Nesta didn't leave her room for the rest of the day. She'd cried for a good portion of her hours alone, ignoring when Elain knocked on her door or called her phone. She had always hated herself-wished she were kinder or softer like her sisters-but today was the day that the weight of her armor finally crushed her.

She was frozen and numb on the floor in front of her bed, all her fire gone in the steam. She'd been this way for minutes, hours, she wasn't sure, occasionally lifting her drink to her lips. Lost in her own head.

She barely heard the door open, barely remember that she had given Elain a key. She couldn't bother to tell her sister to go away.

"Well this is a sorry sight." But that wasn't her sister's voice.

Nesta lifted her drink, searching for the straw desperately with her tongue.

Cassian strolled inside, hands in his pockets. "Elain gave me her key because she thought I was the only one brave enough to handle you."

"Get out." The words were barely a whisper, accented by the slurp that told her her drink needed refilling.

He didn't. She was dimly aware of his hulking presence in front of her, his knees just in line of her sight. "Not gonna happen, sweetheart."

She rolled her head back to look at him, trying to pull her face into a glare. She wasn't quite drunk yet, but sitting so long in her own mind made her feel like it.

Cassian reached down, and, before she could stop him, plucked the glass from her fingers. He sniffed it and frowned. "Cheap whiskey? If you're gonna hate yourself at least do it in style."

When she still didn't say anything, he crouched in front of her. "I'll make you a deal-you go take a shower, make yourself look presentable, and I'll take you to the best bar in town. All drinks on me."

She kept her head hung, vision wavering slightly with the blur of tears.

"Look at me." When she didn't, he grabbed her chin gently, then more roughly when she tried to tear her face away. His eyes burned like embers. "You do not have to apologize for what you said. You just have to get off your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself. That's what your sister fears most-that you are alone and beyond help. So," He pulled her up with a single hand so they were standing toe to toe. "Let me help you."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The moment Nesta was on her feet, Cassian was digging through her suitcase, scattering clothes across the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Finding you something to wear. Sweet mother, do you not own any pants?"

Nesta growled. "I don't like you digging through my clothes."

"Ah ha!" He pulled out her only pair of brown leggings and held them up triumphantly. "You should get in the shower," he said as her rifled through, "I wanna be out of here quickly. It smells like whiskey."

Nesta scowled, but marched off to the shower, making sure he heard it when she slammed the door.

When she got back, however, she felt lighter. She dried her hair as best she could with the towel then pulled it into a half-assed bun with one hair tie. She wrapped the towel around her naked body, stepping into the cool center room.

Cassian was lying on her bed, thumbing through one of her romance novels. Her eyes widened and she skittered up to yank it out of his hands, finding the page he was on not far from a scene she could do without him reading.

He smirked, tracking his gaze up and down. "You know, we can make bad decisions here. We don't need a bar or alcohol for that."

She flipped him off, but, with both her hands occupied, the towel-dress slid down a few centimeters.

His eyes simmered.

"Get over yourself," she snapped, hiking it back up and turning to where he'd set a pile of clothes.

But Cassian sat up, and, before she could stop him, grabbed the tie in her hair, pulling it loose from its bun.

Nesta gasped, whirling around. Cassian was gaping at her, then his face pulled into a huge grin. "In all of the pictures I've seen, you've never had your hair down." He tugged her forward by her waist, the book thumping back onto the bed and her towel sliding back down almost to indecency. She was too shocked to stop him as he leaned closer, pressing his lips right below her ear, the smell of her conditioner wafting around them.

Nesta's heart hammered. This wasn't like her. She should have stopped him by now. But it had been so long since she'd felt anything like this-the warmth of a lover, the comfort of their arms and lips.

Cassian's own arms slid around her waist, pulling her close as his mouth moved down across her skin. She was frozen by how right it felt, how easily it would have been to slide into his lap and have him spend the night. They would burn each other up until nothing remained. He would melt her steel and she would remove his armor.

It was a pipe-dream, a fantasy that could never be fulfilled.

Nesta jerked back when he reached the swell of her left breast, his tongue dangerous on her hot skin. She yanked herself from his arms, breathing roughly. Cassian, for once, didn't have a smile on his face as he said gruffly, "Get dressed."

He didn't need to tell her twice.

