Hello, this is Author. Sorry I haven't really updated any story in a while, it's tech and build week for me at the place I work so I haven't really had the time for anything beyond theatre. Does anybody really read this story anyway? I feel like I did something majorly wrong and now the fandom has it out for me, but that might just be paranoia talking. Anyway, I hope those of you who are reading this enjoy it. :) (I do take story requests if you guys have anything you want me to write, please don't be afraid to ask)
When Nesta reached for her brush, Cassian stepped in front of her. "Leave it down," he pleaded.
"I'm just brushing it, you oaf."
His lips formed a stern line as if he didn't quite believe her. "Let me."
"Excuse me?"
"Let me brush your hair."
"What experience do you have with-" But she stopped herself as she considered his own locks, too clean to be uncared for. "Fine."
She sat down at the small hotel vanity, sweeping her hair back for him. He stood behind her, the small brush engulfed by his big hand. Gently, he began to work it through her hair. Her curls yielded to his care slowly, stretching and bouncing as he brushed first the bottom, then higher, his knuckles occasionally skimming her bare neck.
She didn't know if it was on purpose.
When he finished, he combed his fingers through too, sending shivers down her spine. FInally, he set down the brush, taking her hand to help her from the chair. She grabbed her purse as they made their way down to the lobby. His hand had yet to leave hers.
It was only when they made it to the parking lots that he let go. Only because Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. "You have got to be kidding me."
He grinned, passing her a helmet before he swung himself onto the motorcycle. "You still wanna wear a dress?"
She frowned at the helmet in her hands. "I've never ridden one of these."
"It's not the only thing you'll ride while with me." He winked.
She could have hit him.
But he took the helmet from her hands, dismounting the bike. Then he set the helmet carefully on her head, clipping it under her chin. "Turns are scary at first. When I lean, you lean. Okay?"
She nodded, gulping as he tightened the strap. When he got on again, she did so too, not nearly as gracefully though.
"Hands around my waist," he said and she obeyed, again feeling the hard muscle. Her thighs cradled his hips, chest to his back.
He revved the engine once and then they were off. Nesta held in her gasp, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She could have sworn he chuckled.
Wind battered mercilessly at her face, enough so that she buried it shamelessly in Cassian's back. She peeked out enough to see the lights of the city whirring passed, brilliant golds and reds and blues.
They rode to what Nesta thought might have been the most expensive restaurant in the city. The moment Cassian stopped the bike, Nesta began to object, "This is way too expensive."
"I'm paying."
"I'm not dressed."
"And yet you'll be the most beautiful person in there."
"Cassian-"
"Nesta," he sang as he turned slightly, taking off his helmet.
He slung himself off the bike then helped her off too. She removed her own helmet, shaking out her hair. Cassian offered her an arm to lead them inside.
The restaurant was a shower of golden chandeliers, lapis-veined walls, and well dressed people. Cassian murmured something to the host that had him leading them up a set of stairs to an empty balcony.
Nesta went to the rail, staring out at the city stretched below. Lights sprinkled across the hills and towers, rivers running peacefully between them. Wind stirred her hair and suddenly Cassian was there, not touching her but somehow still connected.
"This is my favorite view of the city," he said, dragging his long finger across the rail.
"You live here?" She'd thought he was staying in the same hotel, but he may have just been visiting someone.
He shook his head. "Not anymore. I grew up here, though." He tilted his head to the table. "Let's eat."
Nesta sat at the chair he pulled out for her, folding the silk napkin in her lap. A menu was handed to her by the waitress. It took Nesta moment to realize she knew her.
"Thank you, Mor," said Cassian.
Mor smiled and it was insufferable. "Don't have too much fun, babe." She sauntered off, hips swaying.
"'Babe'?" Nesta asked, raising a brow.
"Yes?" he joked, but at her lack of laughter, sighed in defeat. "It's a long standing joke."
"Tell me." She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table.
"Can we order first?" He raised his menu, humming as he looked it over.
Nesta rolled her eyes but indeed read the courses. She debated choosing the most expensive meal or the cheapest. She settled on the steak-second most expensive.
And, after Mor took their orders and left, Nesta pressed Cassian again. "Well?"
