#this is especially the part when Rhys wouldn’t let him speak

[throneofsapphics]

I love your writing I have been reading your work recently since I'm new and girl. I love it.

What about a Cass + Az x reader where their mate ( reader) is cute, small with cute cheeks and they just love it to cuddle with her but also she has a sex drive worse than Cass lol. ( Makes a run for their money 😂😆) and they're just talking about it with Rhys and he teased them.

up all night

(part two)

Azriel x Reader x Cassian

Summary: You overhear a conversation between Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys

Warnings: allusions to sex

A/N: I loved this idea! sorry it deviated a bit

“How’s your mate?” Rhys asked towards the end of their meeting. They’d finished talking through everything, and they all needed a change in subject. 

Cassian let out a loud and obnoxious groan and Azriel shot him a dirty look. 

“She’s fine,” the shadowsinger answered, Rhys raised his eyebrows - sensing there’s something else going. “Just keeps Cassian up all night, and he’s pissy.” 

The male in question punched him in the shoulder, and Azriel snickered. 

“Do I want to know?” Rhys asked. 

Cassian opened his mouth, but Azriel elbowed him harshly in his side. The glare on his face said “share any details and I’ll kill you.”  He, smartly, kept his mouth shut. 

Rhys, decided to egg them on anyways. “So you can’t keep up?” Cassian threw the nearest object across the room at him, carefully deflected by a shield. 

-

You heard the tail end of their conversation, the three males speaking rather loudly. Cassian’s groan made you roll your eyes, and might have offended you just a tiny bit. Keeping him up all night? It’s not your fault … you decided maybe you’d roll back for a while - from both of them, only so they could get a good night's sleep. Or to make a point. Nobody likes it when Cassian is pissy. 

Instead of waiting for them after the meeting like you’d originally planned, you took off into Velaris to visit a friend.

-

“I thought you’d stop by the River House earlier.” Cassian asked as soon as you walked in the door, your cheeks and nose slightly red from the brutal late-fall winds. 

“Hello to you as well.” You grumbled, hanging up your coat. He caught you from behind, and you yelped as he tugged you back into his chest. You were rather short and the top of your head barely reached his shoulder. Even with the bit of resentment lingering, you leaned back into him, but swatted his hands away as he moved to pinch your cheeks. He was predictable, that’s for certain. 

“What’s wrong?” You heard Azriel. So they’d both shown up at your apartment. It was basically their home as well, at this point. 

“I regret giving you both a key.” You muttered, pushing off Cassian and heading further into the room. 

“We’d just break in.” He called after you, and you rolled your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Azriel repeated, an arm wrapping around your waist as he tugged you close. One hand brushed the hair away from your face and hazel eyes peered down at you. You felt like he could see through every layer of you, read every single emotion - and he probably could with the help of his shadows. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, “nothing.” 

His eyebrows raised as if to call your bullshit, but he didn’t say anything, only tugging you in closer and holding you. 

“Needy,” you wrapped your arms around him and he chuckled, kissing the top of your hair. 

-

Cassian seemed just a bit bummed out when you shrugged away his advances later that night, despite your entire body screaming for both of them. He didn’t push, of course, he’s always been respectful like that. Still, you couldn’t help sliding a snarky remark in there, especially since it’s been on your mind all day. 

“Wouldn’t want to keep you up all night.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you shot a look over your shoulder at Azriel. “In case you get ‘pissy.’” 

“You were at the Riverhouse,” Azriel commented, the corners of his mouth turning up.

[sunnybyler]

i’ve been sitting on my thoughts for so long but i just have to get this off my chest. i don’t like to yuck ppls yum so if you like e/riel pls scroll away nd keep having your fun it’s not my problem. however some of y’all can get mean as HELL and as an elucien i have to get this off my chest. (also warning for gwynriels i’m with y’all i defend y’all here however i do go in a bit on az in this so fair warning). i truly have no idea why e/riels cling so hard to the azriel bonus chapter in acosf because that chapter, more than literally anything else in the series, proved to me that e/riel is absolutely NOT going to be endgame. let me explain:

1. it is explicitly stated that azriel did not think of his relationship with elain outside of a sexual nature. i think some ppl get kinda annoyingly puritanical when trying to make this point when it’s like 100% certain lucien had sexual thoughts of elain too. the point isn’t the thoughts themselves. the difference here is the explicit mention that he didn’t consider anything with her outside of that.

2. the point above ^ is further exacerbated by the fact that az did not give a flying fuck if he killed elain’s MATE. even if elain hasn’t accepted the bond, it would still be extremely painful for her based on what we’ve seen with rhys, feyre, and even rhys’s parents (who weren’t good for each other, yet we saw how rhys’s dad lost it when she died). now of course us lucien lovers know damn well he would never in a million years call a blood duel to try to claim elain (and fuck u rhys for saying that, i usually have your back but come ON you are not the only male who can respect their mate’s autonomy). but az doesn’t know that!? in fact seems to agree with rhys that he could. ppl argue on who would win that fight — my opinion hinges 100% on if powers are fully unleashed but that’s not the point at all. no matter WHO wins, elain is going to feel responsible for someone’s death. of course it wouldn’t be her fault if men decided to be fucking stupid, but with the little we know about elain shows that she would feel so guilty if that happened. but azriel doesn’t seem to give af that anyone fighting to the death over her is the last thing she would ever want. not only did az not think of elain outside his fantasies and therefore not fully care for her, but he doesn’t seem to even KNOW elain in this chapter. now, i could go in on this in acosf as a whole. but i’m keeping it to this chapter alone.

3. and further on THAT point, az doesn’t really give any reasoning on his interest in elain outside of this insane “three brothers/three sisters” thing he fully pulled out of his ass. tbh i almost thing this is sjm’s way of addressing the fan theories on that. now i get it to some extent from az’s pov — seeing his brothers happy with these sisters must fuck with your head after you’d all been bachelors together for 500 years. especially considering how he’s felt unworthy of love his whole life and this seems to support that insecurity of his. i get that it makes him feel ostracized from them, and that he’s now an outlier not being with an archeron. i get that. i do. i sympathize with him here. however that does not change the fact that he isn’t speaking of elain like she’s her own individual here — hell he fully calls her “the other”. i think part of this conversation was him being frazzled, i give him a bit more grace than some do (tho he pissed me off BAD in this scene), but we were fully in this man’s head. did he give us a full reason why he liked elain besides his brother’s mates and his sexual thoughts?? they would’ve at least crossed his mind when rhys was grilling them if sjm was trying to set up her next romance here. as it is, we have literally nothing to imply azriel actually likes elain herself and not the idea of being closer with his brothers.

4. az has kinda a habit of ignoring the reality of the women he’s attracted to in some way. he has his own version of them in his head that he puts on a pedestal. now i could do a whole psych eval on this man and how he thinks he’s unworthy of love and therefore only allows himself to have feelings for women he knows/thinks he can’t have. but to focus on this chapter alone, my points above ^ about how he doesn’t really think of elain outside his fantasies/bringing him closer to his brothers and not really understanding her pretty much wraps it up there. i mean he even talks about how he thinks his scarred hands don’t belong on her because she’s so perfect in his eyes. that’s not love, that’s obsession and it’s unhealthy. he clearly thinks himself below elain and ignores that she has her own flaws too.

5. aaaand i saved the biggest for (almost) last….. GWYN. this is a genuine GENUINE question. why in the fucking hell. would sjm make half the chapter focusing on az & gwyn if she was teasing e/riel. like that makes no sense. not to be annoying and mention chekhov's gun but that idea applies to relationships too. i’m sorry but she couldn’t be more explicit about her future romances. you could argue “oh well it’s because there’s gonna be a love triangle”. y’all. elain has. elain has a mate. there already IS a love triangle. there was absolutely no reason for her to bring gwyn into this chapter other than her preparing us for a future relationship, literally none. especially with all the romantic subtext (hell not even subtext, just TEXT). gwyn getting him to talk about himself so easily when he’s so quiet usually, him taking the idea of making her happy and he “buried the image down deep, where it GLOWED QUIETLY” (which SCREAMS mating bond to me but even if it’s not it’s clearly something he cherishes deeply), the SHADOWSINGERS SHADOWS SANG FOR HER!?

6. the fucking necklace regifting. oh it’s bad. OHHH ITS BAD. when the girls realize it’s gonna be SO messy but im hoping sjm doesn’t go the stupid cat fight route bc neither of them did anything wrong. az did. i’m sorry i’m dunking on him so much in this post i rlly don’t hate him i just think he needs like decades of therapy (which tbf don’t we all) which i unfortunately don’t think sjm is going to give him before giving him his romance. but even the biggest azriel lovers have to admit that this was insanity. a few points on it here. first, if it’s so easily regiftable then it couldn’t have been that well thought out in regards to elain. say what you will about lucien’s gifts, even argue that he gave her jewelry too. but elain was actually shown wearing pearls. az’s gift seemed shallow to me — it was something pretty, and elain’s pretty, and it had a flower, and elain gardens. it’s clear lucien put SO much more thought into his gifts, whether he succeeded or not (which i need to remind y’all — we still don’t know. maybe she liked the gifts maybe she didn’t, but regardless she acted the way she did bc of her feelings about the bond, not the gift). and azriel has spent so much more time with elain than lucien has. if that necklace really felt like elain to him, he could’ve kept it or returned it. but nope. buddy gave it to a whole other girl bc he could easily associate it with someone else. he clearly felt some special pull towards gwyn too, going out of his way to give it to her. he had ONE meaningful conversation with her. i already discussed the quote earlier that makes me think mating bond personally. but no matter what, him giving her the same gift he gave someone he was pursuing romantically is a clear sign of what’s to come (and probably a setup for some sort of drama that i don’t think im mentally ready for).

so there we have it! why i think that the bonus chapter thoroughly proves that e/riel is not going to be endgame. i honestly think it’s possible they might be a thing for a minute (tho i could also see this being the closing of that chapter), but i don’t think it’s going to last. sjm just gave us too many blatant hints that elain and az would NOT work together long term, and that azriel in particular is more suited for someone else. i might’ve missed some points bc there is SO much that goes down in this tiny chapter so lmk if there’s other stuff you picked up on!

[lucysstoryworld]

Lease of Life | Azriel x Reader part 3

Thank you all so much for all the love. Just a quick one, I read all of your comments and there's so many that I can’t respond to all of them but I do read them. Especially with the tag list, I check for new entries before I post so don’t be worried if I don’t respond! hope you enjoy this next part! Let me know if you have any feedback!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, self deprecating thoughts. 

Minors DNI. 

You were sure that others would rather gouge their eyes out than stare down the High Lord of the Night Court like you were in that moment, daring him to answer incorrectly. Your body felt like it was on fire, like each and every nerve ending was being scratched and torn. The sounds that had gone unheard by your human ears, the scent of the very air was an overstimulated nightmare. And your sister’s absence did nothing but fuel the inferno pooling within your soul, threatening to break the surface. Glancing around the room, the look on the others’ faces told you that they had been blindsided too. All eyes were on Rhysand, demanding an explanation as to what the actual fuck just happened. 

So he explained. Explained how he and Feyre had slipped out to have an impromptu mating ceremony... and had her named High Lady of the Night Court. Explained how she had sacrificed her safety for the sake of your escape. 

Classic, selfless Feyre. 

It was Nesta who broke the pregnant silence, the anger on her face matching what you felt, “So you just let her?! Wow, you really are useless. First you rock up to my home and promise that we will have no part in this war. You lied. Next, you allow my sister to just give herself over to the enemy!” She barked, growing close to being feral. 

“Watch how you speak to my High Lord,” Cassian growled, towering above her. 

“He is not my High Lord, so I will speak to him how I want. All he is to me is someone who has dragged all of my sisters into a war we have no part in.” 

The tension was thick, rage and shock at what happened fuelling the fire, “Feyre died so we could live and now she is risking her life again for the sake of this court all of her own accord. No one is forcing her. So I will only say it once more, mind you tongue, girl,” He sneered. 

“That’s enough,” Rhysand ordered, his demeanour was commanding all of the attention in the room. 

“Rhys...” Morrigan spoke, voice barely above a whisper. She stood from your side, approaching Rhysand with an uneasy calm, “You’re telling me my High Lady is with the enemy? She is in danger.” Morrigan seemed desperate, concern lacing her tone. 

“Your High Lady is conducting a recon mission in the Spring Court and will be safe,” Though the words were meant to be reassuring, you knew deep down Rhysand did not believe them. 

“Oh please!” Nesta scoffed once again, “Safe? Safe. You wouldn’t know what safety was if it slapped you in the face!”

This was all too much, the anger you felt was now at boiling point, “Shut it, Nesta!” You boomed, chest heaving with the effort it was taking to not blow up. All eyes were on you, yet your own remained fixed on your eldest sister. “Do not pretend as though you give a shit about Feyre’s safety. Not when she risked her life every day in that forest hunting just so you could pester her when she came home!” You wished the shouting would calm the storm brewing in your very bones, the strange feeling was clawing its way out. 

“(F/n)...” Morrigan whispered, edging closer to you once more.

“I am not speaking to you,” You snapped, lifting your hand to halt her pursuit towards you. The room began to fill with metallic scent of magic, seemingly consuming each molecule of air in the room. You did not miss how everyone in the room readied themselves to intervene. Both you and Nesta stared each other down, daring the other to make the next move. 

“I have always cared for our family,” She whispered lowly, almost darkly. 

In that moment, that insufferable feeling that, for all this time, had been dancing just beneath your skin broke loose. The power in the room made every wooden fixture begin to groan, glass began to shatter and fly violently across the room along with splinters of wood. 

All of them directed at your sister. 

In an instant, Rhysand stood before you. He placed a hand up, halting the assault on Nesta. Shards and wood chips fell to the floor and he looked at you with gentle eyes. The gentleness in his eyes shook you to the core. He had the same eyes as Feyre. The seriousness of what you just tried to do had you backing away from the group slowly.

“It’s okay,” He said quietly, “Just look at me. I will get Morrigan to bring you to your room. Is that okay?” Cautious. He was being cautious. 

A slight nod was all you could manage. The journey to your room was a blur and when Morrigan took her leave silently, you laid down in the soft bed and cried yourself to sleep. 

* * * 

It had been a few weeks since then. Weeks since you had tried to kill Nesta, and neither of you had made an effort to speak of it. Weeks since you were ripped away from your mortality and given a new body that coursed with strength and power that you barely keeping a handle on. It was obvious that you were not the only one struggling with the change. Elain had barely uttered two words since she arrived here, had barely eaten or slept. She seemed chained to the chair that faced the window, overlooking Velaris. At first, you believed she wanted to marvel in the undeniable beauty of the city though, it became clear her eyes were unseeing. Her sight seemed entwined in whatever catatonic blur that had encased her mind. You and Nesta desperately tried to coax any reaction from her, inviting her out to see the beautiful gardens or come try some of the baked treats the two wraiths had made. 

It seemed as though your sister was lost. 

Azriel had managed to get subtle reactions from her. Offering her tea resulted in an almost unnoticeable tilt of her chin, or a gentle good morning seemed to make her eyes glance towards him in response. It wasn't much, but you and Nesta prayed that whatever magic Azriel was working would continue to work. 

Caring for Elain made it easier to ignore the constant gnawing sensation in the back of your skull, the feeling like you were not the owner of the body you inhabited was both refreshing as it was grating. You relished in the feeling in taking long, powerful breaths of air. In walking around Velaris without tiring as you would have before. It felt like you had been given a new lease of life, appreciating every single second of health you walked in. Yet, the constant scents and sounds that invaded your senses were jarring. The conversations that you overheard on your walks past the cafes seemed so loud. The smell of the brewery down the next street seemed so strong. That female was surely letting all of Velaris know that she was wearing high heels, clacking against the cobble. Or the male in the restaurant was happy to let the whole dinning hall know he was chewing. 

It was all so... irritating. 

So, the walks in the beautiful city had ceased just as quickly as they started. You could barely cope with the sounds in the house, let alone a whole city’s worth. 

It made you yearn for Feyre more. Asking Rhys, as he had urged you to call him, whether or not she was coming home soon became a daily occurrence. Each day was filled with, ‘No, but she is safe,’. Disappointment seemed to weigh you down with each day she did not return. You needed her now more than ever.

The following day, after not receiving the update you wanted from Rhys had you sulking on the balcony, with your head in your hands. Gods, you needed her so bad. The irritation of everything prickled underneath your skin to the point where you couldn’t even look at Elain without becoming exasperated by her state. 

“You doing okay out here, (F/n),” Azriel’s deep voice called from the doors. 

Without lifting your head, “Doing wonderful, thanks.” The guilt for being so rude added to the list of things weighing you down. 

Gentle tingles began dancing across your arms, a cool sensation that made the hairs on your arm stand on end. Finally lifting your head to see what is was, you were met with Azriel’s shadows twirling near your body. Their master was now standing right in front of you, looking at you were a softness that you had not experienced before. “You’re so quiet, I didn't hear you walking over here,” Was all you managed to say. 

“Sorry if I startled you, it is part of the job description to move about unnoticed.”

“Not at all,” You sighed, “It’s nice actually. For something to be so silent.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, gesturing you to elaborate, “I’m not entirely sure what that means,” He replied. His eyes were like pools of gold, staring down at you were unnatural calculation yet it was not threatening in the slightest. 

“It means that fae senses suck and I miss being able to hear so little.”

The soft chuckle was like music to your ears. In the brief moments you had interacted with Azriel, often during the make shift hand overs for Elain, you could feel a strange excitement when he would look to you. When he would speak, your heart would begin to thump heavily in your chest. You weren’t stupid, you were aware that it was a crush.

That is all it was, a crush. You had never witnessed beauty akin to that of Azriel’s. So it was only natural that you were attracted to him. It was just a simple crush, was what you told yourself. Especially when you saw how dearly he was caring for your sister. Part of you whispered that his aid to your sister went beyond that of respect and love for his High Lady thus, you shut down any thoughts of how devastatingly handsome he was.

“Well, I can’t imagine how… off-putting it is to learn everything about your new body. I know it is not any consolation now but it will get easier, Feyre managed eventually,” He deliberately spoke soft, like he was afraid his voice was going to add to your irritation.

A smile tugged at your tugged on the corner of your lips, your heart swelling with the consideration he was showing, “I wish she were here though. I wish I knew how long it’s gonna take for this to feel normal,” You sighed, motioning to the body you inhabited. “It’s strange, I’m grateful that I feel strong for the first time in my life. I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t ill, or completely exhausted or able to just do what people do without being sick for the following days. Yet, I’m so miserable. Every little noise and smell makes me feel like my head is going to burst. I feel so pathetic,” You whispered, tears lining your eyes after finally voicing your woes.

“You’re not pathetic,” His sharp answer had you meeting his eyes once more. “You have been pushed into this without warning, which is partially my fault. I promised Feyre that I would protect her sisters and I failed. So do not, for one moment, think that you are supposed to feel a certain type of way about this. I can’t say there is one right way to adjust to being fae. But I can imagine being in a city is a sensory nightmare. So perhaps, we should take it slow. Maybe we should bring you somewhere more manageable, like a forest, or a small town or village,” He replied. The determination in his voice filled you with hope, that same jittery feeling of your crush set you on edge in the most wonderful way.

“I would like that, Azriel. Thank you for speaking with me. But for now, I want to stay here in case Feyre comes back.” The thought of not being in this house when Feyre came back was not up for discussion. You had already lost enough time with your sister over the recent years, you weren’t about to willingly risk losing even more time with her, despite having immortality to make up for lost time. Though, with the war looming, there was a real chance immortality wouldn’t protect you. 

“Of course,” His answer was distant, as though he was building himself up to say something more. 

“What is it?” 

“I can offer you a short reprieve from the sounds, but it is only if you want it,” He suggested, shyness causing a slight blush to dust his cheeks. 

You were sure that if you were still human, your heart would have given out by now. His suggestion sent butterflies dancing in your stomach, “What does it involve?” You whispered, your own cheeks heating. 

“My shadows... They can help. I mean, if I just,” He released a frustrated sigh, unable to explain himself. “I can just show you, but again only if you are okay with it.” 

The thought of complete silence was so inviting, you were ready to do just about anything for a few moments of peace. “Yes please, Azriel,” Was all you could manage. 

Slowly, his shadows seemed to grow thicker. They began stretching from him to you, entwining themselves around your body. The blackness the shadows possessed was so unlike that of the cauldron. They were lukewarm, comforting. They were silent. The pocket they encased you in made it feel like the world outside ceased to exist. Made it feel like time stood still. No sights, no sounds, no smells. 

It was divine. 

You sat for what felt like hours, just enjoying the complete nothingness you had craved this whole time. Slowly, a small crack appeared in the pocket. It allowed the slightest sounds to creep through, another tear invited the scents of Velaris. The final crack had the pocket melting away, revealing the Shadowsinger. 

“That was...” You started, words escaping you. “That was beautiful.” 

A sheepish smile graced Azriel’s face and again, you were sure your human heart wouldn't have coped with the sight of him in this moment. “I’m glad I could help you, (F/n).”

A comfortable silence settled between you and Azriel. You couldn’t help the soft smile that took hold, the kindness this male had shown you was unlike anything else. Gods, he really wasn’t helping with this crush you had. 

As though that thought was heard by fate, Azriel stood, “I must get back to Elain. Hopefully I can get her to eat something today.” While you watched his retreating figure, a strange sense of disappointment replaced the peace you felt moments ago. 

You couldn’t decipher why you would feel upset for him taking care of your incapacitated sister. Yet, it also made so much sense. When you were human, you never had the experience of having a man’s interest. Your health making it impossible to just go out and mingle with people during your time in the cottage  like Feyre had. And your health also made you an unsuitable bride during your family’s re-assimilation into aristocracy, being too weak to even consummate a marriage let alone produce an heir for her husband’s name was among one of the remarks you overheard one of Nesta’s ‘friends’ say during one their seemingly obligatory charity visits. Essentially, you knew you were unable to differentiate between genuine kindness and romantic interest. 

Yet before you could even entertain any more of the self pitying thoughts, Rhys’ voice entered your mind. It was frantic, yet you knew what he said. 

Feyre was back. With Elain’s mate. 

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[downingg2001]

Busy Bodies

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed as he very so gently pulled the thorns out of Elain’s hand. His shadows watched him, skittish and nervous watching his every move, warning him not to harm her. He hissed at them, quietly telling them to go away. But they only hissed back, leaving his side only to go to hers.

Azriel raised an eyebrow at his shadows but said nothing. They often went to her just to annoy him..at least that's what he told himself. Honestly, they just liked her company. Not that he blamed them. She didn’t run from them and it didn't bother her when they would tug on her curls or wrap themselves around her skin. She welcomed them and Azriel sometimes swore she could understand them as easily as he could.

'Sorry...they are busy bodies,' Azriel muttered, continuing to dig into her warm skin.

“I don’t mind” was her only response. She hadn’t said much to him since he pulled her from the garden and into the kitchen after she cut up her hands. He supposed she had no reason to, especially since everything he did..and didn’t do.

Growing up with Rhys and Cassian, Azriel didn't get a lot of peace and quiet and often relished those rare moments of silence. But right now, with Elain sitting in front of him, and him between her thighs, her hands in his, and towering above her, he wished she would speak. To look up at him..maybe scream at him or call him a curse word or two. Mother above, he deserved it. Anything but ignoring him.

He knew humans had a word for it...Karma. And Azriel didn’t like it one bit.

“Why don’t you wear the gloves the fox bought you?” He was playing with fire. That he knew, but he would gladly let it burn him just to get any kind of response.

Elain scoffed, a sound Azriel had never heard leave her lips. He wanted to bottle it and set it right next to the headache powder on his nightstand.

He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her response. She moved so quickly, her head snapping up at him. There it was.The famous Archeron glare. But at least she was looking at him now.

She was looking at him now.

“Sorry Lainy..i’ve never heard you make such a sound. It took me off guard..Your sisters are usually the ones who i hear it from”

She flinched at the nickname, and it felt like a dagger to Azriel's chest.

He looked at his shadows and they shook in annoyance at him. The message was clear.

Idiot.

“Elain..” He began

She cut him off. “ I want to feel the dirt under my nails and on my skin..it reminds me that even though gardening results in something pretty, it takes time and hard work. I want the calluses and the bruises and cuts..because it shows..it shows that i..that i..” she trailed off.

She sighed and Azriel could only watch her as she fought with whatever inner demons she was currently facing.

“After my half-brothers burned my hands…” Azriel started, placing the tweezers down on the cold marble counter “ I refused to touch anything. Afraid of tarnishing everything and everyone around me. I believed that I had become this monster…” Azriel gulped as he looked at his hands

“I became a shell of who I was before. I got so lost in my own head..in my anger that I did unspeakable things and I made excuses for my actions”.

Elain was watching him now, teary eyed.

“And I figured if I already looked like a monster, then the deeds that followed wouldn’t matter. As long as my family and my court survived, I would bear the bloodshed, I would let my soul become as ugly and cruel as my hands..I would do any job required of me, play any part needed”. Azriel hesitated before continuing, avoiding eye contact with her.

“You were the first person to call my hands beautiful…The first person to think I'm not a monster…to think I’m worthy outside of all the bad things that I've done”.

A single shadow returned to Azriel, wrapping itself around his fingers as if to comfort its master. Azriel gave a sad smile before looking at Elain. She was crying.

“Sorry..I shouldn’t have said anything” he turned to leave. He wanted to blend into the shadows and disappear for a while. Forget this whole conversation.

Elain must have seen it because she grabbed his hand. Startled Azriel looked at her. Her flushed cheeks. Her chest heaving from hiccups. Her hands, soft and warm, holding his.

Her eyes are what really captured his attention though. Usually soft and doe like, now holding so many emotions that the shadowsinger couldn’t place.

“Don’t run from me again…” she hiccuped “ Don’t decide that you're not worthy enough or good enough..or beautiful enough. Your more than enough Az, You adapted to whatever circumstances you need to, too survive”

“ Elain don’t pity me..Please” he couldn’t stand it if she did. He wished he hadn’t said anything. He just wanted her to know, he understood what she meant even if she didn't say it.

Elain stood up with so much fierceness Azriel had to take a step back “ I’m not! Azriel, I mean it” She grabbed his face forcing himself to look at her “When i stabbed the King of Hybern, you were the one who washed the blood off after. You were so gentle and kind..you kept me sane in that moment..You were the one who kept me sane when i turned. You were the only one who listened..who understood what i was going through..How could you think so low of yourself after all that”

Azriel didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do.

She brushed her thumb against his cheekbone “ You saved me so many times…Let me save you for once..Let me walk into the darkness with you”.

“ Elain..”.

“ You won’t break me so easily, shadowsinger”.

“ Elain you don’t understand..”.

“ I understand plenty and I know enough…You forget my power….i saw what happened on Solstice and I don't care what Your Highlord says….”

Azriel had never been rendered speechless so many times in his life by one person.

He imagined he looked like a gaping fish.

Idiot his shadows hissed again.

Azriel had to agree. Of course she had seen it..

“Did you see today as well”.

Elain tilted her head “No, today was uncertain…There were too many possibilities..too many things that could have happened, too many paths blurring together”.

“And Solstice?”.

“There were only two outcomes... one where Rhysand interrupted and one where he didn’t”.

Azriel nodded, unsure what to say once again. But his thoughts were clear.

Lucien and Rhysand and the potential war that could break out if he let himself have this. Have her, if she accepted him… and a million other thoughts that were running rampant throughout his mind.

Elain brushed her lips against his knuckles, pulling him out of his head. “Don’t worry about any of that..”

“ How..””

Elain only smiled. Her real smile. The one she had often shared with him in the past “I have my secrets as well, shadowsinger…but you're very easy to read, like an open book”.

Azriel only laughed. Nobody had ever said that to him.

Elain gave a soft laugh as well. Without realizing it he touched her face. She leaned into the palm of his hand,

“I love your laugh,” she muttered, her eyes closed.

Azriel felt his cheeks burn. Mother above this girl was going to be the end of him.

“ You can come in highlord” Elain spoke, her eyes still closed.

Azriel blinked. He hadn’t sensed Rhys near. His body went rigid and he felt himself reach for his dagger.

Rhysand appeared before them, clearing his throat. “Since when do we use such formalities with each other Lainey”

“ Since you started making decisions for me” she stared at the highlord without even blinking.

Rhysand only sighed, looking at both of them before turning to Azriel

“Shadowsinger..”

“ Since when did we start using formatalites with each other brother?” Azriel repeated

Rhys's eyes sparked with rage “ When you started disobeying my orders”. The rage quickly disappeared though and Rhys sighed again.

“ Damn Archerons” Rhys walked over to the fridge, opening it “Did you make any dessert today Lainey?”

"Top shelf to the right,” Elain responded, still looking at Azriel, her hand still holding his. “ You can relax Az, Rhys isn’t going to do anything.”

Rhys grunted, pushing a spoonful of whatever dessert elain had made into his mouth before sighing with happiness

Azriel looked at Elain with curiosity “What did you do?”

Elain’s eyes gleamed with pride and a hidden secret. Azriel felt more than seen Rhysand tense and coughing into his dessert. “I can’t say”

Azriel looked over at Rhys, watching him “You know my job is making people talk right?” he said, still speaking to Elain.

Elain grabbed the collar of his shirt. “I look forward to the interrogation, shadowsinger”

Elain once again moved quicker than Azriel could comprehend and kissed him with such intensity he couldn’t breath.

He felt his hands twitch before relaxing and wrapping around Elain’s waist.

He felt so unsure of what would happen next but for the first time in his life he didn't care. As long as Elain was by his side they would deal with it together.

A loud whistle echoed across the kitchen and a yelp with “ Shut the fuck up Cass” from Nesta with a “finally” from Feyre.

Elain broke the kiss with a laugh, placing her forehead against his.

“ I think we have a audience”

“ I don't care” Azriel grabbed her gently by her chin and kissed her again.

Their family rushed in. Cassian picked the both of them up in a hug and spun them around while nesta shaked her head causing Elain to burst into a fit of giggles and Az to smile. Mor and Feyre went to Rhys to scold him, both of their eyes puffy, the latter kissing him on the cheek before scolding him again.

One by one they congratulated Azriel and Elain.

Once everything calmed down, Azriel looked at Elain’s hand again and frowned “The last one might scar..”

“ Good” Elain said softly “ Then we can match”

Azriel smiled, kissing the palm of her cut up hand and muttered “ Beautiful”

“ Your mine”she whispered

“ I'm yours.. forever” Azreil whispered back.

“It’s a bargain then?”

“It’s a bargain,” he repeated. He felt the heat spread over his heart as new tattoos formed

“ Where's yours at?” he asked once the heat vanished.

“ It’s a secret” she winked at him.

“Guess i'll have to interrogate you.

Elain smiled, with a glint of mischief in her eyes “ Do your worst, shadowsinger”.

Azriel laughed, pulling Elain close. He never wanted her out of his reach again and he would burn down the whole world just to keep her in his arms forever.

Sorry for the poor editing! 🫣😂

[chairofchaos]

Letters of Love, Part III

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9356 (I'm sorry, or you're welcome. Whichever feels right to you)

A/N: A huge thank you to @ninthcircleofprythian for a few of the lines of the letters included in this part between Azriel and Eris. They made my day. Enjoy!

*****

A Note from the Editor for Part III:

In this edition of Letters of Love, we have chosen to omit the transcript describing the first family dinner as is usually included in this part of the original edition of Letters. Instead we have replaced it with an excerpt from Eris Vanserra’s journal.

The only surviving Symphonias which contain interviews by Arbora Vanserra do not include the interview detailing the events of that dinner. While it may have existed, we no longer have the primary source of the transcripts typically included here. The core elements align between the transcript and the journal, and most details are consistent between the two accounts. There is no reason to believe the transcript contains errors, or that it is falsified in any way. However, in favor of the narrative quality of the journal excerpt and the verifiable source, we have moved the transcript section to Appendix A in order to keep the integrity of the original Letters of Love publication and support the preservation of truth as is verifiable by surviving sources.

***

Letters:

Dear Feyre, my most darling High Lady,

Assuming you’ll get a few minutes to yourself while you’re with Elain today: we really must speak about Eris. We abandoned our original plan of having him to dinner because of Windhaven, and obviously that led to where we are now. Perhaps we can have him for dinner to make it up to him, to keep an eye on him, and to ensure that all is as it should be?

Rhys

***

Rhys,

When would you invite him? We are very busy this coming week, and I can’t imagine Azriel would appreciate him coming to family dinner when things with the others (Mor especially) are so strained. 

