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The clang of metal striking metal rang in the small courtyard of the House of Wind. It was a fine day, the sun peeking in and out of the rolling clouds every minute. Despite the shade, however, Nesta’s hair clung to the back of her sweaty neck, gritting her teeth with every swing of the blade.
They had been at it for hours, and Cassian hadn't even broken a sweat.
Nesta despised knife training. Over the course of the past six months, she’d mastered swordsmanship, archery, and martial arts. Gods, she’d even perfected her own powers. Yet Cassian insisted that she learn the art of the dagger. In fact, as her trainer, he refused to let her use her magic until she could defeat him with a blade. Nesta had outright screamed at him for his ridiculous rules, claiming there was no need for her to use a dagger in the midst of a battle if she had her powers. Cassian had only shrugged, infuriating Nesta even further. The Illyrian prick.
Cassian had been training her for several months now, and she couldn’t even count the number of times he'd defeated her at knife point. They trained six days a week for at least six hours a day. And she had yet to even skim the bastard with the tip of her knife.
Nesta spat on the ground. Despite his exhaustion, Cassian’s eye twinkled with a challenge.
Nesta lunged forward, feigning left before swinging for Cassian’s right side, only to be met with his blade. Nesta looked him in the eye. He smirked down at her. With a strangled cry, Nesta swept her feet, hoping to make him eat grass. But in her fatigued stupor, Nesta’s knee gave out. Her momentary lapse of balance gave Cassian the perfect opening to knock her down on her back and hold his knife to her face.
Nesta's body rattled with the impact of hitting the ground. Her chest heaved up and down as she stared up at Cassian with a murderous expression.
“This is bullshit.”
Cassian flipped the knife in his hand and stepped away from where she remained laying on the dirt. He didn't extend a hand to help her up; he knew how much she hated when he did that. “You’re not even trying.”
Nesta pushed herself up on her elbows and stood up with a pained groan. She wiped off the back of her legs. “You’re right. I’m not. Because unlike you, I know that when I’m on the battlefield, I won’t be pulling out a four inch stick to defeat my enemy. No, they’ll be dead the moment they look into my eyes. A measly knife won't do shit.”
Cassian faced her with a growl. “You know nothing of war. I’ve lead thousands of soldiers, defeated countless enemies, spared no one. Do not talk to me about how to win a battle."
Nesta laughed, enjoying how easy it was to get under his skin. Undermining the General Commander of the Night Court was her favorite past time. "Get with the times, grandpa. No one is out there using knives anymore.”
"If you had an ounce of skill, perhaps you wouldn't find yourself having to complain about our training. Perhaps," Cassian retorted, "you would have already figured out how to wield a four inch stick."
Nesta bared her teeth at him. "Oh, I'm sorry I don't concern myself with such insignificant things. I would rather spend my time with bigger lengths." Nesta dropped her gaze to the place between his lengths and shot him a lazy smile. "Something which you don't seem to know much about."
"Sweetheart, you know nothing of bigger lengths," he quipped. "I would be more than happy to teach you, though."
Nesta snorted, turning away to pick up her discarded dagger and took a swig from her water. Cassian had always been a flirt, even since the day they met. It annoyed the living hell out of her which only made him do it more. It was never serious. Cassian always had a line of conquests, and Nesta was more than content to not join it. She didn't have a single lick of interest.
Cassian cocked his head and examined her. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "How about this: if you manage to get me at knife point within the next forty-eight hours, then I’ll relieve you of all training.”
Nesta grinned in delight.
“However,” Cassian said, taking a step closer, “if you fail, then you get a tattoo.”
Nesta snorted. “Fine by me.”
Cassian held up his hand. “I wasn’t finished. If you fail, Nesta, then you have to get my name tattooed on your body. Placement is dealer’s choice.”
Nesta wanted to gag at the thought of having Cassian's name permanently etched on her body.
Nesta narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "What do you get out of having your name tattooed on me?"
"Besides the sweet, sweet victory of marking you with the name of the person you hate most in this world?" Cassian shrugged. "It would be funny as hell."
The person I hate most? "Don't flatter yourself."
Cassian's eyes glimmered. "So is that a yes?"
Nesta didn't even find herself contemplating his proposition before she grinned. "Let's do it."
