#I want to read a dejected mating bond between her and cas

[rosesncarnations]

Pic for the writing 🤩

He’d expected so form of humiliation from the Night Court. Had known that his role would be played perfectly as it ever was. But he did not know that the raven that flew with the magpies and pigeons still held her talons.

She’d looked more like a wraith with that black dress of ribbons, oh how little he had known before she was curtsying to him with the grace of a cat, offering to take this dance instead of her High Lady.

He noted the raised brow as she waited for his acceptance, knowing it would be a yes, as if she were to have the foresight and not her younger sister. With his own grace he offered his hand, leaning down to kiss the one she put atop it, maintaining eye contact as his lips grazed over each finger in deft light kisses that were unseen from the onlookers.

Soon they were brought up in the sway of the music and he watched as her dress transformed into the iridescent colors that gilded the feathers that could come out of her arms with one too fast twirl with the way the ribbons practically turned to the very feathers he hypothesized she had hidden somewhere.

“How does the Night Court still fair My Lady Nesta?” He asked, perhaps hoping for an upper hand that Rhysand wouldn’t so easily give him. Or perhaps? No, he wouldn’t even think it here. Not even in his own court.

“As it always does My Lord.” Her piercing storm eyes stared up into his amber ones, “And the Autumn Court is as biting as it always seems to be?” She arched a brow with the same ease as he twirled her as far as his long arm could take her.

“As it always is.” He told her with a hungry smile as he pulled her as close as possible, holding her tightly as the music lowered to a near silent decibel even for the fae. “Are you to be a new spy? I do grow rather tired of the other one.” He whispered into the shell of her ear, running a lick of orange flame across her knuckles.

“If I were, why would I tell you My Lord?” Oh, how he knew she was taunting him. He could feel the gaze of her mate as he sent her into another twirl and gave a cold grin in the direction of that bat.

“I would ask what times you’d show in my forests. If I were a betting male, I’d say you’d sooner be more forth coming with that knowledge than the other one.” He had her back pulled to his chest, filling her breath still coming in even pulls.

Hands grasping hips, he sent another tendril of fire to graze up her throat kissing sweet and hot flickers to her jaw and cheek bones creating an elaborate collar of oranges, reds and yellows. That had done something to her cause in the next instance she was swirling her own silver flame through the slits of his shirt, winding around his biceps the way she might her fingers.

“I always win my bets.” Her voice was husky as they flew on the dance floor, they were spinning faster and faster claiming more and more of the floor until they were in the center of the floor. The center of a rosebud in bloom.

“Do you trust me My Lady?” He asked in her ear as the band began its last crescendo. She turned her tempest eyes on him a brow swiping.

“About as far as I can throw you My Lord.” Her tone was biting but he knew she would let him do this.

He tossed her into the air, spinning at a speed that made her dress all but lose the blackness that had be originally shown, a kaleidoscope of purples, blues and greens. He caught her with an ease as if they’d been dancing with solely each other for centuries and not for a dance here and there with these damned balls that Rhysand held.

As her feet landed on the ground, leaning onto him raising her chin for something he could not offer in the public eye, he raised his own chin, grazing hers. And because he was a glutton for punishment, he lit a crown along the top of her head, his flames mingling with her own in one last bid goodbye.

“Till the next time My Lady.” He bowed to her as she curtsied yet again.

“Till next time My Lord.”