A small gathering would be better. Nesta and Cassian would kill us if they weren’t, if at least for a chance to see Az now that they are back. If we’re inviting them, then we might as well invite Elain and Lucien.

Ever your darling,

Feyre

***

My darling indeed,

Perhaps before the family dinner would be best. And I believe that’s enough guests. Nyx will be very mad if Flora is here and he doesn’t get to see her, so we’ll just have to keep him in the dark until it’s over.

Rhys

***

Rhys,

If Nyx finds out that we intentionally kept him off the guest list when Flora, Elain, Lucien and Azriel are here he will never forgive us.

As for scheduling, I can’t imagine that having family dinner first would be helpful. They would all have to be told either at dinner or beforehand, and wouldn’t you rather have good answers to their questions? I think we should wait until after so we can spare ourselves the meeting the day after family dinner. To that end, we can keep it quiet until after it happens.

Your wife,

Feyre

***

My beautiful High Lady,

Aren’t you clever? Better to have family dinner after. I nearly forgot we moved family diner to Friday. Mor will be in Hewn until Thursday night late, which also does us favors. That leaves most of the week, and Thursday is gloriously free. Is that acceptable?

You aren’t suggesting that we have Nyx with us?

Rhys

***

Rhys,

That’s brilliant, darling.

And I certainly am. Especially if Flora is in attendance. It should keep everyone on their best behavior. It isn’t like we can’t protect him.

Your love,

Feyre

***

Darling,

There is no need to have Nyx there. It will be bad enough having the fox, no matter how fond I am of him and your sister.

Rhys

***

Rhys,

My cruel male. Nyx will come, if only for your comment about Lucien, who (must I remind you) is family.

Feyre

***

Darling,

As you wish. I trust you’ve already told him and now won’t let me go back on my word?

Rhys

***

Rhys,

You do know me so well. 

I love you.

Feyre

***

Dearest Azriel,

Were you going to inform me that we were invited to Night for dinner next week?

Eris

***

Eris,

I have no idea what you are talking about.

Love,

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I just received a letter from Feyre inviting me to dinner on Thursday. You had to have known. You didn’t think to give me as much as a hint?

Eris

***

Eris,

No matter how much you might believe Feyre and Rhys consult me on every choice they make, I assure you this is the first I’ve heard of it. We can talk about it when I’m back if you would like.

I promise I would have mentioned it. Truly.

I love you,

Azriel

***

Azriel,

You’re certain they didn’t mention it?

Eris

***

Eris,

The shadows assure me I haven’t. And since they like you so much, I’m certain they would tell me if I had made such a grievous error.

Clearly this upsets you - we can talk about it when I return.

Azriel

***

My dearest,

I’ve survived worse than a dinner. You are available on Thursday, yes?

Eris

***

Eris,

Yes. I’ll be there if you will be. We would go together, of course. I wouldn’t ask you to come alone.

Glad to be ‘your dearest’ once more,

Azriel

***

Always my dearest,

I will inform them we will be in attendance.

Eris

***

Rhys,

In future, I’d appreciate it if you would let me know before inviting Eris to something, at least for now. I didn’t know what he was talking about and it did not settle well with me. Or with him.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I’ll do my best. My apologies. Though since Feyre sent the invitation, I can’t imagine why you’re writing to me.

Rhys

***

Rhys,

Then perhaps you would be kind enough to pass along the sentiment.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I suppose I can be. You are coming, aren’t you? I think Feyre would be devastated if you weren’t.

Rhys

***

Rhys, and Feyre,

I think you’ll find an acceptance will be arriving from Eris soon enough. Has anyone ever told you that your habit of sharing letters is annoying?

Azriel

***

Azriel,

We’ve just received an invitation to dinner from Feyre and Rhys. They said you would be there. Does that mean Eris will be as well? I do hope so.

Love, 

Elain

***

Elain,

It does. Eris just sent the acceptance. Will I be able to meet Flora then?

Azriel

***

Az, 

I had hoped you would be by to meet her before then. You are sure you can’t get away, I assume?

I need to have a word with Feyre about how much she and Rhys push you.

Elain

***

Elain,

Don’t you have enough going on at the moment without fighting for me to have more time off?

I was hoping I could get away, but there’s no chance I’d make it. I’m barely going to make it back to Autumn to pick Eris up for dinner in the first place. Are you bringing Flora with you?

Azriel

***

Azriel,

I have to bring her to dinner, she’s a baby. I asked Feyre, and they’re having Nyx join as well. It seems they are truly going for a family dinner. He is very excited to see his cousin. I will admit I’m a little concerned. He will not be holding her, no matter how much he begs.

Elain

***

Elain,

I don’t blame you in the slightest. He is only eight. And he wields an incredible amount of power (metaphorically and literally) for a child so small. Rhys is wrapped around his little finger. 

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Thank you for the confirmation of my suspicions. I doubt Lucien will be disappointed by that decision, since she won’t even be two weeks old. 

You and I need to get together soon, or I’ll have to drag Eris from Autumn and try to dig more details from him. I need more details. Of course you could always send me a nice, long letter the way you did last time…

Elain

***

Elain,

You’re an outrageous snoop, you know that? 

What do you want to know?

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Something sweet. Your favorite moment from the last two weeks, perhaps?

Elain

***

Elain,

I’ll do my best to sate your curiosity for the next few days. Do me a favor and don’t mention any of my next, or gods forbid, my last letter of this nature, at dinner?

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Indulge me, Az? Give me something to think about other than Lucien’s impending breakdown. Speaking of, do write to your lover and ask him to come check on Lucien. I think Eris thinks I’m being dramatic but I heard Lucien say Beron’s name as he slept last night and it was rather disturbing.

Elain

***

Elain,

I really could have gone without that knowledge, but I’ll send Eris, if I can. 

I’m a bit busy to give you all the details right now, but the second I get more than five minutes I will write my favorite moment. Promise. It will be today, even if it is the last thing I do tonight. Is that an acceptable compromise?

Azriel

***

Az,

Windhaven must be keeping you very busy. Yes, that’s fine. And thank you for whatever you said to Eris. His letter just barely beat yours and he says he’s on his way.

Elain

***

Elain,

Anytime. I look forward to holding Flora first at dinner on Thursday.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Send me that letter you promised me and I’ll do my best to keep her from her godparents.

Elain

***

Dearest,

I’ll be on my way to Day once I’m done packing. Please come meet us tonight. I miss you.

Eris

***

Eris,

You know I would if I could. Things are not good here. I can’t leave. I am sorry about it.

All my love,

Azriel

***

Dearest,

We’ve barely been mated for two weeks and I’ve seen you for only one of them. Try to get away? I’m still here for over an hour if you can only get away for that long.

Eris

***

Eris,

I know. I am working on hiring and training apprentices. The interviews went well, I think. I picked two decent candidates and I’m going to pit them against each other. Regardless, I need to be here to train them and to oversee the changes in Windhaven.

I miss you more than you know.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

One night. One night to hold you. Please. I’ll postpone with Elain until the morning if it’s any easier for you.

Eris

***

Eris,

My love. If I could have you with me, I would have you here in an instant. If I could come, I would. My arms ache for the weight of you. 

The only comfort I seem to find in my rooms here is the firelight flickering off the walls. It reminds me of the way your hair gleams in candlelight. I never thought I’d be warmed by fire again the way I am tonight. Instead of being a reminder of pain, they’re a reminder of the crown you suddenly wore on that first night: flames of gold and russet. Flames of you. They are a comfort now, in some odd way.

I miss you, my love.

I will be with you soon,

Azriel

***

My loving firebrand,

I’m tempted to order you back. I don’t suppose you would listen?

I’m purposely ignoring the second paragraph to avoid lighting this wing of the Forest House on fire. Forgive me.

Eris

***

Eris,

I couldn’t leave. Truly. I wish I could. I’ll think of you with every second. 

I already have.

All my love,

Azriel

***

My love,

You will be the death of me. I love you. Come as soon as you’re able.

All of me aches for the weight of you. 

I have to put out a fire now.

Eris

***

Lucien,

Do you think perhaps Rhys is using Azriel to plan an infiltration of Autumn? The thought had occurred to me. I wouldn’t want to believe it. I don’t. If he is gone like this often, I’m afraid the thought will fester. I’ll be there in half an hour so don’t feel like you need to respond. I just wondered what you thought.

Eris

***

Elain,

For your patience, I offer you three of my favorite moments of our week together.

One was simply watching Eris sleep. He’s a deep sleeper. He is also an insufferable grump when he wakes up. Regardless, watching him sleep peacefully, his lashes against his cheek, the little sighs when he would move, was my favorite. He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful, when he sleeps. The peace he seems to feel when he sleeps never lasts long after he wakes. His jaw tenses, his brow tightens or even furrows. But when he sleeps without a care, nothing but peace and contentment drifting through our bond, he’s the most beautiful male in the world.

A second was the first flight. He had never flown with any of us before. And I know you aren’t fond of it, really. You will have to take my word for it when I tell you the joy that spiraled down the bond as I took him in my arms and leapt into the sky was unmatched. He clung onto me for a minute but once we were high enough, he was laughter and light, strands of his hair whipping from the braid I’d recommended he put it in and glinting in the evening light.

My true favorite, my favorite out of all of the moments we shared, was when we sat at the table the night after the bond was accepted. I had made us food this time and Eris sat at the table waiting for me. When I turned with his plate in my hand, my shadows were draped about his head like a crown. Amid them rested a crown of pure flame, and the shadows seemed to move in a dance with the flickers and embers of light.

His eyes were flame and shadow. He looked at me, a cocky grin on his face, and said, “They crowned me first.” I sat his plate in front of him, looked him in the eyes, and told him it was because he was the ruler of my heart. The way he looked at me in return was as though I had handed him the world on a platter. I nearly took a page out of Nesta’s book and knelt before him at that table, but he reached out a hand in offer and command. But the command wasn’t for me. It was for my shadows. As if they knew precisely what he wished, more of my shadows whipped from his body to me, whispering everything they could about Eris, asking if they could bring the flame to me, to crown me with it as well. I ignored them until he cocked his head and asked me himself.

How he figured out how to speak to my shadows, I don’t know. I’ll need to. But I told him yes, and as I did, I felt a crown of flame begin to hover over my own head. I could hardly hear anything over the rush of my blood. He made sure it hovered away from me enough that I wouldn’t truly feel it. But it was there. For a moment, it was there, and when I had had enough, I went to tell him. Before I could even say a word, it was gone. 

That was my favorite. I have handled flame since my childhood. It would be impossible not to. But to allow someone else to control flame that close to my head, to my wings, was a moment I will not soon forget. He asked. He cared. If I had shown a second’s hesitation I trust he wouldn’t have done it. I won’t forget that, either. And that look on his face…

I would wear a crown of flames every day to see that knowing, claiming gleam in his eyes. It was caring, yes, and thoughtful to leave it only for a few moments. But the claiming, the possessive glint in seeing me cast in the flickering light of a minute scrap of his power made me weak in the knees.

Azriel

***

Brother,

Come read the letter Elain just received from Azriel and tell me what you think then.

Lucien

***

Azriel,

Delicious. Absolutely delicious. 

Did you end up taking a page out of Cassian’s book?

Elain

***

El,

You deserve a crown for the most demanding family member.

Yes we did. And I will say no more on that subject.

Azriel

***

Dearest,

Are you in the habit of writing detailed letters of our love to Elain?

The flight was a favorite moment of mine, too.

Eris

***

Eris,

Only since she’s had Flora. She’s quite hard to ignore when she puts her mind to something, as you well know.

We’ll go flying soon, I promise. Perhaps over Velaris?

Say hello to them while you’re there.

You are mine, forever and always,

Azriel

***

As I am yours, so you, my dearest, are mine.

I’m going to hold you to that. They say hello as well.

I’m glad you wrote. I think Elain was right. Lucien needs sleep, badly. I’m drugging him for the night so if you need anything, ask him now.

Eris

***

Eris,

I need nothing from Lucien. I do, however, need something from you.

Your love,

Azriel

***

My infuriatingly lovely mate,

I need something from you as well. Until we are together, let’s keep it at that?

Eris

***

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

The mating bond has rendered me entirely incapable of acting with any sense of rational thought, comprehension, or sanity. The things I have thought, the things I have written, and said, and done, these last two weeks are incomprehensible. 

I am completely and entirely consumed by want for Azriel. I am a barely contained furnace. Tomorrow. I keep telling myself I only have to make it to dinnertime tomorrow.

I called him a firebrand. He’s the farthest thing from it, unless the thing he’s inciting change in is me.

***

I would beg for this male. I have begged for this male, and I’d do it again.

Then again, he also begged for me. He wrote this morning to tell me the one benefit of working all hours of the day for the last week was that he would be able to leave from Windhaven at noon and that he could be at the Acorn house by 2 with lunch. Dinner wasn’t until 9 (One of the Night Court’s more benign traditions) so a late lunch was smart. I rearranged as much as I could, and thank the gods, moved that abysmal meeting with Lord Fike to the next hour instead of leaving it at the end of the day. He was as awful as usual. It’s a shame his daughter wasn’t around to see him so angry. She’s so much happier now she’s free to do as she wishes. And as for the books she’s writing… Her latest should be an instant hit. Bless Helion for taking her into Day.

Right. Azriel. He beat me home. When I arrived just outside the wards, he was leaning against the porch railing with his arms crossed over his chest. He was so broad, so angular. If I had been Feyre, I would have painted him like that. The shadows of the house cast his face in darkness, but as he stepped down the stairs and into the grass with wings flaring behind him, I found his own shadows racing towards me in the daylight. I think they would enjoy the hounds. I should take Azriel on a trip to the kennel, if only to see what the shadows do. 

A week. A whole week since I had last touched him, held him. He wrapped us in the shade of his wings and kissed me, and I could feel my breathing, my heartbeats, my whole body shift to be in alignment with him. The talon of his wing scraped across the backs of my thighs, my only warning before he picked me up and jumped. I couldn’t help but shout. I wasn’t prepared. His laugh was so joyful and free as I grabbed him that I can’t even be mad. 

Last time we flew, I had my back pressed to his chest, able to see the earth below. But this time, I saw my world. Azriel’s wings beat steadily against the air, their tips kissing the gray winter sky. His shadows were dancing along the length of his body, kissing the air and encircling us with lazy swirls of smoky black. I stared at him. His lips, held with the faintest hint of a smile. His ink black hair, brushing the rounded tops of his ears.

I trust he wouldn’t drop me. I pulled an arm from my grip around his neck and brushed a finger against the pink of his cheek. He wouldn’t make eye contact, but his eyes lit up and narrowed enough I knew he was paying attention, so I did it again, then dared to lick a stripe up the column of his neck and up his jaw. I didn’t plan on doing anything else, but the taste of him under my tongue and the scent of his arousal which followed my action led to me moaning straight into his ear.

We dove suddenly and with such ferocity I yelped, clutching at his collar as he gripped me tight to him until we had leveled out, circling the roof of the house in a steep bank. He growled loving warnings about doing that to him while he was flying with me in his arms in my ear until we landed. I hauled him against me, dragging him backwards toward the house. I think if he hadn’t kept us stable with his wings we would have fallen over into the grass, because when he tucked his wings in and stooped to get them under the doorway we toppled in, him on top of me.

One of us kicked the door shut. Our clothes had quickly been flung to the corners of the room. I summoned some oil and slowly pressed into him while I knelt between the calves of his spread legs. His wings flared in my face, silently begging me to stroke them, to claim him one more way as my own. I didn’t. He had had me his way enough that last week we had been together. I thought - literally and with some amount of feral need for him - perhaps it was my turn to make him beg. When I told him to use his words, he whined - truly whined, hand reaching back to grasp for mine. I held his hand and pressed it to the base of his spine as I thrust into him deeper and deeper. 

He tries to be quiet. I think he tries very hard to make no sound at all. It filled me with pride when, not three minutes after the front door was kicked shut, he was near gasping for breath, pleading with me to touch him, to let him touch himself. I snarled at him, and all his pleas switched to praise. Praise for me. I’ve never felt this possessive over anyone. I knew I did, I knew I would, for this male who is my mate. But it had been a week without him. A miserable week. Need was hurtling down the bond from both directions, paired with love, longing, desperation, and pure, unbridled lust.

I couldn’t help but think about how his scent on our pillows had faded to nearly nothing. How lonely the nights had been without him there to counterbalance the heat of my own sleep. How empty my mornings had felt without him waking me up with kisses. How desperate I was for him to be with me in more than his words, more than his letters. How much I needed him with me in Autumn to discuss the annoyances of those meetings with the lords. I needed him. And he needed to know that. He needed to know that a week without him was far too long. So I stopped being gentle, and I left his hand where it was on his back, patting it in a silent order. I grabbed his hips, and I took him.

I’m not saying it was the most rational thing I’ve ever done. I’m sure a more calculated approach would have been better. Being in a bed at all probably would have been an improvement for him. And damn if my knees don’t sting from the kneeling. I really need to get the floors refinished.

But watching his free hand scramble for purchase against the floor until his arm gave out and he collapsed until his head was turned, cheek and chest pressed into the floor, watching his wings flare, the muscles of his back contracting as pleas switched to praise, fading to moans and my name choked from his throat in gasps… It was better than I dreamed. Somehow better even than I remembered. He was so lovely. I came, then hauled him up against my chest and stroked his cock and wings until he was spent on our thighs and hands. 

We cleaned each other up, gently and softly. Azriel insisted we eat something, so we did, completely naked at the table while laughing over Fike’s insane ideas of what a reasonable tax plan looked like (I really need to replace him) and then we went to bed and for four hours drifted between sleep, staring, and sex. He kept lifting parts of my hair into the afternoon light filtering through the bedroom windows and staring at it. He seems pleased with himself every time he does it. I asked him again why, but his only answer was to drag me to him for a deep kiss then say he would ‘tell me one day’.

One day had better come soon. Winter Solstice is next week. I’ve spent all week trying to figure out what to get him, but I can’t seem to think of what he might need. He seems the type of male to appreciate something he would need rather than something extraneous, but perhaps I’ll just chop off a piece of my hair and tie it with a bow for him. Maybe then he’d tell me what he likes about it so much.

***

Transcript from Interview:

Arbora: In those first months of your mating, you were both undergoing various problems in the courts you called home. What were you both facing in your work?

Azriel: My primary concern was the situation unfolding in Windhaven.

Arbora: What was the situation?

Azriel: One of the Lords of Illyria, Lord Devlon, was found murdered in Windhaven, his war camp. It was a difficult time. There had been uprisings since the Illyrians had learned of Velaris, and it did not help that Rhys was prioritizing more time with family. I don’t fault him for it, but his lack of presence in the camps, despite Cassian’s and my oversight, made it very difficult to keep a handle on any positive changes.

Arbora: What positive changes had been made?

Azriel: We had three entirely female Illyrian fighting units, overseen by Emerie and Nesta. Four more female units trained in Windhaven as Valkyries, largely by Nesta and Gwyn, and their captains. Nesta and Cassian tried to keep a handle on it all, but with Nesta trying to help set up for more Valkyrie trainees in other villages, she wasn’t around, and Cassian was swamped trying to keep a hold on the soldiers who would still listen to his command.

It was a tough situation, and I was spread thin. I still hadn’t replaced enough of my spies lost in the war with Koschei. The females had been some of my best, but now I was losing recruits right and left to Nesta and the Valkyries. I don’t fault them, but it did create an additional challenge.

Eris: In Autumn our problems were more economic. A slow crawl toward overhaul had been in progress for years. We had finally reached one of the biggest changes that needed to be made. I had been overwhelmed by it for six years. The tax plan established in the early years of Amarantha’s oppression needed to be entirely rewritten. Monopolies had formed. In the more remote areas, some fae had resorted to indentured servitude and serfdom. Without changing the financial laws in very large ways, it would be near impossible to return to the relative freedom that had existed some sixty years before.

Arbora: Would you say these obligations presented the largest stress on your mating bond in those early days?

Azriel: Absolutely.

Eris: Really? I’d say not.

Azriel: Well, mine was tied in with the other thing.

Eris: That’s an understatement. I think your ‘things’ are one and the same.

Arbora: So if not the professional obligations, what was the issue?

Azriel: Family.

Arbora: Family. Was it how your families react to the mating bond?

Azriel: Yes

Arbora: How did they react?

Azriel: Hurtfully, they responded differently to our faces than they did behind closed doors.

Eris: Not entirely.

Azriel: No, not entirely. 

Eris: Lucien and Elain were delighted.

Azriel: More than. But some –  many – of them weren’t.

Arbora: When did you realize that they weren’t being honest with you about their feelings?

Azriel: It took until someone pointed out to us the differences with which they accommodated Cassian and Nesta’s mating bond and our own mating bond for me to realize.

Eris: I knew I wasn’t happy about it. I didn’t think the hurt still ran that deep. It was hurtful, to be sure. 

Azriel: I almost didn’t forgive your uncle Rhys.

Arbora: What effect did that have on you individually?

Azriel: The… almost not forgiving?

Arbora: Sorry, no. What effect did the realization they weren’t being fully honest with you have on you individually?

Azriel: Well, it almost cost me my brothers, my home court, everything. I would say I was upset by it all.

Eris: I don’t want to put words in your mouth but I’d say you were more a combination of fury and heartbreak.

Azriel: That may be a fair description. Perhaps even understated. 

Arbora: And you, Father?

Eris: I was heartbroken as well, though not the same way. Lucien and Elain were more than supportive. Mother knew very little, but she withheld any judgment at all for quite some time. Aside from them, there were very few people whose opinions I truly cared for. I was more heartbroken for Azriel, for what he could lose. It also wasn’t presented in the kindest way, though given the situation that wasn’t necessarily surprising. Frankly I was shocked by it all.

Azriel: You were also angry. I seem to remember you threatening to winnow to Night and burn down the river house.

Eris: Yes, well, I did threaten that, I suppose.

Azriel: I remember it well. You did threaten it.

Eris: I didn’t say I didn’t.

Azriel [teasing]: No, you didn’t. You just omitted it instead.

Eris: Azriel…

Azriel: What, you think our daughter doesn’t know you have a bit of a temper at times?

Eris [defensively]: I was defending you!

Azriel: Yes, you were. And to date, it’s one of the most genuine expressions of love you’ve ever shown me.

Eris: Remind me to remind you of that next time I get upset with you.

Azriel: And help you win an argument? Absolutely not.

Eris: I usually win anyways.

Azriel: Do you? I tend to think we both win, at least at the end.

Arbora: I am still here. And recording.

Eris & Azriel, together: We know.

Arbora [wearily]: Can we return to the questions? [pause] [resumes normally] Thank you. What about as a couple? That realization, primarily from Azriel’s side of the family, can’t have been easy on you. How did you handle it?

Azriel: As a couple, I think we handled it better than we would have individually. I was a bit shocked by how angry Eris was.

Eris: I was taken aback by how calm Azriel seemed to be about it. It spoke to a pattern of negligence on Rhys and Feyre’s part for caring, and that only incensed me more.

Azriel: I didn’t realize how badly I felt about it all until much, much later. It’s still something I wrestle with on occasion. At some point, my brothers had decided to step back and focus on their families, their lives. I hadn’t. I hadn’t even realized. So I pulled more weight than I should have. But we’ve moved past it now, though it comes up on occasion. Mostly when they apologize again.

Eris: Do they still apologize?

Azriel: Yes. And never within your earshot, because every time you’re reminded of it you light up like an ember and steam comes out of your ears.

Eris: It was wrong of them!

Azriel: Yes. It was. [quietly] And I know it. But it’s been centuries, love. [normally] I’m not quite sure he’s over it.

Eris [indignant]: I’m not sure I ever will be.

Arbora: Who in your lives was true in their support?

Eris: There were some shockingly supportive people.

Azriel: Oh, some true friendships were made, to be sure.

Eris: I’ll never forget telling-

Azriel: Let’s save that one for last. I think she’d be surprised to know which of them was most excited to hear.

Arbora: Which of… who?

Eris: Which of your grandparents.

Arbora: I thought you let Nonna and Grandmother know when you were first mated?

Azriel: No.

Eris: Nonna may have been able to keep her mouth shut. In fact, she likely would have, since she probably wouldn’t have liked the idea of it all. Grandmother, though…

Azriel: Your grandmother was not a fan of me at the time.

Eris: To be fair, I doubt Nonna was a big fan of me then either.

Azriel: She seemed more indifferent than angry. Your mother’s letter came back with a slightly singed edge.

Eris: [laughs lightly] Anyway, we had planned to let them know after the dinner with your aunts and uncles. It would allow us to focus on one thing at a time. 

Arbora: How did you tell them?

Azriel: Letters.

[End Transcript]

***

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

Dinner is over. I’m so thankful to be home. I had a good time, and Azriel seemed to once the awkwardness of having us surrounded by our family for the first time subsided. At least until the end… Still…

Azriel shadow-walked us, bringing us to the snowy lawn (How do I always forget how cold snow is) between the river and the front porch of Feyre and Rhys’ massive river house.

We were first to arrive. Rhys and Nyx were waiting on the front porch, facing the gray water. Nyx immediately sprinted, half flying to greet Azriel, who only let go of my hand a split second before scooping up his nephew and lifting him over his head with ease. Nyx shrieked as he went flying, heels over his head and wings flapping in an effort not to topple onto Azriel. As if Azriel would ever drop him. He just held his nephew there, grinning up at him and pretending to drop him a couple of times before setting the boy back on his feet in front of him.

Nyx turned to me, curious. I had met him before, but not since he was an infant. He looked like Rhys, but with Feyre’s eyes. I could almost feel him looking me head to toe before he extended a hand and offered me his name. I couldn’t help the laugh that came from me. Gods help me. He looked offended, and Azriel jumped in to say we had already met when he was about two. I think that saved me the ire of the little lord of Night. Regardless, he seemed to find me interesting. I caught him peering at me throughout most of the night.

We walked up to the house, Nyx gripping Azriel’s right hand while I cut off all blood supply to his left. I wish I could say I hadn’t been nervous. I could tell Azriel was, too, despite how stoic he looked as he approached Rhys. But it was very different facing the High Lord of Night while he held such control over my mate, despite all his support. Rhys invited us in, handing Az a drink identical to his own before offering me a selection. I don’t even remember what I chose, just that it was strong. 

We watched as Elain and Lucien arrived not long after that in Feyre’s arms, Flora nestled against Elain’s chest in a sling. Nyx repeated his running flight to greet them, practically yelling in indignation when Feyre informed him that no, he could not hold his cousin right now, and wouldn’t if he couldn’t behave himself. He never did get to.

Lucien looked terrible. He looked better than he had a few days ago, but terrible. Circles under his eyes, a frown nearly etched between his brows. I just hoped he would be able to survive the night in one piece. Maybe it’s his shorter haircut. 

To her credit, Elain looked perfectly ethereal. I wouldn’t have guessed she had given birth just two weeks before. It was a miracle she was standing that tall and that calm. 

Cassian and Nesta walked in from upstairs, having landed on the roof and walked down. Nesta embraced Elain, the sisters sequestering themselves in a corner with hushed voices as they cooed over the baby. Lucien came to stand with me and we watched quietly as Nyx jumped at Cassian this time. The general greeted him much the same as Azriel had, instead he simply dangled him by his ankles and swung him back and forth for a solid two minutes before releasing the laughing boy.

“I’m having nightmares about Elain dying,” Lucien said quietly to me. Azriel glanced at us, quirking an eyebrow at the message from the shadow that had zipped from Lucien’s side. I shook my head slightly and offered a reassuring smile before turning to Luc.

“Are they more than nightmares?”

“I don’t think so. She’s the seer, not me.”

“Is there any reason to worry? She looks well. And Flora seems the picture of health.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I hope they are nightmares. And just that. Nightmares disappear.”

I told him I understood, though I can’t say that I did. 

Feyre got our attention, explaining how Nesta had brought her symphonia, which Cassian loudly reminded us was his present to her (thank the cauldron for those withering glares of hers. And the fact that they were, at least for tonight, not directed at me) before they turned on some music. It was very nice, actually. Though no one danced.

Azriel finally got to meet Flora. He passed his drink off to me with a light kiss to my temple, slipping over to greet Elain and meet his niece. Elain smiled up at him, and passed the sleeping baby into his hands while they murmured at each other.

I hadn’t given much thought to us having children, either. It doesn’t seem to follow reason that we would be able to have children. And yet, seeing the tiny baby cradled in his arms, watching him adjust her delicate pink hat and tuck her hand back into her swaddle when it came loose in the transfer from Elain to him, I was struck by the delicacy of the situation. It was sweet. The mask that had slid over him the second we arrived slipped as he held Flora. 

He melted with her in his arms, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them together. What a sight they made.

The darkness of him in his dark leather pants and deep navy shirt, contrasted with the tiny pink bundle in his arms. He stared down at her tiny frame and the cheeks I know were rosy pink from the cold air of near-winter, a finger occasionally dragged across her forehead or stroked against her cheek. The shadows hovered around his shoulders as if they were peering down at her, too. When she started and gave a little cry, they spun slow circles a few inches above her face, calming her before Elain even raised her hands to steal her away from him.

While I was distracted, Rhys and Cassian had joined us. We began talking about how fond Flora seemed of him and how sweet a baby she was.

Lucien hardly seemed capable of joining us in conversation, he was so fixated on his daughter and wife. Cassian threw me a wink after looking at him, though he seemed to second guess himself the second he did it. I smiled in return. Not a big smile. I didn’t want him to think I thought we were any better friends than we had been three weeks before. It was a nice gesture, but the general and I had too much history to be that friendly with one another.

We filtered in to dinner, Rhys at the head of the table with Nyx to his right and Azriel to his left. Next to Nyx was Cassian, which worked in Rhys’ favor, since Cassian seemed more than happy to jump up and down whenever the boy decided to jump from his seat with a disobedience lesser parents would have exploded at. For an eight year old, he has a surprising lack of ability to sit and eat. Maybe Lucien was just a quieter child.

Lucien was between Cassian and his wife, who had reclaimed her daughter from Azriel once dinner began. Feyre sat at the other end of the table. To Feyre’s right was Nesta, then me, then Azriel, bringing our party of eight to a close. The sisters at one end, the brothers at the other, and Lucien and I in the middle.

Elain kept me blessedly occupied talking about Flora and all the things she had done while bedridden in the last part of her pregnancy for the first bit of the meal while Azriel talked quietly with Rhys and Cassian.

Somewhere around nine thirty, Nesta turned to me and offered Azriel and I a look at the symphonia. Elain suggested that maybe Lucien could get a look as well, and so the three of us dutifully passed the silenced orb between us gently. Lucien seemed especially fascinated, his mechanical eye whirring and hands glowing dimly as he examined it, turning it over and over in his hands until Nesta chuckled and said conspiratorially to her sister that perhaps Cassian should have given it to Lucien as a gift to study first. Lucien smiled– a real smile–  and asked if she would be willing to let him study it, truly. She seemed surprised, but gave her permission if he wrote first to ask to borrow it as needed. Elain looked particularly pleased, which seemed to brighten Lucien in turn.

Cassian was observing Nesta quizzically, but noticed me observing him and quickly cut whatever thought was in his head off to turn to Azriel and start asking him about Windhaven.

Eventually, Rhys took over the conversation, turning his attention to Azriel and I. I don’t know which of us reached for each other first, but before Rhys had even opened his mouth, our fingers were entwined, our hands resting firmly on the table. At that, the room, even Nyx, fell silent. 

Rhys looked about, then blinked. Two wraiths appeared at his side, and without a word spoken, one of them extended a hand for Nyx. Nyx frowned at his father, then his mother, then at his plate as the three of them held one of those internal conversations. The rest of us sat silently as they battled, but whatever argument he had given against going to bed was quickly lost, and he jumped from his chair. He said goodnight to everyone at the table, giving hugs to all but Flora, who got a kiss over her hat, and me. I instead earned a firm handshake and a simple ‘goodnight’. It was a better response than I expected. As he filtered off to bed, Rhys turned to me and asked how I was enjoying the wine.

I chuckled. I couldn’t help it- I shouldn’t have, but I couldn't help it. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, Nesta tensed at my side. Even Elain looked a little wary. Azriel simply gripped my hand with a tension in his body that told me he would jump between Rhys and I if at all needed. Who he’d be defending, I didn’t want to consider.

I responded to Rhys and told him I knew he had better questions than that after the two weeks we had all had, but the wine was delicious. It seemed it was the right answer, as after a beat, Cassian, Rhys, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta were laughing. Azriel blinked. Lucien looked as if he had barely avoided a scrape with death. I wish I knew why he was doing so poorly.

Some tension seemed to break again. No matter how much it broke, though, I felt as if it solidified again minutes later, a slow freeze that didn’t want to relinquish its hold. 