They were to attend a ball located at a Victorian castle that laid on the Sidras River. It was The Day of the High Lady, an annual celebration that marked the historical day that Prythian’s first High Lady - Feyre - came into power. The leaders of all seven courts attended a meeting that lasted the entire day to address the gender inequality that still plagued their country. The very first time they had celebrated, Feyre appointed female delegates who had seats at the table as well. She argued that she wouldn’t let a group of men decide their fate, even if they were looking out for women’s best interests. That didn’t erase the fact that they had no idea of their struggle, of the pain they'd endured.
After hours of new laws coming into place, it was a tradition to reconvene at the Sidras Castle to celebrate the small but significant feats they’d accomplished that day. The Night Court opened their borders, and citizens from all courts attended the festivities. They spent the evening listening to speeches performed by women who came from all across Prythian, auctioneering art by female creators, and dancing to music performed solely by up-and-coming female vocalists and musicians.
Despite their rocky relationship, Nesta was proud of her youngest sister. Although she hated that Feyre didn’t get the recognition as the fierce leader she was until a man – her partner, Rhysand – changed the rules, it astounded Nesta to see all that Feyre had done with the platform she had so rightfully earned. Feyre had cultivated another court outside of the Court of Dreams, her own court that was comprised of all women. There were seven of them: Feyre, Elain, Amren, Mor, Viviane, Emerie, and Nesta. Together, they made up the Court of Virago. The most crucial role at the moment was Emerie’s, as she was the ambassador of the Illyrian war camps. Although they had made progressive motions all around the Night Court, Devlon remained stubborn in his discriminatory ways. He still refused for the girls at the camp to train, and he still believed that a woman's place was beneath a man. He made her blood boil like no other. On more than one occasion, Emerie had needed to physically hold Nesta back from attacking the warlord. One time, however, Devlon said something so vulgar that not even Emerie tried to stop Nesta. It was Viviane who ended up pulling Nesta from Devlon, the latter of whom walked away with a black eye.
It had been worth it.
Nesta strode along the ballroom floor with the grace of a trained assassin as she made her way past throngs of dancers and to the outskirts of the dance floor where the refreshments sat. The elegant curve of her back beneath the draped fabric of her dress was bare under the torches' lights. The way in which she held herself was languid and dominant, captivating anyone who dared to look her way. Her blood red gown dragged slightly on the wooden floors behind her. It was the most exquisite thing she’d ever worn; the patterned bodice clung to her curves like a second pair of skin, the sweetheart neckline plunging just enough to reveal an inch of cleavage. Glitter lined bell sleeves left Nesta’s shoulders bare, her long hair pulled up in a twisted bun to accentuate the sharp lines of her collarbones. Her stormy eyes were lined in dark kohl, her full lips painted in a matte lipstick.
Nesta's perfectly manicured fingers grasped the stem of a glass full of amber liquid. Taking a sip, she faced the expansive room to watch the people.
She quickly located Feyre and Rhysand, both of whom sat on their respective thrones on the other side of the ballroom. Feyre said something, her hands waving around animatedly, and the small group of people around her laughed. Rhysand stared at her with a smile. Gods, he worshipped the ground she walked.
Standing in the middle of those who were dancing was Elain and Azriel. The former was holding on close to her mate as they swayed slowly to the encompassing music that echoed off the cavernous walls. Elain was giggling, and Azriel was biting his lip as if he were going to burst out laughing at any second. They were in their own world completely, and a small part of Nesta yearned for that.
“Care to dance?” a familiar voice rumbled from behind her. She knew who it was. Nesta gulped down the remaining half of her drink before turning around. Gods knew she would need it.
“Cassian,” she greeted the man who was grinning smugly before her. The moment she turned around, his gaze dipped to the gown she was wearing. Something heated entered his expression as he took in her appearance. Nesta couldn’t stop her eyes from running up the length of his body. Like most of the men in attendance, he wore a dark suit tailored perfectly to his well-earned muscles. Unlike the rest of them, however, his tie was thrown haphazardly around his neck, and the first couple buttons of his dress shirt were popped to reveal a hard chest beneath. Nesta snorted and nodded to his tie. “Why am I not surprised you don’t know how to tie a tie?”
Cassian seemed to relish in her sarcasm as he clicked his tongue. He took a step closer, forcing Nesta to further crane her neck if she wanted to maintain eye contact with him. “Oh, Nesta,” he murmured, his voice like crushed velvet. His eyes searched her face with a smirk. “I don’t concern myself with simple Windsor knots. Not when there are so many pretty little knots to try out on pretty little things like yourself.”
Nesta caught the double meaning in his words and rolled her eyes. Arrogant Illyrian bastard, she thought to herself, ignoring the heat that melted down between her thighs. She was conscientious enough to remember to cloak her scent from him; the last thing she wanted was Cassian goading that she found him attractive. Ugh. “You’re disgusting.”
