago, during the human war, he was nothing but a grunt and he tore through entire legions on his own.”

“Which side?” Eris rose an eyebrow. “Which side did he fight on? In the human war?”

Eris lowering his head into his hands was answer enough. Nesta was obsessed with the human war, slightly obsessed with humans in general, if she was being honest. It always seemed so unfair how they had been treated. And even now … Nesta knew that humans suffered below the wall. She had seen it first hand.

If her mate fought on the other side that would be an easy solution. This, however, her mate being a hero of humanity … that made perfect sense. And Eris hated it.

Nesta even hated it, if she was being honest. She wasn’t prepared for a mate yet.

“He wants to meet you.” Helion’s voice sounded through the room.

“Over my dead body,” Eris growled.

“I’m sure Cassian would be happy to arrange that.”

Nesta looked up at Helion, confused. There was something these males weren’t telling her.

“He doesn’t deserve to meet her,” Eris waved a hand through the air. “He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.”

“I think,” Nesta said carefully, “that is my decision to make.” Eris turned to her quickly, a sigh on his lips. He knew better than to argue.

“You do not know the Night Court, Nesta. They will steal you away given half the chance. Rhysand is a bastard, but he is fiercely loyal to his inner circle. If he believes you belong to his General, he will not hesitate to force you to Night.”

Helion shuffled a little on his feet, but made no comment. Nesta looked up at him, “You know Night better than anyone else.” They never would have agreed to join this meeting if it wasn’t hosted at Helion’s palace. They trusted him, as much as Night trusted anyone. “Would they do that?”

“Yes,” Helion said without blinking. “They would, but they will not. I have spoken to the General already. He only wishes to speak with you alone.”

“That is a trick and you know it,” Eris seethed.

“Not in my Territory it isn’t.” Helion stood up straighter, shoulders pressed back. “They know the consequences of breaking my decree. Nesta is under my protection and that will be respected.”

“Nesta is under my protection,” Eris spat. Then, when Nesta glared at him, he added,“She is part of my council, after all.”

“I would like to meet him.” Nesta nodded to Helion. Then turned back to Eris, “If Night is as you say it is then I will learn quickly what this male is made of and we can move on forever.”

“And if he pretends to be things he is not?”

“You will have to trust me, Eris.” Nesta nodded once, “Trust my judgement. It told me to trust you.”

Eris sighed, but nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

[hoodwinkd1]

I’ve never started reading a story so quickly

[hoodwinkd1]

SOMEONE HELP I tried to sign up for a fan artist’s patreon account where she had drawn a FeysandxCassianxAzriel foursome, a Quinthalar shower scene, and some other NSFW art, but it didn’t go through and I can’t find her account now?? It might’ve been emily something and she was blonde?? HELP.

[hoodwinkd1]

no spoilers but the SCREAM I just let out at the ending of HOSAB I physically can’t breathe.

[hoodwinkd1]

NO BECAUSE DAYLIGHT? Nessian.

my love was as cruel as the cities I lived, everyone looked worse in the light - Nesta in her hoe phase <\3

there are so many lines I’ve crossed unforgiven - smells like sisterly angst !

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now I see daylight - 20 years as a human, starving herself and pushing everyone away

luck of the draw only draws the unlucky, and so I became the butt of the joke - the IC always treated her like a joke!!! ugh!!!

maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down - be honest taylor, this is literally about Illyria

maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town - we love a dramatic queen

I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden - UMM HOW DID SJM DESCRIBE THE SOLSTICE SCENE? yes that’s right✨✨

[emiliamildner]

Lysandra from Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

[hoodwinkd1]

the six of crows urge to make out with your coworkers

[hoodwinkd1]

Afterglow is really Nessian’s song HUH

I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue, put you in jail for something you didn’t do - Nesta hated all things Fae after the Cauldron

I pinned your hands behind your back, oh, thought I had reason to attack, but no - Cassian rly had to come at her every time she BREATHED.

hey, it's all me, in my head, I'm the one who burned us down - silver flames and nightmares say heyyy

just don't go, meet me in the afterglow - something about this line screams “I’ll find you in the next life”

I lived like an island, punished you with silence - literally she punished him with silence. also by fuc— nvm.

tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine - it’s giving mating bond <3

tell me that it's not my fault, tell me that I'm all you want, even when I break your heart - we all know Nesta is shit at hiding how much she wants him EVEN when she’s mad as hell

I need to say, hey, it's all me, just don't go, meet me in the afterglow - one more time for good measure: I WILL FIND YOU IN THE NEXT WORLD, IN THE NEXT LIFE !!!!! AND WE WILL HAVE THAT TIME !!!!!

thanks for listening to my ACOTAR x Taylor rants

[hoodwinkd1]

Broke: I hated ACOSF bc I don’t like Nesta

Woke: I liked ACOSF bc I like Nesta

Bespoke: I hated ACOSF bc I love Nesta

[duskandstarlight]

"Nesta, if you didn't want to go on a date with me you should've said! Instead you played with me and came up with a shit excuse-"

*door opens and puffy eyed Nesta appears*

"Shit, your goldfish really did die?"