We spoke of courts, the publicly available knowledge and politics. We talked of the theories Rhys, Nesta, Azriel and I had been studying from Merrill’s Theory of the Universes, which everyone else seemed entirely bored by.

At the end of the night, the women went to filter back into the living room as Elain wanted to feed Flora in a quieter, darker place and yet begged us all to stay and chat. Her sisters refused to leave her alone, but the rest of us didn’t dare follow, not even Lucien.

Before she left, Nesta grinned wickedly and leaned into my ear, quietly sharing a few details of the book they wanted to discuss. I think I surprised her by offering to hear her thoughts on it whenever she wished. Cassian, who had taken Elain’s vacated seat, asked me how I knew the book, and I simply smiled at him and told him I had been one of the first readers, as I considered Ms. Drake a personal friend. 

Nesta gawked as Feyre tried to drag her away, and then she wrenched away and all but begged me to introduce her. Azriel had to promise he would try to convince me before she would leave us alone. Rhys even took a second to remind her that she swore to all of us not to tell the Valkyries about the mating bond.

I jumped in to tell her the second the Valkyries knew about the mating bond she could tell them I know Sellyn. Once they were gone, Azriel stood to get a bottle of whiskey and five glasses, filling them all with a dram and letting shadows distribute them to each of the five of us.

It was then that things got messy. Cassian bumped shoulders with Lucien and asked him if he thought Azriel and I had gotten enough of each other. Rhys said nothing, but Azriel bristled and told him to mind his business. Lucien ignored Cassian, so Cassian turned to me instead. He asked me if Azriel had been good enough in bed. Actually, he said ‘A good enough lay’. Prick.

Lucien went to sip his drink. Azriel beside me was digging his fingers into my thigh. Cauldron knows what Rhys was thinking- maybe he was egging Cassian on silently.

It seems like tonight was a night for bad decisions. Maybe I had just had too much to drink. Maybe I had lost all sense of reason. Regardless, somehow I thought the best defense I had was the dead truth. I told Cassian flat out that Azriel’s cock was the best I’d ever had, and that fucking him was like holding a god in my arms.

The second the words fell from my mouth, I regretted them. Not because they weren’t true. I knew they were true. Azriel could feel the truth of them down the bond. Pride and panic rose to meet my words in equal measure.

I regretted them because Lucien coughed, nearly sending his drink flying across the table into my face. Because Rhys, who had been trying to subtly tip his chair back on two legs (in hindsight maybe it isn’t surprising Nyx is such an active child) slammed the front two legs of his chair into the ground. And because Azriel’s hand went slack on my thigh and his jaw dropped a fraction before he immediately turned to Rhys and said it was time for us to get home.

So maybe I don’t regret it. I did get to hold Flora for a minute while we said our goodbyes as Azriel tried his best to rush us out the door. He’s been flying for the last… however many minutes since we got home. I am definitely drunk, though that could be the two drinks I slammed the second we got to the Acorn.

I don’t know if he’s upset, or happy, or both. He just dropped me off here with a gentle kiss and took to the night sky. Kiss, good. Leaving without a word, possibly bad. Likely bad.

I think we need to have everyone here. I’d like to do that again on our terms. Introduce everyone. Maybe have more people as buffers? Thoughts for tomorrow.

Let’s have a party.

***

Letters:

You are invited to a country gathering in the Autumn Court, in February of the new year. Final dates to follow.

Sincerely yours,

Eris Vanserra

***

Dear Eris,

It’s three o’clock in the morning. Why am I receiving invitations to your home at three o’clock in the morning? I’m awake because of Flora, but you should most definitely be asleep. And your paper smells like whiskey. I’m going to assume you kept drinking. I know for a fact you spilled half a bottle on this parchment an hour ago and used your powers to dry it. Good luck with the aftermath of that. You do know alcohol is flammable?

Elain

***

Dear Eris,

Thank you for your invitation. Viviane and I will inform you as to our presence when you have finalized the dates, as some court holidays and ceremonies that month may prevent our attendance.

Yours truly,

Kallias

***

Dear Eris,

Cassian and I will plan on being there. Any chance you will be inviting Ms. Drake?

Nesta Archeron

***

Eris,

Is there a reason for this gathering? It is good to hear from you. And do tell me you’ve invited your brother and sister-in-law and my granddaughter.

Fondly, 

Mother

***

Eris,

I’d be honored. Who all is attending? I’m assuming your brother will know, but would it be possible to hear it from you as well?

Helion

***

Eris,

I’m assuming you’re still asleep. If you’re not, though, do me a favor and get back here. Or if you’re too hungover (you were incredibly drunk last night), just write. It’s Helion.

Elain says hello.

Lucien

***

Eris,

I will not be able to attend. 

Best wishes,

Tamlin

***

Eris,

I’m sure Nesta has already written, but we would be honored to attend. Thank you for gracing us with your incredibly entertaining presence last night. Az beat me senseless this morning for the “invasive questions” and “being an asshole”. I’m sorry about that. I’d blame it on the drink, but I only had three, so I really can’t.

Anyways, we’ll see you soon.

Cassian

P.S. Glad to see you can be a blunt ass too. Welcome to the family.

***

Eris,

I’m afraid I’m too busy in February to even promise to try. It’s shaping up to be a surprisingly busy month. I hope you are well. Given the smell of the paper I received your invitation on, I took the liberty of including a few tonics which address hangover symptoms. They’re all the same, so no need to be picky.

If there’s any problems, do let me know.

Best,

Thesan

***

Lucien,

What the hell did I do last night?

Eris

***

Brother, 

I believe you invited most of the lords and ladies of Prythian to a “country gathering in the Autumn Court”. I’m assuming you were still drunk when you wrote them, so I’ve attached the copy I received. Your handwriting is impeccable even when you’re drunk. It’s infuriating.

Regardless, the more important piece is Helion. He summoned me this morning. I was taken aback (because he never summons me- we always have breakfast together, and I was already on my way). 

He went on a little rant about how February was too far away, and yes, it was winter, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have fun. As I write, he’s drafting invitations (Gilded. Truly.) to a Winter Solstice gathering. Anyone wishing to come the night before Solstice is welcome to join the party here, and it will be a week. An entire week. 

But that isn’t what really matters. Because, dear brother, I was not summoned to breakfast.

I was summoned to an interrogation.

Helion wished to know if I thought Mother would come, should he invite her. I informed him that I didn’t know, that we hadn’t been close in some time, but that she hadn’t met Flora yet, so perhaps she might, if only to meet her granddaughter. He seemed put off, and asked if you might know. I told him I would write to ask, but only if he could explain.

Obviously they are mates, and rejected ones, at that. But Eris…

I’ve never seen him quite like this. He got defensive at first. One of his attendants stepped in, offered him a drink, and he snapped at her- truly snapped. She was young, not new, but definitely  young, and immediately started crying. He apologized, did very standard kind things and promised to make it up to her later.

I think that snapped him out of it, because when his attention returned to me, he seemed resolved in whatever decision he had come to. He ordered me to follow him. I didn’t dare disobey, so I did, walking past a very wide-eyed wife and child on my way out the door. Even Elain was surprised. That should say something.

He walked me down to his wing of the palace, and revealed an entire wing I hadn’t known existed. I got his permission to tell you all of this simply for honesty’s sake. I didn’t think you’d believe me otherwise. 

An entire suite of rooms, decorated in blue and cream, a hint of a dusty green in a few places. It was a woman’s rooms, to be sure.

He said nothing until I had looked around everywhere, and turned back to him.

“They’re for your mother,” he said softly, looking everywhere but at me. “I’ve kept them this way for centuries, updating things as needed. They are hers, whenever she wishes to claim them. Whether it’s tomorrow or the day before I die, these rooms… they are hers.”

I knew the building was bigger than it seemed on the inside. And that is because, dear brother, my father has reserved half of his entire palace for Mother’s use. Has preserved them for her, in colors not entirely unlike what she’s worn since Father died, as far as I can tell. Has all but written her name across half of his seat of power.

Eris, whatever you do, try to convince Mother to come. Frankly, I’m a bit scared for what happens to Helion if she doesn’t.

I looked around a bit more. There’s clothes, shoes, the softest linens money can buy.

He gave her an entire library. The books are current, too- there’s a shelf for new releases, and it gets updated frequently enough that your friend’s book was right there. I barely survived two years without my mate’s hand. I can’t imagine going centuries.

Please, Eris. Try. For him. For her. I don’t know what’s possible at this point, but try.

Your ever grateful brother, 

Lucien

.................

A/N: Well well well... Did you see that coming? Lucien certainly didn't.

Let me know if you see errors, big or small! This was a big chunk and frankly I'm sure I did the worst job editing. Let's not even talk about the fact that I wrote most of this today. I may end up rewriting this section entirely. We'll see.

Next section probably won't be out for 2 weeks! I keep telling myself I'm going to shorten these by a few thousand words, but they just keep getting longer...

Taglist:

x @c-starstuff-man0 @jir67 @slowpress @talibunny30 @dusk-muse

x @ninthcircleofprythian

[nightcourtreader]

Can we stop saying that the acosf bonus chapters centers around Elain when that is not the case what so ever.

It’s Azriel’s bonus chapter. SJM refer to it as such. I have seen an Elriel refer to it as “Elain’s bonus chapter” and that’s just fucking crazy. Yes Elain did feature in the first half of Azriel’s bonus, but elain wasn’t the only character besides Azriel in this bonus chapter.

A lot of people like to disregard the second half of Azriel’s bonus. Gwyn also featured in the bonus, can we start calling it Gwyn’s bonus chapter then and start stating that Gwyn was the center of it? Especially since SJM used the same sentences for mates in the acotar series & CC series in the bonus chapter in regards to Gwyn and Azriel?

That bonus chapter was written specifically for Azriel. To me, it was obvious a set up for AZRIEL’S love interest. SJM specifically brought attention to Azriel’s bonus chapter in a live and said she left bread crumbs through out it. It has some significance, the author wouldn’t want to put emphasis on it otherwise.

The connotation between Azriel and Elain was so negative in the bonus chapter, it was obvious that the bonus chapter showed how unsuited the two would be with each other. Then you get to the bonus chapter with Azriel and Gwyn and it’s so much more positive. The first half of the bonus was obviously not meant to be in a good light, not in terms for Elain’s character but in terms for a relationship between Elriel.

The bonus also showed us AZRIEL’s mental state. It just gave more insight of him. That’s the whole point of the bonus.

So no, Azriel’s bonus chapter is not centered around any other person besides Azriel himself. We got the insight to be in his head & his thoughts. No one else’s. If SJM would have given Elain a bonus chapter and Azriel would have been in it, no one would have said that that chapter centered around Azriel and start labeling it “Azriel’s bonus chapter”. It would’ve been just hers.

In feysands bonus chapter did they speak about Elain? Absolutely. Yes, Rhys said let’s focus on one sister before we deal with the other. But they also spoke about BOTH Elain AND nesta. Which only took up like 3 pages of a 9 page bonus chapter. The rest of that bonus chapter, feysand talked about the pregnancy, Feyre talking about nightmares and paintings, Nyx, Rhysands last name. Majority of that bonus was about feysand. It was not centered around Elain. It was centered around feysand.

Yes, both bonuses mentions elain and features her in it. But no, acosf bonus chapters are not centered around her. If SJM would have gave Elain a bonus chapter then yes, that bonus would have been centered around her since it would be coming from her pov, but she didn’t get one.

And acosf is not centered around Elain either. I saw claims of that as well. A lot of people, myself included, thought that Elain was going to be seen more since her and nesta were suppose to have such a close relationship in the beginning of the series, but once you read acosf you can see that’s not the case.

Half the time Elain was in acosf, honestly it was nesta insulting her. Calling her a dog, loyal to whoever fed her. Saying she finally grew claws and becoming interesting. That Elain was nothing but a doll to dress up. Saying Elain was always oblivious to things. Nesta and Cassian both saying how the black gown in the CON was such an ill suited thing for Elain to wear. Elain being cut down about helping to scry even if she stated she wanted to and then Azriel not saying it to her face. But nesta made it clear that she didn’t Elain doing it to her face. Then Cassian thinking Elain lied about tending to the gardens in the early portion of acosf.

I just don’t think Elain really contribute much to the plots in acosf, because she wasn’t really there on most plot points and I think SJM made it clear Elain wasn’t right for the night court. It can be very intentional on sjm’s part that Elain is less in acosf because of that. I might be wrong about saying it and it has been a while since I read acosf. But to me the major plot points for acosf were of course nesta’s personal healing journey, the valkryies, the dread trove, Briallyn/the blood rite/the illryians, Cassian becoming a courtier, other worlds/daglan, nesta’s death magic and death weapons, feysands pregnancy, the deal with eris. And majority of those plots, Elain wasn’t really a part of them.

I think it was intentional SJM didn’t but Elain more in the limelight of course. Since it’s nesta’s book and all, but I just think that Elain isn’t in acosf as much as some people make it out to be. Because honestly, based off what we got in acosf and without the bonus, and with SJM said it was obvious who the next book is about. I would still think it’s Azriel. It’s my opinion, I could be wrong 🤷🏽‍♀️. You may think differently. But it’s not a lie when people state that Azriel was in acosf more than Elain was.

Elain lives in the river house with feysand. If it was in feysands pov of course we would have gotten more Elain. But nesta, Cassian, and Azriel all live in the house of wind. A place were they all train & where nesta goes into the library to work. You can see why Elain was featured less in acosf since nesta, Cassian and Azriel weren’t really around her much.

And now, nesta is more close to Cassian, Azriel, Emerie and Gwyn than she is to Elain so Cassian, Azriel, Emerie and Gwyn were the ones who showed up the most in acosf besides nesta, cassian and feysand.

To me, there was a clear divide between Elain and the IC. Yes acosf makes it clear that Elain is not fit for the night court but I just don’t see it as a major plot point for acosf, more like it’s a major plot point for Elain’s book whenever we get it. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part Nine)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 3.0k

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

I didn’t see Nesta again for three days after we kissed, and I was growing more nervous by the hour. Cassian walked me home each day, assuring me that Nesta was just working some things out in her mind, but my confidence diminished each day I walked outside to find him alone. He insisted that it was Nesta’s own demons rearing their head, but it was hard not to take it as a rejection. On the third day of walking me home alone, Cassian diverted us to a cafe on the Sidra for dinner. Whether he could sense my anxiety regarding Nesta or simply had impeccable timing, I wasn’t sure, but once we were seated in an isolated corner of the pavilion, he began to speak. “I wanted to talk to you… about Nesta.” I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as my mind began to spin up possibilities. 

“It took me a long time to understand her,” he said, looking out over the water, “longer than it should have. She closes off when she gets scared… puts up walls to keep people at arm's length. I thought it was about me, at first, that she pushed me away because I was a bastard and a brute, but it’s not...” 

“She doesn’t want to get hurt,” I surmised, so familiar with the feeling that it made my eyes sting with tears. 

“In part, yes,” Cassian nodded, eyes boring into mine. “But she also doesn’t want to hurt anyone. I think that’s what scares her the most: letting someone get close and then hurting them, by accident.”

“She wouldn’t—” I began, feeling defensive of my mate. 

“I know,” he assured, giving a small, sad smile. “She doesn’t, though. It’s hard, once you’ve seen yourself as a monster, to ever see anything else.” 

“Have you?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Seen yourself as a monster?” 

“I was raised to be one. I’ve been one before,” he replied, drawing a deep breath. He folded his hands in front of him on the table, a distant look in his eyes. “In the camps, you’re the hunter or you’re the prey, especially without a title or bloodline to back you up. If Rhys’s mother hadn’t taken me under her wing... if I hadn’t known family through them… I don’t know what I might have been.”

“You’re the furthest things from a monster,” I whispered, reaching out to grab his hand. 

“I can be, though,” he rebutted, “but I’m not… not always. Nesta helps me remember that.”

“You two understand each other,” I murmured. I thought back to the long, shared looks I had witnessed between them, of the way they moved and breathed in sync, and I couldn’t but feel a bit like an outsider. Could I ever grow to know them the way that they knew each other? 

“I got lucky, in that sense,” he replied. “When we found you… when it clicked, we were both afraid you’d outright reject us. I think, perhaps, Nesta still is. Perhaps we both are…” He said the last bit quietly, as if he were speaking to himself, and seemed to regret it almost immediately. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that. We agreed not to pressure you.”

“Pressure me?” I inquired.

“About accepting the bond,” he clarified. “We didn’t want you to feel obligated… like you had no choice. We still don’t.”

“And here I was afraid you two would reject me,” I replied.

“Reject you?” Cassian seemed surprised at the notion, his eyebrows shooting up. “Why would we reject you?” He said it as if the concept were preposterous and my heart squeezed, hope blooming within me. 

“You really can’t see it? The most legendary General Prythian has ever seen and the Made Valkyrie who beheaded the King of Hybern are mates to a random healer from the Winter Court. I can’t exactly… measure up to that. Comparatively, I’m nobody.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not a nobody,” Cassian gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes burning with intensity. “Regardless, Nesta and I don’t care about status or power. You’re good, through and through. That’s what matters.”

“The two of you seem so well matched… so in love… I’m afraid there won’t be a place for me,” I cringed as I said it, looking down at our intertwined hand. I wasn’t sure what had prompted this vulnerability, but once I was spilling truths to him, I didn’t want to stop. 

“There is a place for you. I can feel it. We can feel it. We’ve known since long before we met you, that there was something else, someone else for us,” he leaned forward across the table, brushing his hand across my chin to make me look at him. “I need you to know that any hesitation you might have picked up on has nothing to do with you. I think it’s just… different with you. You’re kind… and good… it’s frightening to think that we might wreck that.”

“You’re kind and good too, Cassian. You both are,” I said quietly, swallowing a lump in my throat, “I can feel it.” 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, breathing out a deep sigh. “If you can give Nesta a bit more time, I think she’ll come to agree with you.” 

“I can wait for her. For both of you.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Upon dropping me off at home, Cassian informed me that he had a meeting the following afternoon, but offered to send someone else to walk me home. I already made plans to have dinner with Elise and Ezran, so I declined, assuring him that one or both of them would walk me home afterward. He had hugged me again before we parted, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head, and I could swear that stepping out of his embrace drew physical pain. As I lay in bed that night, wide awake with Cassian’s scent still lingering on my clothes, I thought of my mates unendingly. Keeping them at arm's length, and not getting emotionally invested, was a moot point by now, and I hoped beyond hope that Cassian was correct in his assessment of our dynamic. I couldn’t stomach the thought of rejection, not now that I had bared so much of my soul to them both. 

The next day came and went without incident, my thoughts far away as I went about my duties. My final patient of the evening was a young Fae with a tricky laceration to his hand, and I stayed nearly an hour later than anticipated ensuring the sutures were perfect. Ezran and Elise were long gone by the time I finishes, so I rushed to get to Elise’s house by myself. Upon arriving, I knocked on her front door, waited a few moments, then knocked again. When she didn’t answer, I decided to let myself in, figuring she and Ezran were probably upstairs in the kitchen, unable to hear me. 

When I reached the top of the steps, I gave a yelp of surprise and quickly shut my eyes and smacked my hand over my face. Elise and Ezran were indeed in the kitchen, but their state was entirely unexpected. They were locked in an embrace, lips pressed together, with Elise’s dress halfway unlaced in the back. I could hear them scrambling to jump apart, but kept my hand firmly over my eyes, not wanting to see my friends in states of undress.

“Oh Cauldron! Sorry, Y/N, we… uh… got caught up. Forgot you were coming.” I could picture Elise’s face as she spoke, blushing crimson with embarrassment. “Just give us a minute and…”

“That’s okay!” I squeaked, “I’ll leave you two be, I don’t want to interrupt.” 

“Really, it’s fine,” Ezran began, but I shook my head, feeling for the stair rail so I could retreat. The idea of spending the evening as a third wheel, pretending I hadn’t walked in on them, was less than appealing.

“I had a long day, you just… enjoy your night,” I stifled my laughter until I was all the way out of Elise’s apartment, already making note of how I would tease the two later. I had suspected some chemistry between them since we first arrived in Velaris, but I certainly hadn’t expected things to progress so quickly. They were a good match, though, both healers of similar social classes, with uncomplicated pasts and bright futures. In contrast to my own situation, it seemed rather simple for them to get together. I tried not to get hung up on childish envy.

I was halfway home by the time the sun began to set, the streets emptying as people went inside for dinner. As I rounded the corner to a particularly empty corridor, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. A few meters ahead was a group of males having a rowdy conversation on a pub stoop. I could see drinks in their hands, and from the way they were swaying, I knew these weren’t their first of the night. I ducked my head as I passed, hoping to go unnoticed, but just as I thought I was free of them, a hand hooked onto my upper arm. I gasped and whirled around to see a grinning, glassy-eyed stranger clutching my arm. “Why don’t you stop and have a drink with us?” he slurred. I tried to pull away, but his grip remained firm. Behind him, another male, one of his friends, was approaching us. For a moment I thought he might mean to come to my defense, but when I saw his face, my heart dropped.

Even years later, I recognized him immediately. Blonde hair, a long straight nose, and a predatory glint in his eyes, as if he was amused at the sight of fear. The first time I saw him was when Amarantha’s soldiers arrived in Winter to declare the new law of the land. The last time I saw him was several years later, when he ran my father through with a broadsword and then dragged my mother away in shackles. I didn’t know his name, but I had memorized his features, revisiting them in my nightmares where I watched him rip my family to pieces, a sick smirk on his face. I would recognize him anywhere. “C’mon, doll. Come have a good time with us.” 

“You,” I gasped and I ripped my arm free of the other male, stumbling backward as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. I had fantasized many times about what I would do if I ever saw him again, imagining how I might leap upon him and pluck out his eyes, fueled by rage and grief. Now, with the male I hated most in the world standing before me, I instead wanted nothing more than to run. Despite my mounting fear, I remained frozen, as if shackled to the ground by his mere presence. Something shifted in his expression as he looked at me, displaying vague recognition that made my stomach roll.

“I know you from somewhere,” he said, stepping towards me. My heart thundered in my chest, my plans for vengeance forgotten as the reality of the situation set in. I was gravely outmatched by him, let alone with his friends nearby. I picked up my skirt, preparing to turn heel and run when a large, dark shape appeared in front of me. The males before me were blocked from view by a pair of large, leathery wings. For a moment, I thought Cassian might have come to my aid, but the dark whisps of shadow swirling around the person’s hands gave away their identity. 

Azriel. The Shadowsinger. 

I had never been so relieved to see someone with such a terrifying reputation. “Is there a problem here?” he asked the males, his voice low and deadly. I peeked around his wing to see the group had gone still, all traces of merriment extinguished. The other males on the stoop began to retreat while the other two remained rooted in place.

“We were just inviting the lady for a drink,” the first male explained, a slight waver in his voice. It was a far cry from his earlier demeanor. 

“Didn’t look like she was interested,” Azriel replied, his voice unnervingly steady. He turned around, looking me up and down in a clinical manner before asking, “Did they hurt you at all?” I shook my head, shock stealing my voice, nd Azriel looked me over one more time before he turned back to the males. I was too distracted to hear the rest of the conversation, my mind stuck in a loop of grisly memories and unbridled fear. I didn’t notice the males leave or Azriel turn to me again until a gentle hand rested on my shoulder. “Y/N?”

“What?”, I looked up, struggling to focus on anything when the world felt like it was spinning.

“I said ‘are you alright?' You’re shaking,” Azriel asked again, his demeanor softening slightly. I opened my mouth to respond, to assure him I was physically unharmed, but my throat tightened and I was cut off by a choked sob. I buried my face in my hands, embarrassed to cry in front of a near stranger but unable to stop myself. “I’ll get you home,” Azriel murmured, sweeping me into his arms. I kept my eyes closed during the short flight, determined to catch my breath and calm down so I could explain myself. We landed in front of my building and Azriel gently herded me up the steps, taking the key from my trembling hands to unlock the door. “

“What happened? What did those males do?” he asked urgently once we were in private. I fought to catch my breath, the tears seemingly endless, and he crouched in front of me. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Take deep breaths.” 

I never would have imagined being comforted by the Spymaster of the Night Court, but the male was surprisingly good at calming me down. After a minute, I drew a steadying breath, finally able to speak.

“That male,” I began, wrapping my arms around myself, “the blonde one. I know him. H-he worked for Amarantha. He k-killed my father.” My voice broke on the last syllable and I shuttered, the image of my father’s bloodless corpse flashing behind my eyelids. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Most of Amarantha’s people have been hunted down.” I knew the odds of one of her captains making his way to Velaris were slim, and the more I thought about it, the more I questioned myself. The lighting was poor and the memories old, and I was hesitant to condemn the wrong male, lecherous as he and his ilk were. 

“I’m… almost certain,” I replied. Azriel nodded, moving to stand. 

“I’ll look into it, you have my word. If he is the same male, there will be consequences. I’ll be having a longer… conversation with all of them, regardless, about harassing females in the streets.” Something told me he intended to do more than talk with the group, but I didn’t have it in me to ask. “Do you want me to bring you to the House?” 

I shook my head, wanting to be alone while I processed my grief. Just as he was moving to leave, I remembered to ask about one key detail of the evening’s events. “Azriel? How did you find me?” 

“Nesta asked me to make sure you got home safe. You left your friend's house earlier than I expected, so I was out looking,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh… Nesta did?” I asked, somewhat surprised. Seeing as it was Cassian who made it his mission to walk me home each day, I figured it would be him to make the request. 

“Nesta is… protective of the people she cares about,” he explained, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“Well, thank you, for coming to the rescue,” I replied, replaying his words in my mind.

“Anytime,” he nodded, moving towards the door. “Lock this behind me and stay in tonight, okay? I’ll send Cassian and Nesta your way.”

I considered telling him not to bother them, that I could sort out my emotions on my own, but I found myself wanting nothing more than my mates at my side. So instead, I thanked him and deadbolted the door behind him. 

I lay in bed after Azriel left, replaying the moment of my father’s death and comparing his executioner to the man I had just encountered. In my mind’s eye, the two were nearly identical, but I knew the brain could play tricks on you, especially where trauma was involved. I wondered what Azriel would find in his investigation, and felt embarrassed at the thought that I might have lost my cool over a mere doppelganger. 

After an hour or so of wallowing, there was a knock at my door. I all but leapt from bed at the sound of it, anticipating Cassian or Nesta or, preferably, both on the other side. Perhaps it was because I was tired, or maybe it was the ache in my heart drowning out all reason, but I didn’t check the peephole before I swung the door open. The figure on the other side was tall and broad-shouldered, but he lacked the exceptional height and trademark wings of my mate. I froze, squinting to see his face in the low firelight, and then my blood ran cold.

“Remember me?” asked the male who killed my father. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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[awkwardgtace]

Fighting Doubts

Hey Hey day 3 Impulsive!!

Today we return to the mafia au. Ryder had a fitful sleep on Rhys's chest and woke up in a not great position. Before he climbs free Felix comes home, but his brothers will be careful when he's out of sight... right?

Fighting Doubts

Ryder bit back a groan as he woke up. The rougher fabric against his face already told him where he was. Another restless nap that landed with him rolling off Rhys and falling into the couch. He was lucky the giant rarely moved in his sleep or this would be a bigger problem. He squirmed a bit to try and grab the fabric to climb up. He’d get high enough, jump on Rhys’s chest and pretend he just wanted a lift to the ground. No one would know this was happening… again.

Rhys shifted a little and Ryder slid down more. Another groan was held back. As much as he hated when this happened, he wouldn’t give these times up. Soon enough his da- no he can’t think like that anymore. Soon enough Vitus would send him away. Mo- Dabria was back and they didn’t need the little human they took in anymore.

Ryder felt the tears slip out of his eyes. He couldn’t climb up if he was crying. Rhys would notice, he always noticed. His brother… the giant wasn’t his brother and Ryder had to accept that. The same when it came to Felix. Alessia wasn’t his sister either. He wasn’t part of this family, he’d just fooled himself until now. With Dabria, Sola, and Luna there was no reason to even pretend they’d want him around. 

Ryder slid down a bit more, this time because of his own shifting. A door opened somewhere, but that didn’t matter. He just had to collect himself a bit. Then he’d go back to normal, pretend it’s all fine. They’d been back a while he didn’t need-

“Rhys!” Felix’s shout made him jump. The oldest of them didn’t usually act like that. Rhys shifted again and Ryder fell even further down. He should speak up, say anything to bring attention to the fact he was there. Something about that shout made him scared to remind them he existed. Felix acting differently might mean things were finally going to change.

“Ugh, what? I was sleeping,” Rhys’s voice was deeper than normal. The giant he had to learn not to call a brother didn’t usually sound like that when he woke up. These weren’t the giants he knew. Has it been an act this whole time?

“Have you stopped the damn rumor about dad trying to get me married?” Ryder relaxed a little. The two had always fought a lot. It was part of what happened from the lives they had to lead. Both fight because they should want to lead the Kamias when in reality Rhys was happy to stay just a member of the family. This was normal, it probably felt different because of where he was.

“Oh,” Rhys’s weight shifted again. Ryder felt it more than before, he might be in danger. “No. Deal with it. It’s useful. I’m not killing it cause you’re annoyed someone was hitting on you again.”

The weight that started to press on him grew. He knew what that meant, especially with the grunts above him. Felix was straddling Rhys. His heart was racing, Rhys knew he was here right? He didn’t tell his bro- the giant he left. Rhys would know, he always did, and say something. Right?

“Kill the damned rumor. Someone tried to ‘share’ a human with me today. They wanted to bite them in half!” Felix’s shout was enough to make Ryder’s ears ring. He tried to cover them, but the pressure around him grew making it impossible to move.

“Fuck off, I’m not killing it. Now let me-” Rhys was grunting. Ryder braced himself; he had an idea of what was next. “-sleep!”

There was a loud thud and the weight pressing on Ryder was gone. At least part of it was gone, Felix was gone. Rhys had shoved the older giant off himself, but they still… they still hadn’t said a thing about him. Did they even care that he might still be around?

“Rhys, kill the rumor!” 

The weight on Ryder disappeared. He heard the thunk that likely meant Felix pulled Rhys down. He tried to climb up. It was harder when he’d already started to fall between the back of the couch and cushion. Suddenly the explanation that a single cushion was safer for humans made a lot more sense. If he could wind up in between the cushions because of a fall they’d definitely kill him.

Ryder lost his grip as the two fighting giants slammed into the couch. He was falling deeper and deeper. The loud slams of fists meeting skin had him flinching. He’d seen them fight before. Times where he was somewhere safe while the two argued just in case it became a fight like this. This time they’d completely forgotten he even existed. It proved that they were just waiting for the time they could send him away… maybe he was too much of a risk. Maybe he had to die.

“Just. Fuck. Off!” Rhys growled. Another thud somewhere that shook even the couch. He could hear the panting of the younger giant. A weight slammed next to him, a few inches closer to the back of the couch and Rhys would have killed him. “Now let me sleep. I’m gonna be out late tonight.”

Ryder knew speaking up would help. If he shouted, screamed, anything. It wouldn’t leave his throat. He could feel the building scream desperate to escape him. The idea of what they’d do if they found him had it trapped. Neither had checked, Rhys had forgotten Ryder was there before. Felix probably wouldn’t have stopped himself from jumping on the couch to straddle Rhys if Ryder was still visible. His vision was blurring again. 

There was a deep growl from further away. It was Felix, but Felix never growled. Seconds later another weight slammed down next to him. Once again just a few inches closer and he’d be dead. The indent was a knee. Felix was the one who came close this time. Ryder slowly realized he was shaking. The sweat on his palms made it impossible to grasp the cloth around him. They had to see him. They had to stop.

A slam of a fist that made both weights get closer. Ryder’s chest was growing tight. He could barely breathe. More slams, the weights even closer. A few more shifts and one would reach him. He’d be dead.

“Enough!” his dad’s voice echoed around… No it wasn’t his dad it was Vitus. Vitus Kamia was there to stop his sons from fighting. Once they stopped he’d get out and hide somewhere until he recovered. The weights didn’t disappear. “I SAID ENOUGH!”

The slamming of fists above him stopped. Ryder thought his ears would bleed from the volume. He couldn’t… he could remember the last time he heard the head of the Kamias shout like that. It was when that other giant almost killed him, the first time he called Vitus dad. The fight must have left them looking worse than he thought.

“What is wrong with both of you?!” Vitus shouted again. His voice was only a little lower than before. A growl came from  the man. Ryder knew those growls well, he heard them all the time. In meetings, at the bar, everywhere. It had been a while. They’d stop letting him help, right now he wished they had kept him active. Then he would have been out with Felix and not hidden in the couch inches from death. “Where is your brother?”

