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flowerflamestars · 6 years ago

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Ivy Moon: Part Five

Cassian had many expectations about getting to see Nesta work.

He was almost used to the ease with which she used her power. Constant- like breathing- so casual it couldn’t bely the astonishing depth of her strength. He also knew, from Rhys and Feyre, that Nesta was one of the best in the world at what she did.

So he hadn’t expected her to find the object that cursed him, and start laughing.

Nesta listed toward the toward the stone wall, trying to catch her breath.

“Nesta- what”-

She waved a hand at him, and the tower room before them was engulfed in a circle of flame. Not the rainbow of colors Nesta had shown him before, but white hot. Cleansing fire.

“Stay here,” She called, and jumped through the flames like parting a curtain.

—-

Nesta was glad not just that the potency of her fire could cage in a curse- but that through the arcing flames, even with wolf eyes, Cassian might miss how badly her hands were shaking.

Because she was right.

And it was more- more than she’d dreamed of or hoped for, imagined or wanted. More than Cassian’s heartbeat under her teeth or his perfect laugh meeting Amren.

It was magic.

At the very middle of a round wooden table, centered in spelled tower, a globe of gold sat.

Nesta knew at the touch of bare skin, a spindle would extend to draw blood.

But like this, it would have fit in the palm of her hand. A perfect sphere, the surface a mad tangle of roses and moons, stars and blossoms that seemed to shift if she stared too long. Within the fire she could hear it’s song.

Ancient and fae, it promised everything: devotion, love, partnership.

Nesta stripped off her jacket and threw it over the table. Muffled, it was nothing to pick up, contained in the leather.

She bundled it in her arms, fighting down another delighted laugh, and vanished the fire.

—-

Rationally, Cassian knew Nesta had been inside the circle flame for seconds, minutes at most.

That this was what she did. And above all else, that this witch was dangerous. But he couldn’t see anything, and it was making him crazy. Wolf stretched beneath his skin, agitated and unhappy. Even his magic- not keyed to curses, or anything like them- seemed to say danger, danger.

And then the flames vanished and Nesta stepped through, stripped down to an incredibly distracting tank top and carrying a jacket wrapped bundle.

“Got it,” She said, with a smile that was almost eerily pointed.

Nesta started back down the stairs before he could reply. Cassian found himself tripping behind her, eyes unerringly drawn to the pale curve of her shoulders, the nape of her neck.

“What is it?” Cassian asked, when it became clear Nesta wasn’t going to say anything.

They were crossing back through the main floor of the library, lights slowly fading to extinguish behind them. Nesta stopped in the doorway to pat the wall, as if in silent thank you, before replying.

“Cursed spindle,” She said, too casual. “I think it called you. You picked it up, got stabbed, and your blood keyed the curse.”

Nesta strode forward into the antechamber and finally stopped, glowing in the chandeliers soft light. Cassian slid to her side, and the look she glanced over him was pure and untempered mischief.

What the hell?

“Where,” Nesta asked, head tilted like a predator, “Does the third door lead?”

Cassian blinked. He didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on, but his wolf couldn’t resist even a bit of the challenge in her stance. “Underground garage? Rhys’ dad loved cars.”

“Perfect,” Nesta replied, and stalked forward.

If the library castle itself was a heart wrenching mix of elegant and ancient, the garage was the same, amped to an entirely different level. Winding steel stairs led them down, lit in neon light. White slowly melted through the color spectrum to blinding, electric pink before they reached the floor.

Nesta took one look and snorted.

A cave overhead, rough hewn and dark. Bellow, gleaming pavement interrupted only by inset white lights, and rows of cars. The light flared as Nesta walked forward, framing the drive out in bands of throbbing white.

“Rhys is seriously never going to drive any of these cars?” Nesta asked.

“Most likely never,” Cassian said, rueful. Something about the hunger in her gaze, the sharpness of her movements was making the blood pound in his veins. His wolf liked that- so damn much.

Nesta danced down one row of cars, and then another, quick steps ringing in the cavern.

Cassian tried very hard not to look like he was literally a wolf, slavering at her heels.

Finally, she stopped in front of a small car, silver gleaming in the neon light. Nesta laid a single hand on the hood, ignition starting at her touch. He bit back a laugh at the utterly pleased look on her face.

She dropped the bundle in her arms on the hood, a strangely melodious thunk echoing.

“So we’re stealing a car,” Cassian drawled, “And you’re enchanting it?”