Notes: A big thanks to all of you who sent in prompts over the past few weeks! This is the first one I've answered and it's my first time writing Nessian modern AU, so be kind! Saying that, this was so much fun to write and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love writing this. I've had major writer's block for Embers & Light recently, and this has helped to get me out of my writing funk.

Please let me know if you enjoy it--can't wait to hear what you think! And big thanks to @noirshadow for being my very patient and thorough beta...

Oh... and for anyone who doesn't know what a Goujon is, it's a fancy fish finger/fish stick.

A Golden Opportunity

For months Cassian had been waiting for the chance to take Nesta Archeron on a date. No, strike that, Cassian wouldn’t lie to himself. He’d been waiting for years, Mother damn it.

From the moment Cassian had first laid eyes on Nesta he’d known that there would be no-one else. Cassian couldn’t explain it, but he’d just known with a rattling clarity that startled him awake. There would be no more raucous lifestyle where he bedded anything that moved. There would be no half-assed dates that were clearly going nowhere or late-night hook-ups.

There was only one goal: to get Nesta to agree to go on a date with him and pray to the Forces that Be that she’d fall in love with him, too.

It was at Feyre’s birthday party that their paths had first crossed. The youngest Archeron sister had just started dating Rhys, and Rhys had dragged Cassian and Azriel along to the event, keen for his brothers to meet the one person that made him light up.

Cassian had been a begrudging attendee. It had nothing to do with Feyre, who Cassian instantly adored, but due to a raging hangover, which had been a byproduct of Mor persuading him to go dancing after too many beers. The last thing Cassian had wanted to do was roll off the couch, shit, shave and put on some clothes that didn’t identify as yesterday’s boxers.

But he’d done it for Rhys as a brotherly gesture. And given that was where Cassian had noticed Nesta, there had been no hard feelings.

It was her voice that Cassian had heard initially—fierce and white-hot with rage. It had broken through a dip in the music, pulling Cassian’s attention from the bodies gyrating in the living room and back to the kitchen.

Across the room, past the island that was being used as a makeshift beer pong table, was a female with storm-blue eyes and the sinister expression of a queen who knew her worth. She was glaring up at a hulking brute of a male, her chin tilted up stubbornly, her spine steel. Behind her—shielded by Nesta’s body and someone that Cassian later learnt was Emerie—was a startled-looking red-haired girl with teal blue eyes.

Cassian had shifted upright from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen counter, ready to plough right over there and snarl at the guy to back off. But he needn’t have bothered. The guy had recoiled from whatever verbal whiplash Nesta had dished up and retreated with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

The impressed flare in Cassian’s eyes caught Rhys’s attention.

His brother stopped talking to Feyre to raise a dark eyebrow at him. “You look as if you’ve just spotted your next meal.”

Cassian gestured with his lukewarm beer towards Nesta. Unfathomable rage warred in her eyes as she watched the male slink off into the living room. “Who’s that?”

Turning, Feyre followed Cassian’s line of gaze.

When she noticed who Cassian meant, her lips parted in surprise. “That’s my sister, Nesta. She came with her friends, Gwyn and Emerie.”

As soon as Feyre mentioned they were related, Cassian could see it. They had the same honey brown hair and light dusting of freckles across the nose. But whilst Feyre was willowy and graceful, Nesta was full of lethal curves and, from what Cassian had seen, a no-shit attitude that had fired up every nerve ending and channelled all of his blood to one specific area.

She was the forbidden fruit that guys wanted to take a bite out of but were too scared to approach. But not Cassian. If anything, the fire he’d seen warring her in her eyes had kindled something similar in his own.

His brothers had always joked that Cassian was rough-hewn—carved from the elements, wild and untameable. He’d never wanted someone who’d break him in and cage him in.

Nesta Archeron was, without a doubt, the most bewitching female Cassian had ever seen and he needed to know her.

Somehow, he knew that together they’d be an unfathomable force—wild and wonderful. Beautiful and brutal.

“Introduce me.”

Feyre had blinked. “You want to introduce yourself to Nesta?”

Without a beat of hesitation, Cassian dipped his chin. The surprise in Feyre’s voice had heated Cassian’s blood and made his determination steely. “You’re damn right I do. She just cut down a guy twice her height.”

Feyre cocked her head at him and Cassian got the distinct impression that she could hear every thought tumbling through his head.

“She has a boyfriend,” Feyre replied after a stretched out pause. But Cassian caught the way her nose wrinkled in disgust.

That was enough to tell Cassian that whoever this guy was, Feyre didn’t think much of him.