"Mor and I had a falling out of few years back-it kinda left a dent in the family."
Nesta's brows furrowed. "But you're… related?"
"Az and I were sort of adopted by Rhys's family, but it was never official. We were both bastards, put into orphanages Rhys's mother happened to frequent. I only met Mor years later. She had been getting threats from a man from a rival family about taking her virginity and how he loved pure girls."
Nesta shuddered.
Cassian went on quieter, picking at the table cloth, "So she came to me one night when no one else was home and… one thing led to another. I regretted it from the very moment she stripped but it was what she wanted. And… I think Az wanted her to ask him instead-he's never really been the same since. We all know he likes-or liked-her, he'll just never admit it."
"Your food," said Mor sharply, setting down their plates with a clang. She ran a predatory hand over Cassian's hair, making sure Nesta saw when she yanked his head back, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Then she kissed his cheek and left.
Cassian was staring at the table, his fork clenched a hand. Nesta saw it bend slightly under his fingers.
"What did she say?" Nesta couldn't help but ask.
He shook his head. "Nothing. How's the food?"
She hadn't taken a bite yet, worried Mor might have spit in it.
"She didn't poison it or anything," Cassian reassured her, cutting his lamb. "He doesn't like that story but she wouldn't take it out on you. She's more likely to spit in my food than yours."
Nesta pursed her lips but indeed cut her steak into bite sized pieces. She groaned when she took the first bite.
Cassian flashed a grin. "I have other ways to get you moaning, sweetheart."
She glared at him as she took another bite. She'd never had a steak taste so good.
Before she knew it, she was moving on to her equally as tasty roast potatoes. She looked up to find Cassian still watching her. "What?"
"What do you think of your sister's marriage?" he asked, though she silently doubted that was what he was thinking.
Nesta shrugged. "So long as he makes her happy."
He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I think they're soul mates."
She almost spit out her potato. "Soul mates don't exist."
"Why not?"
"Because the world isn't that fair."
"Maybe the unfair part is that most people never meet theirs. The question is-" He put his elbows on the table, leaning conspiratorially towards Nesta. "-have you found yours?"
"I don't believe in them so it doesn't matter."
"I think it does."
She snorted. "I don't care what you think."
He traced the line her glass made on the table as she lifted it to her lips. "Tell me about yourself. Something I don't know."
"I like books."
"I knew that."
"You seem to know everything-my favorite color, favorite flower. Those weren't in Feyre's stories."
His heated gaze met hers. "I didn't hesitate to ask questions."
Nesta finished her potatoes, ignoring the way he kept looking at her.
"I want to show you something," he said at last, taking her hand. He stood, dragging her up with him.
"What-what about the check?" she stuttered.
"It's already covered. Don't worry." He guided them down the stairs quickly and out to the bike. Nesta put on her helmet, shooting Cassian confused glances.
But when they started off again, they weren't heading to the hotel.
This ride was longer but Cassian went faster. The city zoomed passed and then they were out in the country, with rolling hills and empty roads.
Sketchy, Nesta thought. Very sketchy. He could be taking her out to murder or torture her and there was little she could do.
She loosened her grip on him, heart beating as the realization sank in. He had wanted to get out of the restaurant fast, hadn't paid. And she barely knew anything about him beyond his arrogance and his relation to her sister. He'd shown interest, asked questions. She could distinctly imagine the gleam of his ember eyes, the way his voice was eerily smooth. The way she had let her armor down.
She was shaking by the time they pulled up to a large barn, the night dark around them. When Cassian got off, she dismounted on the other side so the motorcycle was between them.
Cassian's brows lowered. "Is something wrong?"
"I… ." She didn't know what to say.
He looked around, then must have realized what she was so paranoid about. "Oh! You think I'm here to kill you. No, I actually like you, Nesta. I promise not to kill you."
Nesta took a breath. Then another. "Where are we?"
"It's a hideout of a sort that my family owns to get away from each other."
She nodded, edging slowly around the bike. Once she was beside him, Cassian took her hand as they walked to the door and slowly, but surely, all her fears faded.