Everything was still. No fighting, no movement. Time might have even stopped. Then the world caught up. Loud thuds followed the weights disappearing. Ryder slid down, sitting on the hard fabric of the couch beneath the cushion. Light blinded him as the cushion disappeared and he was shown to the world again. His teeth were chattering as his body shook. He didn’t want to be found.

Once his eyes adjusted he was faced with two giants staring at him. Pink and gold eyes locked on him. There were marks on both faces from the fight. Hands were reaching towards him, but that made him more scared. He was in the way. They’d hurt him for this. Just like the one they saved him from. The faces blurred.

“Ryder…?” both of the giants said his name. He couldn’t bring himself to move. The hands were coming closer.

“Leave,” Vitus demanded. The giants wanted him gone. He needed to leave, it was important to leave. Once he was gone things would be better. He… he didn’t know what he’d do. The hands were coming closer. Everything was shaking because he was shaking. 

“Ryder I-I thought you left, you weren’t, I…” Rhys said. He knew it was Rhys, but all he saw was a giant that almost killed him and a hand coming closer and closer. How had it not reached him yet?

“I-I looked. You weren’t on him. I-I thought you were out or-or somewhere else. Ryder, Ryder are you… did we…” Felix this time. His hand was closer. They were going to grab him. They were going to kill him. They failed to make it look like an accident. It had to happen before Vitus stopped them. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes stung with tears.

“I said-” Bigger hands grabbed the ones reaching towards him. The two faces were pulled away from him. All he could see in front of him was the house he’d spent most of his life in. There was the sound of struggling behind him. It lasted until the door slammed open. “Leave!”

The door slammed again and he was left in silence. Ryder couldn’t stop shaking, still couldn’t breathe. Heavy steps echoed in the emptiness. Steps never sounded like this before. The steps were heavier than he was used to. Vitus… Vitus was putting all of his weight into every step. The giant among giants was always softening his steps, but Ryder had no idea until today. 

The man came into view, blocking out all of the light Ryder had adjusted to. He waited, the image in front of him blurring and shaking constantly. When it shifted he nearly screamed, but it still wouldn’t escape his throat. Vitus sat down, his weight hitting the ground made Ryder bounce. A deep sigh made the scream he’d been unable to produce escape as a wheeze. 

“Ryder,” Vitus whispered. He couldn’t remember a time he heard the man speak so quietly. He didn’t want to die when this would be his goodbye. He would prefer yelling, something to make him feel like a fool for thinking he had a family. “Ryder, can you look at me?”

Ryder hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped looking. He turned up to face the man he still considered a father. The man had tears running down his face. He’d never seen Vitus crying before. Even when Dabria had been kidnapped he never cried around them. The massive hands came to hover near him. They didn’t grab him.

“Son, just take a deep breath, try to calm down,” Vitus whispered. Ryder tried, each breath hurt. His eyes hurt too. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts. Everything in his mind and heart screamed to run. To get away from everyone who might possibly kill him. From the people who thought he should have been given to any two humans and sent away. “Ryder, did they hurt you?”

Ryder had no idea if he was hurt. Everywhere was in pain and it grew as he stayed still. The blurring in his eyes was coming and going constantly.

“Ryder, I’m going to pick you up,” Vitus’s whisper terrified him. He didn’t want to be held. “We’re going to go to the office where the only one who can reach you is me. I’ll call a doctor and we’ll make sure you aren’t hurt. Ok?”

Ryder didn’t move. He didn’t agree, he couldn’t. The second those fingers wrapped around him he’d die. It didn’t matter who it was. 

“I’m not going to touch you until you’re ready Ryder.” The hands hovering near him pulled back. He… he wasn’t getting grabbed. He started to breathe a little easier. Of course the giants he considered brothers almost killed him, he was just something fun until they had real family. They don’t need him anymore. “Son please, just try to take a deep breath.”

“N-n-not your s-son,” Ryder managed to stutter out. A heavy sigh washed over him. This is when it’ll happen. Now that he said it, Vitus would kill him.

“Of course you are.” That made him jump. It wasn’t true, it was a lie. He wasn’t. “You have been since Felix brought you here.”

Ryder shook his head. It wasn’t possible. He was brought as a victim or a toy. He wasn’t brought as a person they could see like that. Dabria hated him. She wanted him gone. Vitus barely liked him. They put up with him. Felix, Ryder, and Alessia cared, but two of them had just-

“Ryder, I know you’ve had doubts, but you’re my son. All the arguing you overheard when you came here was about how we could give you the offer to stay without trapping you. If it was right to put you in danger that way or if we should find reliable humans to send you to a safe town with,” Vitus knocked him from his thoughts. “Please, trust me. You’re my son and I love you.”

A hand was set in front of him. He was terrified. Someone could kill him, but all the giants here had protected him more than once. Trembling steps brought him up to the hand in front of him. He placed his hands on the palm, the palm that had killed another giant for him.

“I… I thought I might die,” Ryder whispered. He watched his tears hit the palm of his giant father. “I thought they just didn’t care.”

Vitus used his other hand to curl around Ryder. Ryder shivered, but leaned into the touch. He was scared and relieved all at once. The massive thumb started to rub his arm. He still wasn’t lifted up. Using all the courage he had he pulled himself onto Vitus’s palm and crawled to the center. Before he’d reached it the hand had been pulled close to the giant’s chest.

The rhythmic heartbeat calmed him down. Even more so once he realized it was racing. Long fingers curled around and hid him from the world. Ryder felt safe, despite all the fear he felt safe. It was easy to ignore the way everything responded to the movement of the giant holding him. The way the world seemed to shake as he moved. It wasn’t long before a giant door thumped shut followed by the click of  a lock.

“No one else is coming in now, you’re safe Ryder,” Vitus whispered. The whisper on his back made tears flood his vision again. He really thought his brothers were going to kill him. That he’d just be a smear of blood and they wouldn’t ever notice. What would have happened if he tried to scream? If he tried to get their attention?

Those thoughts were pushed away as Vitus walked again. Ryder stared above him at the massive giant’s head bobbing with each step. The man who raised him, his father, still had tears dripping from his face. The fingers around him came closer, as if the entire world had to be kept at bay.

The creak of the chair when Vitus sat was reassuring. It was normal. They stayed in silence for some time before the chin he was watching tilted down. Green eyes filled with fear and worry, why would he be scared? Everything was fine. By the end of the day this would be forgotten… Just like should happen when a giant gets too rough around a human.

The hand around him tilted before pressing him against the firm chest. He wanted to reach up and grab the fabric. It was always calming, the giant’s clothes had changed after Ryder showed up. After he struggled with silk. Yet this time he couldn’t bring himself to move. He still felt that crushing pressure. The fear each time one of them shifted. The slam of each fist that inched his death just a little closer.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Vitus’s voice cracked. In all the years Ryder had lived here he never heard that. In one day he’d not only seen the stoic man crying, but heard his voice shattering. “I thought I was too late. That I’d realized too late those two were fighting. I thought we’d lost you.”

“I’m just a human,” Ryder bit his lip as the words slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it didn’t matter. He started it, he’d finish it. “You would have moved on, forgotten it in a few da-”

The growl from the chest in front of him cut him off. The eyes of fear turned angry. The hands grew tighter. This is what he was pushing for, what he was waiting for. This would be where they finally stopped this game with him and-

“You’re my son, their brother, and we all would have been devastated. If those idiots had hurt you none of us would have recovered any time soon.” 

Ryder had learned over the years to read the tells when Vitus lied. An eye twitch, the smallest change in his voice. He had to. It was that or be terrified of his own father constantly. None of the tells, not a single one appeared with that statement. Somehow after all the reassurances, this was the one that sunk in. That he wasn’t just a human, a Kamia in name only. He was part of the real family, not the mafia one.

That broke what little composure he had. His hands gripped the cloth in front of him tightly. Tears broke out as he buried his face in his dad’s chest. He thought his brothers forgot about him, that they wouldn’t even care if he died. He was terrified of being found by them. He was scared of the best family he’d ever had.

The growl faded away as he cried. The hands increased their pressure, but it was comforting. A promise he was safe. He wasn’t sure he could even face his brothers after this, they had to come back at some point. There was too much to think about, too much about how close he came to dying. 

“Is Ryder hurt?!” Dabria’s quiet voice echoed in the new silence. His dad didn’t speak, he didn’t know how the man reacted. He didn’t care, he didn’t want to face her. She’d blame him, she never wanted him here. Just because she was human now wouldn’t change- “Let me see him. Now!”

Ryder whined when the pressure around him weakened. More tears as he fell back onto the palm. He stared up at his dad. Tears were still a steady stream down the stoic face. All of this felt like a strange dream, maybe a nightmare. He didn’t want it to end by hearing what Dabria had to say. He could still hear her voice saying she knew he was a liability. She’d said it only a few days after his dad had killed a giant to save him.

Dabria pulled him tightly into a hug. He yelped, not expecting the action. That made her pull away and start tugging at his clothes. She pulled off his jacket, finding bruises Ryder hadn’t expected to have. He finally looked in her eyes, tears running down her face. Just like Vitus. The same fear, the same pain… the same worry about him.

“Vitus, call the doctor now!” she yelled. The hand they were on, the hand he hadn’t even realized they were on, twitched. She pulled him close again. Even now she was taller than him. “It’s ok, we’ll make sure you’re ok. You’re safe I promise.”

“I-” he started.

“Get Laura here now. Ryder needs a full check,” Vitus cut him off, Dabria’s hold on him tightened, “You call me as soon as she’s here. No giants are entering the main house until I say otherwise.”

“I didn’t think your own brothers would be a liability. I thought it was all taken care of after Vitus killed that man who tried to hurt you,” Dabria’s voice was quiet. She probably didn’t mean for him to hear her. “Maybe we were selfish to keep you with us. You’d be so much safer if we hadn’t decided to risk it.”

“...you wanted me to stay?” She pulled back, staring down at him. It was easy to forget she’d only just remembered her life. That there were things she still didn’t know. She remembered him, she remembered… she remembered meeting him. Letting him stay. 

“Of course I did. The second I saw you I wanted to make sure you were safe. I thought… I thought we’d do that.” The tears on her face didn’t stop. “You’ll be ok though. If they hurt you at all we’ll take care of it. And… I don’t know, get a house to set up here where this can’t happen again.”

One of his dad’s fingers slid beneath his arm. The hand they stood on moved and he was face to eyes with the man. The green orbs that embodied fear studied him. A new growl slipped out, Da- his mom’s arms tensed around him.

“Those two aren’t allowed back here until you say it’s ok Ryder,” Vitus growled. 

“It’s their home,” he whispered. His mom made him look at her. The fierce eyes that used to strike fear into the heart of any giant that faced them were locked on him. 

“It’s your home as much as theirs,” she said. Ryder shook his head, but a giant finger appeared between him and his mom. It forced him to face the giant with tears slowly drying on his face.

“Ryder, you’re the priority right now those two-”

The words were cut off by a ringing phone. The fact that Vitus dropped everything to grab it made Ryder nervous. The man always ignored phones when he was talking. It was a power play, at least that’s what he was told. 

“You’re here?” he asked. The fingers on the hand around him curled up. A low growl slipped from him, Dabria… his mom just ran her hand through his hair. She was trying to calm him, he knew she was terrified when they couldn’t control their growls. She… he’s an idiot. The phone clattered to the desk pulling Ryder from his realization.

“Dad? What’s going on?” Alessia’s voice came through the phone. “Rhys and Felix just showed up. Felix is crying and Rhys is on the floor with a bottle of vodka. Neither will tell me what happened.”

Somehow hearing that made him scared. They were upset, but was it because they might have hurt him or because he survived. He knew thinking this way was stupid, they weren’t going to do that. This family didn’t act like that, yet he couldn’t stop thinking that was the goal. Rhys completely forgot about him, Felix didn’t look or ask. That… they never used to be so impulsive.

“Is that dad?” Rhys’s voice echoed through. It was quieter, but he knew the giant was shouting. Crashes came from the phone. Ryder’s heart started to race. His breathing grew rapid. They terrified him. “Dad! Is Ryder ok? Did we hurt him?! I thought he left. I didn’t know. He doesn’t-”

“Rhys stop!” Felix’s shout made Ryder shiver. His mom’s arms around him tightened. It actually helped, knowing she was there. The fingers taller than them curled closer, hiding him from the world. “Dad? How bad is it? I-I wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t on Rhys I… I thought he-”

“Did you two hurt Ryder!?” Alessia’s shout was the loudest thing to come through the phone. Three voices argued on the other end. It was followed by a loud bang “Get out!” shouted by Alessia once more. There was silence, the towering fingers came closer and Ryder felt safer. These giants were his family… he was an idiot thinking they just kept him because he was useful. “Is… is Ryder ok?”

The fingers of the hand came close enough the heat from them was palpable. “We’re waiting on the doctor, he…” The fingers moved and the worried green eyes were on him. The pause lasted long enough Ryder realized it was a silent question. He nodded. “He looks alright, but your mom and I are going to make sure.”

“OK, good, good. Let me know if he would want me there ok? I can come home if he’d feel better with another giant around. Only if he wants, ok? If you have me on speaker, Ryder just let me know. I’ll keep those idiots away too.” 

“Alessia!” Rhys’s voice starting again made him reach up to the towering finger. His fingers dug into the skin. The low growl that had only been present for him and his mother grew louder. “Just tell us-”

“Let me know, I’ll deal with them. Bye!” There was a clatter from the phone, but the line didn’t cut. He could hear the mumbling voices from his brothers. “No! Get out. We talked about if you two fight when he’s not in sight. You still did it! We all agreed to be careful. He’s always with one of you and you two almost-”

His dad cut the line. The fingers over him didn’t move until he let go. They flattened, his mother rubbed his back. His family cared, they’d make sure he was ok. Everyone had been worried. They’d thought of it before. This one… this one was a mistake. The fear he felt was already dying. He wouldn’t be sleeping on his brothers’ chests for a while, but the idea of seeing them already felt better.

The hand he was on moved. His mother shifted a bit as they were carried up from the desk. The two were held tightly to the massive chest that had comforted him for so many years. His mom kept calm movements and he finally registered soft promises from her. The damp feeling on his cheeks hit him with the realization he was crying again.

His parents would keep him safe. They’d make sure this never happened again. His brothers would be back in a few days and then he’d deal with that. For now he was going to accept the one stupid impulse driven fight finally locked in that his family did want him around.

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 7

Part 6 | Part 8

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 4k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Meet Me In the Woods – Lord Huron

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m positive.”

You had just ‘finished up’ Roald’s crime scene that no longer looked like a crime scene. Nevertheless, it was still horrendous and gut-wrenching. It hadn’t affected you much though as you and Rhys wordlessly divided the tasks, working in sync like you’d done this a dozen times before. Rhys had taken care of Roald’s shackles, making sure there were no bruises, as well as cleaning himself up. He had taken off his sweater, leaving him in only a black tee, using his sweater to wipe off the blood from his face. Then he’d folded the well-crafted suicide note and put it in Roald’s right hand. Meanwhile, you had made sure the blood spatter pattern was even and consistent before carefully placing the gun in Roald’s other hand. You checked with Rhys to confirm Roald had been a lefty, and thank God he was.

It was nearing 4 AM by the time you left Roald behind, all your knives once more strapped to your body. Besides handing you your knives back, Rhys had also given back your phone and lock-picks. You tried turning on your phone but it wasn’t responding, the battery dead, so you asked Rhys for the time. Bloody hell, you thought, realising you had been unconscious for almost the entire day before you had woken up to Rhys in that prison cell. You promptly blamed it on your 27-hour sleep deprivation. Another one of Lockwood’s crimes against humanity added to the list. 

Speaking of Lockwood — his deadline for killing Rhys had officially passed. You felt like an outlaw, waiting for the forces to come and get you. You’d wish them good luck. You would never surrender that easily, and fortunately for you, you now had another person with you. One who had made it perfectly clear that he was going to look after you when he’d unapologetically shot the man daring to insult you. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that it had caused a warm type of sensation to flow through you, settling somewhere low. 

The moment you stepped outside and breathed in the crisp early summer night, you sighed in relief. It was a stark contrast to the stale atmosphere in the prison cell. Yet, you couldn’t escape the nagging feeling you felt concerning the placement of the gun in Roald’s hand. Rhys had already ensured you back inside that the police and forensics team wouldn’t check for any residue evidence. But you couldn’t let it go, hence why you brought it up again as you walked side by side in the grass, avoiding the crunching gravel. 

“I thought the sweep was standard protocol,” you said, chewing your lip.

“It’s not anymore. Budget cuts,” Rhys explained, trying to settle your unease at the possible prospect of the police not finding a single trace of gun-shot residue on Roald’s hand, meaning he couldn’t have possibly pulled the trigger himself — meaning it was no suicide, it had only been masked as such. 

“They only perform the tests when the situation is questionable. And trust me, no one will be surprised Roald is the killer. Besides, I’d say we made it look pretty damn convincing, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, especially your note. We would make excellent stage directors,” you teased, trying to shake off your doubts in the process.

“Say no more, I do know someone on the West End.”

You stifled a laugh, looking over at Rhys to your right, noting he did the same. This morbid, post-murder clean-up banter between you two strangely feeling as natural as breathing. You still had to be quiet though, not wanting to wake up anyone inside the manor at this ungodly hour, or potentially alert security. 

The thought made you pause, Rhys glancing over his shoulder to see you had stopped walking. He shot you a questioning look as he strode back over to you, his eyes flitting over your face. “What is it?”

“Your security,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“What about them?” 

“They were surprisingly easy to slip past last night. Did you possibly have something to do with that?” You accused lightly.

You didn’t require a verbal response from him, Rhys’ smirk confirming what you had already expected. “Unbelievable,” you murmured. 

“What would you have wanted me to do, then?” Rhys threw up his arms in faux-exasperation, the amusement written clearly on his moonlit face. “I couldn’t exactly risk them catching you now, could I?” 

You shook your head at him, smiling. Why did this feel so natural? So normal? You pondered. 

Looking up at Rhys, you noticed his fond little smile slowly fade, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Had he just wondered the same thing? 

You both considered the other for a long minute. He’d apparently been following you for the last couple of months, but he was still trying to learn how to accurately read you. You got the distinct feeling he wanted to understand your every thought and feeling, laying you completely bare for only him to see. It was the kind of vulnerability that you had never allowed before — not to anyone. In spite of that, you felt the same towards Rhys. That aching feeling to want to figure him out, which you’d felt so readily during your first conversation, had never left you. You were sure Rhys was just as reluctant about letting anyone in as you. But you were both also painfully aware that this equal partnership could only work when you both let the other person enter the impenetrable fortress that was your soul.  

You were the first to break the silence when you could no longer endure the tension of his scrutiny. “I still need to retrieve my bag with my things.”

“Sure,” Rhys said, shaking off your little moment. “Where have you stashed it?”

“Behind that bush over there,” you said, pointing in the approximate direction. 

You got there quickly and you immediately bent down to pull out your small but very compact duffle bag. You unzipped it and threw your phone in the bag — it was currently of no use to you with the battery dead. Thankfully, you knew London like the back of your hand and you had the route to and from Hampsbridge House memorised. The absence of your phone’s navigation system would thus not be felt. 

You had mutually decided that you needed to get back to London ASAP. Rhys would stay behind, having to play the role of innocent bystander. He would excuse himself as soon as the situation would allow him. You agreed he would then meet you at your apartment the moment he was back in the city. There was much to discuss. 

“What an excellent vantage point of my bedroom you’ve got from here,” Rhys commented wryly from where he stood behind you. 

You looked up at the house from your crouched position before returning your attention to trying to find the bloody car keys to your rental that you had parked a safe distance away in the woods. 

“Well, obviously. Or did you think me an amateur?”

“Never.”

You were about to say something else but the words died in your throat as you felt Rhys’ body suddenly diving on top of yours, his large hand reaching for your mouth to keep you from crying out in surprise. You laid awkwardly over your duffle, your cheek flat into the grass as Rhys kept you pinned down. 

“Don’t move,” he ordered from where his face was pressed into your shoulder. You paled. Like hell you would.

In a flash you pushed back your right shoulder with all the strength you could muster. Rhys winced as you had hit him squarely in the face. Using that momentum, you simultaneously bit down on his hand hard and elbowed him in the ribs, making his grip on you automatically slacken. You turned onto your back underneath him and grabbed his neck forcefully, nails digging in as you kneed him in the groin. 

Rhys groaned, baring his teeth as he moved the hand you had bitten to grab a hold of your wrist. But he wasn’t quick enough when you used the grip you still had on his neck to bring down his head with force. You successfully head-butted him, making him stagger backwards, landing on his knees. He tried to regain his balance as you fished out the knife you had re-strapped to your ankle earlier. You were about to advance when he held up his hands in surrender. 

“Y/N,” he heaved. “Bloody hell — wait.”

He glanced up at you from where he was still kneeling, hair falling in his face. You panted as you watched his chest also rise and fall in a rapid pace. Rhys grimaced from the impacts of your successive blows. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Or hurt you,” he rasped, clutching his lower ribs. 

Your heart rate was up, adrenaline coursing through your body. “Rhys, what the hell?” You hissed. 

“Could you stop pointing that knife in my face?”

“No, not until you explain why the fuck you felt the need to jump me like that.”

“Jonathan,” Rhys said, directing his gaze to the manor for a moment. “I noticed him walking back to the house from where I had left him in the woods. I couldn’t let him see us. Or more specifically, you.”

Jonathan — Professor Jonathan Moore? You suddenly remembered Roald mentioning how he had thought Jonathan was the killer. Something about him having seen Jonathan move Gemma’s dead body. You realised Rhys had never actually explained that part of the story to you. 

“What the fuck does he know that you felt the need to do that?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Rhys sighed, running a hand down his face.

“I met Jonathan a couple weeks ago at Sundry House,” he began without opposing you, accurately gathering you wouldn’t let this go.

And that’s when Rhys succinctly explained to you the whole Jonathan Moore situation — or should you call him Joe? From Malcolm’s body in Jonathan’s kitchen all the way to what had transpired earlier. Apparently, Kate and Jonathan had found Gemma’s body and decided the best approach would be to get rid of her. Christ, were the rich all psychopaths? Although Jonathan wasn’t rich. No, he was a plain ol’ university professor — one who lectured your sister. What a bloody mess.

Ultimately, Roald had spotted Jonathan with Gemma’s body outside the manor and he had placed him under citizen’s arrest, so to speak. Roald then decided to play judge, jury and executioner — going after Jonathan with a rifle, steering him into the woods. He’d almost killed Jonathan had it not been for Rhys sneaking up to him and hitting him in the back of the head with a large log. When Rhys walked over to where Jonathan laid on his back, he had gotten a glimpse of Rhys before he’d kicked Jonathan in the face. Rhys had left Jonathan unconscious in the woods, opting to take Roald back with him and pin all the murders on him. 

You remained silent for a moment when Rhys finished. In the meantime, you had put down the knife. You rubbed your temple, feeling a headache form. What impossible situation had you found yourself in…

“So why didn’t we also just kill Jonathan? Kill two birds with one stone, literally. He obviously knows too much. He knows you’re the killer, now.” 

“Because I have other things in mind for him,” Rhys answered, cryptic.

“Would you care to elaborate on that? What the hell does that even mean?”

Rhys moved towards you, slowly this time, balancing on a single knee as he took your hands in his from where you also still kneeled next to your duffle. 

“Listen to me,” he said earnestly. “I will tell you everything, I promise. But we can’t do that here. You need to leave before anyone discovers Roald, before the cavalry arrive.”

His eyes pleaded with you, genuine concern in them. You looked down at your intertwined hands. Rhys’ touch grounding you after that little incident, calming the rage that had flooded you when you thought for a moment that it had all been a ploy. You hadn’t been scared of Rhys before, and you weren’t now. But what had scared you was the possibility of this bond you felt being a deception ­— that it wasn’t real.

“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him. “But promise me one more thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t ever — and I mean ever — startle me like that again. Because I will shoot you.”

“Understood,” he said, squeezing your hands.

You both looked up at the same time as you noticed a few lights turn on inside Hampsbridge House. Probably Jonathan. 

“We need to get you out of here, come on,” Rhys said, straightening to his full height, letting go of your hands.

You pressed your lips together at the loss of his touch before finally retrieving your car keys and zipping up your bag. You stood and flung the duffle bag over your right shoulder, following Rhys. When you reached the edge of his security’s outside perimeter, he held out his hand in front of you, forcing you to stop and turn to him.

“Us separating is going to be our first step in building trust.”

Trust, the crucial and terrifying five-letter word.

“We’ve clearly got a long way to go,” you huffed.

“Ah, you could say that,” Rhys agreed, inclining his head. He briefly broke eye contact when he looked down, the muscle in his jaw appearing as he clenched it. A sense of determination overtook him. Then he rolled back his head to look you in the eyes again, taking one self-assured step towards you, stepping into your space. 

“I will see you in a couple of hours. And don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” Rhys promised, his voice low.

You nodded, softly biting your lip. The action made him glance down at your lips, his pupils dilating perceptibly. And with that, Rhys turned on his heels to walk back towards Hampsbridge House, simultaneously taking the first step in your thus far fragile trust. You readjusted the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, silently watching him disappear in the distance for a minute before turning in the opposite direction. It was time to go home.

––

The clock in your living room chimed exactly ten times the moment you stepped foot in your apartment. The trip back had taken you longer than you’d initially hoped. By the time you arrived in London, your first stop was to return the rental car. Since your go-to rental place — they easily accepted cash, no questions asked — was almost on the complete opposite side of the city, it had taken you a while to get home through the start of London rush-hour. Now, you were just in desperate need of a shower. And possibly a nap. But whatever, sleep was for the dead, right?

You knew Rhys was likely on his way to you right now. In the car, you’d turned on the local radio station and had already noted them reporting on an incident that had occurred at Hampsbridge House. News travelled fast. You wondered if it had anything to do with a certain impatient, blue-eyed politician who had made it very clear he wanted to be near you again as soon as possible.

You got your phone out of your duffle and grabbed the charger, plugging it in. Then you turned on the tv absentmindedly before heading straight for your shower. You could faintly hear the mentioning of Hampsbridge House on the news channel when you let the water run.

You moaned as your body with all its aching muscles made contact with the hot water. In the past 48 hours your body had been through a lot. You had been chilled to the bone, drugged, shackled, slept on the thinnest and most uncomfortable mattress known to mankind, and then of course had thrown a couple of punches. You didn’t feel bad for Rhys, though. He had it coming. 

The man had to learn you could fend for yourself and that you wouldn’t simply be man-handled into any situation. Afterwards, you didn’t think that had been his intention. Perhaps it was just a surge of fear and protectiveness he had felt for you. 

You reeled a little at the fact you had actually chosen to work with the man who had been the cause of most of your hardship the past few days. Your conscience was still scolding you for that in the back of your mind. But every other part of you tried to convince yourself it was okay. That this was somehow the right choice. You usually had a finer equilibrium when it came to your head and feelings. Apparently, Rhys was able to cause quite the interference on that mind-body connection within you, that fact in and of itself being slightly alarming. All of this was completely unknown territory you treaded in, for both of you.

One step at a time, you reminded yourself. 

First, back to the basics. Lockwood didn’t know who you were, so that would still buy you both some time to plan and get it right. Fuck, you were really doing this. And if you were doing this, you knew you had to go all the way. Which meant that it wouldn’t stop after Lockwood. No, you weren’t that ignorant. You had seen the look in Rhys’ eyes. Lockwood would only be the beginning. 

When you got out of the shower and changed into some fresh new clothes, the first thing you did was check your phone. It had been well over a day since you had last checked it. You grabbed it from the kitchen cabinet where you had left it to charge and unplugged it. 

After you entered your passcode, the screen lit up with a few messages from your best friend — yes, you actually had a friend, Claire. You’d met during college and had always stayed in touch. She was really the only other person besides your sisters you were able to tolerate for an extended period of time. Though, you hadn’t spoken to her since you got back from Canada. You read through her messages, proposing to meet up for lunch soon. You were about to answer them but scrolling further made your heart stop. 

Six missed calls. From Zoe. 

A feeling of sudden dread overcame you. Zoe never tried to call you this many times when she knew you were away for work. Her and Sadie knew better than to disturb you during work. You always blamed a stern boss for that, but really you just needed to be radio silent when stalking and murdering your target. Because of that, Zoe either texted you or in a case of an emergency send you a text and make one phone call to let you know there was something up. This far exceeded that. On top of that, you hadn’t received a single text.

Without hesitating you pressed call. You paced into your living room, hearing the dial tone continue until, after thirty excruciating seconds, it stopped. She hadn’t picked up. Fuck. You tried Sadie’s number, but that was also a dead end. You were about to throw something out of sheer frustration when you stopped dead in your tracks, the images on your tv demanding your attention.

You stood completely frozen in shock, bulging eyes transfixed on your tv as you watched the news footage of what was evidently your childhood home going up in flames. You recognised the street and the neighbouring houses, but also your sister’s bike that was chained to the fence in front of the house that was currently engulfed in a fire. The hand holding your phone slowly dropped to your side. 

The footage showed how the windows had all been blown out. Raging flames and thick black smoke emerging from inside. The light-yellow colour of your childhood home’s front was now turning a dark grey from all that smoke. At least a dozen firefighters were running around, trying to control the fire. There was no doubt inside of you that this all-consuming blaze would destroy anything and anyone inside. 

No, no, no. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.

“Firefighters are trying everything they can to save neighbouring houses but the flames are—” You tuned out, the rush in your ears preventing you from hearing the remainder of the news event’s account.

Zoe… Sadie… 

You blinked back sudden tears. Had they made it out? They were both smart and alert — they had to have made it out. You glanced down at your phone that you were gripping so hard it was a miracle the device hadn’t yet shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Your sister had called six times. Which means they’d at least been awake at the time the fire had started, or shortly thereafter. But where were they now? They weren’t answering their phones, which didn’t help your anxiety one bit.

Your instincts finally kicked in and pulled you out of your frozen state. Without another thought, you ran for the door, nearly overturning a lamp when you hastily grabbed your keys and purse with trembling hands. You’d barely heard the front door close behind you as you were already sprinting down the stairs. When you made it down, you quickly rounded the corner, almost running straight into someone. You staggered back, holding out your arm to the wall for support. 

“Christ almighty, Y/N. Where are you off to in such a rush?”

Rhys’ voice brutally snapped you out of your single-minded focus to just go. He was holding two cups of steaming coffee and a brown paper bag filled with, presumably, your ‘make-up’ breakfast in his left hand, keys dangling in his other. He wore a lazy smile that slowly fell off his face when he noticed the downright trepidation in your body language. 

“What happened?” Rhys asked, alarmed. 

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. Within a second Rhys was there, practically dropping the coffee and paper bag on the old carpet. His hands landed on your shoulders whilst he dipped his head to your eye level, demanding your focus with a single imploring look.

“I— I need to go,” you stammered. “It’s, I just— please.” 

Diverting your gaze, you glanced over his shoulder at your apartment building’s front door. There was no time. 

“Hey, look at me, Y/N. Look at me. Breathe,” Rhys soothed. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking one deep shuddering breath before opening them to recast your attention to Rhys.

“Good girl. Now, tell me what happened,” he said, Rhys’ calm and steady voice currently your only lifeline to sanity. 

“There has been a fire in my childhood home. My sisters live there,” you said, your voice slightly cracking at the end. “They tried to call me but my phone was dead and I just saw it only now, it’s on the news channel, and—” Rhys cut off your rambling by pressing you to him, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

Your vision blurred a little, tears threatening to spill once more. You didn’t normally get this emotional, but they were your sisters. Yours to protect. And now you might have failed them. Your mother — that fucking piece of shit. If she was the cause behind all of this… 

Let’s just say that to voice those next thoughts would be too brutal, even for you. 

Rhys slowly nodded to himself as he leaned back from your embrace, not fully letting you go. You noticed his jaw set and the vein in his neck pulse. He undoubtedly had the same thoughts about your mother as you had. Rhys moved his hand from your shoulder to your sweaty palm in one smooth motion, squeezing reassuringly as he laced your fingers. 

“Come on,” he beckoned as he pulled you along towards your apartment’s entrance. You felt the tiniest bit of tension lift, knowing Rhys wouldn’t let you face whatever awaited you alone. 

–––– 

A/N: I did warn you about the drama, didn’t I? 

