Nesta could count the number of things she liked about being High Fae on her index finger. Alcohol, men and music.
She hated herself for it. The irony wasn't lost on her.
It was maddening that even after going through the horrifying experience of purging her humanity in the Cauldron, her favorite things had somehow remained innately human, if only enhanced.
The alcohol – which she could now drink until dawn and wake up free of a hangover. The men – enticingly satiating with their decades of experience on her. The music – lilting melodies on fae instruments that nothing else could match.
She had assumed that the brutal consequences of her being Made would have, at the minimum, dulled the appeal of her mortal proclivities. It should have made her eager to hone her powers, her heightened senses, her quick reflexes, the immortality of her fae existence.
But unlike Feyre, and even Elain, she was stuck with her very human needs and very human preferences in a body that responded nothing like a human's.
Maybe that was the curse for stealing from the Cauldron.
On most nights it was easier to pretend that spending the rest of her life drinking and dancing and fucking didn't rattle her bones. That she did it purely out of some insidious joy. Not in the hope of silencing the voices in her head and the power that curled in her veins.
Tonight, was one of those merciful nights.
It had been a quiet realization on one of her first nights out in the city: if she used the correct balance of alcohol and music and men, she didn't have to worry about the cacophony of noises in her head.
She didn't dwell long on the nights when the urge to hurl herself against the basin in the bathing room – retching and vomiting and crying – was the only thing that kept her from doing something worse.
She turned her lithe figure – emaciated to a keen eye but nobody bothered with the distinction in places she visited – pursed her lips into a sultry smile as she lazily knocked back three shots of whatever was lined on the bar counter.
The merciful nights always began in a nightclub.
She didn't bother asking the male tending the bar about what was being served. It wasn't like she was paying the bill before leaving for home. Maybe she'd hear about it from Feyre in the morning with a laundry list of her other misgivings. The alcohol churned in her stomach and the inanity of Feyre's need to fix Nesta's life loosened a deep chuckle from her.
Well, one could always try.
She rested her lower back on the bar top, the cold seeping in her bareback. She cleared her head from Feyre's driveling nonsense and her ridiculous pretenses. Tonight would be as Feyre-free as the rest of her life if Nesta had anything to say about it.
She surveyed the fae bodies swaying on the dance floor to the pulsing music.
Dancing was always a good start to the rest of the night. She ruffled her hair and pouted her lips, giving a little shake to her hips, drawing attention from the males lined on the bar station around her.
Satisfied once she had their attention, Nesta moved between the sweaty, gyrating bodies of the denizen of the Night Court and began dancing to the music. Giving it full control to take her somewhere far. Away from the men stumbling around her trying to catch her gaze and the ones on the bar awaiting their chance at an invitation.
She rocked her body to the highs and lows of the music playing at the other end of the room. She smiled and laughed to the energy brimming in her body, her eyes shut, neon lights circling above the dance floor.
She forgot about Feyre and her disappointed looks that would summon her to her house in the morning. Forgot Elain and her betrayal. Forgot Amren, who had been her only friend. Forgot Rhysand and his free pass to extremities in the name of protecting Feyre.
Forgot the face of the King of Hybern ready to end her and Cassian's life. Forgot the sound of her father's head breaking two feet away from her. Forgot her fear of fire crinkling to life. Forgot she had a heart that needed tending. Forgot she had a life beyond the sweat building on her skin and the deep, raucous music guiding her to a place where nothing else mattered.
It was just her and some days she made herself forget even her own messy existence. Only a nobody, drinking and dancing and fucking.
When Nesta finally opened her eyes, more than twenty minutes had passed. She dabbed her neck and her collarbones with a napkin picked from the passing waiter's tray. She gulped two more shots of whatever was with the napkins on the tray and gave the man a wink. The waiter grunted something under his breath before finding other patrons.
Nesta rolled her eyes and regarded the crowd around her.