She was circling the vehicle, magic at a low hum. “Exactly,” Nesta said, voice low. She tapped each wheel, leaving a strange sparkle in the air, before sliding into the drivers seat. The jacket wrapped magical object disappeared, like she’d spelled it to follow her.

Cassian took a deep breath, and did the same.

In the small space, there was no escaping her scent- his touch lingering on her skin, intertwined with her magic and aggression, overlaid with gasoline.

“Okay,” Nesta began, pulling out onto the dark drive out of the cavern, “I can destroy the cursed object.” The way she said it made his heart stutter.

“But?”

She smiled, realer and softer. “But it’ll be bloody and very time consuming. I know someone who can take care of it quickly, and will enjoy the process perhaps even more.”

They emerged into the not quite right, incredibly beautiful fall light of the castle drive. On a road properly, Nesta sped up, the engine purring. Cassian felt just as combustible.

“I’ll do it myself if you want,” Nesta offered, eyes flitting over his face, “But it’ll be faster this way.”

Cassian made himself breathe normally. There was no question to whether he trusted Nesta, but he wanted answers. And the sooner the curse was handled- well, court was the wrong word, but date didn’t fit either.

He wanted to know her, to keep getting to know her, without the curse pulling them together. Without magic blurring every boundary, Cassian wanted to find normal reasons to earn sleeping at her side. To return to the library, to bring her that horrifying coffee at work, to be a real part of her life.

The words caught in his throat, and Cassian could only nod.

But Nesta- because she was Nesta- understood well enough. “Okay,” She repeated. “Do you know where the wards end?’

Easy- it was always so easy with her, Nesta’s words grounded him again. “The closest?” Cassian said, pushing his hair from his face, “About a mile east.”

Nesta nodded, and the world blurred.

Without even a thud, or a bump in momentum, the car was suddenly on a different road altogether. They sped the last few feet over the wards, and the world outside became bright and bluer. No longer all golden and magic, but real and still lovely forest, half turned toward winter.

“What the fuck?” Cassian spluttered before he could stop himself, choking out a laugh.

Nesta grinned back. “Journey spell,” She said, “All roads are one.”

He followed her out of the car, colder air here blowing through the trees. The bundle had reappeared at Nesta’s feet. If she felt the cold on her bare skin, Nesta didn’t flinch. Cassian had to wonder how much magic she was pulling- unfeeling to the elements like he was before the change.

“Two rules,” Nesta said, pulling a knife from somewhere, that keened greeting in her hand. “Do not say thank you, no matter what. And use full names, always.”

It clicked in Cassian’s head the same moment Nesta sliced cleanly down her palm.

“You’re summoning a faerie?”

Nesta waved her bleeding hand in the air. By some old magic, the blood remained, an outline forming. “Something like that,” She agreed, “It’s polite to make a door.”

And a door it was- blood smeared lines coming together. Until the moment it all locked in place, chiming, and a hole in the world tore. Through it, Cassian could see vivid forest, gnarled and ancient. A lavender lake lapped gently under moonlight.

This was faerie.

On soundless steps, Nesta returned to his side. “Ready?” It was a challenge again, enough to make him bold.

Cassian reached for Nesta’s bleeding hand. Meeting her eyes steadily, even as he felt the blush starting on his face, Cassian healed her again- just like he had that first night. But this time, he licked away the blood.

The soft sigh that fell from her mouth made Cassian shudder. His wolf was keening.

Nesta let out a long breath, slowly pulling back her hand and stepping away.

From around her neck, the chain pale beside the warm gold of the amber Nesta had yet to take off, she pulled another necklace. It hadn’t been there a moment before, and pooled in her hand like moonlight.

At it’s end a small horn hung- bone bound in silver and gold. A hunters horn, but the magic felt like the Archerons home. Old and powerful, protective and enchanting. Nesta sketched one more long look over Cassian, before she raised it to her lips and blew.

Like it knew what she had called, the doorway shuddered, and the landscape shifted.

Cassian was painfully alert at the sight of that green, luminous land.

At first he thought it was the false moons hanging in the sky- three phases all in one- but the man striding toward Nesta really was that pale. White, white, skin. Huge grey eyes that could swallow the sky, hair the silver color of true starlight.

It wasn’t until he stepped through the doorway- fearless, grinning- that Cassian realized he knew that face.

Those were Nesta’s eyes. Her dangerous cheekbones, sharp features. The same face entirely, but sharpened further with masculinity. More alike than Nesta looked like her own siblings.