“Introduce me,” Cassian insisted, even as disappointment had lain like lead across his gut. It had been a long time since he’d met who he deemed to be a worthy opponent.

Feyre had eyed Cassian for a moment too long.

Cassian held up his hands to press his innocence.

“No funny business, I promise,” he vowed. “Just let me say hello.”

To say Cassian hadn’t been enamoured with the following verbal spar would have been a lie. Because he was utterly and irrevocably head-over-heels.

So, he played the long game—aloof Cassian with the wolfish grin and the casual flirting that brought out that indignant, blazing side of Nesta. All the while, Cassian’s heart would beat at triple speed, his pulse hammering hard enough against the skin of his throat that he lived in terror that Nesta would clock it.

And Cassian waited. Waited until Nesta finally saw fit to fling her ass-of-a-boyfriend to the curb. Watched as Nesta flung up an impenetrable guard around herself, rejecting every suitor that came her way—including him.

Cassian knew Tomas had wounded Nesta so deeply that it would be miracle if she dared to trust herself with anyone ever again.

But if she did… Cassian was determined that it would be him.

The first time Cassian had finally bit the bullet and asked her out, Nesta’s flat out no would have sent an ordinary guy reeling. But Cassian wasn’t an ordinary guy and Nesta’s knife-edged tongue failed to wound him.

“You’re missing out, Nes,” he’d told her with a flash of his teeth. “I’m a wild ride.”

The dangerous gleam in Nesta’s eyes had screamed at Cassian to leave the country and go into hiding. But he hadn’t. He’d just winked at her before he’d left the room. When he returned and handed her the steaming mug of tea she’d been desperate for ever since she’d arrived at Feyre and Rhys’s, Nesta had stared at Cassian for so long, he’d thought he’d cracked her.

But he hadn’t.

So, the propositions continued. Alone in the kitchen at the family’s weekly Sunday brunch. During a slow dance at Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. Bumping into one another at the grocery store. At the launch of her first novel. At an event for her second novel. At Thanksgiving.

And so it continued—until three years later, when Cassian happened to bump into Nesta at a bookshop tucked back from one of the main shopping streets in Velaris.

Nesta had startled. Actually, that was a kind description: she’d jumped out of her skin. Then, her guard had slammed up so fast that Cassian had practically heard the shriek of metal as she threw up her iron-clad wall.

“Did you follow me here?” she accused sharply, and Cassian’s heart squeezed painfully.

Cassian had long suspected that Tomas had not taken his and Nesta’s break up well, but he’d not known quite how badly until Nesta had asked him to walk her home after Elain’s birthday.

Even now, Cassian could remember the silhouette of the prick as he’d sunk out of the shadows and into the pooled light of a lamppost outside of Nesta’s apartment. The sound of Nesta’s sharp inhale, her thin breath, the way she’d grappled blindly for Cassian’s hand without once taking her eyes off of Tomas.

After that, Cassian had catalogued the way in which Nesta would jump at the smallest of things. Her sisters didn’t know, but Emerie had taken it upon herself to tell Cassian that Nesta had eventually summoned the courage to file a restraining order.

Cassian hoped Nesta had felt freer afterwards, but seeing her so thrown by his presence brought a lump to his throat.

Even so, Cassian caught his emotions before they bled into his expression. “It might come as a surprise to you, Archeron, but I actually read.”

The tension spooled out of Nesta’s shoulders at Cassian’s playful drawl. When she spied the book in Cassian’s hand, guilt glimmered behind her eyes.

But Nesta didn’t apologise. She only nodded to the book in Cassian’s hands. “That’s a good one.”

A lopsided smile tugged at one side of Cassian’s mouth at Nesta’s sudden ease. Cassian supposed a bookshop was in her natural habitat. “Yeh?”

“Yes,” Nesta nodded, before a hand darted past his arm to pull another book off the shelf. A rush of vanilla and jasmine washed over Cassian as Nesta placed the book atop of the one he held in his hands. “This one’s better.”

Cassian’s smile widened into something full and true. “Oh?” “Trust me,” Nesta had told him with a raised eyebrow that dared him to question her judgement.

So, Cassian vowed instead, “I’ll let you know what I think.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Nesta dipped her chin. “Do.”

There was a beat of silence where Cassian drank in Nesta’s appearance. Tiredness was smudged beneath her eyes and wisps of hair had come free from the plait that wound around the back of her head. The rest of her honey brown hair hung loose down her back. It was a style Cassian had seen on Nesta a rare few times but it was one of his favourites.

It took effort to speak through the constriction in Cassian’s throat, but he feigned casual as he leant against one of the tall oak bookcases. “How’ve you been?”

Cassian hadn’t seen Nesta for a few months. Whenever he dared to ask Feyre why Nesta hadn’t shown up at Sunday brunch, Feyre had only supplied that Nesta was caught in writing deadlines and was chained to her laptop.