Some of the males who were at the bar before she'd started dancing were now somewhere on the dance floor. She hadn't had much inclination before to sort through the variety available and make her pick for the night. She frowned at the missed opportunity and went back to the bar station in the back to see if she'd find someone decent enough to take to her bed.
She sipped on the cold water provided by the bartender, her elbows resting on the bar top. She faced the people dancing at the center of the nightclub and noticed the rising interest from a group of males gathered a few seats away. A glance told her nothing much – the lights were too dimmed to make any judgement from this distance. She betted herself ten minutes before one of them approached her.
She played around with the straw in her glass, her hands itching for something more. Now that the high from dancing had receded, she felt her hands warming for a gamble. Some of the dingier nightclubs that she'd visited before hosted a gambling table in secret for anyone wishing to try their luck. But in most respectful places, which this nightclub seemed to be – she'd forgotten the name – gambling was unheard of. She'd checked around here when she had first stepped in.
After all, gambling was illegal in Velaris.
No matter how much the High Lord of the Night Court and his so-called Inner Circle loved to bet on their members for jest.
Maybe Feyre and Elain had a bet running over Nesta. For when she'd finally pull her act together. The others could not have kept away from pitching in their own loud, obnoxious opinions. She wondered what the timeline was that they had set in their head for her to come back and be a part of their 'normal' lives.
It had been four months since the War had ended and Nesta had moved across the Sidra.
Maybe they had settled at six?
Not that she cared. Especially when she'd done her best to further alienate herself from the only family that she had. Feyre had always been good at pretending to be playing house no matter the situation but Nesta had never been easy at getting on. Even Elain had found her place in their Inner Circle. She loved the huge space they had for gardening and had taken to baking in Feyre's wonderful kitchen with her friends from the household. Well, the two of them could have their happily ever after.
Nesta felt someone approach her from the right. Next, she heard a deep, throaty male voice, "Oh, I was wondering what had you looking so mad but drinking water when alcohol is available can do that to anyone."
Nesta smoothened the furrow in her eyebrows and scoffed, "It's called balance. Water and alcohol."
The male, Nesta noticed was a lesser fae. He had the same winged ears that she and her sisters spotted. The left side of his face as well as neck was freckled with constellations.
Nesta took a step forward and traced the one near his left eye. Alcohol made her restless and bold.
The male preened under her attention, "It's the North Star."
Not that Nesta could tell any better. Maybe Feyre would have been able to. Nesta vaguely remembered the night sky her sister had painted for her drawer on the old dresser in their mortal residence.
Nesta nodded at the male, tracing the stars along his cheek, "It's beautiful."
The male grinned, "It's nothing compared to you."
Nesta let her own feline smile take over. She knew she looked more than well-dressed in the apricot satin dress she had opted for the night. It was backless and the fabric at the front folded seductively over her breasts. It ended somewhere in the middle of her thighs. The sheer amount of her skin on display had garnered attention from almost every person in the nightclub – males and females alike.
She didn't mind. She curled her lips into a lazy smirk, "So I am told."
The male – whose name she still didn't know, took a step forward, "Only told? Never shown?" A whisper against her ear.
Nesta chuckled, admiring his nerve. "You are good at this."
He winked, "And a lot of other things." Nest licked her drying lips and the man leaned over the counter to ask for two drinks.
A second later, Nesta exchanged her glass with the drink from the male's proffered hand. "So, what's your name?"
Nesta knew better than to offer her real name. Her face had slipped through scrutiny many times this side of the Sidra, but she knew that her name was famous even amongst children in Velaris. Eldest sister to the High Lady of the Night Court. Cauldron-Made. Slayer of the King of Hybern. Nesta Archeron.
She looked at the glass in her hand and feigned nonchalance, relaxing her shoulders. "Melody."
The male's eyebrows raised in amusement. "Melody?" Nesta wanted to roll her eyes at herself. The name was common in the mortal land, but she hadn't checked for its relevance in the faerie lands. She had assumed if they had such overwhelming music then having a name after something musical would also be common.
Well, not likely.