Cassian tipped his head back and let out a deep laugh as if he didn’t believe her. His face sobered when his eyes met hers. “Dance with me,” he said again, only this time it wasn’t a question.
Nesta sighed, feigning disinterest as she picked at her long, black nails. "I should have you know I don't take well to being told what to do."
Cassian grinned. "Is that a threat? Please tell me that's a threat."
Nesta shot him a deadly glare before turning her heel and walking away to find better company.
Several hours into the night, and Nesta was finally enjoying herself. Perhaps it was a combination of the alcohol and Cassian's unmourned absence. Either way, she embraced it with every fiber of her being. She'd spent most of the night talking shit with Emerie and Amren. The latter was always supplied with the hottest gossip, something that the trio couldn't resist despite their revulsion of petty drama. They couldn't help it if the people around them had lives as juicy as soap operas.
They were giggling amongst themselves about the recent rumors of Lucien and his affair with Thesan when Nesta saw Cassian disappear through the double doors from her periphery vision. Now was the perfect moment.
Excusing herself, Nesta followed swiftly after him. She grinned smugly to herself.
No more training for me.
She slowed down once she walked through the doors that led to the extravagant garden outside. It was beautiful outside; a warm breeze whispered in the night, sending the smallest of breezes through the greenery that adorned the perfectly cut lawn. It was a clear sky, the moonlight reflecting off the small pond that lay in the center of the garden. Nesta breathed in deeply, savoring the sweet scent of flowers and darkness. She had grown to love the Night Court; its magnificent starry sky, the peaceful quiet that greeted her every evening.
She scanned the garden until she found him standing near a maze wall, one that was secluded from the ballroom. Private from any prying eyes. His hands were in his pockets, his face tilted up toward the night sky. He looked like Nesta had just minutes ago.
She stalked closer, Cassian's back facing her.
The deadly point of the dagger was pressed against his throat before he could even detect her presence.
His back stiffened against her front the second the cold metal of the knife made contact with his skin.
Nesta twisted Cassian in her arms until they were facing each other.
“I win,” she grinned arrogantly, eyes glittering with victory. The point of the knife rested under his chin as Nesta held the dagger lazily in one hand.
Cassian merely stared down at the ferocious women who held his life in her hands. Surprise flitted across his eyes before they darkened with something else. Something heated. His nostrils flared, and his tongue swept over his bottom lip. Nesta found herself mirroring the motion.
“Do you though?”
Before Nesta could ask what the fuck that meant, Cassian grabbed the dagger from her hand and crushed his lips against hers.
The kiss wasn't soft, nor was it sweet. It was painful and fiery and intoxicating. The minute Cassian's parted lips captured hers, everything disappeared around them. All Nesta knew was the molten heat that shot through her core, the delicious sting of his fingernails digging into her arm, the whimpers that so pathetically escaped her mouth. He grabbed her jaw, tilting her head to the side. She parted her lips wider for him, inviting his wet tongue as it slid against hers. Cassian moaned into her mouth, the sound reverberating deep within her.
Then, he broke away from her. Nesta nearly shivered from the absence of his warm touch. She reached up to pull him back down to her, but he stopped her.
"You thought you would get away with this unpunished?" Cassian purred, holding up his hand that clutched her dagger. She stopped breathing entirely as he slowly dragged the tip of the knife from the hollow of Nesta's throat to her chin. She shivered, baring his neck to him to give him better access, her breath coming out quick and shallow. Cassian let out a low chuckle, amused by her helplessness.
Nesta didn't have the chance to brace herself before Cassian pushed her back against the garden wall. Hard. The cold stone dug into her back, and she relished the pain.
He braced his other arm on the wall beside her head and leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers. He pressed the blade further against her skin, hard enough for the pressure to increase but not enough to spill blood. "I asked you a question."
"No - "
"No, what?"
"No... sir," Nesta whispered, her voice trembling on the word. Gods, she'd never had a man talk to her this way. Her lips parted as she looked into Cassian's eyes which were dancing with heat and dominance. He couldn't seem to resist slipping his thumb into her mouth. Nesta didn't even hesitate, her lips closing around his finger. She sucked on the pad of his thumb, and Cassian watched her suck off his finger with pleasure.
"Good girl," he murmured, his tone no longer demanding but soothing. He brought his other hand up to stroke her cheek. Nesta's eyes fluttered closed, his touch soft and sweet. She melted into him. No one had ever touched her like that.