Nesta shrugged. “Tired.” Then after a pause she elaborated, “The second draft of my book is due next week.”

Cassian nodded. “Feyre said. How’s it going?”

Brief surprise darted across Nesta’s expression and the sight made it feel as if an iron band had clamped around Cassian’s chest.

Nesta rarely expected anyone to ask after her.

Nesta loosed a slow breath. “Surprisingly well. But I’m having such a good run, I’m scared to stop.” She wrinkled her nose and arrows formed at the base of her nose. “I’m only here because Gwyn and Emerie threatened to steal my laptop if I didn’t meet them for coffee. They said I need to get out more. ”

And because Cassian couldn’t help but seize upon the moment, he took a daring tongue-in-cheek leap. “I couldn’t agree more. See me next week? Wednesday?”

There was a huff of breath that sounded an awful lot like a snort, but Nesta’s voice was free of disdain. “I should have seen that coming.”

“You should have,” Cassian agreed. Then, he cocked his head, trying to get a read on her. “Is that a yes?”

There was a pause in which Cassian waited with baited breath. Usually the rejections came swift and brutal, but today, the question lingered in the air between them.

Nesta’s eyes dragged from his to the bookshelf—to the coloured spines stacked neatly in rows. But Cassian could tell she wasn’t actually seeing them. Rather, she was stuck in her own head—probably contemplating why she couldn’t agree to go on a date with him.

Eventually, Nesta said, “My deadline is Thursday.”

Cassian’s hands shook as hope speared through him. She hadn’t sent him packing. He’d never got this far before.

Somehow Cassian managed to steady his voice. He allowed a slow, cheeky grin to spread across his face. For his eyes to glint in triumph. “Friday evening it is then, witch. We can celebrate.”

The familiar way in which Nesta rolled her eyes made Cassian’s chest tighten even further, but the nerves buzzing inside of him took precedence. Because this was when Nesta shot him down. He’d gotten further than he ever had before, and that was progress.

Baby steps, he reminded himself, as those nerves clamoured and roared.

Yet… Cassian’s heart hammered with anticipation—with desperate hope.

Suspense stretched out between them, taut and brittle, ready to snap into disappointment.

And just when Cassian couldn’t handle the wait any longer, Nesta clipped, “Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late.”

That was how they’d left things—with Cassian equal parts gobsmacked and overjoyed—as he’d watched Nesta slip out of the bookshop and into the bracing wintry cold to meet her friends.

All week Cassian had planned the perfect low-key date that wouldn’t have Nesta running for the hills. All week he’d contemplated what to wear and what to say when he picked her up.

Cassian was so consumed with it all that both Rhys and Azriel had asked him what was wrong.

But nothing was wrong—everything was finally gloriously right—until Nesta cancelled on him five minutes after he’d left to pick her up.

And Cassian hadn’t received an apologetic call but a fucking text.

i cant make tonight. my goldfish died.

That had been all Cassian had received—all he’d been worthy of. No apology. No proposed date to rearrange. Just a lame excuse about a fucking goldfish and a missing apostrophe that Cassian thought was piss-poor given Nesta wrote books for a living.

Cassian saw red. He didn’t turn back home, he just kept walking.

By some miracle, someone was leaving Nesta’s building as he drew up outside so he could slip inside without ringing the buzzer. And then Cassian was climbing the stairs two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator, until he was outside Nesta’s apartment, his chest heaving, her rejection a poisonous thorn in his side.

The impact of Cassian’s fist on the door was bone-splintering but he barely noticed.

For a moment, the pound of his knock echoed around the empty corridor was the only sound. Then, Cassian heard the sharp clip of heels against the hardwood floor. The clack of the chain being pulled back. The turn of a lock.

When the door opened, the Nesta Cassian saw was not what he was expecting. He’d expected a similar version of the Nesta he’d first caught sight of at that party; brimming with a fierce sort of rage that took form in the sort of deathly calm that had people running in the opposite direction.

Instead, Nesta looked dishevelled and frayed, as if she was about to unspool. But in that split second, Cassian didn’t register any of that. He only drank her in—the heeled black sandals, the tight leather leggings that hugged to her like a second skin, the red satin cami top and her hair…

Nesta’s hair was down.

Cassian would have passed out then and there if his gaze hadn’t snagged on the broken fish tank and the collapsed side table. Water was pooled across the hardwood floor and there was a flash of orange against the ingrain of the wood that Cassian was certain was a very dead fish.

Unable to filter the thoughts tumbling out of his mouth, Cassian swore. “Shit, your fish really did die.”

Nesta’s brow dipped into a frown. But rather than shut the door in his face, she opened the door so he could see the full scope mess behind her.

Indignation swept across her irises, like a cloud passing over the sun on a crisp breeze. “If I didn’t want to go on a date with you, I’d have told you no last week. I’ve done it before.”