She straightened herself and nodded as if him questioning that was ridiculous. "Yes. Melody." She didn't wait for an answer. "What's your name?"
The male nodded. "Klemens."
Nesta smiled. That seemed more like a faerie name. She wanted to hit her head on the table for coming up with a mortal name. She blamed the alcohol in her system.
Instead of asking the most obvious second question like 'What do you do for work', she asked, "So what are your plans for tonight, Klemens?" She more than heard the soft slur marring the end of her statement. It was good that she'd retracted from asking introductory questions, she didn't have the brain to conjure believable answers at the moment.
She stared at the drink in her hand. It was stronger than whatever shots she had downed before dancing.
If Feyre was around, she would have advised Nesta to make sure she had an eye on what she was being offered by other people. She would have asked her to order her own drinks. Take a sniff and let them take a sip before accepting anything in a glass that she herself hadn't ordered.
But what was the worst that could happen? The worst had already happened in the human realm and when that hadn't been enough, she'd been ripped apart from her world and shoved into the Cauldron and the few minutes she'd spent in there had felt like years beyond torture. The worst that could have happened was death itself and somehow, Nesta had survived even that.
So, what did it matter if someone slipped a little something in her drink? She would be glad if it numbed the voices in her head.
"Melody, hey. Melody?" Nesta focused back on Klemens. His eyebrows furrowed as he lightly tapped one of her elbows. Nesta shook her head, clearing the fog that had settled around her. Only drinking, without anywhere to release her jumped-up energy, made her maudlin.
She nodded at Klemens, "Sorry, you were saying?"
Klemens leaned forward, "We were discussing my plans. For tonight. I was saying I have the same plans that you do." He caressed the elbow he was holding.
Nesta looked at his forest-green eyes and then quickly averted her own back to the people dancing, "You think my plans will include you?" She knew that a little shyness went a long way when it came to male persuasion. She'd tried this trick plenty of times before. She knew that Klemens failed to notice that neither her cheeks bloomed red, nor her breath skipped a beat. Clear signs that nothing he said made a difference to her.
Exactly like other males she'd taken to bed, Klemens was busy focusing on her words and their tone; missing the entire picture of what stood before him. Good for her, she didn't want him spooked.
She also held no interest in pursuing anything longer than tonight. He was only a medium for her to be sated and warm enough in bed that she slipped into a deep sleep that kept her nightmares at bay. At least until dawn greeted them with a new day.
Klemens, who had finished his drink, kept the glass back on the counter, "I am told I can be persuasive."
Nesta licked her lips which drew Klemens' attention, "How do you plan to persuade me?" She emptied her glass after taking a huge gulp. She moved to keep the glass back on the bar counter when she felt a different pair of eyes on her.
She turned slowly, noticing the sudden quiet enveloping the room. People around them had lowered their conversations to a hush. She stood on her toes to look beyond the group on the dance floor to find what had made such a change in the room.
Most of the times it was a fight between the people gambling or among males over the female they wanted to take home.
But when Nesta looked at the entrance of the nightclub her eyes met the pair that she'd felt on herself.
Azriel.
She blinked once, twice.
It wasn't the first time she'd noticed Azriel enter some of the nightclubs she frequented on a daily basis. There were quite a handful of times when she'd seen him standing near the entrance, surveying the crowd. Once he was satisfied with whatever he was looking for, he'd pop out and come again with the members of the Inner Circle.
The times when Azriel had found Nesta in the crowd – which was almost always – he'd go back and Nesta would stand for agonizing minutes with bated breath, fidgeting on her feet. Every time that happened, neither Azriel nor the other members of the Inner Circle appeared at the nightclub. There seemed to be a set code and whatever were the parameters of his inspection, it was obvious that Nesta didn't meet them.
In the anxious moment when she would wait for the rest of them to show up, she had wondered if he did it for her. To allow her the autonomy of going to a nightclub without the razor-sharp judgement of her sisters barreling on her. But she knew better that he did it more to shield Feyre, and even Elain, from the disappointment of seeing their eldest sister dancing away in the arms of a man she couldn't bother to remember the name of come daybreak.