Inside, string lights across the roof came up, casting the clean and furnished barn in a a golden glow. "Plumbing, carpets, air conditioning, and heating. You can't get much better than this in a literal barn."
Nesta had to agree. In one corner, there was a small but fashionable kitchen, across from that a neat sitting area, complete with television and sofa. In the other corner was an office with more desk space than a person knew how to use. It was, however, the last corner that caught her attention.
There was a giant, fluffy bed, covered in a grey comforter. Nesta was sure if she laid on it she'd be swallowed.
"I love it here," Cassian breathed, closing his eyes.
Nesta let go of his hand, going to the desk. She read the titles on the shelves, brows furrowing. "'Strategic Warfare'?" she asked.
"What did you think I do for a living?"
"You're a… ," she trailed off, running her fingers over the spines.
"General. It used to sound cooler."
"But you're so young." She said it before she could stop herself.
That insufferable grin returned. "I'll take that as a compliment." He moved to the kitchen, digging around in the cupboards. "Wine?" he asked and Nesta rushed over.
"Of course."
He poured both of them a glass.
It was the finest wine she'd ever tasted.
Cupping the glass carefully, she made her way to the couch, curling up on it as she sank into the cushions, purring slightly. Cassian stood in the centre of the rug, smirking. "So wine is your weakness, then?"
She only took another sip, peering at him with wide eyes.
"Tell me about your first boyfriend," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"Tell me about your first boyfriend." He came to sit beside her, sipping his own wine.
Nesta's heart hammered. "Why?"
"It's a conversation starter." He edged closer, making the cushions sink her to him.
She sighed, and maybe it was the wine, but she said, "His name was Tomas."
Cassian cocked his head. "You don't sound thrilled."
"He wasn't… the best of men. I thought I was going to marry him and then he… he… ." She wasn't able to finish the sentence, eyes distant as her walls locked up, one after the other.
Cassina seemed to notice and grabbed her hand. "Nesta."
She shook his hands from hers as she stood, backing away. "Why am I telling you this? Just leave me alone." She took the wine bottle from where he'd set it on the floor, raising it to her lips.
He moved lightning fast, yanking the bottle away. "Don't shut me out."
She reached for the wine, trying to take it back. But he grabbed her wrist, and, instead of pushing her away, pulled her closer. Her eyes widened as she fell into his lap. "Let go of me!" she hissed, trying to worm away and get the wine at the same time.
"Nesta-"She cut him off when she knocked his jaw with her elbow, finally seizing the neck of the bottle. He growled low in his throat, and, with moves quicker than Nesta could follow, she was suddenly below him on the couch, the wine on the floor, him hovering above her with her arms pinned over her head.
Nesta watched the wine bottle tip back and forth, slower with each pass, before it rightened itself.
Her eyes snapped to Cassian and she struggled, breath coming in flat pants.
"Relax, Nesta," he soothed and she went wild.
"Get-" she gasped, trying to kick her legs. "Get off!" Her voice was shrill, panicked.
Cassian withdrew instantly, his weight off her in a split second. Nesta rolled until she was off the couch, crawling away. She tucked her knees to her chest, pressing her face to them so he wouldn't see the tears.
"I'm sorry," said Cassian from somewhere distantly. A hand fell on her shoulder and she flinched.
But then she was being lifted into great arms. She flailed for a moment, but, as his warmth sank into her, she stopped her struggle. It wasn't worth it anyway. He was three times her size with a title and more training than she probably thought.
She went limp in his arms.
Relax, Nesta.
It was what Tomas had said to her the night he'd forced her into bed with him. And even if Cassian's warmth calmed her, comforted her, he would be no different.
Cassian shifted her to one arm as he peeled back the comforter, setting her with striking gentleness on the bed. Nesta shut her eyes, waiting for him to start to strip her down, to climb over her, to grope her.
But he only replace the blanket, tucking it into her sides. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Nes."
She curled in on herself, tears leaking from behind her lids.
His callouses scraped against her cheek as he brushed her hair behind her ear. "I'll be on the couch if you need me. Get some rest."
The bed was more comfortable than it should have been and she fell asleep not long after he turned the lights off, but she shivered through the night.