Cassian opened his mouth. Shut it again. Because all of that was true. And Nesta had never been the sort of person to beat around the bush.

An apology bubbled up his throat, but then his attention was pulled back to the water swimming on the floor. There was so much of it. How big had the tank been? Twenty litres? More?

“Let me in,” he ordered.

Defiance coiled Nesta’s expression into something tight. “No.”

Because Cassian couldn’t help himself, he reached out to touch her arm. It was ice cold and covered in goosebumps. “Let me help you clear up, sweetheart.”

“I—” Nesta started, as if she was about to protest. But then, as if realising that she could use the help, she opened the door wide. Stepped back. “I’m worried the water is going to leak into the flat below. I thought you were the neighbour coming to yell at me.”

“Got it,” Cassian told her, hanging up his leather jacket on the hook behind the door.

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt black shirt, Cassian cast a look at the ridiculous stretch of water before him. It had traversed the small hallway and had started to seep into the living room carpet. The sodden towels Nesta had hastily bunched up as a barrier had clearly only been able to hold the water for so long.

“Have you got anything else to soak up the water?”

“Bed sheets?” Nesta conceded with a sigh as if she’d hoped it wouldn’t get to that point. “I’ll go get them.”

Together, they mopped up the water, ringing it into a bucket which Cassian plucked up and tipped down the kitchen sink whenever it got too full. Thankfully, the fish tank had broken neatly so there weren’t shards of glass everywhere, but Cassian lifted it to the side and dismantled the broken table.

When they’d finished, Nesta slid her back down the wall until she was seated on the now-dry floor. Cassian tracked the way she dragged her fingers through the lengths of her tousled hair, holding it back from her face.

She let out a noise of indignation when she noticed the dead goldfish was still on the floor.

Quickly, Cassian bent over to pick it up before he joined her. He cradled the fish in his open palms. It felt slippery and lifeless.

“What’s this fella’s name?”

“Goujon.”

Cassian’s jaw briefly dropped in surprise and then he barked a delighted laugh. “Nesta Archeron, you are wicked.”

A sly, predatory smile crept across Nesta’s mouth and Cassian could have sworn he’d never seen anything quite so alluring. A fist curled over in his lower gut, everything tightening in a way that was pleasant and forbidden.

“Gwyn said I was evil.”

Cassian grinned through the desire coiling inside of him. “Evil, yes. Hilarious, absolutely. I take it you don’t actually want to eat this little guy, though?”

Nesta screwed up her nose. “Of course not. I think Goujon is destined for a matchbox burial.”

Jerking his chin to the kitchenette, Cassian asked, “The other goldfish are ok?”

Nesta nodded and rested her elbows on her leather-clad knees. “They’ll be fine until tomorrow. I’ll need to get a new tank. That spare one is too small.”

Silence fell, the hush similar to a fresh layer of snow as it blanketed a landscape. In the quiet, Cassian took a moment to study Nesta. To track the elegant line of her jaw, the delicate but stubborn point of her chin. The outline of her nose, which turned up ever so slightly at the end—a perfect, elegant ski slope.

In the spotlight of the hallway, Nesta’s eyes had lightened to a stunning glacial blue.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

Nesta blinked—actually blinked—as if nobody had told her that before. It made Cassian wonder how quickly he could hunt down Tomas and punch him in the face.

A soft snort sounded. “I’m covered in water.”

Cassian’s answer came swift and steady—his voice firm. “Doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”

In fact, Cassian thought it made Nesta even more alluring. He couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was that she looked less guarded with her hair down—as if by taking the pins out of her hair she’d unveiled her mask and let him see all of her.

Slowly, Nesta tilted her head back until it was resting against the wall. Suddenly, she looked very tired and Cassian wondered how many hours of sleep she’d sacrificed to meet her book deadline.

“I’m sorry about the text.”

And Cassian believed her. From the moment she’d answered her door looking like prey rather than an apex predator, his anger had swept away into concern. He’d forgotten the cancelled date and the hastily sent text. Hadn’t cared, really—his focus solely on wiping the panic from her expression.

Getting to his feet, Cassian held out a hand to Nesta. He waited for her to refuse his help, but she didn’t.

Her slim fingers were cool as they slid over the callouses on his palm.

Their eyes snared one another at the contact. It felt like a lock clicking into place—this sensation of something wholly right.

Cassian fought the urge to swallow. To glance at her lips as she looked up at him. They were painted a deep ruby that made his body groan with longing.

Briefly, Cassian wondered what it would feel like to cage Nesta’s body with his. To press his body so it was covering hers, his warmth seeping into her cold skin until she was flush with it. Would she gasp into his mouth if he slanted his mouth on hers? Would she moan when he touched her?

Banishing the salacious thoughts from his mind, Cassian tried to ignore the sudden crackling energy that zipped between them.