A little update on the total number of parts this fic will be: uhm so I’ve been planning out all of the plotlines that I want to incorporate in this story and the total number of chapters currently comes down to 25… Remember when I said this was supposed to be a one shot way back? Yeah, that one aged well. I just have too many (fun) ideas and things in mind for our fave couple. Let me know if there’s something you’d really like to see happen in this fic and who knows… maybe I can work something out :)

[starsxblazing]

Pushing the Limits (Part 8)

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of your betrayal and injuries, it begins new changes

Azriel x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Azriel burst through the front door of the river house with you in his arms, frantically searching for anyone that could help. He had used his siphon in hopes of staunching the bleeding that didn’t seem to stop. There was already a puddle of your blood on the floor of the foyer and Rhysand was entering the house with Madja in tow. As instructed by a near frantic Rhysand, he rushed with you up the stairs and into one of the guest bedrooms.

“What the hell happened!?” Rhy yelled as he ran a hand through his hair and stared Azriel down with such anger that he had never seen directed at him before.

“There were five soldiers on her and we’re lucky that I got there in time!” Azriel yelled back even though he knew that it was his fault.

“Why the hell did you go searching for her!?” 

Rhys continued to glare at him until he had no choice but to drop his mental shields to show him. It only caused a shiver run down his spine as he replayed it and saw how bad it truly was. He had distracted you. His shadows had distracted you and caused you to lose focus and stumble. By the way that Rhysand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, he knew he was about to get the beating that he deserved.

Cassian was striding through the door by the time that they were down the stairs and the general didn’t waste any time by giving him a right hook to the face that sent him flying into the nearest wall. He had expected it from their High Lord but he knew how protective Cassian was of you, especially since you had become so close to Nesta.

Azriel didn’t fight back when his brother continued the assault and he refused to fight back. Rhysand had to pull Cassian away from him but he personally felt that it wasn’t enough. His feelings for you had clouded his judgment and he deserved a verbal lashing that he knew he would get when you woke up. That was if you woke up. 

An argument ensued while both of his brothers yelled at him and all of the commotion had both Feyre and Elain coming to see what was going on. Elain’s face paled at the sight of him and his High Lady’s face twisted into anger.

“Someone care to explain what happened?” Feyre demanded.

“This prick just couldn’t stand the fact that someone else was somewhat capable of doing even a fraction of his work that he just had to interrupt her,” Cassian yelled, the anger rolling off of him in waves. “If he hadn’t intervened, she would’ve never lost focus and wouldn’t be upstairs dying in that room!”

Feyre dashed up the steps as fast as she dared in her hurry to check on her friend despite Rhysand warning her to not see her just yet. A soft cry could be heard from the High Lady and since Azriel knew that she was in good hands, he got away from the river house as fast as he could in hopes to outrun his own feelings for you. Underestimating you had nearly cost you your life and there was no way that he would ever let it happen again. At least until he saw it for himself in person and let you curse him for everything that he’s ever been worth.

You awoke with pain shooting straight through your body even though you weren’t even moving but you noticed that you were in your room at the House Turning your head slightly, you saw Cassian asleep in an armchair beside your bed but your attention turned to Nesta who was walking through the door with a bowl of water. She stared at you for a moment before a silent sob escaped her and she was crossing the floor quickly. Sitting the bowl on the table beside the bed, she took a seat and grabbed your hand.

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, more than likely in hopes of not waking Cassian but the slightest sound had him shooting up and staring at you in relief.

You tried to speak but your throat and mouth were too dry. They both helped you sit up before Cassian handed you a glass of water that you drained quickly. You gave him a watery eyed nod in thanks before clearing your throat only to have pain shoot through your body.

“Try to take it easy,” Cassian whispered gently as he helped you sit up.

“How long have I been out?” you asked as the memories came back, the thoughts making you want to cry.

“Two days,” Nesta answered as she used the water in the bowl to wipe your face. “Majda got your wound healed but you’re going to be sore for a bit.”

“Rhys isn’t going to let me leave Velaris for yea-,” you groaned, feeling the despair at the thought of being cooped up again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Cassian growled quietly. “You were doing great on your own.”

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t trust me to be able to handle anything by myself.” Tears pricked your eyes and you let them fall with the knowledge that anger would take its place soon enough. “I think I’ve proved myself well enough. Hell, I took on three by myself before that.”

“I hear you hit one right through his head with a simple throw of your dagger.” Cassian grinned in his pride. “And that was with you in pain  and bleeding everywhere.”

“We’re just lucky they hit me on my left instead of my right.” The small laugh that you let out hurt but you couldn’t stop it with the way that he was trying to lighten the mood. “I doubt I would’ve made a clean shot. Probably would’ve taken his head off in the process.”

“We can always arrange that,” Cassian growled. 

“With as much as he sulking, he’d probably kneel before her and let her do it without resistance,” Nesta scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

A plate of food landed on the stand beside the bowl. The smell was both mouth watering and nauseating but you knew that you needed it either way. Cassian seemed to notice the tension and the hurt that you were feeling so he began telling you about his interactions with Devlon and some of the others in the camp. You found it funny enough but your heart sank some time later when they stood to leave.

Judging by the darkness through your window, it was more than likely late and they were ready for their own beds so you didn’t say anything. Your emotional pain hit you in full force once you were alone and even though it hurt, you let the sobs come. You were ready for the anger to over take you but you knew it wouldn’t happen until you were face to face with shadowsinger again. Regret for catching feelings hit you like a tidal wave and you wondered how you could have been so stupid and foolish.

Disdain for each other had been what kept the two of you communicating and the longer that it went on, the harder it was to keep that going. Replaying all of it, you supposed that it wasn’t just that one night that you had stayed with but the times when he acted like he cared about you for more than just your body. The rough rounds that had been the beginning of it all had slowly formed into something slower, something that felt more meaningful and you could see it in his eyes that he was genuinely happy to wake up next to you that one morning. 

It took another full day before you felt strong enough to get out of bed but Cassian still insisted on doting on you between his work. You were relieved and at ease with both of your friends now that you weren’t bound to your bed. The air around you was light and content with the general making lewd comments and the conversation that was mostly just between you and him went smoothly. He seemed happy to see the true side of you that you had always kept hidden and you were relieved to no longer mask everything all of the time. You felt the presence on the balcony and Cassian growled just as you turned to look to see Azriel.

As your eyes narrowed in on him, the anger and heartbreak twisted together just as you knew that it would. His eyes widened as he looked at and he tripped over his feet as he backed away. Another heartbeat later, he shot into the sky as if you were about to slay him on the spot. You looked back to your two friends to see Cassian’s eyes wide in what looked like shock and Nesta’s eyes narrowed with her brows scrunched.

You assumed that he was scared just as he should be because you weren’t sure if you could stop yourself just yet from spitting the most awful things at him.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @i-am-infinite @historygeekqueen @acourtofbatboydreams @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe

[moonybeam3]

Tamlin during the High Lord meeting

[separatist-apologist]

Treacherous

I'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands

Summary: Elain Archeron is D O N E with the family business. Done with crime. Done with a life of bullets, of always looking over her shoulder. Swearing she's happy with her life far from her sisters, Elain makes a name for herself on the west coast. She's home only for two weeks, to see her eldest sister married before she returns. Nothing will change that, no matter how her sisters beg.

A stray bullet grazing her cheek, of course, puts a wrench in those plans. Elain is reminded just how dangerous being an Archeron is, and that the past isn't as buried as she imagined.

An old enemy as returned. And he's got his sights set directly on her.

TW: Blood/death, mentions of sexual assault. Typos

Part 1: I'd Be Smart To Walk Away, But You're Quicksand

AO3

Elain Archeron never wanted an inheritance. She’d ignored what it meant to be an Archeron entirely, removing herself from her family—her father, truly—until she could no longer. What a sweet escape, absconding to the west coast, leaving her sisters to manage the festering rot. No more surveilling cops trailing her as she walked to school, no more waking up to bullets whizzing through her bedroom window, of boys too afraid to speak to her, or girls who turned up their noses with a sneer.

Mafia. Glorified, to be certain, but crime all the same. There was glamour to be had. Elain wouldn’t deny that, not when Feyre sent her a designer handbag for her birthday or Nesta ordered a series of dresses straight from the runway, shipped directly to Elain’s apartment. Feyre had taken over, sanitizing the business, turning herself into a girl boss. For the first time in the history of the Archeron family, they were almost legitimate. Elain was certain Nesta’s law degree, her sharp tongue and terrifying stare didn’t hurt. She tried to imagine those same cops harassing them now. Nesta likely had them running backwards, tail between their legs.

Come home, her sisters had cajoled. Dad is dead. Things are different now.

As if anything could convince Elain to leave the museum she worked in. Costume design was her passion and there was no better place than Los Angeles to work. She’d made a name for herself, had consulted on million-dollar movies. There was no way she would ever leave the bright sunlight, the access to soft sand and all the soft-lit chaos Los Angeles brought for snowstorms and more of their family’s murky, messy legacy.

Certainly not when Feyre merged their family with the Velarian’s. Rhysand was so utterly terrifying Elain had almost skipped the wedding entirely. She remembered seeing him, once as a teenager, watching the three of them as they crossed the street for school. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. So utterly imposing. Always surrounded by his brothers, the menacing Azriel and the muscular Cassian. He’d been fascinated with Feyre then. Perhaps he’d recognized some similar darkness, had known what she’d make of things once her father finally got out of her way.

The wedding was so utterly normal. Instagrammable. Elain could almost relax. Nesta had laughed, had let her hair down as Cassian spun her around a darkened dance flood and Feyre watched at the head of a long table. A queen, surveying her domain. She’d liked what she’d seen.

But Elain did not. She’d skittered back to L.A., promptly pushing the whole experience from her mind. She couldn’t let herself think her sisters had created any sort of safety—she was above board. Eventually Feyre would slip up, especially now that she was responsible for Rhys. He’d always been a little reckless, a little too comfortable with violence. She’d heard stories of what his acolytes did in his name. Azriel’s skills with a knife were only ever spoken of in hushed, whispered words.

Nesta’s engagement to Cassian was a punch to the gut. The string that tied Elain to her sisters tugged, as if to whisper you’re next. Her boyfriend broke up with her—Graysen was always a little too fixated on his modeling career to truly want anything serious—leaving Elain wondering if she could truly outrun the curse of her last name. Would she find Azriel waiting when she returned, his cold, quiet beauty suddenly tempting?

She called Nesta. I can’t make it.

And Nesta had gone silent. Digesting. Contemplating. Finally—Because you’re a coward, Elain.

Click. A dial tone. Nothing but silence followed Nesta’s condemnation. And Elain, for weeks, could not deny the truth of Nesta’s words. She didn’t want to face them all again, to see their happiness and stare at the darkness of her own life. To be forced to admit that maybe, just maybe, she missed them more than she was willing to admit.

So Elain got back on a plane. Checked her phone one last time.

Can’t wait to see you!!

Nes and I are already sitting outside the airport—we have a surprise for you!

Feyre and Nesta, two of the most terrifying women in the country, perhaps the world itself, and Elain knew their surprise was a bouquet of absurd and silly balloons. An inside joke between them, embarrassing the others through greeting cards, balloons, and candles on cakes. How many times had Nesta sent a Hallmark card lamenting Elain’s latest job loss or congratulating her on a pregnancy because she found the entire thing amusing? As often as Elain tied a Get well soon balloon to a chair on her sisters’ birthday. Because you’re stupid, she used to joke while they scowled, arms crossed over their chest.

She stepped from her tarmac, bag rolling behind her. She had three dresses tucked in a garment bag slung over her shoulder and heels on her feet. She knew Feyre would be dressed slouchy—comfortable and Nesta would be in the smartest pencil suit money could buy. Elain was not disappointed when she finally cleared the exit, hands skimming the rail of the escalator. Feyre and Nesta were waiting, just as she knew they would be, holding the large bouquet of flowers. Stuck in the middle is a cheerful pink piece of plastic proclaiming Baby girl!

Elain rolled her eyes, unable to suppress her smile. “You look tan,” Feyre complemented the moment Elain reached them.

“And congrats on the baby,” Nesta added as the crowd parted around them, unconcerned about the homecoming happening. “You look incredible for six months.”

“I wish. I haven’t had sex in at least that long,” Elain groused, tucking the white and yellow blooms beneath her arm. Feyre took her garment bag, only for Nesta to snatch it from her.

“Speaking of pregnant,” Feyre said with a sly grin, her hand pressed against her flat stomach hidden in an oversized top. Elain’s eyes widened.

“You’re teasing.”

“I wouldn’t joke about a baby,” Feyre lied, ignoring the flowers beneath Elain’s arm. “It was a surprise but I’m excited. It’s new, so keep it between us.”

“No heavy lifting,” Nesta reminded their youngest sister, as if Elain’s dressed weighed anything at all. The three stepped from the sanitized airport for the muggy New England air. A black SUV waited, idling in the no parking zone and Elain marveled at Feyre’s ability to just do as she pleased. That sort of thing might have gotten Elain shot in L.A. Not that she’d ever say such a thing—she hardly needed her sisters uniting under the same cause, a cause that might find her packing up her things and moving back home.

Feyre slid into the drivers seat while Elain and Nesta loaded Elain’s things in the trunk. “You need a car this big?” Elain teased, climbing into the passenger seat when Nesta wordlessly got into the back.

“No. But I like it. It feels very Godfather-y to me,” Feyre joked, the closest she’d ever get to admitting her true line of work. Every word was spoken carefully, layered beneath innuendo. If the FBI meant to catch them, meant to bug them, they would not incriminate themselves.

“It’s a new mom-mobile,” Nesta added casually, crossing a slim leg over her knee. “Before you know it, you’ll be toting ten snotty kids off to baseball practice or whatever it is kids play.”

“You’re right behind me.”

From the side mirror, Elain caught how Nesta scowled. “Give up perky tits for stretchmarks? Not a chance in hell.”

“Jokes on you, Nes—I’ve got perky tits and stretchmarks,” Elain replied, catching how Feyre’s expression tightened and softened, relaxing when she realized her sisters were not judging her. Only themselves and the impossible standards they felt compelled to participate in.

“Same,” Feyre agreed. “I don’t believe for a second you don’t, either.”

“Believe it,” Nesta sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Unlike Feyre and Elain, card carrying members of the itty bitty titty committee, Nesta had the sort of model-esque body all girls were told they ought to want. Slim waist, big breasts, a nicely curved ass. Elain had been absurdly jealous of her older sister when they were younger, wishing she’d inherited their mothers nice figure. Elain and Feyre were an up and down sort of slim and the only thing that would ever fix that would be surgery.

And in L.A., Elain was sorely tempted. It was an absurd prospect for someone who didn’t have a job in front of camera and Elain didn’t think a rounder ass would make her like herself any better. Though it might have kept Graysen around longer.

As though she could read Elain’s mind, Feyre glanced sideways, navigating out of the tangled airport traffic for the freeway. “So Graysen and you are done?”

“Done done?” Nesta clarified a little too breathlessly.

“Yeah. He wanted to focus on his career—”

Nesta snorted from the backseat and like a lady, Elain chose to ignore it. “And honestly, I don’t think we were ever really going anywhere.”

“And how is work?” Feyre prompted, looking in the rearview mirror. “I saw your new collection. Love the nineteen twenties.”

“You read my piece?” Elain couldn’t help but ask, ignoring the blatant conspiring happening under her nose.

“We read them all,” Nesta retorted indignantly. “Just like you surely read my case briefs.”

“I absolutely do not do that,” Elain replied dryly.

“I guess we just love you more,” Feyre quipped, the diamond on her finger glittering a holographic rainbow around the car. Elain settled closer against the leather interior, breathing in the fresh leather smell.

“Maybe,” Elain agreed. “Or maybe my job is more interesting.”

Nesta and Feyre exchanged another wordless glance. “Probably,” Nesta conceded, her tone betraying her. I doubt that, she seemed to say. They couldn’t discuss that in the car. Couldn’t discuss it in front of Elain at all. They’d never formally agreed not to, but Elain knew her sisters understood the quiet boundary she’d drawn for herself the day dad died. They knew why she’d chosen a west coast school, snubbing her nose at an Ivy legacy. Why she resisted coming home unless she was coerced, unless something lifechanging was happening to her sisters. No more family business.

“So Cassian,” Elain changed topics. “Tell me how he prop—”

Two shots rang out, silencing the three of them. Elain immediately ducked, hands thrown over her head. Feyre swerved while Nesta reached beneath her seat, pulling a handgun from a heavy box.

“Everyone okay?” Feyre demanded, eyes sharpening. Two holes had pierced the glass of Elain’s window. She felt fine, but when Feyre glanced over, deciding she’d give chase, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re bleeding. Don’t get blood on my new seats, Elain. Get the kit out of the glovebox.”

Just like when they were kids. There was no time to react, no time to acknowledge what was happening was fucked, was not normal.

And still there was no tears. Elain pulled the glove compartment open where Feyre kept a small red first aid box. Pulling her visor down, she saw where the bullet had just missed her, singing the flesh of her cheek. Another near miss. Another possible scar.

“You see them?” Feyre asked while Elain pressed a bandage against the line of blood.

“Not here,” Nesta replied, gun still in her lap. “Slow down, Fey. Too many people out.”

“He could have killed Elain,” she snapped, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I want—”

“It’s just road rage,” came Nesta’s clinical reply, perhaps remembering they might have unwanted interlopers listening to their every word. “Let’s get home. We can call the cops.”

The cops. More like Rhysand would send out his most brutal artillery as repayment. Elain pressed her back into the leather.

What a homecoming.

~*~

“My sister-in-law is in town,” Rhysand began, the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled to his elbows. It was early in the morning, closer to dawn that dusk and Lucien wanted to be in bed. Not in Rhysand’s kitchen and certainly not being treated to a family history.

“Good for her,” Lucien replied, running his fingers through long, tangled hair. “How is that my problem?”

“Koschei’s guys are still after my wife. Took a shot on the freeway today, clipped her sister. Nothing serious, just a little scratch but she’s the one who thinks she’s above all this. Too good to stick around, to support her family. Trembling like a little baby fawn…like she doesn’t have Archeron blood.”

Lucien frowned. “Feyre has more than one sister?”

“Two. Elain lives out in L.A. doing some shit with clothes for a museum. She’s in town for Nesta’s wedding and Feyre thinks she’s an easy target.”

“Have Azriel watch her,” Lucien dismissed, knowing full well where this was going. “I told you the Vanserra’s were done helping you out.”

“Your brother owes me for that shit with Morrigan. I’m calling it in,” Rhysand replied, his blue eyes flashing violet. “Already called him. It’s an easy job. Until Koschei is six feet in the ground, you’re Elain’s personal shadow. Anything happens to her, you better be dead first.”

Lucien pressed his fingertips into his eye sockets, elbows resting against the marble of Rhys’s kitchen island. Eris, the fucking dick, couldn’t help himself. The Vanserra’s and the Velarians had old history—the Vanserra’s came from old, legitimate money that they occasionally liked to put to poor use and the Velarian’s liked to avoid trouble. Seem above board. Politican’s in their pockets, police on their payroll, billionaires as friends. Rhysand had cultivated an image as a savvy businessman, ignoring his businesses were laundromats and car washes, and Eris, upholding that tradition, had helped Rhys avoid being indicted on tax fraud. Introduced him to investors, kept the feds from sniffing around.

And occasionally offered up Lucien as help. Lucien, with his military service and his skills with a gun made him a good choice as a body guard though Lucien preferred a different sort of assignment. He preferred the cool metal of a gun in his hand and the thrill of pulling the trigger. Elain Archeron hardly fit that bill.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Rhysand replied. “And I’ll pay for everything. I’ve got her up at hotel downtown. Penthouse suite.”

“I’m bunking, I guess?”

Rhys’s grin became feline. “What you do is your own business. I don’t give a fuck about professional boundaries or whatever code of ethics you live by. Don’t let her out of your sight. That means same living space, that means knowing when she’s showering, where she’d drinking and who else she might be fucking.”

Lucien glowered beneath the insinuation he’d be fucking one of the Archeron girls. Gorgeous, yes. Feyre and Nesta were two of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his entire life. He understood the appeal and yet could not imagine what it must have been like chipping away at their icy exterior. “Cash, in my account. I’m not billing my expenses.”

“Fine,” Rhys agreed with a shrug. “I mean it, Vanserra. If anything happens to Elain, Feyre will have my fucking balls. She likes you. Thinks you won’t scare Elain too much.”

That explained the lack of Azriel, then. Lucien imagined Feyre had been quite put out, not able to marry her last sister off to Rhysand’s last brother. Cementing their families fully, creating a crime dynasty that even Eris was a little worried about.

“Where is she now?” Lucien asked.

“Tonight? She’s upstairs with Nesta. They’re having a sleepover. Go pack up your things and check her in—I want to avoid a scene in my living room.”

“So she can scream in my face?” Lucien retorted, outraged. Rhys nodded.

“Exactly. She’s your problem until you put her back on a plane or I put a bullet in Koschei’s brain. Whichever comes first.”

“Work fast,” Lucien grumbled, sliding his keys towards him before stalking from the large mansion Rhys lived in. Just outside the city, set on acres of green pasture and overlooking the Atlantic, it truly was beautiful. Lucien could admire good taste when he saw it and despite being an occasional slimeball, Rhysand had immaculate taste in architecture.

Lucien heaved a sigh once he was in his car, stretching his legs out in front of him. The work was good…satisfying, even. Could he really complain if he was given what amounted to a two-weeks paid vacation? Lucien very much doubted Elain would be any trouble at all, given how Rhysand had described her. Trembling fawn.

He couldn’t imagine any Archeron as anything but an ice cold bitch. He’d seen Feyre press a heeled foot against a crying man’s throat, gun right between his eyes. Had seen Nesta casually cut a throat, lamenting the blood that splattered over her blouse. Surely this last sister was the same, had that same icy blue stare that sent shivers up his spine.

Rhysand sent the check in information to Lucien before he reached downtown, to his own loft in the sky. Even if he’d skipped the military, Lucien could have lived like a King. The Vanserra’s owned this city regardless of what Rhysand thought. Eris could just as easily turn everything over to the fed and start anew, could wipe both the Velarians and the Archeron off the board with little more than a wave of his hand. Lucien’s inheritance could have made him the most prolific playboy the city had ever seen.

He supposed he had his father’s cruel streak, just like his elder brother. He put it to good use he liked to think. After all, he’d never raised a hand in anger against someone who hadn’t deserved it. Beron could not boast the same. That’s why Beron was dead—his body carved to pieces and scattered in the ocean. Missing, even as Lucien packed up his things. Of course they suspected him and Eris and for good reason—Lucien had pulled the trigger but Eris had tied his father to the chair. Lucien had cut up the body but it was Eris’s boat that had hidden the evidence.

On holiday, their mother had said. He left with a mistress, I don’t know where he went after that. That woman still screamed to the high heavens it was Beron’s sons who killed him, wailing like a scorned woman. Lucien supposed she did mourn him—had he married her like he promised, Lucien and Eris might have been disinherited.

One of lifes fun little mysteries, what might have been.

Lucien did beat Elain to the penthouse suite. The sun had just broken over the horizon when he arrived, dropping his black duffle bag beside the door. People lived in places like this and though Lucien had never seen the appeal, he was certainly grateful Rhys was not sparing any expense. He poked through the space, far larger than any woman needed. It would give them both space. She could take up in the large bedroom, draped in soft blue blankets and a mountain of soft pillows. He stole one, tossing it to the tan couch in the living area before raiding her closet for spare blankets. He’d sleep out there, between the door and the balcony. There were two bathrooms—one attached to her bedroom and a much smaller common bathroom with a toilet, a sink, and a standup shower. Good enough for him, he decided.

He covered every inch of the glossy hardwood, checking the rounded windows that filtered in buttery morning light. Dark blue curtains were tied on either side, giving the option for privacy if he wanted—or darkness, if he needed to sleep in. And sleep he did. Lucien checked his phone, ignoring the apologetic message from Eris, before collapsing to the couch. He was tempted to flip on the television, perched against a brick facing wall, and let mindless noise lull him to sleep.

He didn’t need it. He was out before he could reach for the remote set against a wood coffee table, hand resting against his chest, gun holstered at his side. There were no dreams, just the sweet, crushing darkness of oblivion.

And then there’s her. Lucien heard her in the back of his mind, heard the beep of the front door allowing her entry. Heels clipping against the floor, her soft sigh as she set something crinkly against the glass table right beside the door. He sat up, twisting to look at her.

Elain. She’d kicked off tall, white shoes, leaving them just beside the door. Frozen in place, her warm brown eyes huge. Wide with fear. Hand pressed to her breast, visible beneath the neckline of a soft, lavender sundress. Her hair was blonder than her sisters, tumbling in soft curls down her back. Her skin a soft, golden tan, sunkissed and freckled. He understood what a heart shaped face looked like…understood the fascination with the Archeron women.

“I’ll scream,” she warned, clutching her phone. Lucien huffed a laugh.

“I might like that.”

His words did nothing to ease the fear she so clearly felt. He stood, noting the difference in their heights almost immediately. “Your brother asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately. “My brother?”

“In law,” he amended. “Rhys. He’s worried after what happened yesterday.”

Proof, streaked angry and red over an otherwise flawless cheek, sends a flare of discomfort through him. Her fingers brushed over her skin absently, rubbing the cut as though she’d all but forgotten about it. Lucien took advantage of her silence to ogle her body with what he hoped was subtly. She was small, her waist curved into softly flaring hips hidden beneath the skirt of her dress. Slim, smooth, and tanned legs vanished upwards and Lucien could not pretend he wasn’t interested in what might lay between.

“So you’re, what? A babysitter?”

“Bodyguard,” he amended, eyes snapping back to her face.

“I’m not part of…of all this,” she hissed, crossing her arms just beneath her breasts. The action pushed the soft swell upwards and Lucien immediately averted his eyes. He didn’t dare let her catch him. “I didn’t need a bodyguard for Feyre’s wedding.”

He shrugged. “Take it up with Rhys.”

He sat back on the couch, stretching himself out so she understood he would be going nowhere unless Rhys released him from the arrangement. And even then, Lucien might show back up simply to see her.

He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, making a show if his disinterest while Elain made a furious phone call to her sister. She spoke in hushed tones, pacing back and forth while Lucien pretended he didn’t hear every word.

“—Not what we agreed!” Elain snapped. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Whatever was said on the other end silenced her anger, pacified her in some way. The next words spoken from Elain’s mouth were a soft, “You’re right. I’m sorry…I’ll stay.”

She became quiet for a moment. “We need rules.”

“Oh?” Lucien replied, not bothering to rise from the couch. She stomped around to face him, arms still crossed over her chest, breasts heaving in the most tantalizing way. He raised one knee, hiding any proof that he might be affected by her…however slight that may be.

“Two weeks. This is my vacation. I don’t want you in my space.”

“Fine,” Lucien agreed, gesturing the length of his body. She looked, cocking her head for the briefest of moments and he couldn’t help but wonder if she liked what she saw. “You know, this isn’t my idea of a good time, either, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, all but cementing the nickname. Lucien grinned against her deepening scowl.

“Any other rules?”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” she told him, eyebrows raised. He scoffed, then.

“Don’t fall in love with you? I can see why you’d need to preface all conversations that way, given how utterly charming you’ve been.”

Elain sighed. “Where is Azriel? He couldn’t be here?”

“Aw, missing your boyfriend?”

Her expression darkened. “He’s silent.”

“Yeah, and he’s also got cameras in your shower. I know Azriel, babe. Be glad it’s me just napping on your sofa. I have no interest in watching you soap up.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“If you try anything—”

“What’s to try? You’re not the only pretty girl in this town, princess. Maybe you run things where you’re from but not up here. Relax. It’s two weeks. Things will go better if you’re not fighting me the whole time.”

 She stalked off, mumbling about his usage of the word relax the whole way. Lucien exhaled softly, overall pleased with himself.

Two weeks with her? Even if he never fucked her at all, he thought it would still be time well spent.

~*~

For forty-eight hours, Elain did nothing but lay in bed. Door closed, television on, she turned her bedroom into a room within a room, decidedly ignoring the man sent to guard her. She didn’t like the smirking laugh set against the golden brown of his skin and certainly didn’t appreciate how he stretched out the long, muscular length of his body. She didn’t need to be in his orbit at all—Lucien was just her type. Or had been, once. When she lived at home and her father was allowed to approve who dated his daughters. Feyre liked a smooth talker, someone well-polished on the surface and messy just beneath.

And Nesta, as controlled as she was, preferred men of a more muscular slant, who seemed almost blue collar by comparison. Cassian lacked none of Rhysand’s elegance though he made up for it in humor. While Rhysand could smile while stabbing someone in the back, Cassian was more likely to just jam the knife right in someone’s face and walk away, unconcerned about mess or niceties.

And Elain? She’d always lived somewhere in between. She wanted more elegance, less simmering rage. He could be messy, violent even, but it had to be done for the right reasons. A man with a code, with principals. And the ability to dress himself without her intervention.

On day three, Elain could not pretend her sister hadn’t overstepped, if only a little. She had to face the music, had to confront Nesta and Feyre. She dressed for the warm weather in little white shorts and a bright yellow tanktop, slipped on a pair of sandals, and, with a breath, stepped into the living room.

And oh, how she wished she hadn’t. Lucien, with only a towel tied loosely around his otherwise naked body, was padding from the bathroom the living room. His hair was wet around his face, half obscuring the trio of angry gashes cut from forehead to chin, just narrowly avoiding one of his russet brown eyes.

“You’re awake,” he commented when he saw her. He hoisted his bag onto the coffee table and began rifling through it. She watched, mouth dry, as he tossed a black pair of briefs, dark jeans and a hunter green shirt onto the sofa.

“What happened to your face?” she asked when nothing else came to mind. He straightened, the muscles in his back rippling with tension before he turned and God she wished he hadn’t. Smooth, golden muscle gleamed wetly, tapering into a tight vee that would make the most disciplined actor in L.A. weep. She had no intention of asking how he maintained his body. She could guess.

“Do you really want to know?” he replied, making a slashing motion through the air with a knife.

“Oh.”

“You can thank my dad for stunting my otherwise good looks,” Lucien told her, reaching a hand for the knot that held his towel. She thought for one wild moment he was going to strip completely, was going to show her everything. He merely tightened the fabric, keeping it from riding any lower.

“Your father did that?” she gasped. Lucien frowned, brows knitted together.

“How else do you get men like me?” he replied, scooping up his clothes and heading back to the bathroom. And Elain, her heart pounding a little harder than she would have liked, did not have it in her to ask what kind of man he was.

While Lucien dressed, Elain shook out her hands and reminded herself to get it together. He returned, his long hair pulled off his face in a bun that was somehow neatly messy. She let her gaze linger over the sharpness of his jaw while Lucien collected his gun cheerfully.

“You want one?” he asked, holding it out to her. “I can show you how to shoot—”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Elain interrupted indignantly. As if her father had let his daughter leave the house without knowing all the intimate ways another person could be killed.

“I meant accurately,” Lucien interrupted with a wink. She didn’t bother to respond or defend herself. Who cared if he thought her a novice with a weapon? Hopefully he’d never have to learn otherwise.

“So I guess you drive, then?” Elain asked when Lucien scooped up his keys from the counter by the door.

“Bullet proof glass,” he told her with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about that pretty little face of yours.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” she replied, booping him swiftly on the nose with the tip of her finger. “How cute.”

His easy smile faded into a scowl. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

She only shrugged. “It’s just nice to know you’re thinking about my pretty face.”

“I’m thinking about a lot more than your pretty face,” he warned, reaching behind her for the door.

“I’ll bet you are. I’m not your type though, right?” she taunted, turning to walk into the hall. Lucien slammed the door with one broad hand, catching her between the wood and his body. Elain gasped, her game suddenly not funny anymore. He was close, the scent of him overwhelmingly masculine and clean. He dipped his head until his nose practically caressed her own.

“If this is the game you want to play, you better know how it ends,” he murmured, other hand ghosting over her waist.

“Oh? And how does it end? Pinned beneath you, right?” she challenged.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “On your knees, begging for my cock.”

She shoved and Lucien stumbled. There was no humor on his face—only tension. “I’ll bet the women around here die when you say that.”

“I don’t have to try so hard,” he replied, running a hand through his neat hair. Little red wisps framed his face, giving him a softened, almost undone sort of look that wasn’t unappealing. She was sure he did just fine with women. “I like a challenge.”

“I hope you like coming alone in the shower,” she added, cheeks heating at her boldness. His gaze sharpened, wholly focused on her. “It’s the closest you’ll ever get watching me beg.”

“We’ll see,” he promised, heat flaring in his eyes. And she was sure they would. She was sure they would crash and burn before the whole thing was over despite her assertions. He would brag and gloat and she’d go right back home.