She thought this was another of those nights when Azriel was doing the due diligence but a second later, he shifted. Nesta understood why the crowd had gone silent.
Behind him, Morrigan and Cassian entered the nightclub.
Cassian's face was lit with a huge laugh over whatever Morrigan was saying. Unaware of the crowd's sudden silence and who stood amidst them, they made their way to the bar at the front and sat down.
Something inside Nesta's chest let loose at the sight of the Illyrian wings, the red Siphons attached to the black dress shirt and the dark hair tied into a ponytail. She didn't dare steal any more glances when she knew that her traitorous heart would leap at any chance of him.
There was a reason she'd put mental and physical distance between herself and the General of the Night Court's armies.
She just wanted to go through this night in the routine she'd established since the War. She didn't want to face any of them, least of all him. She'd take Feyre's disappointment over whatever he'd throw in her direction.
The only thing left for her to do tonight was to go back to her misery of an apartment where the only warmth she allowed herself was through the men she dragged home with her almost every night. She didn't need the fire that kept the cold of the night away and she didn't want the only man who had never backed away from her deadly flames.
She stumbled a step forward and Klemens' arm came around her waist to break her fall.
She found her eyes narrow in on Azriel who was still looking at her and if he noticed the anger churn in them at the violation of whatever trust had built between them, he didn't seem bothered by it. He turned around and ordered the trio a set of drinks.
Nesta turned around briskly, away from where she felt a pull on her heart. Before the suddenness of her reactions could draw a question from Klemens, she slipped one of her hands into his and pulled the two of them towards the dance floor. "Dance with me."
Nesta ignored her thundering heartbeat and let the music be her guide. She turned around in Klemens' arms, her back pulled taut to his chest as they began swaying their hips to the beat of the music. It wasn't the melodic beat that she'd lost herself to a few minutes back but even this ringing tempo didn't give her leave to think of anything else.
She let her body fall into the rhythm she had taught herself all those months ago. The nature of this dancing was something she'd never participated in during her human existence.
She'd learned over time that alcohol helped. It allowed her mind to settle somewhere in repose. She could lose herself to the motions her body fell into without thinking too much. The music chaperoning her into moves that would inevitably entice men – human or otherwise.
It was the only thing that guided her away from the man who sat a few steps away and into the willing arms of her self-designed routine. The routine that kept her safe. Kept her sane. Kept her occupied. She turned in the male's arms and kissed him.
Klemens took the lead the moment Nesta's lips crushed against his own. She let him claim it.
Her mind and her heart had been of a clear disservice tonight and if she allowed her body any control, she knew where she'd end up. So, she let Klemens' lips find purchase on hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her hands fisted in his hair but the close-cropped haircut lent nothing for her to hold onto.
She grunted at the lack of it and Klemens, unclear of her frustration, pulled her closer and a second later, his tongue slipped into her mouth. He sucked hard on her lips and her teeth caught in the middle. She wasn't a huge fan of the sucking and his tongue didn't give her own much space. But she let the steadiness of him drive them forward. The hair was a lost cause. She would make sure she didn't commit that mistake again.
A few seconds later, they straightened up for breath and Klemens turned her around in his arms. Nesta arched into his chest when he peppered soft, luscious kisses down the side column of her neck. She might have made a sound because he found a sweet spot to suck and bite on. Nesta leaned her head on the other shoulder, giving him space to continue with his tongue and teeth.
Klemens landed his hands on her hips and pulled her undulating pelvis back. A second later, they were both grinding to the pulse of the music.
Nesta opened her eyes when she smelled a waiter passing by and pulled him to a stop.
Klemens chuckled in her ears when she passed him a shot glass and chugged two of her own. She was entirely lost to this world. The three things she'd somehow still brought into her fae existence from her human reality. Alcohol, men and music.