She grabbed the bundle of clothes, retreating back into the bathroom. She made sure to lock the door.

He'd picked out-besides the leggings-a thick white sweater that always seemed to smell of lavender, and her favorite bra and panty pair. She didn't like the thought of him touching her underclothes, but they were just clothes. And he was just another man.

It had been a while since she'd worn pants, having grown comfortable with the sway of her skirts around her ankles. The leggings she had planned to wear to one of the infamous gyms here if she got the time, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

Cassian had the book again when she emerged and was reading aloud in an obnoxious voice, "'She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him carry her not to the bed, but to the wall, and the sensation of the cool wood against her back, compared to the heat and hardness of him pushing into her front-'"

Nesta tried to grab the book but he tilted sideways, continuing to read as she landed atop him. "Give it back!" she shouted, anger rising towards her in a dizzying speed.

"Tell me, Nesta," he said with a laugh as she straddled him, desperately reaching for the book he held away, "if I bite your neck will you let me take you against a wall?"

Nesta finally managed to grab the book, stretching out over him. He kept his hold though, and there was a heated moment where she got an eyeful of the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves, her breasts practically pressed against his face.

She struggled to get the book from his hands, peeling his fingers off one by one. When she finally got it free, she sat back up, wrapping her arms protectively around it. Cassian's cheeks were flushed, one hand still stretched above his head, the other resting on her hip. She wasn't quite sure when it had gotten there.

"Let's go out to dinner instead," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"Let me take you out to dinner."

She was abruptly aware of the position they were in-her straddling his hips, him stretched out beneath her, his lips slightly parted. She could feel his hard packed stomach beneath her and again saw those whirls of tattoos peeking from his collar.

Nesta had never really been on a legitimate date. She'd been to the movies with a gropy boy when she was thirteen, then a triple date with Thomas and some friends.

Cassian's thumbs brushed her waist, awaiting an answer, and she snapped back to herself. When she made to get off him, he held her stubbornly in place, sitting up so they were nearly nose to nose.

Nesta felt her defenses begin to crumble like the ruins of an ancient building. She tried to pull them back up, but, by the mother, she was so exhausted. Her very bones were heavy. "I… I… ,"

Cassian sighed. "Doesn't all that armor get heavy, Nesta? What would it hurt to let someone in?"

"You hardly know me. We met yesterday."

"Feyre told me stories about you."

Nesta narrowed her eyes. "Those are just stories."

He moved his hand from her waist to her face, sweeping back the hair she still hadn't brushed. "I know that you are all steel and all fire with everyone except Elain. I know that your favorite color is red and your favorite flower is peonies. I know that you're lonely, despite what you say. I can see it and believe me, I know what loneliness looks like."

"I don't want a boyfriend."

"But you want a lover. You want something from the books."

Goosebumps ran up her arms as she held her book a little tighter, as if she could wield it as a shield against him. "Why would someone like you want me? I'm mean, I'm cold, I'm a bitch."

"You fascinate me," he said. "You're strong where many are meek. You won't take my shit where many do because of my size and title. And I don't know very many people who can wield words like you do-like weapons."

"I'm ugly-"

"You are not ugly."

"I'm mean."

"I'm gonna tell you a secret, Nesta." He leaned forward so his mouth was beside her ear. "I'm mean too."

Nesta shivered. She liked when he said her name like that.

"Feyre was right," he said, taking her hand. "We would look good together. So humor me, go on a date. Just one and you get to decide whether or not we have a second."

Nesta bit her lip, for once feeling small and weak for once, despite what he said. "Can I do my hair?"

His hands tightened on her waist, grin returning in full force. "No."

"But-"

"No. I like it down." He wrapped a strand around his finger. "You're beautiful."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere fancy."

"I should wear a dress then."

He shook his head. "You really shouldn't." He ran his hands up her thighs, making her jump and grab at his wrists.

"Don't touch me like that."

His hands returned to her hips without protest. "Are you ready to go?"

"No, I need my shoes." She slid off of him, trying to collect herself.

Cassian grabbed her hand. "No more walls. Not tonight."

She studied him for an infinite second-the features any woman would kill for and any man would kill to posses; the rough stubble that coated his jaw and cheeks; eyes that could swallow her whole and shoulder-length hair that she wondered what it would be like to run her hands through.

"Okay," she said. "I'll try."