Elain yanked open the door, a secret smile on her face. Maybe, in the end, she would get on her knees for him. Maybe she’d let him do all kinds of unspeakable acts to every part of her. But she wouldn’t make it easy and she wouldn’t stick around to watch him use her and discard her. She knew his type—had dated his type for years. Always so sure they were God’s gift to women, always looking for something more exciting, something else. Elain would be gone, leaving him wounded and maybe a little humbled.

A gift to the next woman he decided to touch and curse to the man himself. He’d spend the rest of his life wondering why she didn’t stay. Why it was so easy to delete his number, to go back home and get on with her life. There was something poetic about it, she decided.

Lucien, for all his bluster, said nothing at all. He merely followed her into the hall, face stony and distant.

Game on.

~*~

They were being followed. He hadn’t noticed it immediately, too focused on the ache in his cock and the humiliation in his chest. Elain had bested him with her bratty little words, with the way she’d flounced from the room, hips swaying, her hair tossed over her shoulder. She’d blithely pretended nothing happened at all and Lucien felt moody. Irritated. He swallowed it, squabbling over the radio, over which way to get to Feyre’s and on more than one occasion, how he drove. Elain was difficult. He wanted to knock her down a peg, preferably with her lips wrapped around his dick.

He caught sight of the black car as they left the city. Black SUVs were a dime a dozen and Lucien merely made a note of the first three letters on the front facing license plate, filing it away. Just in case. Elain, of course, paid no attention at all. She spent the whole drive crossing and uncrossing her tanned legs until Lucien was tempted to pull over and spank her over the hood of his car.

He pulled onto the freeway, noting the car still behind him. It wasn’t an uncommon route and still Lucien pressed his foot to the gas, speeding up until the car vanished. Paranoid, a voice whispered in his head. Paranoid kept him alive, would keep her alive. Lucien wondered if Koschei hadn’t recognized Elain as an easier target. Surely anyone keeping tabs would know Elain was the odd one out. Unprotected, unguarded, and an easy mark. What did she know, anyway? Could she defend herself?

The thoughts ate at him during the visit with Rhysand. Feyre immediately whisked Elain to the pool, promising a borrowed swimsuit and drinks while Lucien remained inside.

“All good?” Rhys asked, watching his wife dart through the kitchen, her sister in tow. Lucien shrugged.

“She doesn’t cause problems.”

“Didn’t figure she would. She likes to fly under the radar. Nothing like her sisters.”

Lucien accepted a beer from Rhysand’s fridge, cracking it open beneath the lighter kept in his pocket. “Why’d she leave, anyway?”

“She’s the one who found her old man’s body,” Rhys replied after a long sip. “Feyre thinks it was Hybern. I guess Archeron pissed him off. Anyway, Elain was the one who walked in—and it was a gruesome scene. Tortured for hours, spine cracked, just the whole works.”

Rhysand shook his head with distaste. “Tied up right in the living room where they knew one of his girls would find him. Lucien tried to imagine what that must have been like, shaking his head in disgust.

“She was his favorite and I guess it just was too much. She doesn’t do violence or blood or any of your sort of shit. I guess you noticed that.”

Lucien shrugged. It was hard to notice when she’d been locked up in her room for two days. Not that he had any intention of telling Rhys that.

“Where does she live, again?”

Rhys scoffed. “L.A. I think if she could have gotten farther, she would have. Passed up a full ride at NYU to slum it out at UCLA. She’s been home twice since then—once for Feyre’s wedding, and now.”

“Guess she’s not coming back after this.”

Rhys’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Give her a reason to stay. My wife would owe you.”

“You want your wife to owe a Vanserra a favor?” Lucien challenged. Rhys shrugged.

“You’d be family, and I could trust you not to fuck her over.”

Lucien decided to gloss over the implication of Rhys’s words, that he could only trust people that, like him, could put the interests of the Archeron women over their own. Lucien might be tempted to fuck her, but marry her? Not on his life. He’d sworn off all marriage besides, having lost the woman who should have been his wife on her nineteenth birthday. Jesminda should have been safe—she was outside all of this. Lucien had shipped off for basic training and Jesminda had been shot not a few days later.

His entire life, a future he’d hoped for, every dream he’d ever had, died on that kitchen floor with her. When it came to women now, Lucien had a catch and release sort of policy. He’d liked more than a few enough to date, but never longer than four months. And never love.

Those feelings didn’t change when he joined Rhys on the pool deck. Rhys made no show of hiding his appreciation of his wife, strung up in a red bikini that would have made anyone look twice. Beside her, sitting on the edge of the rough stone, Elain had on the mostly absurdly immodest pink thing, the shape of it giving him a near perfect image of her naked body. Pert nipples peaked through the thin fabric and when Elain stood to get Feyre a towel, the round, curved shape of her was on display. He wanted her. Anyone would—she was stunning, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life. Elain and Feyre paid them no mind, ignoring their presence until Rhys and Lucien retreated inside to work on other things.

When Elain returned, cheeks brightened from the sun, he imagined all was forgiven between sisters. Elain was on the phone, brow furrowed.

“I’m pretty sure its not there, Gray,” she said, her tone laced with exasperation. He stood from his place in the kitchen, sliding from the stool casually. Elain held up one finger, mouthing sorry as she turned her freckled back to him. “There’s a spare key in the pot on the steps. Go check for yourself. Fine. Alright.”

He frowned. “You keep a spare key outside your apartment?”

Was she stupid? Elain scowled, sliding her phone in her back pocket. “Oh relax. As if Graysen is staging some elaborate kidnapping. He’s looking for a pair of shoes he lost and thinks they’re in my apartment.”

Jealousy flared through him unbidden, the emotion catching him by surprise. “Graysen?”

“My ex,” Elain explained, waving to Rhys as she headed for the door. “I’m sure they’re very expensive but I would know if I had a pair of mans shoes floating around my place.”

“Oh?”

She scowled and still Lucien yanked open the passenger door for her, if only to give himself another opportunity to admire the shape of her ass. “It’s small.”

He waited until he was back in the car to admonish her. “You shouldn’t leave keys to your home all over the city—”

“My front porch is hardly the whole city—”

“What happens if someone crazy decides to break in?” he continued, ignoring her indignation as he pulled from the long, rounded drive. “What if some psycho decides to tie you up and have his way with you?”

She frowned. “That’s not my reality, you know. I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing back home.”

“Oh? Men respect women on the west coast, do they?”

“People aren’t constantly trying to kill me on the west coast,” Elain replied, drawing his attention back to the street. Back to the black SUV, with the familiar plates. Following.

“How do you know?” Lucien replied, careful not to tip her off—or the driver behind him.

“I’m still alive,” she huffed, leaning her head against the thick plated glass. Instinct caused him to grab her arm, to yank her away from the window.

“What was that?” she demanded, wrenching herself from his grip. He glanced in the rearview again.

“Habit. Just…don’t put your head against the glass, okay?”

“You never heard of using your words?” she grumbled, leaning away from him. She kept her head from the thick tinted windows, looking nervously out them.

“Someone shot through your sister’s car two days ago. They could have killed you.”

She didn’t react for a moment, her eyes far away. How much death had she seen? Had her father’s death been the catalyst or just the tip of a very deep iceberg?

“They didn’t,” she replied, her voice hardened, devoid of the brightness he liked so much. “I doubt they even knew I was in the car.”

But Lucien didn’t. He suspected Koschei knew exactly which sister sat where, knew who would be the easiest to get to. It was why Lucien was being followed. Maybe they only wanted intel. Who was with her? Did she leave on her own? Where was she staying?

He had no intention of providing any of that information. Lucien skipped the freeway, deciding to take her on a scenic drive. Two lovers, looking for somewhere quiet. Somewhere far from civilization where no one would hear them scream.

Literally.

“You know, I keep a knife in the glove box, if you want it,” he offered casually, glancing in his rearview again. The black SUV pulled back, was four cars behind. No hurry. Casual, unassuming.

Elain opened the glove box with a manicured hand, pulling the folded silver blade from beneath his registration and insurance documentation. “Seems small.”

“Open it,” Lucien replied, catching the sly look she shot him.

“Is this some sort of metaphor?”

“Hardly. If you want to know how big my dick is, you only have to ask. Open the knife, Elain.”

She did, flicking it easily with her wrist. It was larger than the handle made it seem, but it was the curved, jagged blade that made it special. That knife, upon it’s exit, would wreck a person, dragging sinew and flesh on its way back out. No pretty healing, only a jagged, ugly scar.

She cocked her head, examining the cool metal. “Who is behind us?” she finally asked, re-folding the knife.

“No one we would like.”

She nodded, looking towards the trees lining the winding road he drove down. “And this is what? Insurance incase whatever plan you have goes bad?”

Lucien looked at her, fear bubbling in his stomach for only a moment. Adrenaline took over, his excitement almost palpable. “Don’t get yourself killed, princess.”

She said nothing else. In truth, there was little time to say anything reassuring to her at all. Lucien turned sharply at a stop sign, his tires squealing. Elain tucked her knife into her breasts, looking back out the window. Lucien was going fast over the dark blacktop, weaving back and forth from the mountain he was currently climbing. It was just the two of them—

Shots rang in quick succession, popping in his ear. The car spun outwards, flipping over the guard rail. He heard Elain scream, heard the airbags deploy with a bang, the glass windows shatter when they finally landed, roof against the ground.

And then Lucien heard nothing else.

~*~

“Lucien,” Elain cried, her head pounding. She’d been here before, this exact scenario. She wasn’t eight and it wasn’t her father passed out behind the wheel. Blood trickled from Lucien’s nose. She unbuckled herself, aware they had minutes to vanish into the woods before their attackers descended with bullets. “Lucien!”

He groaned, turning his head back and forth. She tumbled from her seat, her body aching. “I need you to wake up.”

“Gun beneath the seat,” he murmured, his large body sucking up too much space.

“Get up,” she grunted, unbuckling him quickly. Her door was kicked easily open, despite the flimsy bottom of her tan sandal. “Everything flew around your car, I don’t know where your gun is.”

“Pants,” he told her. “Reach in—”

“Shut. Up,” she interrupted through gritted teeth. He was heavy, his body utterly solid. He helped, twisting and pushing until they were both on the forest ground. They’d fallen futher than she thought—Elain could see the head beams of a car far overhead, could hear the sound of people quietly talking, the sound of leaves rustling beneath feet as they worked to reach them.

“You need to run,” Lucien told her, looking at the same thing. His hair had come loose from his pony tail, falling in a tangled mass around his face and shoulders.

“You’ll die if I leave you,” she replied, her panic threatening to overwhelm her. “Just stand up—”

“Baby,” he murmured, grabbing her face. “Look at me. You need to run.”

Maybe it was the way he called her baby, an obvious attempt to inject some care and affection into a terrifying situation. Maybe it just the way he stressed his words. Elain looked up and then back at Lucien, cocking his gun from where he sat.

“Don’t die,” she murmured, scrambling to her feet. “I’ll fuck the new bodyguard if you do.”

He chuckled darkly, coughing softly. “Don’t worry, princess. You’ll be on your knees before the night is over.”

“I won’t be if you’re dead—”

“Elain. Run.”

And she did, flinging herself further down the mountainside. She wasn’t prepared, could hear her fathers voice berating her in her mind. Lainey. You know better.

And how she did. Never be caught off guard, never be caught unawares. She’d become complacent, had let herself believe this was no longer her life. She wanted to scream at the cloudy, dark sky over head. Its not my life!

And still it was. Behind her several shots rang out and she prayed it was Lucien who sent them, that he hadn’t been killed so thoughtlessly. It was all such a waste and for what? What could have angered Koschei so much he’d come after her like this? What had Feyre and Rhysand done?

She knew she’d messed up when she found the winding road they’d been thrown from, a shiny black sedan waiting for her. Guns in her face, drawing her attention away from those who held them. Elain looked beyond the barrel, and the gap toothed asshole grinning at her.

“Trunk for you, sweets.”

She nodded—even Feyre would think twice before arguing with a loaded gun. She let the man, whoever he was, and his partner pat her down, feeling every inch of her beneath their disgusting hands, chuckling the whole time. Once they were satisfied she had no gun, and not bothering to look for anything smaller, her wrists were zip tied brusingly tied.

“We got her. He dead? Good. Lets go.”

Elain was shoved into the cramped, carpeted trunk as if it were the first time someone had jammed her into such a space. She didn’t fight, didn’t betray any emotion at all. There was so space for emotion, not with her hands behind her back and her knife against her breasts.

He dead? Good.

The words rang in her chest. The bodyguard was dead. She barely knew him and still found it impossible. He’d just been alive. It was the problem with living the way he did, the way her father had. Someone was always after your job, your life. You were never really safe. How did Feyre and Nesta stand it?

She twisted until her arms were back in front of her, hands unfolding the nightmare knife Lucien had so casually gifted her. Perhaps he had some kind of foresight, had known things would go this way.

Don’t die. Words that apparently only applied to her. Elain Cut the plastic binding her with a soft grunt, listening for anything that would betray she’d been caught. The car continued, jolting to a stop quickly only to accelerate again. There was an escape latch, one she hesitated to pull. The moment the trunk flew open, she’d be caught. Hands might yank her through the seat—bullets might go whizzing for her.

Elain angled her body until the flat of her foot was against the taillight. How hilarious to send the cops after them, she considered, kicking violently. She just needed to see, needed some way to gauge when they were stopping so she could pull open the trunk and run.

Someone was on their tail, riding so close Elain would need to move fast when she got out. They were still travelling down backroads, still nearly alone.

Bullets rang through the silence, drawing Elain further into the interior of the trunk seeking safety. The car swerved violently for the second time that day, tossing Elain’s bruised body around like a rag doll.

She pulled the plastic latch, glowing softly in the darkness, and launched herself back into the night, the car still rolling. Feet slammed roughly against pavement, knocking her to her hands and knees for a moment. Elain scrambled back to her feet and took off running.

“Fuck!” someone screamed, their words silenced by a bullet. Elain ducked, plunging into the woods.

“Don’t stop running!” Lucien’s voice roared through the darkness, as though he’d sensed her hesitation. “I will find you!”

She surged forward, the only sound her sandals against the crisp fallen leaves and her breath, a soft pant. Elain wove in and out of the trees, sliding further down the side of the mountain as quickly as she could. She heard shots in the distance and then eerie silence, the kind that filled her with dread. The kind that reminded her of coming home after school, of finding her father bound to a chair with his eyes pulled, his tongue—

Rough hands caught Elain in a clearing, yanking her hard against them. Elain screamed softly, instinct overcoming her. Her elbow flew into their stomach, her head flying back to smash against their own. She heard a familiar grunt as she pulled out her knife, kicking Lucien’s bleeding body to the ground, knife pressed to his throat. Alive. Lucien, alive—

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured softly. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s me.”

“It’s you,” she repeated, letting him wrap his hand around her wrist. She could hardly see him in the darkness, could just barely make out his features.

“You’re okay,” he added. “You’re alive.”

Lucien sat upwards, holding her face in his hands. Job well done, she almost said. You made a mess of all of this.

She flung her arms around her neck, burying her face into his shoulder. “You’re alive.”

~*~

“Where is she?” Feyre asked in the early hours of the night. Lucien nodded towards the closed door where Elain slept, curled beneath a blanket after Lucien had all but shoved her into the bathtub. She hadn’t cried and he almost wished she had. She’d let him put her in that stolen car, wide eyed and pale faced, and bring her home.

“Got Cass cleaning things up. Stripping the car downtown…you left a lot of bodies behind.”

Lucien shrugged, his exhaustion wearing on him. “There were a lot of fuckers that needed to die. This isn’t Koschei, Rhys. Too messy, too much fire power.”

“Koschei’s still pissed about that thing with the girls,” Rhys reminded Lucien, joining him on the sofa. “There’s no one else.”

“No? They weren’t trying to kill her. Just capture her. Elain. Referred to her by name. Not bitch, not chick, Elain Archeron.”

Rhys shook his head helplessly. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe we keep her in the city from now on, though. Tighter watch. No long car trips, nowhere too exposed.”

“Maybe you should just put her back on a flight and send her back to L.A.”

“If someone is after her specifically, why the fuck would I do that?” Rhys demanded. “You gonna go out there with her? Indefinitely? She’ll have my goddamn balls. We handle this up here, on our turf.”

“Fine. Fix my fucking car.”

Rhys stood and his wife slipped from the bedroom, her face drawn. “She’s asleep. She’ll be okay.”

But if Feyre was reassuring Lucien, who’d watched Elain jump from a still moving car and press a knife to this throat, or herself. Lucien said nothing. “Will you ask her to call me when she wakes up?”

He nodded, only relaxing when they were gone and he knew, at least for the moment, everything was fine. Safe. He yanked off his shirt, intending to lay on the couch and sleep, when Elain called for him softly.”

“Lucien?”

He strode to the doorway, peering into the gloomy darkness. “Yes, princess?”

“Will you lay in here with me tonight?”

There was no brattiness to her tone, no innuendo. Only a sad vulnerability that made his chest ache.

“Okay,” he agreed. He went back to the living room for a pair of basketball shorts before sliding beneath the soft, blue blankets she’d already warmed with her body. For a long minute, Lucien lay utterly still, unsure if he should touch her or say something. Elain shifted, blonde hair spilling over her pillow.

“That wasn’t the first time,” she told him, falling into the space between their bodies easily. Lucien turned to his side, head propped on his arm. In the glow from the living room, Elain seemed troubled. She needed to say this and maybe he was the only one who could hear it. “I knew we were different when we were kids. Other families didn’t have as many guns, didn’t have dads teaching their daughters to cut open a throat. But to me that was just daddy. And…and it never really occurred me how different we really were until my mom died.”

Lucien resisted the urge to touch her, to offer her any sort of comfort. He recognized the hard set of her jaw, the rigid way she held herself. She didn’t want it—she didn’t want his pity.

“It was just me and daddy. Nesta and Feyre were somewhere else. We were driving to look at flowers for her funeral and someone shot at the car. Pulled me out by my ankles…threw me into the back a trunk.”

“What happened?” he murmured, watching her thoughtfully.

“I guess I was born under a lucky star,” she replied, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. “Dad came and blew them all away. I’d never seen anyone die before that day. He picked me up and we went home. It was just…all of it was so normal. Of course I should know how to get out of a trunk and of course I know how to get blood out of fabric and wood and concrete.”

She paused, taking a breath as if to steady herself. “When he died I swore I was done.”

“We’re born into the lives we belong in,” Lucien replied, raking his fingers through the feather softness of her hair.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she replied. “We have no control over the lives we’re born into but that doesn’t make it fated. I don’t want to always be looking over my shoulder, wondering who is coming for me. Who is coming for you, I—”

She stopped herself, fingertips pressed against her lips. “I didn’t mean…” she murmured after a moment, unaware of his runaway heart. He nodded because of course not. They were practically strangers, bonded over the near the death they’d both experienced. Lucien’s ribs still ached, his face was cut and bruised and if he was honest, he would have liked nothing more than for he to stop talking so he could go to sleep.

Elain sighed, unaware of how interesting she was to him. It was a cliché—the bosses daughter didn’t want any part of her family’s business, no matter how it had helped her in life. All that death had paid for her private education, her college degrees, the houses she’d lived in and the shoes she’d worn. And Elain still managed to scorn it. He might have said so if he felt like picking at her wounds.

“You found your father’s body.”

Her eyes were glassy. “I found his body,” she agreed. “And Lucien?”

“Hm?”

“It was a relief,” she whispered. He frowned, really seeing her in that moment. The hardness in her typically soft eyes, the rigid set of her body. Not from her fear, her exhaustion, but her anger. “I was free that day. Nesta and Feyre, they don’t understand. They were meant for other things but I—”

She cut herself off with a soft laugh. “Some women are hard,” he used to say. “Mother, Feyre, Nesta…they were hard women. He’d known it the moment he laid eyes on them.”

“And you?” Lucien asked, anger pooling hot in his stomach.

“Some women are wives,” she finished without heat, without emotion. “He imagined this dynasty, his vision of what this city could be hinged on a marriage I might make one day. Arranged by himself. Like we lived in the seventeenth century or something. ‘Elain is so beautiful, she’ll have her pick,’ he used to tell my mother.”

“You were eight—”

“His buddies had been waiting for years. Counting the days my senior year, dogging my steps. Who was gonna take Elain Archeron’s viriginity? Who was gonna marry Elain Archeron—”

His anger threatened to blind him. “And who did?”

Her smile was beatific. “An engineering major in my freshman dorm. He was clumsy and a little weird and had no idea who I was at all.”

“Best day of his life, I’ll bet,” Lucien teased, breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. Elain poked him in the ribs.

“It was awkward at the time but it’s a good memory because I got to decide. If dad had lived he would have made all those choices for me. My virginity was currency and he knew it. I wanted out. No more violence, no more men tying me up, strutting around with guns pointed at their dicks while they made aggressive eye contact.”

“How else will you know I’m only average in the bedroom?” Lucien joked softly. She smiled, then, poking him a second time.

“I know Feyre and Nesta want me to come home,” she murmured.

“Fuck them,” Lucien replied easily. “What do you do out in L.A., again?”

“I’m a costume curator,” she replied, her face brightening. He could almost forget the bruises and cuts streaked over her pretty face. Elain had that way about her. “If you’ve ever gone into a museum and seen an outfit in a case or on a mannequin, that’s my job.”

“I didn’t know people had jobs like that,” he murmured, his fingertips touching her cheek. Elain didn’t bat him away, didn’t do anything as she considered his words.

“Fashion is part of history. The colors, the textures, even the way people stich things together tells us something. What they valued…what secrets they had. I don’t know…it’s personal. I feel connected to the world, if that makes sense?”

Lucien had heard a lot of women talk about a lot of jobs. Usually something corporate, something they openly didn’t like and something they hoped he might take them away from. How many dates had ended with a girl telling him what charities she was passionate about? As if it were a job interview?

It’s not a date.

He wished it was, though. Lucien ran the pad of his thumb beneath her jaw. “Aren’t beautiful women supposed to be dumb?”

“Is this you flirting?” she shot back quickly, turning those liquid brown eyes on him with full force. “Because you suck at it.”

“Credit for trying?” he asked and Elain smiled, sighing as she pressed her body just a little closer.

“I know this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to go to sleep,” she murmured, her face as close as it had been when he’d had her pinned against the door. Had that just been that morning? It felt like a lifetime.

“Don’t,” he argued quickly, bringing his hand to rest over her soft stomach. “Let me apologize for my failure this evening.”

“You didn’t fail, Lucien,” she protested, her breath catching when his fingers slid down her abdomen, catching in the band of her sleep shorts.

“I did,” he disagreed, breath warm on her neck. “And when I fail, it’s me who gets on his knees.”

“Lucien—”

He ducked beneath the blanket, pretending he couldn’t hear her. Every inch of him ached, protested violently against what he was about to do. What the fuck was wrong with him, he wondered? She was under his skin, he decided. It only took her seventy two hours to get there. The best way to exorcise her from his mind was to fuck her—and in order to fuck her, it wouldn’t hurt to eat her out.

At least a little bit.

It was self-serving. Ignoring his own hurt body, Lucien positioned himself between Elains legs, ignoring how she laughed as he pulled her shorts off her body, still trapped beneath a blanket. “Lucien, I didn’t bring you in here for this,” she told him, unaware that he was now squinting against the dark, memorizing her pussy to memory.

“Then you shouldn’t have put that fucking swimsuit on earlier,” he replied, his voice half a growl as he lowered him.

She pushed the blanket off his face. “You liked that, did you?”

“I have eyes, don’t I?”

Fuck, she was pretty everywhere. A neatly groomed patch of hair greeted him with the same cheerfulness every other part of her did. It was so Elain to cut her body hair into the shape of a heart. She was familiar to him though he’d never met her before—like he’d always known her somehow.

“You barely looked at me,” she whispered, her breath coming harder than before. Lucien pushed her thighs wider, thumb brushing over the soft nub of flesh.

“Were you hoping I’d be disgusting?” he whispered, half forgetting what they were talking about. “Were—”

“Was I hoping you’d pull your cock out and fuck me against a wall?” she asked, fingering tangling in his hair. “Yes, I was.”

“You only have to ask,” he whispered, grinding his pelvis against the mattress.

“I don’t want to ask,” was all she said before Lucien lowered his mouth against her and took that first taste. She gasped, the sound nearly lost to the groan that escaped his lips. There was a sweetness to her, the scent musky and soft. He buried his face, chasing after it, spreading her pussy open wider so he could delve, could taste every inch of her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails digging against his scalp as she angled her hips, opening herself up. She was a gift. Lucien felt giddy, like it was Christmas and he’d been given the one thing he really wanted. Her. In that moment, Lucien couldn’t remember having ever wanted anything more in his entire life. He would have killed to get it.

Fingers curled against her skin, adding to the bruises already there. She writhed, dripping wet, hips canting against his face. He pinned her to the bed, pushing a finger into her. He knew he was frying her out, that he was driving her up too quickly, too hotly. It was his own lack of control, his inability to slow himself down. He needed to feel her, needed her to know what he could do to her.

A better man would have slowed down, would have dragged her out. Lucien still ached, his body screaming from the hunched position. A better man would have just gone to bed and had her when he’d had some rest and maybe some vitamin C. Lucien was not a good man, had never been accused of such. If she was offering herself up, legs spread, cunt willing than Lucien wasn’t going to say no. When was the last time he’d tasted a woman, besides? It felt like eons, a lifetime of waiting for her to spread herself out like five course meal.

She was fine dining and Lucien was starving. He was painfully hard, his cock protesting the moment he felt her tighten around his finger, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing, opening enough to push in a second—hardly a third. He couldn’t think straight, his tongue sliding over her swollen clit, pumping a rough, erratic rhythm through her. Fingers curled, finding the softness lurking within her tight heat.

Elain was mind numbingly hot. She bowed off the bed when he found what he was looking for, gasping his name like it was the only word she knew. He could feel her, wet and tight, sucking against his fingers like a seal, drawing him in further, against the skin of his dick, a special kind of torture his brain had decided on. Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her—

Elain came with a scream that could only be described as pure music, clenching painfully around him. Drawing him in—holding him like a vice. Lucien slowed himself, licking her languidly until she shoved at his face, panting for air.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, eyes closed. He tried to swing himself from the bed, intending to dump the content of his balls in the toilet before he went to sleep but Elain surged forward, clasping his arm. “Stay. After that…please stay.”

Any other woman would have heard him say no. He had other needs, things he wanted to do. He wanted to sleep without her soft body and the scent of her jasmine hair keeping him awake all night, infecting his dreams.

“Alright,” he agreed, slipping back beneath the sheets. She turned to her side and Lucien, a masochist of the highest order, slid his arm beneath her neck and pulled her body against his own. One arm draped over her waist, hips angled so she couldn’t feel his erection. Elain pressed a kiss against his wrist.

No words. No clever quips.

He was sure he wouldn’t sleep.

And yet Lucien closed his eyes—and he was gone.

~*~

Elain left Lucien in her bed, face down, drooling a little against the pillow. His face was banged up and his bare back, exposed beneath the sliding blanket, featured the ugliest bruise she’d ever seen. Red hair half covered the handsome slant of his features. No man had the right to be so lovely, she thought. She was sure he had a line down the block of women hoping he’d notice them. And after what he’d done with his mouth, well…

Elain dressed into shorts and another tank, padding to the kitchen where Nesta and Feyre waited. Elain frowned. “When did you get here?”

Nesta’s smile became feline. “You two looked awfully cozy in there.”

Feyre only watched, perhaps not willing to push Elain too far. One hand rested on her still flat stomach, a protective gesture Elain didn’t think Feyre did consciously.

“We almost died,” Elain snapped, yanking open the fridge for a carton of orange juice.

“A powerful aphrodisiac,” Nesta murmured with an appreciative grin. “I remember the first time Cassian and I almost died. He came so fast—”

“We need to talk,” Feyre interrupted Nesta’s reminiscing. “About what happens after Nesta’s wedding.”

“I’m going back home,” Elain said immediately, recognizing that glint in Feyre’s eye. It was so…so dad. She was his spitting image in that moment, a feat considering Elain had always held that distinction.

“Rhys doesn’t think this is Koschei looking for revenge,” Feyre continued, ignoring Elain entirely. “And I don’t either. Kidnapping isn’t his style. He’s a hit and run, a quick bullet and plausible deniability. This was personal.”

“You cannot rope me back into this,” Elain insisted, her glass of juice forgotten in front of her. “And if you hold me against my will I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Nesta interrupted, her voice suddenly deadly and cold. “What will you do, Elain?”

The three stood there facing off. Elain, on her behind the kitchen bar and Feyre and Nesta on the other side, perched elegantly on stools. Just as it always had been. They were family and Feyre would write this off as protection, as family looking out for one another.

Elain would not stand for it.

“I’m not staying a day longer,” Elain told the two of them, letting some of that ice she’d inherited infect her words. “I have a life out there.”

“Do you, though?” Nesta sneered suddenly, her anger burning hot. “Besides your job—which you could do anywhere—what do you even have? You never talk about friends, you had that loser boyfriend who dumped you—”

“Okay, let’s not…let’s just take it down a notch,” Feyre interrupted quickly, making it plain she agreed with Nesta. “Be reasonable—”

“NO! No, don’t tell me to be reasonable when you both know how much I fucking hate this place!” Elain shrieked. “If you’re happy that’s wonderful but I will never be! Not here, not ever!”

“Because you won’t try!” Feyre suddenly exploded, jumping from her chair. “You never tried! You were always going to leave, always thought you were better—”

“Did you know about Hybern?” Elain asked the two, her anger threatening to engulf her.

“He killed dad—”

“Did you ever figure out why?” she hissed. “Why dads best friend suddenly betrayed him, killed him like that?”

Neither said a word. Elain swallowed hard, fingers curled to fists as she divulged the one secret she’d never wanted to share. Had buried so deep she’d all but forgotten it existed at all. “You two were exempt from fathers match making. He was always going to make you part of his business but I was supposed to get married—”

“You never wanted to be,” Nesta said quickly, perhaps guessing where Elain was going. Feyre put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

“I wasn’t given a choice! After mother died, father laid our whole futures out. Of course you and Feyre didn’t mind staying. I would have too if he saw me as anything other than breeding material! You two got to date and what did I get? A baseball bat at the door for anyone that he didn’t personally handpick. And it was Hybern who’d outbid everyone else, who dad swore I’d marry. After college, of course,” Elain added with a dry laugh.

“Elain, he didn’t—”

“He tried,” she snapped. “And took a knife to the leg for his trouble. And when father found out, he called the whole thing off. Embarrassing, he said. I had just turned eighteen, Hybern was in his thirties. It wasn’t forbidden romance…he’d watched me grow up. I hated him. I guess a little violence under our own roof was enough to make dad act. And he was dead by the end of the week, a note pinned against his chest. Only cowards break a promise.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” Feyre demanded while Nesta drummed her fingers against the marble. “Why would you keep this a secret?”

“You were grieving—”

“We could have handled it!” Nesta snapped. “You left us but fuck you, Elain. We would never have left you.”

Heavy silence hung in the air, the accusation weighty. Feyre’s eyes were sad, arms tight around her body.

“He wasn’t perfect,” Feyre started but Elain shook her head.

“He was a bastard and you’ve sanitized that legacy. Made it worth something. I can’t…” she shook her head. “I can’t be part of this.”

Nesta rose, running her hands primly over her tight sheath dress. “Well, at least we know why you’re the target. Hybern never once forgot a slight. I’d keep Vanserra a lot closer than in your bed if you’re going to spurn our help.”

Elain sighed, exasperated. “I’m not spurning your help, Nes. I’m telling you I don’t want to be part of this?”

“But why not?” Feyre demanded softly. “Dad is dead. He can’t make those choices for you anymore. You could have a place here if you wanted it.”

“And am I still family if I don’t?” Elain challenged, ignoring the way Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Your hands aren’t so clean, Elain,” Feyre whispered, glancing towards Elain’s bedroom door. As if she knew Lucien might be awake now, might not know the own atrocities Elain had once committed. “Aren’t you tired of your sanitized life?”

“Kingslayer,” Nesta whispered, the word a mockery.

“Don’t you dare,” Elain hissed.

“The only person holding you back now is you. You want your quiet little boring life but you are far too grand to belong to it,” Nesta continued. “You could be great. You only lack imagination.”

“If you go back to L.A., no one can protect you,” Feyre added softly.

“He let me go once,” Elain reminded her sisters.

“Because he was in prison,” Nesta replied softly, swallowing the harsh edges of her words. “For tax fraud. He let you go because he had to but Elain, he’s been out for a year and I think he’s been looking for you.”