A minute later, Klemens and her were back to gyrating against each other as he took his sweet time exploring the other side of her neck. Nesta's eyes were still open, and she found another male edging towards the two of them. He turned to gaze at them with a wicked smile. All Nesta could see was the waves of hair on his head and the wolfish grin he spotted after noting Nesta's stare.
She knew fae males were also given to possessiveness and were territorial. But there had been a night when she'd taken not one but two men to her bed. They had taken their sweet leisured time switching between eating her out and pulverizing into her front and back.
She'd been boneless the next night to even step out.
The same desire bloomed below her stomach when she pulled the other male towards her into a kiss. She heard a surprised groan in her ears, probably Klemens. The other male put his hands on her waist. She didn't bother with the names and niceties before they were kissing wantonly. Soon enough, she found Klemens' arousal poking in the small of her back. She sighed into the other male's lips and whimpered when his arousal nudged her in the front.
The three of them were swaying to the music and all Nesta wanted next was to chase the heat building low between her thighs until she forgot who she was.
Which is why it took her by a surprise when she heard a playful voice next to them, "Is there space for more?"
The males around her straightened at the interruption. Nesta felt forced to open her eyes at the lack of male arousals poking her. She turned and found herself staring at the hazel eyes that were attached to the face she saw during her dreams.
She blinked heavily at him. She didn't dare read anything from the gaze she now held.
She noticed Klemens' openly gawking at the Illyrian and the other male slowly moving away from the trio.
Nesta snapped at him, "Can't find anyone else, General?" It came out more as a drawl.
When the room swayed around her, warm, calloused hands steadied her. "Just one dance."
She peered at his face and stumbled forward in his direction. Should she be surprised that her heart and body had turned traitor at such close proximity to him?
Klemens, who was standing by her side, must have decided to say something when Cassian's eyes shifted to him, eyebrows raised, wings flaring. Whatever Klemens' hoped to say died in his throat. He shook his head before moving towards the bar station at the back.
Nesta groaned as he left and narrowed her eyes at the smug male who stood in front of her. She hit him on the chest, "What the hell, I was going to take them home!"
Cassian's eyebrows furrowed and she couldn't tell if it was in annoyance or anger. He took a step further, shaking his head, all smiles when he gazed at her again. His lips curled into a soft smirk and he whispered, "Hello, Nes."
She didn't want to bother wondering why he'd sought her out.
She took two steps back, ready to turn around and find herself another male to flirt with when the room swirled again and before she could tumble face-first on the floor, she felt supple fingers wrap around her wrists and pull her closer.
She fell on Cassian's chest instead of the floor. When she blinked upwards, he had a small smile on his lips, "Come on, you owe me a dance for saving you."
Nesta rolled her eyes. Exactly like him to extract a bargain out of mere courtesy. She would stomp all over his feet for stepping in her business.
"Go bother someone else, Cassian." She barked at him. She noticed the hurt that took over his face. But there was a reason why taking care of his emotions didn't fall under her responsibilities.
Instead of leaving her alone, Cassian asked, "Dancing with me is such a huge bother now?"
It was the gloom in his voice that stirred her next actions.
Nesta looked up and she knew it was best for her to let him simmer in the anticipation of the answer and leave. But her treacherous body took a step forward. She threw all her precautions to the wind and said, "Only one dance and then you will leave."
Cassian grinned, nodding before he walked her to an empty space on the dance floor. Between her charged movement with the two males and now, the music had changed to a slow cadence. She swayed slowly with Cassian, both his palms holding her by the waist.
She smelled on him the alcohol he must have been drinking before and the cold, fresh fragrance that reminded her of the Illyrians Mountains. She detected the trace of whatever perfume Morrigan had worn.
Cassian whispered over the sound of the music that filled her ears, "How have you been?"
Nesta wanted to reply something scathing but the effort to think was drained out of her this close to the end of her nightly routine. She turned her eyes upward to the dancing neon lights and murmured, "I don't want to talk."
The spinning lights across the ceiling were of little help. They made her head spin faster and she found herself closing her eyes, believing without any proof or knowledge that Cassian wouldn't let her fall.