Cassian knew Nesta felt it too, because her eyes widened slightly.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. You should get in the shower and put on some dry clothes.”

There was a beat of hesitation. Cassian tracked the way Nesta’s lips parted, closed and then opened again. “I—You’re leaving?”

The eyes which had ensnared his so completely dragged away to scan his body.

Miraculously, Cassian had managed to stay dry, but Nesta hadn’t fared so well. And her apartment was cold—out of choice or because Nesta had been heading out to meet him, Cassian wasn’t sure.

The scar-slashed eyebrow Cassian raised at her was one he adopted in the sparring ring when his clients tried to test him. “If I could see your lips I’d bet they’d be blue. Go shower—I’ll wait.”

A sudden fierceness rippled over Nesta’s face. If the gesture had an accompanying sound, it would have been the rasp of a blade as it was drawn from its sheath. “This isn’t an invitation— ”

Cassian interrupted before she could finish her sentence. “I know, Nesta.”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “So, you didn’t consider joining me in the shower?”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Liar,” Nesta accused.

Cassian simply shrugged, because he hadn’t. He might have let his mind conjure the thought of her in the shower alone, but he certainly wasn’t in it.

Nesta was not a one-night thing. She was not some hook-up to tick off his too-long list. She was his forever.

He’d always intended to take things slow, which was a damn good thing given how skittish Nesta could be.

“Go,” Cassian ordered. “I’ll rustle up some ingredients for dinner.”

For a moment, Nesta hesitated. Cassian could see the wildness of her thoughts, but he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand reached up, her fingers curling around his wrist. Her fingers were icy, yet her touch sent sparks of warmth through him.

“Let me feed you, Nesta. Don’t pretend you’re not hungry.”

There must have been something in Cassian’s steady expression—in his lopsided smile—that calmed Nesta, because the tension seeped out of her a little.

The desire to press a kiss to Nesta’s knuckles was overwhelming, but he didn’t. Instead, Cassian let his hand fall away. Nesta’s hand loosened its grip but she didn’t let go entirely. Her palms slid over the backs of his hands, her fingers grazing over his skin, before she seemed to realise what she had done—that she hadn’t let go.

Nerve endings screaming at the loss, Cassian watched Nesta step neatly back—invoking a distance between them that felt like miles.

But Cassian caught the way her breath hitched.

Beneath the shadow of Nesta’s jaw, her pulse fluttered and a faint flush surfaced on her cheeks.

But she didn’t look away.

“Ok,” Nesta relented eventually with a curt nod that belied her anxieties.

Cassian didn’t know that one simple word could bring such joy.

***

By the time Nesta had showered and changed into clean clothes, Cassian had nearly finished cooking dinner.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down before,” Cassian commented conversationally as Nesta hovered.

She was wearing some soft looking leggings and an oversized jumper, the fabric of which she fisted at the sleeves, as if the sight of Cassian cooking in her kitchen had launched her out of her comfort zone. Her face was free of make up, her hair dry and fluffy as it waved down her back.

She looked informal in a way Cassian had never witnessed before, and his chest constricted at the understanding that she’d allowed him to see her like this. She could have just as easily thrown on some jeans and braided her hair. But she hadn’t. She’d chosen to appear this way to him.

Tucking away that piece of knowledge, Cassian glanced sideways at Nesta as he drained some pasta into the colander he’d set at the foot of the sink.

When his remark fell into silence, he cast a look over his shoulder at her.

The moment their eyes locked, Nesta lifted her chin in challenge. “I only wear my hair down around the house. It gets in the way otherwise.”

Setting down the saucepan, Cassian poured hot water from the kettle over the pasta, rinsing off the starch.

“Probably for the best,” he remarked off-handedly.

Arrows formed at the base of Nesta’s nose as she frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The suitors would be flocking in droves, sweetheart,” Cassian told her. He left the pasta to drain and turned to her, leaning back against the sink. He cocked his head. “Now, shall we toast Goujon’s untimely death and your passing deadline with wine or tea?”

A sigh escaped Nesta, and with it, the unease that had been tightening her posture—as if his question brought her pleasure. “Tea then wine.”

The sound had Cassian’s gut twisting and flipping, but he let a chuckle slip out of him. “Thought so. Breakfast with oat, right? One sugar.”

He grabbed the tea he’d made just before she’d joined him and pressed it into her hands.

Steam danced upwards and over Nesta’s startled expression. “Thank you.”

And because Cassian knew that Nesta would run for the hills if he insisted they ate a formal dinner at the table, he nodded in the direction of the living room. “Want to eat on the couch? I’m just about to plate up.”

Together, they set themselves up on the couch, balancing bowls on their lap, their mugs and glasses of wine on the wooden coffee table.

To Cassian’s surprise, Nesta didn’t curl up as far away from him as possible. Instead, she sat close enough that the warmth of her ghosted against him, shivering up his arm—tiny threads of awareness that pulled deliciously at him.