“Don’t go back. Not until he’s dead at least,” Feyre pleaded. Elain opened her mouth, prepared to start another round of fighting when Lucien strode out, shirtless and sleepy despite the bright, calculated look on his face. As though he knew exactly what kind of warzone he walked into.

“Good morning ladies,” he said easily, flopping to the couch.

“Sleep well?” Nesta crooned, shooting a look towards Elain.

“Like a fucking baby,” he replied without a second glance, his phone already in his hand. “Big plans I should know about?”

“Maybe some swimming at the house later?” Feyre suggested, immediately becoming an immaculate hostess. Lucien didn’t glance at her.

“Maybe,” he dismissed, a no if Elain had ever heard it.

“We should go,” Nesta told Feyre, nodding towards the door. “We have dress fittings tomorrow though. Don’t forget.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Elain said pointedly, a reminder that for her, this conversation was over. For Feyre and Nesta, twins in that moment, with their matching silvery blue eyes and their burnished brown hair, it was merely a battle they were willing to concede in the larger war. Feyre and Nesta left and Elain, suddenly wrung out, gulped down her juice before slamming her cup into the sink.

“Want to talk about it?”

“With you?” she scoffed, the memory of his face between her legs rising hotly. “No.”

He didn’t react, betrayed no sadness, no hurt. He merely arched a brow, still staring at his phone. “Whatever you say…Kingslayer.”

She froze, hating Nesta for saying that word. How could Elain explain that night, gun in her sweaty hands as she gazed at Prythian’s Kingpin, an old school mobster who’d terrorized the city for decades? How he’d sneered at her, only sixteen years old. Pull the trigger little girl, he’d taunted.

And she had. Without flinching. No regret. Only a warning—Don’t you touch my sisters. The media had given her the nickname, the mysterious Kingslayer. No one but the three of them, and she supposed, no Lucien, knew it had been her who’d put that bullet in his brain, who’d stepped over his still warm body to untie her trembling sisters. Blood splattered over her face. No one ever talked about how bullets were hardly clean. Blood and brain splattered everywhere like a watermelon under pressure.

She’d drug his body to the street, determined the city would know he was dead. No one could rise and take his place. Of course, someone did: Rhysand. His protegee, the heir to that empire. He should have been their natural enemy. Certainly Rhys knew it was the Archeron’s who’d killed his uncle.

And he’d married Feyre. It was the biggest fuck you Elain had ever seen in her life. “Don’t call me that,” Elain snapped, walking into the bedroom. She stared at the rumpled sheets, proof the two of them had shared something the night before.

“You prefer princess?” he crooned against her back. And Elain would never admit what she preferred was the way he called her baby when he thought she was scared. She said nothing at all.

She merely snapped the door closed between them.

~*~

Lucien tired of the closed door around noon. Kingslayer. The word echoed through his mind, bouncing like a ping pong ball. He could still remember that day, the relief everyone had felt knowing the bastard was dead. No more payouts, Eris had crowed gleefully behind their fathers back. No more being hassled by a mobster that could barely read, no more bruisers showing up to fancy affairs with baseball bats. No more bullets sprayed in residential neighborhoods, killing kids that had nothing to do with their life just because he would.

Lucien had his theories. Everyone did. They always circled back to Rhysand. He had the most to gain and almost nothing to lose. He’d risen immediately, a phoenix from the ashes in that expensive Dolce suit. Lucien knew his father had met with Rhysand before his uncle’s body was ever laid to rest.

Elain. Pretty, bubbly Elain. He had to see her, to try and imagine how she’d done it. Why she’d done it. Archeron’s princess, his prized daughter…killing one of his allies. Lucien wondered how Feyre and Rhysand had ended up together. Did he know? What would happen to Elain if he found out?

Lucien’s body tightened at the thought, his heart pumping adrenaline through the rest of him. He pushed open her door, expecting to find her sulking beneath the blankets. She’d made the bed, the television playing softly, some show he’d never seen. Elain had opened the balcony doors, dressed casually, her hair blowing softly against the wind. She sensed him when he stepped in the doorframe.

“He was going to kill Nesta,” Elain said without turning. “I thought Feyre was already dead. We were celebrating that night. Nesta got into her first choice college. We’d snuck away, slid past the bodyguards for some actual fun and King, well…he was waiting. Feyre fought, of course. I think she knew what he’d do to us the moment we pulled into the Dock District.”

“How did you get a gun?” Lucien asked, walking to her as though his body were pulled by strings. He’d never been so entranced in his life. Elain gripped the metal railing, gazing outwards at the forest of skyscrapers surrounding her, as though she could see it happening in the dizzying daylight.

“Nesta and Feyre fought, so I thought if I pretended I was willing to comply he’d just…forget I was there. It used to happen a lot when we were growing up. Feyre and Nesta had big personalities…I could hide in their shadows if I wanted. While he beat Feyre I untied myself and just waited. He had this mattress pushed to the corner of the room and when he grabbed Nesta by her scalp to take her to it, I just…took his gun.”

Lucien swallowed his revulsion. “Elain…baby. How old were you?”

She turned those soft brown eyes on his face. “Sixteen.”

At sixteen Lucien had spent his days getting high and chasing girls. And Elain… “You shot him?”

She glanced back at the city, her knuckles white. “He told me to. I held it just to scare him. I told him to get away from my sisters…and he said, ‘Go ahead, sweetheart. Pull the trigger.’ And I did.”

“Why wouldn’t you claim credit?” Lucien murmured. Elain could have run the city. She could have taken her fathers empire, risen like a Goddess and forced even Beron Vanserra to bow at her feet.

“I didn’t kill him to become some sort of folk hero,” she replied. “I just…I wanted to go home.”

“Does Rhys know?”

She whipped her head towards Lucien. “He knows it was one of us. If Feyre told him the truth after they married, he’s never shared that with me. But he knew when he was pursuing her it was an Archeron who killed his Uncle. I think it made him like her more.”

Lucien’s relief was immediate. “So…Hybern.”

Elain’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Hybern,” she agreed. For a moment, neither of them said a word, standing on the little balcony that overlooked the city, eyes sweeping the ground as though they’d see the man himself standing just below. Watching. Lucien didn’t doubt Hybern had eyes on them at that very moment, assessing his prey. Wondering how he’d get close. What did Hybern know about Elain?

“If we were smart, we’d lure him out,” she murmured, releasing the hold on the railing. “Force him out of the rathole he’s hiding in.”

“And how do you imagine we’d go about that?” Lucien replied. Elain glanced at him sideways.

“If he’s obsessed…jealousy can be an ugly thing.”

“Jealousy.”

“Yes, Lucien. Jealousy. I don’t want to be shoved into another trunk because I sat around waiting for him to find me. I want to draw him out, I want him so angry he’s uncontrolled, he’s not rational—”

“I’m not using you as bait,” he responded flatly. Feyre would kill him, first of all. Would have his balls for dinner before mounting his head over her fireplace. It wasn’t fear, though, that made him say no. It was his own simmering jealousy, just as Elain described, that made him tell her no. The emotion was a punch to his gut, surprising him. Filling him with discomfort.

“Of course you will,” Elain retorted, unaware of the emotions roiling through him. “Assume he doesn’t know you’re being paid to guard me. Hybern is a low-born bastard that imagines himself as a King. What must it feel like, watching me fall in love with a Vanserra?”

Her words were soft, steely. There was no affection in how she said them, no sentimentality. It ought to have relieved him.

It disappointed him.

“No.”

“Yes,” she insisted. “I want to go home, Lucien. It could take months for Rhys to smoke him out. Are you prepared to live with me for that long?”

He shrugged. “It’s a paying job, isn’t it?”

“For you. What about me? What about my job, my life—” she cut herself off, swallowing the emotion rising in her words. “Please help me with this.”

He turned to face her, one elbow resting on the railing. “So you want, what? Me to cavort about town bragging—”

“I want to go out,” she interrupted, eyes narrowed. “I want you to touch me like it’s the only thought in your head. Like you’ll die if your lips leave mine. I want you on your metaphorical knees, swaggering around like a man who knows what it feels like to be inside my body.”

His cock responded with interest immediately, thickening in his pants. “And you?”

Elain smiled, closing the distance between them to press a hand against his chest. “You think I don’t know how to be lovesick?”

She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes, lips parted, hand sliding up his chest, resting at the back of his neck. Lucien’s heart pounded in his chest. “And you think this will draw him out?”

“I think he can’t stand the thought of someone else touching what he believes is his,” she whispered, thumb rubbing maddeningly soft touches against his skin. He was so hard, the taste of her still burned against his mouth. “And we’ll be waiting.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Lucien whispered, hating that he was about to agree with her. Feyre was definitely going to kill him.

“Because you’re so attracted to me?” Elain teased, her other hand reaching for the button on his pants.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Because you could die, Elain. I need you to hear me say that I don’t mind waiting while we smoke him…out…” her hand rubbed against his erection, covered only by the fabric of his briefs.

“This will be fun,” she assured him, starting to fall to her knees. Lucien caught her, yanking her back into the suite, out of sight of anyone who might be watching. Elain scowled a little, her hand still mercifully touching his penis.

“Do you want me to beg to suck it?” she taunted.

“Of course I do, but more importantly, I don’t want that stupid fuck watching you fuck me. Do you understand me, Elain? If you want to tease me for his cameras, fine. But the minute pretend becomes reality I want you to assume he has some imagination because I will kill anyone who sees you undressed.”

“Possessive,” she whispered, sinking back to the floor. “That’s oddly hot, you know.”

She wasn’t taking him seriously and it irked him. “You’re a brat, you know?”

Her lips curled in a teasing mile. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

He ran a hand over his eyes. His first thought was to pinch her nose and force his cock into the back of her throat, to silence her entirely until she learned her lesson. “Beg, Elain.”

He freed himself from his pants, holding his cock in one hand while she stared for a moment. “Good for you, Lucien,” she murmured appreciatively in a rare moment of sincerity.

“Beg, or I’ll put it away.” It’s a lie, one he knows she caught, judging by the gleam in her eye. He waited for a moment, expecting her to call him on it, to challenge him. Instead, Elain ran her tongue over her lips, looking back up with the roundest set of eyes he’d ever seen his life.

“Please let me suck your cock,” she asked breathlessly. He could have come at the sight of her alone, at the sound of her words.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his brain taking over some of his ability to speak. He felt wild, almost desperate. He’d all but forgotten how shitty this plan was, how it was certainly going to get one of them killed. He suspected she knew that, too. She understood how to secure his cooperation, was willing to fuck and suck him if it meant she got what she wanted in the end.

Was it what he wanted? Lucien didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, not when he was rubbing the head of his dick against her swollen pink lips. Not when she did exactly as he said, opening her mouth, tongue flattened. Never breaking eye contact. Still holding himself in his hand, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her waiting tongue.

Pleasure shot through him like a bullet, ricocheting through his chest. “Goddamn it, Elain,” he whispered. From her knees, tongue still sticking from her mouth, Elain looked like a Queen. She wiggled her hips, triumphant. Lucien knew he could still stop, that a better man would have held firm. He could take himself out when she fell asleep and let any number of women suck him dry.

He slid himself in her mouth, releasing his hold on his shaft to thread his fingers through her hair. Lucien was not a good man. Had never been a good man. And Elain wasn’t like the other women he usually fucked. There was no coyness there, no pretend affection to get what she wanted. She’d seen him, had sized him up likely the very first second they ever met. Doe eyes cutting right the heart of him, where every depraved fantasy lived.

She wanted out of this city and he supposed licking his dick was a small price to pay. Her own hand curled around him, fingers just barely touching. She could only take half before she began gagging, saliva slipping from her lips to pool against his balls. Not that she didn’t try. Every third pump was punctuated by a soft gagging moan as she worked to adjust. For a few moments, Lucien did nothing but hold her head, thumbs rubbing against her jaw.

She knew exactly what she was doing, her lips tucked beneath her teeth. She alternated between sliding her tongue beneath his shaft, swirling it against the sensitive tip of his head, and letting the crown of his cock rub against the inside of her velvety soft cheek. Combined with her hand working the rest of him, Lucien is practically bucking. Each second is a lifetime, the pleasure ripping through him.

There is an elegance to her touches, a grace he’s certain he’s never felt. It’s disgusting, it’s sloppy and still he swears there is an affection to each slide of her mouth. Pride, he supposed, no matter her intent. And just like the night before, when he could not control himself long enough to draw out her pleasure, Elain too does not seem concerned with keeping him over her for any length of time. Lucien surged, his pleasure building upwards quickly, hotter than he’d ever felt it.

He held her still, needing to snap his hips, to simulate fucking her in some small way. Elain didn’t protest, though her nails dug into his thigh when he pushed too far, his cock hitting something far softer than before, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Sorry,” he whispered, the words a groan. The bite of pain only added to his enjoyment. He made a mental note to tell her afterwards, to give her explicit permission to hurt him a little if she ever found herself riding his cock with her pussy instead of her mouth. The action of thrusting did little to settle Lucien’s unbridled lust.

“I’m going to come on your face,” he told her, each word more grunt than anything. Her eyes blazed with defiance, nails sharp against his thighs again. He knew what thought. Don’t touch my hair.

Lucien gathered as much as he could, balls tight against his body. His was out of control, lost in the wet, warm heat of her pretty little mouth. Pull out, his mind screamed, Pull out or—

He groaned, thrusting back into her throat. Her gag propelled him over the edge, pouring cum straight down her throat, his lack of self-control on full display.

Elain let him, holding still for a full ten seconds before she finally yanked her head back, releasing his grip on her head. He watched her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. His cock throbbed, his body spent and so sensitive the breeze coming from the open balcony doors was too much.

“I consider that as good as a handshake,” Elain told him, rising shakily to her knees.

Nine days. They had nine days to shake out Hybern before her flight was scheduled to leave. Lucien yanked up his pants with a breath. “I hope you like shaking hands then, princess.”

She smiled, dipping her head, cheeks flushed. “Earn it.”

Lucien exhaled loudly.

He intended to.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 20}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​​ 

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: 18+, mature readers only, nsfw.

Cassian moved before he’d even realized what he was doing.

His lips met Nesta’s before he could think better of it, and the second their mouths met, he was done for. 

One time.

They had agreed that the last time would be the one and only time.

And yet, when he kissed her, she fell into him and her arms wrapped around his neck. 

He stepped closer, closing that small space between them, and pressed his body up against hers as he lifted her up and set her on the counter. 

Bracing his hands on each side of Nesta’s ass, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. 

They’d been dancing around this for days, weeks even, and Cassian wouldn’t have been lying if he said that he’d been happy when she broke it with the doctor a couple weeks before. He wanted her to be happy, she deserved to be happy and if that was with someone else, he’d accept it. But the feeling of her lips on his had him feeling alive, the way her lithe hands gripped his shoulders lit a fire within him.

One of his own hands gripped her hip, the other slipping around her waist, and he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue brushed against her lips, and she opened for him, the kiss slow but searing.

She took his breath away.

Years ago, if someone told him he’d be kissing Nesta Archeron, that he’d have feelings for her, he would’ve thought them crazy. Now, however, he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

Sure, she was a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, either.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, into her mouth. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

Nesta pulled him closer to her, gripping the back of his t-shirt, almost as if she was afraid if she let go, he’d pull away.

He wouldn’t, though.

If she wasn’t going to tell him to stop, if she didn’t want him to stop, he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

There was no alcohol coursing through them this time, this was all of their own free will. Their need for each other.

And gods, he wanted her. He needed her. He’d thought of no one but her for months, especially after the first time before. And now here they were again, as if fate were putting them back together, as Rhys and Feyre had tried to do before.

His tongue explored her mouth, taking his time, so unhurried, so different from the last time he’d kissed her. Cassian had been so lost in his lust for her that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate her, to note the noises she made or how soft her lips were or how she smelled like a crisp, autumn night.

But this time, he wouldn’t waste a second. He wanted to learn what made her moan, how to make her writhe and just what he needed to do to make Nesta Archeron lose control.

For someone who was typically so damn put together, he needed to see her wild, free, untamed. 

Nesta seemed to feel that want, that desperate need, too, because as Cassian nipped at her bottom lip, she whimpered and her thighs on either side of him tightened. 

Cassian was done wasting time.

In a quick, fluid motion, Cassian pulled her top off and tossed it somewhere behind him. He didn’t know where. He didn’t care where. As long as it wasn’t left on her body, hiding her beautiful skin, the roadmap that he was about to spend his sweet, cherished time exploring. 

She did the same to him, but she was much more deliberate in tossing his clothes aside. She gripped the fabric in her hands for a moment before dropping it down, next to his feet.

Cassian pulled back and Nesta ran her hands down the defined muscles of his abdomen. She watched her fingers attentively as they made their way from his shoulders, to the band of his sweatpants. 

His chest was heaving, and he could barely contain himself as she gently tugged on the band. His lips found her neck and he bit and licked the sensitive skin there, listening to the quiet gasps that escaped her. He lingered at the spot beneath her ear, his hands pressing against her bare back, feeling her, pressing her against him.

“Take me upstairs,” Nesta breathed, gasping as he sucked along the base of her neck.

Cassian shook his head, slowly, continuing to kiss down her neck, along her collarbone, tracing the outline of her bra. “I can’t wait that long,” he whispered.

Nesta’s breath left her as she pushed the band of his sweats down with her fingertips, then her heels until he was slowly stepping out of them in nothing but his boxer-briefs.

“Can’t wait that long to do what, exactly?” she asked, and Cassian pulled back, his arms remaining around her. 

He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and her lips. “What I’ve been dreaming of doing for weeks,” he promised. “And taking my damn time, this time, doing it.”

Nesta’s palm found his stubbled cheek before reaching around the back of his head and tugging his lips back to hers. 

His only lips stayed there for a moment before they were trailing down, down, down, between the valley of her breasts. He pushed her back until she was laying down against the counter and his mouth hovered over the waistband of leggings she wore.

She watched him, mesmerized by the gentleness of the kisses he pressed to her abdomen, his warm breath heating her skin, until he reached up and pulled on the fabric. She lifted her hips in earnest, letting him tug them down, the lace panties she wore going with them.

Cassian stood again, gazing down at her. She was bare before him, save for the pale, pink bra she wore, but he’d make short work of that soon. For now, there was only one thing he could focus on.

His fingers brushed against the inside of her thigh and her legs opened wider subtly. Watching him, her cheeks flushed and eyes wild, Nesta thought she may combust as he crouched between her legs.

His mouth was even with her sex.

“Have you thought about this as much as I have?” He asked, and she could feel his breath against her. “Thought about my mouth on you?”

She nodded, the ability to speak long gone.

Cassian went on, but he moved no closer. “About my tongue between your legs?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper, but it was all she could manage.

He was right there, so close to where she needed him, where she’d imagined him for weeks.

But first he admired her, and took in the image of her smooth, pretty pink pussy before him. He parted her folds before leaning in and dragging his tongue slowly down the center.

Nesta’s body tensed, then soon relaxed as a soft curse fell from her lips. 

Cassian said he would take his time with her, and it wasn’t a lie, wasn’t an exaggeration. 

His tongue slid between her folds, once more, then again, and again, and again. She tasted so sweet, so addicting. 

Cassian gripped her ass and pulled her closer into his mouth. His tongue circled her clit, slowly, tauntingly, then he began to suck. Slowly, at first, his eyes wide open, looking up at her, memorizing every movement of her body.

Her fingertips turned white, one hand gripping the countertop, the other cupping her breast. 

Her lips were parted, her eyes closed, her face relaxed, perfectly at peace.

Lost in bliss. 

She moved her hips, a sign for him to keep going, a sign for him to move quicker, but he wouldn’t.

He would take his fucking time. 

She seemed to realize that as he gently flicked his tongue over her clit again, because even as she gasped, her hips stilled. She seemed to be restraining herself, trying so hard to keep her body still, but he noted every squirm, jerk and bow that her body made off of the counter.

Nesta’s fingers found their way into Cassian’s hair, the only part of her body that moved freely. Other than that, her body remained still, although those beautiful, long, delicate fingers gripped Cassian’s dark waves and pulled, her grip tightening every time his tongue flicked over her. 

It wasn’t until her knees began to shake on either side of his head that Nesta began to lose control.

He loved it when she lost control. 

She moaned, the sound making Cassian enthralled enough to repeat it, the noise muffled by the fact that Cassian’s mouth was satisfyingly full.

He wouldn’t tease her tonight. No, he wanted her wild, unleashed.

He wanted to make her cum as many times as he could.

He knew she was approaching that crest, knew her release was imminent, as her fingers tightened in his hair to a point of near pain. Her voice was climbing, the moans turning into cries of pleasure and when she at least cried out his name, Cassian thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Nesta’s thighs were wrapped around his head and if this was how he died, he’d consider it a blessing. She shattered, repeating his name over and over again, and he lapped up everything she gave him. He bit and licked and sucked until she was a quivering mess on the counter, until she fell still at last, her heavy breathing the only sound in the house.

Carefully, slowly, Cassian gripped the edge of the counter and pulled himself up, only to look at her. 

She was beautiful.

Sprawled out on the counter without a care in the world, Nesta’s eyes were shut. Her chest was heaving, her body limp. 

“Cassian,” she breathed, and he kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, before kissing his way back up her body. “Shit.”

“Those sounds…” Cassian began, shaking his head. “You have no idea what they do to me.” Nesta’s eyes fluttered open, and she met his hungry gaze. “What do they do to you?”

Cassian continued to shake his head, slowly. He felt drunk, even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. “Makes me forget where I am, who I am. The rest of the world fades away. All I can hear, all I can think about...are those damned sounds.”

Nesta pushed herself up into a sitting position, and ran her fingers through Cassian’s hair, once again. Her breaths were still uneven.

Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him and he was about to ask what was wrong.

There was no way she hadn’t enjoyed it, he knew she wasn’t faking her orgasm, there was no way. The proof of it was still on the counter beneath her, on his face.

But then Nesta glanced down at her own hand and then back at the cake behind her.

She burst out laughing.

Her hand was covered in frosting, the cake half smashed. It was a mess.

And in his hair…

Cassian reached up to touch his hair, where she’d run her fingers through it.

Frosting coated most of the strands.

When he looked back at her face, she was blushing, biting her bottom lip, but that smile still held firmly in place. He could tell she was trying not to laugh, even as she said, “Sorry.”

Tugging her to the edge of the counter, stepping between her spread legs, he let his lips brush against hers as he asked, “Is something funny?”

She shook her head, laughter still dancing in her eyes, and he could tell she was physically restraining herself from kissing him.

Wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, he ground against her, the thin fabric the only barrier between them now, and she gasped. He asked, “You sure?”

Nesta’s restraint snapped and she crashed her lips against his again. Cassian lifted her, his hands beneath her ass and carried her up the stairs, into her room and into the bathroom beyond.

Neither of them said a word, neither of them broke that kiss, as Cassian turned on the water in the shower. Without letting her go, he slipped out of his underwear and Nesta gasped at the instant contact made between them. 

He made sure it was warm before he stepped inside and pressed Nesta’s back up against the wall.

Nesta clung to him as if her life depended on it. Their mouths didn’t break, their tongues continued to dance along one another in a steady, fluid motion. 

The water poured over them, the sound of the water hitting the tile nearly drowning out the sound of heavy breathing, panting. 

“Cassian,” she breathed, head falling back against the tiled wall. Cassian’s lips didn’t part from her skin. They trailed down her neck and sucked on her collarbone. 

Nesta rotated her hips, trying to get some sort of friction, but Cassian wasn’t ready. His cock was hard, of course, there was no denying that.

Nesta could feel it.

But that foreplay… He wasn’t done.

Cassian was not a selfish lover. Some men came and went so fast the whole ordeal was nearly meaningless, unmemorable. 

Cassian, however, wanted his lover to be pleased, especially when it came to Nesta. Nesta had never felt so important, so focused on.

She wanted him to feel the same way.

With one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other pushed lightly against his chest. He let her feet touch the floor again, but his lips continued their worship of her skin. Her bra had been discarded at some point before they got in the shower, but Cassian wasn’t sure when, nor did he particularly care, not as one of his hands covered her breast. He loved the weight in his hands, adored her breasts. He’d thought about them constantly, but his memories were nothing compared to seeing them again, of rolling her peaked nipple between his fingers. He lived for the sound of the whimpers she made.

His head was dipping to take the other between his lips when a sharp tug on the back of his head had him pausing and looking at her face.

Nesta’s grin was positively feral as she put a hand on his chest and pushed back until he gave a step and then another. And then his own back was pressed against the cool tile wall.

And then Nest dropped to her knees.

Cassian closed his eyes.

He prepared himself for what was coming, but nothing could prepare him for the ethereal feeling that would soon flood his body.

Nesta’s hands rested on his thighs, and her lips wrapped around his hardened cock. 

At the contact, Cassian took a deep breath. 

Her tongue swirled around the head and he nearly lost himself right there. Nesta Arheron was a tease. A beautiful, definite tease when it came to pleasing him.

Cassian wouldn’t trade it for a thing. 

Nesta’s tongue slid across his dick, slowly, as her head began to bob.

Cassian planted himself firmly against the tile wall, careful not to move, afraid it would break the tension. 

He cursed.

His curse seemed to light a fire under Nesta. 

She moved quicker, lit by his reaction. Cassian’s hand found the back of her head, although she needed no guidance. Nesta knew exactly what she was doing, and Cassian happily let her do it.

One of her hands wrapped around the base of him, covering what she couldn’t take into her mouth and she squeezed gently. He hissed and her eyes found his, the stormy blue sparkling, as if she were remembering how he’d told her he liked it.

Her other hand slid up his body, lingering on his abdomen, before she gently dug her nails into his skin.

Cassian’s own hand tightened in her hair as she did it and the delight in her eyes told him it was exactly what she wanted.

He watched as she took him deeper and deeper with every pass, until that other hand fell between her own legs. He didn’t think he was breathing as her fingers slowly began to circle her clit then teased her entrance.

She was getting off on getting him off and the buck of his hips into her throat was involuntary. He was about to apologize, would have pulled his cock out of her mouth entirely, if it weren’t for the moan and the way she plunged her fingers inside of herself.

Nesta gagged quietly as she took him as deeply as she could, her hips writhing against her own hand and Cassian’s eyes rolled back into his head at the feeling.

He didn’t expect it, how open she was to sucking him dry. But the way she dropped to her knees and took him in, Cassian wouldn't have asked her to do anything differently. She was perfect.

At least, she was perfect for him. 

Her tongue slid along his cock, her lips moved freely around him. Cassian was falling into paradise.

She picked up her pace, and Cassian’s fingers gripped the strands of her golden-brown hair a little bit tighter. His hips bucked again, he couldn’t control it, but Nesta didn’t seem to mind. She gripped his ass a little tighter as she moaned, and it only made Cassian do it again and again and again.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Nesta, fuck.”

She thrived on his curses, bobbing her head just a little bit quicker to let him know she cared.

She cared about his satisfaction.

She cared about him.

He had to have her. He had to be inside her now, not because he was close. No, he could hold out all night if that's what she wanted. But he needed to feel her, all around him, needed her to consume him and needed to be one with her however he could.

Cassian brushed a hand along her hollowed out cheek and under her chin. She stilled and gazed up at him, giving him her full attention, and he ran a thumb along her full bottom lip. His cock still between her lips, Cassian knew he would never tire of the sight.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Nesta stood, her hands trailing up his body, running over every divot and plane of muscle. He was about to reach around her and shut off the water, but Nesta hadn’t forgotten the reason they’d ended up in the shower in the first place.

Grabbing the bottle of shampoo off the small ledge, she squeezed a bit into her hand and, with surprising gentleness, began to work it into his hair. Cassian wasn’t sure if he was breathing as she tipped his head back into the stream and rinsed the bubbles and remaining frosting from his head. When she was through, she got some of her body wash and soaped him up, doing the same to herself, before rinsing them both off.

After she shut the water off, she opened the shower door and grabbed a towel before handing it to him, and grabbing one for herself. She toweled off her hair and body, before stepping out into the open air of the bathroom.

Cassian couldn’t help but watch her as Nesta dropped the towel on the bathroom floor and walked into her bedroom, wearing nothing but her skin.

She glanced over her shoulder as she reached her bed and crawled onto it.

Cassian didn’t instantly follow. No, he watched and waited and took in the sight. After drying himself off, he followed her into the bedroom, towel dropped.

Nesta’s eyes lingered down his body, watched as he approached, bare. For someone so big, so strong, so tall, he approached her with a serene gentleness. 

She could hardly breathe. She thought back to Balthazar, and maybe that was wrong in such a moment as this, but she couldn’t help it. She would never feel this way with him, could never feel this way with him.

In this moment, with Cassian, she felt utterly free.

With Balthazar, he was too perfect. She would feel the need to impress, would feel the need to be tamed. With Cassian, though, there was no being tamed. Nesta was free, ready. All she wanted was Cassian, and she needed him right then.

Cassian crawled on top of her on the bed and kissed her, slowly.

With nothing between them, she could feel his hard length pressing into her, and gods, she wanted him. She couldn’t think straight when his lips were moving against hers.

It was perfect. It was like everything that led them there, every horrible thing that had happened, was to bring the two of them together.

He pulled away, just a touch, and leaned back to look at her. Moving on its own accord, her hand reached up and brushed his wet hair out of his face. She wanted to see him, wanted to see every expression in those hazel eyes she’d come to know as well as her own.

He didn’t take them off of her as he lined himself up at her entrance and slowly slid in.

She was so wet, so ready for him, and there was no resistance, but he still let her adjust to him as he settled into her as deeply as he could.

Nesta’s eyes remained on his, and Cassian didn’t dare look away. There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her, felt the need to tell her, but was afraid to speak. He hoped that, in that moment, his words were as plain as day, laid bare in his eyes.

He was buried deep inside of her, and for a moment he remained still before resting one hand next to Nesta’s head, and with the other, lacing his fingers with hers.

She let him. She took his hand and held on tightly as Cassian began to pull out, only to push back in again in one long fluid motion.

Her breathing was the only sound in the room, the soft gasp she let out like music to ears each time he pulled out and pushed back in. Eventually, her eyes fluttered shut, unable to stay open as he moved inside of her. He took the chance to glance down her body, to watch as they were joined again and again, marveling at how good she felt, how perfectly he fit inside her.

It was like being home.

It was in that moment that he realized, at some point in the past few months, that that was exactly what it had become. This house, their little routine, Nyx. Nesta.

She had become his home.

A family. That’s what they were and it was overwhelming, that fact.

Cassian buried his face in the crook between her head and shoulder, his lips finding that sensitive skin as he thrust into her a bit more roughly than he had before.

Her hand clasped the back of his neck as she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips.

He had never felt this way with anyone, and it had become much more than just sex. It became a desire. Nesta had become desirable, and for much more than just her body.

Yeah, the sex was good.

Amazing.

Incredible.

Ethereal.

But it was more than just his body and hers doing the most intimate of acts.

Their souls were connecting in a way that Cassian had never felt, had never even considered possible.

She was his family.

She was his home.

And Cassian wasn’t even sure she realized it. 

Nesta’s fingers dug into the back of his neck, and he picked up his pace.

“Cass, please…”

Her voice was a breathy moan in his ear and he groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The shift in her hips made the angle deeper, allowing him to fill her to the hilt, and her name tumbled from his lips as he thrust into her again and again.

Her fingers dove into his hair, tugging on the strands and he drove his hips home harder.

“Shit,” she moaned. “I’m— I’m about to—”

Nesta didn’t even finish her sentence before she cried out, her release cresting over her like a wave, dragging her under. She tightened around him and Cassian fought his own rising orgasm as her nails dragged down his back, as she clung to him, like he was her only lifeline back to herself.

He couldn’t hold on for long. He had always been insecure about the sounds he made while orgasming, but Nesta seemed to thrive on those little moans, those grunts, coming from his mouth. They were muffled by the skin of her neck as Cassian fell deeper and deeper, meeting Nesta in a state of utter bliss.

He slowed until nothing was left, and stilled, his body still covering hers, his cock buried deep inside.

They remained quiet as they fought to catch their breaths. 

As he calmed, Nesta ran one hand lazily up and down Cassian’s back, the other through his hair.

Cassian kissed her neck, softly, before pulling back and meeting her eyes.

They were full of lust, lovedrunk lust, and something that Cassian hoped he was not mistaking for adoration.

He was still breathing heavily, still trying to calm his racing heart, when he realized he’d come inside of her. She’d told him last time that he didn’t need to wear a condom, so he assumed this time was no different.

After he’d finally caught his breath, Cassian said, “I should clean—.”