She wondered how long one dance could be when they were only swaying to music that didn't have any lyrics. From what she could tell, it wasn't a song but a set of musician chords on repeat.
She could feel the warmth of Cassian's palms against her skin and her mind tumbled off to the time when she'd last felt them in her hands.
She still remembered what Cassian had said to her. I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you in the next world - the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.
The words were imprinted on the fabric of her existence.
She opened her eyes and found the same pair of hazel eyes set on her. The ones that had filled with such intensity, moments before they were to die, that she had shielded him from the King of Hybern with nothing but her body.
She wondered what would have been if she'd given her life for him.
She had no idea what the faeries claimed happened after death, but the humans believed in an afterlife. She thought if she were in the afterlife, devoid of everything else, would she have been content with the decisions she had made?
There was a time, Nesta realized, somewhere so far back she couldn't connect the dots between now and then over the voices in her head when she had chosen to die with this man.
Together.
The reality of him, alive, breathing, smiling sent her into an overwhelming sense of gravity.
She took a step forward. No alarms went blaring in her head. She knew there were consequences of engaging with this. But she felt helpless against the feel of him under her hands.
Oh. She'd wrapped her own hands around his waist. When had that happened?
Cassian must have noticed her confusion when he tipped her chin upwards with a thumb. He murmured in her ears, "Let's get you home, Nes."
She shook her head, her eyes closing and when she lowered her face, her forehead rested on his chest. She whispered her rebellious counter, "I don't need you to take me home."
Cassian chuckled softly and she felt it in his chest instead of hearing it. They continued swaying slowly, very slowly, to whatever music was still playing.
She wondered how long one dance could be. How many minutes had passed since she last thought of this? She scrunched her forehead but couldn't tell how much time had elapsed. She didn't feel like much thinking at this point.
She hadn't realized how sleepy she felt until she'd rested her head on his chest. She tried matching her breath to the soft staccato beating under his clothes. If she felt it was beating too fast for her to keep up with, she didn't bother commenting on it.
She shivered when a swift wind brushed her skin. A second later, she felt one of Cassian's wings wrap around them in a gentle hug.
The wings warmed her and without a thought, Nesta found herself nuzzling against Cassian's chest. She nodded to herself. No matter how much she hated the Illyrians for being backwards and prejudiced, she understood that anyone with such beautiful wings would take any chance to breed more.
Was she really thinking about Illyrian breeding patterns?
She felt Cassian lower his head to hers and he asked, "Nesta?" When she had nothing to say, he questioned back, "You were saying something?"
"Yes, I love your wings. They are warm." She wasn't sure if she said it aloud or in her head.
She more than felt the skip in his heartbeat this time. She giggled at the impact.
She sensed Cassian hold her closer at the sound as he breathed. "I am glad to know you do."
Nesta wondered if Cassian had responded or if it was her mind playing tricks. She felt herself snuggle closer to his warmth as a sweet serenity descended on her in a calm. For the past four months, it had taken her hours to secure the same in the dead of the night; chased by her sweat-drenched skin and near-death exhaustion.
It must have been the gentle music luring her to dreams. What else could it be?
Before she lost herself to the heaviness in her eyes, she sighed.
I miss you. I miss this.
She slumped into a heavy slumber against a well-built chest, unaware she'd whispered the tail end of her conscious thoughts or that the Illyrian beside her had heard it.
Nesta woke up slowly. She sat gingerly on the bed she'd been sleeping on, her eyes blinking at the sunbeams trickling in from the open windows around the room. She noticed the soft sheets under her palm and frowned. She looked up at the canopied bed and then several things struck her at once.
She was back in her old room at the House of Wind.
She was wearing a black shirt, buttoned over her slip dress.
She had danced to more than one song with Cassian. She should have gone home instead.
She had to leave. Get the hell out and stay the fuck away.
She wanted to scrub her memories free of the warmth and fervor that hummed under the surface when she thought of the night. She wanted to supplant them with the one where she took the two males home and found her release by the end of the night.