If not for the undeniable glow of immortality, the knife blade ears that marked this man as fae.

The smile on his face grew even more familiar as he strode straight to Nesta, swooping down to kiss both her cheeks. Cassian was going to rattle out of his own skin.

“Darling,” The faery said, ageless voice accentless and silken. “How fairs the heir of my heart?”

“Gwyn,” Nesta began, and stopped when the faery made a low noise.

“That’s not what you used to call me.” It was odd to hear such a rambunctious tone come out of that familiar but not mouth. He was teasing, after he’d been called from another world and arrived fully armed.

“Papa,” Nesta sighed, half a laugh. “I need your help.”

“Of course! But first,” He pivoted, tossing a long arm over Nesta’s shoulders and turning them both, “Introduce me to your mate.”

Mate.

Mate, mate, mate. With a great horrible shudder, Cassian’s heart briefly stopped in his chest. Did she know? He hadn’t thought of a way to tell her yet- felt like an ass beyond measure if this was how Nesta found out Cassian belonged to her.

But Nesta only briefly closed her eyes, sighing. When she found Cassian’s gaze, whatever apprehension he felt melted with the soft amusement twisting her mouth.

“Papa, meet Cassian Leandro Aguilar.” Her head tilted with the words, taking in Cassian’s surely blushing face like she wanted to eat him alive.

The fae man strode forward to grab Cassian’s hand in an enthusiastic grip. “Ah, a wolf!” He said, eyes sparkling, “I knew a hunters heart was always for my girl. Be welcome, Cassian Leandro Aquilar.”

He inclined his head, regal as any monarch.

Nesta, visibly smirking, stepped closer to Cassian’s side. With a possessive sweep up his arm that did nothing- absolutely nothing - to calm him down, she said, “This is my great grandfather, Gywnn Ap Nudd, Lord of the Wild Hunt.”

Fighting, and probably failing to keep the thousand questions he was thinking off his face, Cassian replied with the traditional fey words. “Well met, Gywnn Ap Nudd, Hunter’s Lord.”

With a laugh that sounded like thunder booming, Gywnn clapped Cassian on the back, hard enough he was pushed forward.

Nesta was definitely trying not to grin.

Pleased, and strangely looking like he was growing taller by the minute, the faery turned to his granddaughter. “How may I aid, dear heart? I know you didn’t call me to meet your lover, though you should have.”

His voice was like a bonfire, warm and laughing.

Nesta waved the knife in her hand, “You would have met him at Feyre’s wedding.”

“Ach, bad form to upstage your little sister!”

Cassian had heard the stories of the Wild Hunt. It was impossible to be supernatural and not know the name. The immortal warriors, who rode the storms lightening. Savage and free, led by the incarnation of every violent dream and raging passion- the Hunter’s Lord.

Who Nesta called Papa.

But what echoed harder through his head was- upstage?

Cassian tuned back into the familial teasing, as Nesta vanished the knife in her hand and thrust the golden globe beneath her grandfathers beautiful face.

If it had seemed like Gywnn was growing taller, he was massive now. He bared sharp teeth at the faintly keening metal. “Which one of you?”

Around them, the smell of ozone and moisture was growing. A burst of sharp wind snapped Nesta’s hair free from it’s tie, the silken mass blowing against Cassian’s shoulder.

“Mine,” Cassian admitted, meeting ageless grey eyes.

Gwynn growled.

“How long has it tried and failed to take root?” As if in response to his utter anger, the spindle popped free from the globe, smelling of Cassian’s blood.

It was still tempting- terrible longing, like every fear and loneliness Cassian had ever felt could be fixed. Promised love, promised home, promised family. He took a deep, shuddered breath, and thought- pack.

Azriel, the brother and best friend who’d never left him. Rhysand, who tried so damn hard. Bright Feyre, terrifying Elain, tiny godlike Amren, rough and tumble Lucien.

And Nesta.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta- power and beauty and challenge, his anchor to this life that he’d been lucky enough to find.

The siren call faded like it had never existed at all.

“They know better than to touch our bloodline,” Gwynn was still speaking, thunderous. “No matter that your power holds. Seelie filth.”

He turned his head, and Cassian met head on eyes with lighting streaking across their grey skies. “I will hunt,” Gywnn intoned, weighty and old as the bones of the world. With the words, he grew more seemingly human again, but the eyes remained. “Truly, am I sorry this was the push fate chose. A wolf is always welcome in our family.”

Nesta snickered before Cassian could reply.