“Stay with me,” she breathed, interrupting him.

He blinked, wanting to make sure he understood her words. “What?”

“Stay with me,” Nesta repeated, tucking some of his loose, unruly hair behind one of his ears. “Tonight, I… I want you to stay in here. With me.”

Swallowing harshly, Cassian nodded. He didn’t trust his voice, not when it was what he’d been dreaming she’d say, but never in a million years let himself hope that she would.

Nesta nodded as well, smiling softly. “Okay?”

His voice was hoarse and gravely. “Okay.” He couldn’t stop his own smile from growing.

Leaning down, he kissed her again, gently, softly.

He let that kiss convey all the words he was too terrified to say.

[bloodycassian]

Azriel x reader - enemies to mututals. LONGER - Peregryn Reader and Az go on a mission together. Comebacks, snark and injuries. - azriel taking care of hurt reader. 

Send me requests please! 

Not a soul dared step in your way as you plowed through the war camp.  "You will not be flying anywhere." You shouted over the murmuring group. Rhys' inner circle whipped their heads to you. Cassian's hand went to the dagger at his side instantaneously. You felt the spymasters shadows curling around your ankles. 

"You challenge me, I'm impressed." Rhys smiled like a cat, pushing off the table littered with pawns and a map of the region. Azriel's shadows curled further up your legs, taking the hint from his high lord. "Your spymasters eyes and ears seem to be doing an inadequate job." You said with distaste, glaring at Azriel. You tucked your feathered wings in tight, tension in the room spiking. Darkness flared, Azriels' shadows spiking over your legs, swirling angrily. 

Rhysand considered for a moment. None of the eyes left you. You dared not look away from the high lord. The piercing eyes of The Morrigan burned into you. Her silver armor shone even in the dull tent. "Leave us." He said at last, with a wave of his hand. His counterparts glanced at him, before obeying and walking out. 

Azriel stayed put, the shadows still circling the room like a fog. 

"I don't like being insulted, Peregryn." Azriel growled, his wings twitching.

  "I dont like dying, Illyrian." You countered. His face twisted in disgust. Rhysand sighed, taking a seat at the head of the table. You felt his aura inside your head, asking, tempting. They knew not many were a fan of their court, but so far you could really see the WHY behind it. 

"I understand you're a part of a different court but we are here fighting together against this threat." He spoke aloud, you felt his presence recede from your mind.  "If you don't want me to see what you have seen, how am I to know to trust you?" He smiled wickedly, as if he knew you would never let him in to your head. True, the night court and autumn court were not on the friendliest of terms. Especially after Thesan had made a public enemy of you for abandoning his court to help in the fight on the continent. 

"I understand fully that we are different courts, with different ideals working together. Perhaps your generals don't though." You nodded out the open flap of the tent. "Why my forces are going in first when there's an aerial threat beyond the border to Rask is beyond me. Perhaps you could explain." You said sweetly, pulling out the chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting. Azriel remained standing, his presence looming. He glanced toward Rhys, and they seemed to have a silent conversation in the looks alone. You had no doubt that he and the high lord were speaking mind to mind. 

"I can assure you there was no ill intent behind it." Rhys muttered, his eyes held no trace of lies. He had no tell , no body language that would suggest other wise as he spoke plainly. "As for the aerial threat, I will find Azriel here sees to it. If you are willing to help, of course." He swirled the glass of wine on the table, taking a sip. Azriel's face went a bit red. Likely mentally shouting at the high lord. "You understand, this assures I can trust your word and you're not trying-" He took a breath, humming as he let it out. Considering. Or putting on a show. It was hard to tell what face of him was the genuine one. "Well if you would let me in I guess I would know if you had any.. intentions." 

The silence seemed electrifying, Azriels shadows were swirling faster, whispering over his shoulder into his ear. His hair moved slightly in the presence of them. His siphons glowed, despite no direct threat. 

You stood slowly, standing tall in the presence of the two. "You know where my tent is, Shadowsinger." His face revealed nothing at your words. Rhysand saluted you mockingly. Chin held high, you strode out of the tent.

+ As soon as the sun had dipped below the treeline enough to cast shadows through the forest Azriel had appeared at your tent. The temperature seemed to dip slightly at his presence. "If you're ready we can go." He said, voice plain outside your flap door.

"And why wouldn't I be ready, shadowmaster?" You said with a charming smile, hoping it annoyed him. While pulling on your light armor, you stalked past him and to the edge of the forest. He seemed stunned momentarily, but caught up quickly. He matched your pace with ease.  

The hilly terrain made for an interesting forest pattern, but the area you remembered spotting the archers and arterillary trebuchets was very obvious. You dared not fly, with your wings so light colored against the darkened sky.  "We're walking?" He asked, his wings flaring. You crunched through the brush that lined the forest edge. 

"It's an aerial capture unit. They'll either shoot us down or take us prisoner until they get what they want." You said over your shoulder. "Is the Illyrian afraid of a hike?" You teased. 

You heard a grunt and he was suddenly right next to you, his footsteps loud as he adjusted to the rocky slope you were heading up. "I don't like being called that, you know." He muttered, his eyes straight ahead. 

Strange. Very strange for an illyrian indeed. Normally they were obnoxiously proud of their heritage like no other. It made you pause your comeback for a moment. you tried to remember the brief history of the night court you had been briefed on in training. Nothing was ever said about the high lord or his generals beyond their extraordinary abilities. 

You knew the Illyrian possessiveness first hand. Anger flickered inside you, remembering what they did to their females. The abusiveness of their court when it came to yours and your winged cousins. How cruel they were in battle. You couldn't stop the thought as it raced from your lips - "Not proud of the clipping or breeding, spymaster?" You growled.

He was on you in an instant. Had you pinned against the side of the grassy knoll a second after that. The air left your body at the impact against the dirt burm. Your wings splayed out behind you on instinct, trying to balance you. His were as well, using them as extra force to hold you there. Your hand was at your dagger, but you didn't feel the need to use it, his grip loosened.

"Fuck. you." He bit out. You saw his hands as they gripped your armor. Scarred lines lay on his fingers, the back of his hands up to his wrist. They were a lighter color than the rest of his dark skin. Ridges puckering together like soft peaks of a mountain range. The sounds outside of your breathing together seemed to stop, his sharp tone silencing the woods completely. His eyes seemed like an endless pit, despair and malice under their shallow surface. 

He shoved off you with a sigh, and continued down the trail. Wings snapped in tight behind him. You dusted yourself off and followed under the cover of nightfall. 

+ The group of fae and beasts was getting exceedingly more and more rowdy as the night went on and the barrels of mead emptied. You didn't doubt the reason being that they thought your forces wouldn't move in the night. Not with so many foot soldiers that could be picked off in the forest by...unknown creatures. You shuddered at the thought of such things. The group was no more than thirty large, probably to winnow faster. Every pair had a weapon or a net weighted with stones that would nullify any magic. The arrows were likely poisoned as well. The trebuchet was packed with stones, boulders and what looked like wooden nails. They were planning for maximum damage.

"You take east, I'll go by the river." You whispered behind him, knowing that his shadows would pick it up if he didnt. The enemy campfire flickered in front of him, making his silhouette glow from where you crouched. His only response to your plan was a slight nod. You left him to it, creeping through the trees, avoiding leaves and fallen twigs that would make more sound than the soft pine floor. The fog of shadows whipped in a flurry around you as departed him. They stayed with you until you were firmly in the trees, the bubbling stream of the river loud enough to cover your tracks.

His signal to attack was subtle, but it worked. At first it seemed like their campfire had begun to sputter and smoke, leading to them quieting. Then, two decapitated heads were flung into the middle of the crowd circling the pit.  A rustling from where Azriel originally stood had them scrambling for weapons, sticks, swords. Anything they could find. Then he sliced into three of their knees from behind. You were diving into the fray when the group had finally gotten their defenses up. 

+ The snarls died out one by one. Azriel finished off the final Attor when a blinding pain in your back hit you. Your first instinct was to stab. The fae that stood behind you held your dagger in her stomach, looking you in the eye. The wooden steak at their side dropped to the ground. Her lips parted in a wicked smile as she pushed your knife deeper into her own stomach. "Death." She hissed. You felt the blood drain out of your face. She raised her other hand and was bringing it down when Truth Teller sliced clean through the neck. The hand dropped, as did the rest of the body that held your knife. 

Pain returned to you as soon as the head stopped rolling on the ground. You could feel the blood dripping... not from your back. You let out a roar of anguish, trying to fold your wing inward. Your feathers were stained a dark red. It looked black in the dim light. Azriel was on you in a second, without a word he had his hands on you, your wing. 

Pain dazzled you in more ways than you ever thought possible. It burned, it stung, it ached. It was enough to make you pass out for a few moments while Azriel carried you closer to the fire. "Fly- Me-" You panted between words. "Healer." You barked, letting your wing hang limp at your side. Azriel was assessing behind you. Slowly, methodically. Coolness encapsulated your wing. It was a slight relief against the burning.

"I cant fly with you if you can bring your wings in. And we need to get this out before it spreads, its poisoned..." He paused, hissing at whatever he was seeing. There was a pinch and he had a hand on the firm ridge, bending slightly. " Its in too deep to hope for a healer to recover by the time we get there too." he finished, working delicately around your feathers.

He was gentle, and firm while he did his best to get the bigger spikes out. You could feel the smaller slivers digging in whenever he bent your wing a different angle or if you tensed it at all. It began to itch as the fire died, casting you in darkness. "Dammit." He sighed, getting up. You hadn't realised how bad the gash was until you looked over your shoulder to see the pile of splinters he had gotten out so far.

"I may have left some in there, just don't move alright?" He stroked the curve of your wing. It sent a thrill through you that made your stomach flip despite the pain. "I'll be back in a minute. Just... stay put. Please." He added, then he was gone.

Your eyes grew heavy while you stared at the embers glowing in the fire. Thinking of Rhysand and his smug smile kept you awake. You couldn't wait until his own general proved him wrong. And proved the group was very capable of taking out winged foes, apparently. You sighed, then went rigid. A crack of sticks sounded. You panicked, knowing how treacherous the forest was without an extra pair of eyes looking out for you. You flung yourself to the fae woman's body, clawing for your dagger still embedded in her stomach. Your wing drug behind you, limp and aching. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" Azriel gasped, dropping the pile of wood next to the fire pit as he came into view. 

"You're a bastard." You groaned, wishing you could just lay down and wake up from this nightmare of pain and terror. "You're terrible and I hate you. So much." You panted, dropping the dagger. It rolled on the dirt beside you. 

Once he had you set back up where he could see properly he began the more painful process of removing the splinters. You doubted any monsters in the dark would come lurking with the sounds you made.

"For some fucked up hands they do delicate work." You ground out through your teeth. He paused for just a second. A sharper pain than normal twisted through the wing. You laughed slightly at that, despite the pain. 

"Well- for some fucked up wing you sure do have a mouth still." He chided back. "I told you to just stay put and you crawl ten feet away. And get dirt under your feathers on top of that." He sounded like he was smiling. 

"I didn't know you were such a neat freak, Shadowsinger." He huffed a laugh, continuing to patch you up.

"My mother was. My actual mother." He said softly. He was solemn for a moment. You wished you could see his face as he spoke. "My step mother's children are the ones who did this to my hands." His voice was near a whisper. You nodded, causing a shooting pain through your back and the area he worked on. "If I have to tell you to hold still again I'll just knock you out." He warned, putting a hand on your shoulder.

+ Once he was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and helped you fold your wings in. It was stiff. It felt like a part of you had been cut off. An unusable part that acted only to slow you down. You despised it. The pain radiated through to your back once you pulled them in. Fear struck you at that. Weakly, you turned to him. 

"I cant-" You bit back tears. You hated the words as they came out. "I cant fly." You muttered, your throat tightening. 

Silently, he held a hand out to you. An invitation. 

He was even more delicate while flying, gliding on the air as much as possible and keeping your weight balanced so you wouldn't jostle your injury too much. It was still uncomfortable. The base camp was miles away, with differing terrain. You hadn't realised how far it was until you were overhead and couldn't see the light from the camp anymore.

"I'm going to call you feathers after this." He said, the air around you almost drowning him out as he flew as quickly as he could. The pain spiked at the pinch of folding them in, but it wasn't as unbearable. 

On the brink of sleep, you trudged your mind back awake to respond to him. "What do you mean?" You groaned, letting your head fall on to his shoulder. Exhaustion was quickly sweeping over you. A glance up at him and you saw the worry in his features. He pinched the back of your thigh slightly, provoking you.

"Feathers seem like a pain in the ass. Going around them, cleaning them, trying to... maneuver them?" He adjusted his grip on you slightly, pulling you closer. His heart hammered in his chest, you could hear it. "Stay awake for me, asshole." He was gliding lower now, his words were clipped.

"Tell Rhysand..." You groaned as he circled the healers tent "Fuck you." You panted, moaning in pain while he offloaded you on to the healers table. Medics surrounded you in a heartbeat. He began filling them in on the injury. Azriel did not leave your side the rest of the night.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Hiii!! I've been following your work since the beginning and i just wanted to give u a big squeeze of a hug for blessing us with all of your fics 'cause i feel like we don't deserve u for blessing us with all these wonderful feysand content that u are sharing.

I hope all is well with ur life and in ur studies, and if it's not too much to ask, would you consider writing a feysand au where Feyre & Rhys aren't mates, but are happily in love and in a relationship--when all of a sudden, one of them meets their mate (preferably Rhys..?) or something like that 😚. Won't lie to u that im dying to know what events would play out and how Feyre would react if this scenario happened. Really no pressure to write this or anything just wanted to try my luck with this idea :DD. Thank u!

Bestie, ooof. What are you trying to do to me? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be for Feysand to be happy and in love, waiting patiently for the mating bond to snap only to find out they were star-crossed lovers all along? Well you don’t have to imagine it, because I already have. And if I’m going to be in torment over Feysand angst, I’m (affectionately) dragging you all down with me.

P.s. thank you for the submission lovely, I hope you enjoy <3

The Chains That Bind Us

Word count: 1,956

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Feyre and Rhysand were happily married. For 300 years, they had basked in what seemed like an infinite stretch of rapture, working alongside and complimenting each other with a grace and chemistry that had always felt predestined. They had always been certain they were mates, but time had flowed on and neither had felt the inkling of that special, magic bond.

They have resigned that perhaps the mating bond will never snap, perhaps that’s simply not what they were to one another, but that was okay. It was enough to be husband and wife, to be High Lord and Lady, to be happy and in love. They didn’t need a mating bond to reaffirm what they felt for one another. Things were already perfect as they were.

Until they weren’t. Until they had journeyed together to Illyria to oversee the announcement of the first all-female battalion. It had been a long term goal of Rhysand and his brothers to finally battle back the long ingrained sexism of Illyrian culture, and the visit was meant to be a celebration. A liberating ceremony, in honor of their mothers and all the females who had been victims of prejudice.

But when the leader of the battalion stepped forward to be acknowledged for her accomplishments, Rhysand had gone rigid at Feyre’s side, his breathing suddenly ragged. His pupils were blown wide, eyes fixed, riveted to the female.

Feyre felt her whole world had imploded in that moment. Especially when that female’s eyes had met her High Lord’s and had frozen just the same, the two bearing matched expressions of awe and disbelief.

She was certain she was going to be sick. Such a thing would be far from befitting of a High Lady, so Feyre had immediately winnowed back to their River House, back into their bathroom where she was instantly emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Rhysand was there not too long after, holding back Feyre’s hair. They said nothing to each other, not until Feyre had recovered enough to turn and face her husband.

She was entirely unprepared for the way her heart shattered to meet his face, to meet those lovely eyes she had loved for centuries. Eyes that had only moments before been staring at another female with so much blind devotion it had torn her open.

“Feyre—” he started.

“I suppose we should have assumed that something like this could happen,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. Not for something like this, something that was entirely out of either of their control.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, but there was a strain to his voice that had never been present before. A bite that Feyre was convinced was the result of Rhysand battling against his instincts to return to Illyria, to that female.

“It changes everything, Rhys.”

She was already weeping as she choked the words out, because speaking them made them true. Those few centuries of bliss between them, they were a bubble, a perfectly crafted delusion that had finally popped.

“I love you,” Rhys seethed, as though arguing with himself. “I don’t even know that females name—”

“It doesn’t matter, Rhys. She’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice a broken rasp. “Please, don’t say it.”

Somehow, that made it impossibly worse. That Rhys had been gifted this incredible, Cauldron-blessed thing, but was scorning it for her sake. Most Fae dreamed of the moment their mating bond would snap, and here was her husband acting as if it was his worst nightmare.

But Feyre knew what it was like for males. She knew he was clawing against every instinct in his mind, screaming at him to go to his mate, to know her name, to claim her. Feyre stifled another sob. Rejected mating bonds could drive a male mad. How could she ever think to do that to him? How could she deny him this piece of himself?

What broke her heart more than anything is that Feyre knew he would. Rhysand would reject his bond, would let that intrinsic part of his soul be torn away, for her sake. If Feyre asked, he would stay. He would stay and be miserable.

“I can’t do this to you, Rhys. I can’t force you to stay with me out of duty. I will not be your jailor.”

“You are my wife,” Rhys choked, reaching for her hand. He drew her palms to his face, allowing her to caress his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he nuzzled into her touch, causing his unshed tears to fall, racing down to collect at her hands. “You are my High Lady. You are the only one I want to be with.”

That wrecked another sob through Feyre’s body, which came out as a harsh exhale as she tried to restrain it. “You’d be a broken male without her, Rhys. The Cauldron—” she sucked in a strangled breath. Some truths were just too difficult to confront— “The Cauldron didn’t intend for us to be together.”

“Damn the Cauldron,” he growled, reaching for her with newfound conviction. “No one and nothing can decide who I love. No one can tell me that you are not who I belong with—who I belong to.”

Feyre allowed him to bundle her in his arms, to press her fiercely against his chest. She knew moments like this were fleeting, where they could hold each other as husband and wife. Already, their love was tarnished. Tainted. Blood spilled onto white snow. How long would it take for this mating bond to seep, to spill into the cracks, to spread until it consumed them? She couldn’t see an outcome where they could stay together unblemished, where they wouldn’t come to resent one another.

“Rhysand, listen to me love,” Feyre said, and found that her voice was steadier than she anticipated. “I care more about you being happy than I care about that happiness being found with me. Do you understand?”

“I would not be happier without you, Feyre.” His voice was ripe with earnesty. When she turned those eyes to meet his, those violet depths were burning, the silver constellations completely eclipsed by molten amethyst. He swallowed thickly. “Do I… want that female? Yes.” Feyre cringed to hear her husband admit it outloud. “But, that is just my instincts. I will be able to manage them with time. This bond is nascent. My love for you? It’s endured for centuries. The cauldron is not faultless; my parents were mates and they were miserable together. I could never imagine someone so perfect to walk beside me as you, Feyre. I do not seek another, no matter what fate has to say for it.”

Feyre allowed the comfort of his words to wash over her. She rested her head against Rhysand’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, letting herself lavish in the rhythm of him, the beat of his heart steady in his chest.

“I will understand if you change your mind,” she whispered. “I do not hold you to your vows. If you become unhappy, if one day you cannot resist the pull you feel towards her… I will not hold it against you. I give you permission to… to leave me.”

Rhys let out a small, rueful laugh before he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “How could I desert a love that is so selfless? The least I could do in the wake of such a declaration is promise to never see that female again.”

Feyre shook her head emphatically. “Don’t promise me that, Rhys. Just—just promise me that we’ll always be honest with each other. That we’ll always be a team, whether it be as rulers, or as lovers, or… or just as friends.”

“I promise,” he swore. “I vowed on my court and crown that I will love you for eternity. And I still know that to be true, even now. My soul… it might belong to someone else. But my heart, Feyre, it will always belong to you.”

There was something irreparably changed between them. They both knew it, could sense the way it lingered between them. The first crack, and possibly not the last. What they had was fragile now, but they had a gift for being delicate with one another.

The silence hung between them, a wretched, discomfiting presence that had never been there before. Both not quite sure what to say, not quite sure where this put them. She watched Rhysand’s lower lip quiver, understood that it was from the strain of not burdening her with his own turmoil over the situation.

Feyre tutted as she threw her arms around him, recognizing the signs of his crumbling. Rhys bowed his head in shame, burying his face into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against her, releasing a sob of his own. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you. I wanted it to be you. I’m a failure of a husband, for putting you through this.”

“You are an excellent husband,” Feyre protested, threading her fingers through his hair soothingly. Her voice was still raw. “I don’t blame you for this, Rhys. I love you just the same.”

He lifted his head so their tear-stained faces were level. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, still glistening in silver. “What do we do now?”

They clung to each other so tightly, as if they pressed hard enough they could redirect fate, could mold their souls together and correct the misdeed of the Cauldron.

“I don’t know,” Feyre answered, burying her face in his shoulder as if it would hide her from the truth of the world. “I suppose we have no choice but to keep going. We’ll find our footing again. Together. And if we don’t… well, maybe we can wish on the stars.”

There was a huff of air at her ear. A laugh, she guessed, or something like it, something wry and humorless. Rhys moved underneath her, and Feyre pulled away to watch in confusion as her husband rose to his feet.

He extended his hand towards her. Curious, Feyre accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. In a blink, they were on the rooftop, beneath the stars. She hadn’t even realized the sun had set until she was staring up at the impossibly bright cosmos.

“Where better to find our footing than under those very stars?”

She turned to him, and Rhys was staring at her the way he had on starfall, all those centuries ago. Staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the sky, as though he looked to Feyre to cast his wishes.

“Will you dance with me, wife?”

Not convinced she was capable of speech, Feyre nodded. Using the hand he still held, Rhys twirled her into his arms. And though no music played, they found their own rhythm, lost in the cadence of each other, spinning endlessly under the stars.

As they swayed under the endless expanse of sky and starlight, Feyre mused how even the brightest of stars eventually burned out, but that didn’t make them any less worth wishing on. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth fighting for.

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[mrspettyferr]

A Midnight Wish Part 2: A Kiss of Dawn

Part 1

Elain was exhausted by the time she finally dragged herself to her bedchamber. She had neglected her slippers long ago, crossing over the threshold silently on padded feet.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed her back against the closed door and closed her eyes. Despite the nature of the festivity--and the celebration of Nesta and Cassian--too many thoughts were still running wild in her mind. She tried not to think of how she had failed Nuala and Cerridwen, because that led her to thinking of someone else.

So she tried to think of nothing at all.

She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, fully clothed, her face still glowing with rouge and her hair still styled. But she would regret it in the morning--especially if she ruined such a beautiful gown.

Sighing, Elain walked to her vanity, plunked down, and got to work.

She had just finished removing the pins from her hair when she felt the night-kissed shadow ruffle the hem of her gown. She went very still, staring at the swirling darkness at her feet. It moved, and she turned and watched as it slithered away like a snake, across her floor and to the balcony.

Follow me, it seemed to say.

She hesitated only a moment before rising and padding quietly across her bedchamber. She pushed back her lilac curtains and stepped onto the balcony. There, crouched precariously on the railing like a gargoyle, was Azriel.

For a moment they just stared at each other, Elain still in her evening gown, her golden-brown waves blowing gently in the wind. Azriel still wore his finery, too, though he had retired from the party long before she had.

She wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but instead she blurted, "How are you doing that?"

He seemed surprised at her question. She could not blame him. "Doing what?"

"Balancing like--like that."

"It's not that difficult."

It most certainly was. "Perhaps you just make it seem easy."

"Perhaps," Az agreed, and though it was almost too dark to see, a slight smile tugged at his mouth.

Elain crossed her arms, shielding herself from the chill of the night. "You left the party quite early," she said, and immediately regretted it. She shouldn't have noticed.

"I had business to attend," he replied.

"He keeps you busy, doesn't he?"

She said it lightly, jokingly, but for some reason Azriel stiffened slightly. And when he spoke, he did not sound amused. "Yes, he does."

Silence fell, though it was not uncomfortable. It never had been with him. Still, Elain felt a slight blush creep up on her cheeks as she considered the situation: it was very late, and there was a male perched outside her balcony. Not just any male, either.

She was about to ask him what he wanted, when she saw his head turn slightly, as though listening to something. A shadow, no doubt, though she could scarcely see one. But she did notice the way he went very well.

"What is it?" she asked, taking a step forward.

"Nothing." He turned back to her, his hazel eyes guarded. But not enough. Something was worrying him.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

He shrugged.

"You like your secrets, don't you?" she asked, her tone a bit sharper than she intended.

"No, I don't. But that comes with the territory." Azriel smiled slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Though Feyre tells me you have me beat in secret keeping."

"Did she?" Elain couldn't help it--she beamed at the compliment, no matter how poorly earned it was.

Still, Az nodded. "Nuala and Cerridwen are training you well."

Elain stared at him. It felt like someone had thrown cold water over her.

"How--how did you know?" She managed to ask. The twins wouldn't have told him, she was certain.

Az angled his head almost curiously. "I am Rhys's Spymaster. It is my job to know."

"Are you upset with them?" Before he could answer, she plowed on, "Don't be. I insisted. We are friends, you know. And I practically forced them to train me. Don't--"

"The only thing that upsets me," he interrupted quietly, "is that you felt you couldn't come to me."

Elain blinked, staring at him. "You haven't exactly been around," she said carefully.

Azriel's jaw clenched, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise perfectly guarded face. It was the sort of look one made before they retreated into the night, a heavy silence falling in between.

And because she did not want him to go, to put that distance between them that he so recently favored, she said, "If you must know, I failed miserably tonight."

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but settled on, "How so?"

"I was...out matched, it would seem." An understatement, but she did not want to elaborate.

To her surprise, Azriel chuckled, his shoulders loosening a bit. "I doubt that. You just need practice, and time."

Time. She had endless time now, didn't she?

She didn't want to talk about any of that anymore. So she just cocked her head and surveyed him, still perched on that railing. Wasn't he cold?

"Do you want a cup of tea or something?" she asked. "A scone? Something hot?"

Azriel straightened as though she had offended him. "No," he practically blurted.

"Oh." Elain blinked in surprise. Something inside her crumpled just a bit. "Right. Well, it's late, I shouldn't have--"

"It was very kind," he said quickly, though for some reason, he sounded pained. "But I don't think that would be a good idea."

Of course not. How could she be so foolish?

"It's fine," she said stiffly.

"You keep saying that."

"Because I mean it."

Az stared at her. "You can lie to them," he said quietly, "but not to me."

And just like that, Elain was no longer on the balcony, but standing before Nesta and her friends. A familiar necklace stared back at her, glinting and taunting her in the faelight.

It was as though Azriel could read her mind, for he said, "I--I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

"Can't I say it twice?"

Elain just waited.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, once again looking oddly out of sorts. "When I found your necklace, I intended to return it to the shop, but for some reason I ended up at the library, and I thought..." He shook his head. "I don't know what I thought. You didn't want it, and--"

"I did want it," Elain interrupted.

His brows furrowed as he studied her. "You did?"

She nodded. "I wanted it very much. Too much, probably."

She knew--and hoped he did not--that she was no longer talking about the necklace. But something shifted in his gaze, as though he did know. He always seemed to know what she was thinking.

Hesitantly, Elain took a step forward. And another. Moving closer until she stood before him. He watched her carefully, still balanced precariously on the railing. Even perched, he still stood above her.

His hazel eyes were glowing, an intensity in them that made Elain look down. Made her admit, "I left the necklace behind because I did not want you to regret more than one thing that night."

The silence that followed was cold and biting, seeming to last forever. Elain sucked in a breath, prepared to fumble through some sort of explanation, when--

"I do regret it," Az said softly.

Elain looked up, hurt flashing on her face before she could hide it. But Azriel reached out, cupping her face in his scarred hands. Her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

"I regret making you think it was a mistake. And I regret not doing this," he said, and leaned down and kissed her.

Elain's surprise only lasted a half second before she returned his kiss, sighing into his mouth, her own moving in perfect sync with his. Her hands clung to the front of his jacket, pulling him off the railing and closer to her. A lesser male would have stumbled in the process, but Azriel was graceful and smooth, and no sooner had he landed on the balcony did he spin them so that Elain's back was pressed against the railing.

His wings flared out slightly, shielding them from the wind. One of his hands slid behind her neck, burying in her hair, while the other found her lower back, pressing her closer. Elain let out a soft moan that Az devoured with his mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks, her core. She was on fire. She was burning and burning and--

A clock tolled in the distance.

Dawn. It was almost dawn.

As though the sound woke them from their reverie, Azriel pulled back slightly. His breathing was slightly ragged, matching Elain's. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his hammering heart.

"I will speak to her," Az said finally. "Clear up the confusion and return your necklace to you."

It took Elain a moment to realize who he meant. She opened her eyes and frowned. Took a step back. "No, no. I could never do that."

"But--"

"What is done is done." Regret flashed in his eyes. She wanted to tell him it wasn't the gift itself that meant so much--it was the thought, the careful consideration in which he took in finding something so perfect. But all she said was, "I might ask for something else in exchange, though."

Though Az's eyes narrowed slightly, he said nothing, waiting.

Elain knew it was selfish, but she said, "Come to family dinners. When you can. Everyone misses seeing you."

I miss seeing you.

Az stiffened and peered down at her. His thumb gently brushed her cheek, the gesture shockingly tender from someone who tortured enemies for information.

"They know where to find me," he murmured.

"Perhaps they're waiting for an invitation."

He raised a brow. "Is that so?"

Elain nodded. "It is only polite. Even among friends and family."

"Friends and family." Amusement glittered in his eyes and even Elain fought back a smile. While she was still trying to work out what Azriel was to her, simply a friend or family did not seem accurate. "I will remember that."

"Good."

They stared at one another, tension and longing thick between them. They left the rest unsaid. How the mating bond complicated matters, even if Elain had not accepted it. Even if it meant nothing to her at all. There would be a time for that conversation, but that time was not now.

"I should go," Az murmured. "Rhys is expecting me."

Elain didn't want him to leave, but she had no power to make him stay. So she just nodded.

He turned, and hesitated. Hesitated long enough that Elain asked, "What is it?"

"There is something else," Az said, almost reluctantly.

"Oh?"

"It's Koschei."

Elain felt the color drain from her face. "What about him?"

Azriel turned back to face her. He looked resigned, unhappy, but determined. "There is another object to be found, I am certain--a fourth item in the Dread Trove."

She stopped breathing. Forced herself to say, "And?"

"And I think we're the only ones who can find it."

Elain stared at him. She hadn't told anyone--not even her friends--what she had seen.

"Who is we?" she managed to ask.

"You and I."

You and I.

The words fell into deep, unending silence. And the way Azriel was looking at her--did he know she had seen something? Was he just waiting for her to confirm his suspicions?

"This sounds quite serious," she said finally.

"It is." Shadows swirled around Azriel's shoulders, reflecting the darkening of his eyes.

"Then you must tell Feyre and Rhys as well."

And I must tell them what I have seen, she thought.

Some unknown emotion flittered across Az's face, one Elain could not decipher. "I intend to, but--"

"Perfect. Then you will do so tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"At dinner. I will even prepare some of Nesta's favorites, for she will certainly have much to say on the matter."

Az's confusion morphed into a knowing, amused look. "I know what you are doing."

"I have no idea what you mean," Elain said seriously, but her eyes shone with mischief. "This is a serious matter that must be discussed with the High Lord and Lady. Don't you agree?"

"I do," he said reluctantly.

Her grin widened, but quickly faded as she considered, truly, what he was saying. What it meant. What it confirmed, even for herself.

"Do you think they will protest?" Elain asked. "Insist I stay out of it?" She remembered the last time she tried to get involved, and how that had ended. But this time was different. It had to be different.

Azriel considered her words. "Possibly. And they are not entirely wrong." When Elain looked at him in exasperation, he added, "There is an innate darkness to the Trove, Elain. A darkness that might alter you forever."

She raised her chin. "I do not fear the dark."

Az smiled slightly, like he believed her. And Elain could not help but return his smile, because she knew he did. He was the only person who ever looked at her like she was capable of something great.

She wanted to cross the distance between them and kiss him again. She wanted him to gently push her into her bedchamber and lay her atop the silk sheets.

Elain swore Az could read her mind, for he chuckled and inclined his head toward her chamber. "Go," he said, though it was far from commanding.

And because it was nearly first light, Elain backed away, biting her lip and smiling. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," he promised.

- -

Note: In this scenario, I do imagine when Gwyn found out the truth, she would return the necklace. But I couldn't imagine Elain demanding it from her. Such an uncomfortable situation, so it was interesting to write. Can't wait to see how SJM handles it!