Nesta didn’t look up much—focussing mainly on her food—but she parried and struck with him, falling into the familiar beat of their verbal sparring. And as they ate it transformed into something gentler—less manicured—paving the way for a conversation that was softer and more engaged.

When Cassian had first met Nesta, he’d always envisaged that he'd have to work for her attention—for her to be interested in him, but it turned out he was wrong. Underneath Nesta’s iron-clad guard was a catalogue of information that she tucked away about everyone she’d ever met. She remembered things about people, even if she was only open with that information with those she was close to.

“How’s work?” Nesta asked, demonstrating Cassian’s observation as she placed down her empty bowl and picked up her wine glass. “Are you still managing to teach?”

The small start-up gym that Cassian had set up a few years ago had expanded to three locations across the city, with plans to set up two more in Sangravah in the next year. But Cassian had always loved the teaching side more than the running of the business itself.

“Good,” Cassian confirmed, as he, too, replaced the bowl in his hand for his glass of white. “I still teach a set of self-defence classes over the week. I got kicked in the balls by a six-year old girl yesterday, so the incentive to keep my classes going is really strong at the moment.”

For the first time, Nesta’s head snapped up. Dark amusement sparked to life behind her eyes. They were a mirror to his, albeit less mischievous and more devilish. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”

Cassian laughed. “I was wheezing and bent double for a good few minutes. Az had to explain to her why she shouldn’t do that in practice, but she sure as hell could do it in a real fight.”

A smile tugged at Nesta’s mouth. “Sounds like good advice.”

“We’ve just started running adult classes if you ever want to hone that vicious streak of yours into something more physical. You should bring Gwyn and Emerie—the three of you could wreak havoc.”

A huffed laugh slipped out of Nesta, a noise escaping from the back of her throat. Cassian’s heart near stopped beating. He’d never made her laugh before. He’d earned shadowed smiles here and there, but a laugh… Her mouth had even spread into a smile, her lips curling at the edges like a falling, autumn leaf.

“Gwyn’s very competitive,” Nesta explained at Cassian’s silence, and Cassian quickly rearranged his expression before Nesta turned to look at him and saw him blinking at her like a lovestruck fool.

Nesta’s eyes were still smiling, the light in them blindingly stunning and Cassian wanted to kiss her so badly his body ached.

“And you’re not?” Cassian managed to ask, his voice streaked with a rasp.

“I thought we’d established that I’m vicious.”

“With your words, yes,” Cassian agreed, leaning back into the sofa cushions with a grin and tilting his body towards hers. He wanted to say that she should learn to protect herself—that she could stop anyone like Tomas hurting her again if she’d just let him show her.

But he didn’t push it.

Instead, he asked, “What about Emerie?”

Nesta looked thoughtful for a moment. And then she said, “She’s not one to be underestimated.”

Cassian nodded. When he reached out to collect the empty dishes, Nesta’s hand darted out to stop him. Her fingers were a startling touch against his skin.

But Nesta didn’t pull away immediately, as if she anticipated him protesting and wanted to nip it in the bud. “Let me.”

The gentle clink of dishes and running water filtered through from the kitchen to the living room. When Nesta re-emerged in the doorway, she held up a Millionaire cheesecake and two forks. “Do you care about eating from the tin?”

Cassian balanced an ankle across his knee. “Nah.”

“Good,” Nesta replied with a nod. “Less washing up.”

Every nerve ending sparked back to life when Nesta sat back down beside him. But this time, it was because her arm brushed against his torso, her shoulder no longer a spectral presence but something real as it came to rest against him.

The comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla wound around Cassian’s body, like floating ribbons curling their satin bodies around his limbs in a caress. Drawing in a long, savouring breath, he cast a look down. His eyes immediately snared on the bare curve of her neck.

In his mind’s eye, Cassian imagined closing the distance between them—nuzzling her neck with his nose until she tipped her head back. When he traced a path with his lips to the underside of her jaw, Cassian hoped she’d moan—that he would taste it on his tongue as it vibrated up her throat.

“I’d sell my soul for this tart,” Nesta told Cassian seriously, a while after they’d tucked in.

She stabbed a fork at the dessert balanced across their knees to punctuate her point, but she needn’t have bothered. Cassian believed her. He’d never seen Nesta eat with such obvious abandon.

There was a smudge of chocolate on her lip and Cassian desperately wanted to kiss it off. Or at the least, brush the pad of his thumb over her skin to see if her eyes would widen and her breath hitch.

Instead, he watched as her tongue darted out to catch it. Cassian tried to clamp down on the desire that shot hot and sharp down his veins, barrelling to his groin. He’d had to do the same every time she’d let out a soft, contented sigh with each bite.

Shifting subtly in his seat, Cassian used the opportunity to spread his arm over the back of the couch. Nesta didn’t appear to notice as she speared some more tart onto her fork. Then another bit.