Keeping a hand on her cheek, Cassian pulled the blade back from her neck. Nesta's eyes widened with terror as he pulled his arm back and thrust the knife toward her. She gasped loudly as the blade sunk into the stone wall behind her. She didn't have time to recover before Cassian's hands were on her. Claimed her.
He ran his hands through the thick locks of her hair, and he quickly pulled it out of the updo until it spilled down her shoulders. Cassian bunched it up in a fist and roughly yanked her golden hair to the side so her delicate neck was bared to him. He buried his face in her neck, his mouth greedy as he sucked her skin hard. A rush of heat spread through Nesta when she realized that he was leaving marks on her. She normally hated such Illyrian possessiveness, but right now, she wanted it all. Nesta spread her legs apart, and Cassian pressed himself against her, his hard length rubbing roughly on her core. She cried out, frustrated by the many layers that still separated them.
Cassian smiled against her skin and pulled away, pressing a finger against her lips. "Patience, sweetheart."
Nesta tried to protest, but he grabbed her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked noisily. Nesta popped open more buttons of his shirt and raked her nails down his tanned chest. Cassian grinded against her hips hard enough to leave bruises, easily lifting one of Nesta's legs up and hooking it around his waist. Her stilettos dug into his back, pressing him flush against her. When she rubbed herself up and down the thick length of him, Cassian growled and ripped the knife from the wall. In one swift motion, he bunched up the skirt of her dress and slashed through the fabric with the blade until nothing separated the throbbing spot between her thighs and the warm air of the night.
Nesta gaped at him, seething with anger. "You cut my fucking dress!" She raised her hands to push him off her, but Cassian grabbed both her wrists in one hand to stop her. He pinned her arms above her head.
"This is my dress now," he snarled, sounding out every word slowly. "Do you understand?"
Nesta was reeling. How dare he? "You can't just - "
Cassian silenced her with a slow kiss, one that found impossible to pull away from. He had put her under his spell, and she was drunk on him.
Cassian pulled back an inch to press his forehead against her brow. "I'll buy you a new one, sweetheart."
"You'll buy me several new ones," she corrected him angrily.
He flicked her nose. "It's cute how you think you can tell me what to do."
A growl ripped from the back of her throat, but Cassian choked her quiet before she could explode again. His large hand easily wrapped around the small circumference of her neck, applying enough pressure to shut her up.
"Just let me take care of you right now, sweetheart," Cassian whispered against her ear, his tongue leaving a wet trail under her jaw. "Stop being so angry and let me take care of you."
Nesta couldn't find the words - nor the energy - to argue with him, so she swallowed back her frustration and nodded. Or tried to, what with the hand that remained around her throat. Cassian smiled down at her. "Good girl."
He turned his attention down her body to where her dress had been ripped open. He growled when he found nothing beneath her ruby gown. Nothing but…
His hand slid down her bare leg and caressed the knife sheath attached to Nesta’s upper thigh.
“You cruel, cruel woman,” he purred.
“I didn’t realize putting a knife against your throat would invoke such a reaction," Nesta managed to say as his calloused palm rubbed circles on the inside of her leg.
Cassian laughed roughly, but any amusement quickly faded from his eyes when Nesta fully spread her legs and bared herself to him. Just like that, Cassian seemed to lose any control he had left.
He feasted on her neck, dragging his lips down to her cleavage. He hungrily shoved the bodice down until her breasts popped out. He let out a primal growl and captured her pink nipple in his lips. Nesta's head fell back on the wall behind her as Cassian swirled his tongue around her hard nipple, his fingers rubbing the other one. She trembled, knees threatening to give out, but Cassian managed to hold her up.
"Cassian, please," she whispered. He was going to gods-damn slow, she needed him inside her -
Cassian must have detected the strain in her voice because his lips kissed their way down her stomach, stopping before they met the spot that was wet for him. Nesta closed her eyes in anticipation.
"Look at me," Cassian demanded quietly.
Nesta managed to follow his orders, and she cried out in pleasure at the mere sight of him on his knees before her. Cassian stared up at her through his thick lashes, his mouth curved at the edges in a seductive smile.
"Tell me what you want."
Nesta shook her head, unable to get the words out. Cassian's eyes darkened.
"Tell me what you want," he repeated, impatience coating his voice.
"I..." Nesta licked her lips. She hesitated. "Eat me, but don't let me come. I want to feel you inside me when I come."