She took a deep breath, put on her heels from the night, and stepped out of the room.
When she reached the hallway where they usually gathered to eat, she found Cassian leaning against one of the pillars. He was staring outside, lost in thought.
She didn't take a sobering minute to steal a glance even though the navy-blue shirt on him looked inviting. She pulled at her fingers to cull any impulse rising within.
She made her way to the table, her heels clicking on the marble floor. It drew Cassian's attention from whatever sunrise brooding he was busy in.
She turned to him, "I want to go home."
He only raised his eyebrows. "There's breakfast on the table. I will take you home after."
Nesta looked at the toast, eggs, tea spread on the table. "I am not hungry." As if on cue, her stomach hollowed out to announce its contradictory opinion. Nesta ignored the signal.
"Nobody else is here. You can take your time."
Nesta scoffed. "Did I ask?"
"You didn't. But I know you were thinking."
"You can stick to thinking about your own damn self and keep me out of it."
Cassian didn't respond to that. He moved forward and pulled a chair out for himself, piling toast and eggs on his plate. He poured himself a cup from the teapot.
Nesta tapped her foot on the floor, her hands curling on the chair in front of her. What the hell was he playing at?
Cassian took a bite of his breakfast. "There's ten thousand steps down if you want to try." A sip of his tea and he added, " It's not recommended, of course."
Nesta narrowed her eyes at him, refusing to be baited into a conversation. "Or", he continued, "you can have breakfast here and I will take you back once we finish."
"Is that an order, General?" She sneered at him.
Cassian's lips twisted into a smirk, the light in his eyes dancing. "Will that compel you to eat?" Before Nesta could respond, he added, "If yes, then my every word is a command, sweetheart."
He went back to cutting his toast and eggs into smaller bites.
Nesta felt her blood boil. The bloody smirk on his face. The endearment. His absolute nerve to play with her. The indifference to her demand. The fucking ten thousand steps.
She pulled the chair back in anger. It made a screeching howl before Nesta pushed herself on the seat and stared at the empty plate in front of her.
She wanted to throw it at Cassian's face. That would wipe the smirk right off his twisted lips.
It was only when that seemed futile that she shifted two pieces of toast and eggs on her plate.
They ate in relative silence. The only noise in the room made of their forks and knives cutting into the toast and Cassian slurping away his tea. Nesta knew he did it only to rile her, so she focused on making sure it wasn't obvious that it was getting under her skin.
The moment she finished, she stood up and pushed her chair back with equal force as before. Cassian followed her lead and offered her water in a glass.
"Drink."
When Nesta glared at him, he smirked, hands folded in front of his chest. Nesta groaned but refused to engage in any verbal onslaught. That would only delay her ride back home.
She didn't want to think of Cassian and ride together in a sentence ever again.
She drank water from the glass and when Cassian poured more, she drank that as well. She kept repeating in her head, don't engage.
Don't engage.
Don't engage.
Cassian had a huge grin on his face once she kept the glass down on the table and this time, he didn't move to refill it.
Something in Nesta moved to wipe the grin off of his face.
She took off the shirt she was still wearing and chucked it at his face. "Don't you fucking dare touch me again without permission."
Cassian moved the shirt off his face with a single hand. Nesta saw his eyebrows furrow, the grin from earlier all but vanished; eyes rounding as if he had prepared for a fistfight but was stabbed by a knife he didn't see coming.
It looked like he'd expected a lot of things but not her convoluting his help into something obscene.
He straightened, one of his hands pulling back the hair on his crown.
"The room was freezing." His jaw clenched his teeth.
Nesta raised her eyebrows, lips curled in disgust she felt at herself for even suggesting otherwise. "So, you decided to get handsy?"
Cassian winced. He turned to look at her, his eyes wide. "I - ", he gulped, "Nesta. Shut up."
But that's what happened when you played with flames. The chances of getting burnt were always high.
Yet, once Nesta had let the anger in her loose, she couldn't keep the venom from the bite.