Smiling with amusement, Cassian nudged the last bit towards her. “In that case, you can have the last bite.”

Nesta bit down on her lip. “I shouldn’t.”

“You’re celebrating,” Cassian reminded her, setting down his fork to punctuate his point. “It’s not every day you defeat a book deadline.”

“I thought we were commiserating over the death of Goujon.”

“We’re doing both,” Cassian corrected. “It’s an evening of oxymorons.”

Nesta snorted—but the sound was more playful rather than derisive. “I didn’t know you knew what ‘oxymoron’ meant.”

“Very good, sweetheart,” Cassian drawled. “I’ll have you know, I’m full of surprises.”

Cassian braced himself for the next jab, but Nesta only hummed, as if she was agreeing with him.

And in that moment—in the absence of Nesta’s reply—the air seemed to shift and mould itself into something more serious.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet and hushed—as if she was parting with a secret just for him. “I really was going to go on a date with you.”

The rogue smile slid from Cassian’s face. “I know.”

Nesta twisted her neck to look up at him and, in that action, their faces suddenly seemed too close. Neither of them leant away. The rope that Cassian thought had always been strung between them—the connection that Cassian had felt the moment he first saw her—snapped taut. Tension ran down the braided rope, a vibration of anticipation that Cassian felt deep in his chest.

For a moment, Nesta’s gaze darted to his mouth, to the angular line of his jaw, before they found his hazel eyes again. Cassian wondered if Nesta knew how much he ached for her.

Nesta’s gaze was steady and in the depths of her pupils, Cassian could have sworn he saw relief. “You do?”

“I do,” Cassian nodded.

Again, Nesta looked at his mouth. A fresh flicker of desire coursed through him but he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe, because for a moment, Cassian was convinced that she wanted him to kiss her.

There was a sharp draw of breath as if Nesta realised it too. Quickly, she looked away and her expression grew hard and unyielding—a shadow inching over a path of sunlight.

“I don’t usually date.”

Gently, Cassian dared to reach out and touch her arm, bringing her back from whatever thoughts had clambered for her attention. “I know, sweetheart. I’m persistent.”

A faint smile tugged at Nesta’s mouth and Cassian wished it would blossom into something full so much his heart hurt.

Nesta worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You didn’t give up.”

“Why give up on something that could be great?” Cassian asked softly with a shrug. He coaxed the empty foil tin from her clad-iron grip.

“I should let you get to bed,” Cassian said and he hoped he hadn’t imagined the flicker of disappointment in Nesta’s irises as he began to clear up.

“Thanks for… helping,” Nesta said, gesturing to the now dry hallway and the dismantled table as she followed him into the hallway.

She hugged her arms around her body as he slipped on his coat and stepped out the door of her apartment.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Cassian leant down to brush a kiss against her cheek.

Surprised, Nesta’s hand came up to curve around his neck. But then her grip tightened as he started to pull away. For a second, they stared at one another: Nesta’s breath caressing his cheek, her irises impossibly blue.

There was an invitation in Nesta’s eyes that made Cassian’s heart begin to canter against his chest, his blood throb, his pulse hammer against his throat.

The fingers on Nesta’s other hand curled around his left arm, anchoring him in position. Cassian’s body screamed at him to capture her mouth and devour her, but he’d waited too long for the opportunity. Wasn’t going to waste it on a territorial urge to claim her.

Nesta’s gaze slid to his lips again and that was confirmation enough.

Despite the thundering in his ears, Cassian made himself go slowly.

Slowly, he slid a palm over Nesta’s cheek, until he was sweeping her hair back from her face. Nesta didn’t bolt from him. Instead, she shivered and her chin tilted upwards into his touch, her lips parting as his nose nudged hers…

Nesta tasted like chocolate and caramel and something distinctly her which had Cassian’s blood blazing. The kiss was gentle and lingering. It didn’t demand or claim, but even so, it was the best damn kiss Cassian had ever had. And he could have sworn there was something tying them together in some way, because his body groaned as he made himself pull away. It felt too soon, but he didn’t trust that swelling urge that begged Cassian to deepen the kiss. To gather her body until it was flush against his.

When Cassian opened his eyes, Nesta looked startled, her eyes puddles of moonlight—bright and aching.

Somehow Cassian managed to rasp a murmured goodnight before he turned to leave.

But Nesta caught at Cassian’s sleeve.

Patiently, he waited.

When Nesta spoke, her voice was thick and husky. “Do you have plans tomorrow?”

Cassian had long promised Mor that they’d go drinking, but he didn’t bat an eyelid. Because he’d long known Nesta was his forever. He was just waiting for her to realise he was hers.

“No. Why?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

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[lesbianirl]

if a girl is reading a really interesting book she shouldn't have to go to work. she's expanding her mind and bettering herself and her employers should understand that