Cassian's smirk turned feral. "As you wish, sweetheart."
He started slowly, pressing her lips to the inside of her knee, climbing up inch by inch to the source of her scent. He savored every lick, every bite of her soft skin until his mouth was just a breath away from devouring her whole. His lips hovered over her, his warm breath dancing along her entrance as he relished the prolonged pleasure.
Nesta nearly came undone with the first stroke of his tongue. She shook so much that Cassian hooked one of her legs over his shoulder so he could support her, her body incapable of remaining upright.
"You're so sensitive," he whispered against her. He licked her again, just once. Cassian seemed to savor her taste, stopping to lick his lips to get all of her in his mouth.
He pushed a finger through her folds, unable to help himself. She was nearly dripping with arousal. "Gods, please tell me you don't get this wet every time," he groaned.
"Never... only with you."
"Fuck," he cursed. Then, he buried his face in her.
Nesta bit back her moan as Cassian's lips found her bundle of nerves. His tongue darted out, swirling circles around her clit. The wet sound of his mouth on her had Nesta trembling. He plunged two fingers into her, moving in and out rapidly. His tongue lapped up her juices, her sex clenching tighter with every stroke of his tongue. Gods, she couldn't take it.
"Cassian, I'm going to - "
She didn't even have to finish her sentence. Cassian rose from his knees quickly, unfastening his belt and letting his pants fall. Nesta gulped, and she didn't even get adequate time to admire him before he pressed up against her. His tip brushed against her wet entrance, but he didn't move any further.
Nesta whimpered, a near-sob escaping her throat. She lifted her hips to slide down on him, to no avail. Cassian ignored her desperate cries, kissing his way down her throat, his breath ragged against her skin.
"I wanted you to lose."
"What?" Nesta breathed, heart hammering in her chest.
"I wanted my name on your body," Cassian confessed quietly.
The tattoo.
Nesta opened her mouth to ask why, but he answered before she could even pose the question. "If my name was inked on your body," he purred against her skin, "then no other man would touch you. Then you would be mine."
Nesta gasped, and Cassian sunk his entire length into her without warning. He lifted her chin to capture her lips with his as increased his pace, slamming into her hard and fast. He whispered how good she felt around him as he fucked her roughly. He swallowed her moans and cries, the only sound being the impact of his hips against her skin, the slick wetness as he ruthlessly thrust in and out of her. Her inner muscles clenched around his length.
Mine.
Nesta thredded her fingers through his hair, kissing him back with everything she had. Her hand dipped to the muscles of his back, finding the flesh of his wings and brushing ever so slightly against the sensitive skin. A deep moan escaped Cassian. Wanting nothing more than to make him come, she dug her fingers into his wings and dragged downward, her fingernails scraping in just the right areas to make him arch his back in pleasure.
He pulled her hands off him with a growl and swung her around so her front was crushed against the wall. She heard Cassian rip the backside of her dress, felt the cool breeze.
She didn't expect the pleasurable sting of Cassian spanking her ass. His hand rubbed soothingly over the spot he'd just smacked which was surely red. Nesta moaned when he spanked her again, harder this time.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair to whisper in her ear, "You like that?"
"What the fuck do you think?" she snapped back at him.
Smack.
"Never talk back to me, you dirty slut."
Without a warning, he slammed Nesta harder against the wall and thrust into her. His hips slapped against her ass without mercy, and Nesta bounced on his cock like it was the only thing she knew how to do. She rubbed her clit as he buried himself into her pussy until her climax was hitting her so hard that her entire body shook, the orgasm rippling through her. She all but screamed in pleasure, her core going tight around his cock. Cassian snarled, his hands tightening around her ass as he too went over the edge. He didn't stop pumping into her as he filled her with his release.
Cassian grabbed her around the waist to face her to him. Her cheeks were flushed, grey eyes bright. He smiled at her beauty. She cocked a brow at him.
He didn't say anything as he dipped his head and gave her a soft kiss. He ran his hand through the hair that he'd pulled so roughly, his fingers massaging her scalp lightly. Nesta hummed at his touch, melting into his hard body.
Cassian looked to the ballroom reluctantly. "Shall we head back inside?"
Nesta followed his gaze, biting her lip. The last thing she wanted to do right now was socialize with people. No, what she wanted to do...
Nesta turned her attention back to him. He was gazing down at her, waiting for her answer. She didn't take another second to think about it before unwrapping herself from his arms and sliding down to her knees.
With a wicked grin, Nesta purred. "It's your turn now."