"So, who put you to babysitting? Was it Feyre?", she scoffed. She took a step towards one of the pillars looking over Velaris. "Did she beg you to take care of her eldest sister and make sure she slept in a ridiculously large bed and to feed her breakfast? What did she give you for it?" She laughed and it sounded bitter and hollow to her own ears. "A raise? Another promotion? A – "
In a blink, Cassian was standing a breath's distance from her, hands fisted, "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up."
Nesta stared at him as he took two steps back and spoke, his voice rough. "I know what you are doing, just don't." His eyes were on her, thrumming with pain and something she didn't want to decipher. "Don't twist this into something horrible and hateful just because it doesn't fit whatever is running in your head. Just because I and a good night's sleep with proper breakfast in the morning don't fit in your damning routine."
Nesta clenched her jaw, eyebrows furrowed. The only thing she registered was, "My damning routine?!" She hissed at him. "What the hell do you – "
Cassian cut her off. "And Feyre didn't put me up to anything! She doesn't even know you are here. Why will anyone need to give me anything to make sure you are all right. Can't I care for you without any motivation?"
"Why the fuck do you care then?!" Nesta snarled at him, pushing at his chest with her hands.
Cassian didn't budge a step, his hands holding her wrists to himself. Something gave away in his eyes and they cleared, the earlier fury disappearing into the sunlight.
"Someday I am going to come wherever the hell you are and tell you precisely why I care and what standing on the sideline pretending day in and day out that I don't care does to me. I am going to be very clear and entirely honest and then you can decide if you want to be honest in return."
He stared into her eyes and whispered the next words. "But today I am going to do nothing but take you home as promised because we both know you are not ready for any honesty right now."
Nesta jerked her hands free from his grip, stumbling further away, not trusting herself to not do something inappropriate.
She blinked once, twice – her heart thundering in her chest as she tried to breathe it into order and rationality. There was no honesty to be had because there was nothing that she had been untruthful about all this time. Right?
Then why did she feel like she wanted to drink herself into a stupor until she forgot every word stuck as darts in her heart? Why did they knock the wind out of her lungs?
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She needed to get the hell out of this house before it messed up any further with her head.
She didn't bother meeting Cassian's eyes. "Can we go now?"
Cassian nodded and ten minutes later, he'd landed them safely at her end of the Sidra.
Nesta didn't bother with any departing words before turning around and leaving. Her anti-climaxing response to whatever Cassian had said lingered between them and Nesta wanted to put as much distance from it as fast as she could.
She speed-walked her way over the bustling crowd and when she turned her neck out of instinct, she found Cassian still standing tall, his wings slightly flared as he watched her make her way to her building.
Nesta ran the last few steps to her house. She climbed the two stories and only after she'd bolted the four locks in place did she allow herself to breathe.
She slid down the length of the door, her back pressed to it; eyes shut as Cassian's words played in a loop in her now-empty head.
Tell you precisely why I care – Tell you precisely why I care – Tell you precisely why I care – Tell you - What pretending I don't care does to me – What pretending I don't care does to me – What pretending – If you want to be honest in return – If you want to be honest in return – If you
The words trailed after her the entire day. As if waiting for a response that she'd not granted their speaker.
When she took a long bath in the cold water with a bucket and tumbler after washing her clothes.
After she'd fallen into a distressed sleep staring at the unlit fire log space in her house, lulled to unawareness by the water slowly dripping in the kitchen from the tap that never properly closed.
The words stayed even after she'd woken late in the evening and ate a block of cheese and bread before following the routine of dressing up for her night out – she ironed a lilac dress, put on mascara, lined her eyes with kohl and sat down to clip the heels around her ankles.
It was only when she was in the middle of dancing bodies, spinning away in someone else's arms that she realized that no amount of her favorite things could numb the intensity and fondness of Cassian's actions from last night and the words he'd given life to in the morning.
Not the alcohol, not the music, not the men.
Cassian's words shadowed her until she met him again.