“Ach, child, you know your uncles are going to want to visit now and run with a pack once more.” Gwynn told her.

Right- faery lord grandfather, faery uncles? Cassian could handle this.

Like she could sense his mounting confusion, Nesta tucked an arm around Cassian’s hip, leaning with the motion. The anxious pressure on his heart melted away, but it remained racing.

“Alaistair is always welcome,” Nesta said, “Finn too, but Oberon has to stop getting in fistfights with Lucien.”

Gywnn laughed again, and a little more of the horror dissipated. “Friendly fistfights,” He insisted, waving a hand. “And I’ve heard the son of oak will have backup these days, when his inability to resist mischief gets the better of him.”

Nesta only raised her eyebrows, “Elain asked me to set him on fire, last yule.”

“But who’s more loyal than a wolf?” Gywnn shot back. “Truly, I am pleased by all of this. It will be a fine hunt.” He looked back and forth between then, the space between their bodies that had ceased to exist, and with a smile that Cassian suddenly saw Feyre in completely, Gywnn swooped forward to kiss them both on the brow.

His lips felt like frost.

But his tone was that of a pleased parent, jolly and proud. “Go with my blessing, Cassian Leandro Aguilar. And with my love, Nesta Nimue Marianne Acheron.”

And he disappeared, the blood door Nesta had carved from the world vanishing as well.

Cassian felt a little like he’d been too close to an explosion. His ears were ringing, white in his vision, thoughts a wild scramble. He knew Nesta was looking up at him, waiting for the questions he needed to ask.

But instead, what came out was, “Your middle name in Nimue?”

Nesta punched him in the chest, playfully. “Fuck off, Leandro,” She said his name perfectly, of course, a loving caress around the syllables. “My mother was an artist and a seer- Elain’s middle name is fucking Guinevere.”

Cassian caught her hand, twisting their fingers together. “Does that make Az Lancelot, or Arthur?”

She huffed in disgust and began tugging him forward, back to the car.

With a single snap of Nesta’s fingers, it started, engine purring to life. Grinning, Nesta waved that same hand out toward the road, like the windshield didn’t exist. It was the only warning Cassian got for the world shuddering with change all around them again- until suddenly they were on a highway.

One he was sure didn’t exist- and hadn’t ever been there before.

“That,” He tried not to gasp, “Is some journey spell.”

Nesta flicked bright eyes over him, “It depends,” She said, punching the car forward fast enough that Cassian felt slightly flattened, “On how much you think you’ll enjoy the trip.”

It was impossible not to smile back.

They made it into another forest, green racing past- because Nesta drove like a god damn demon- before she broke the silence again.

“You can ask,” Nesta said, voice amused.

Cassian dropped the thread he’d been slowly ripping from his jacket, and sighed a breath. He’d didn’t know where to start- he wanted to know everything. About the curse, about how, why, it had effected them both, about her.

He’d wanted to learn her slow. Natural, not to ask for too much.

“You’re an eighth fae?” Cassian asked, softly. It didn’t change anything at all. Aside from a wild urge to laugh at the thought of the Lord of the Wild Hunt meeting Rhysand. He’d need a camera.

Nesta shook her head. “A bit more than a quarter Unseelie. My father was human, but my grandmother fell in love with one of the forest knights.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, and said carefully, not looking at him, “Feyre, Elain, all three of us- we’re different than other witches. Maybe because of the mix of bloodlines, or elemental magic, no one knows- but, we get less mortal every year.”

Less mortal- less human, she meant. Less- Cassian’s throat went tight.

“Feyre isn’t going to die on Rhys in a century,” He blurted.

Nesta’s mouth twisted happily. “No,” She replied, “None of us are going anywhere.”

The tightness in his throat grew like swallowed tears. Most witches were closer to human than any other creature. They’d live a century, maybe one and a half- ageless and graceful and magic, but still mortal.

Cassian- a full-blooded wolf dredged in magic, with old lineages on both sides- hadn’t known the touch of time for what felt like an age. Sure, he could die. If someone tried to kill him, if something more powerful hunted him down- but- but he wasn’t going to have to outlive her.

Swallowing hard, Cassian groped for her hand, only to have Nesta meet him halfway.

“Oh fuck,” Cassian realized, “So when Lucien said, our court, he meant?”

Nesta breathed a laugh, her grip on his hand tight. “Lucien was being dramatic. As witches, we cannot be counted among the courts of faery.”

“But you’ve ridden the Hunt’s storms,” Cassian guessed. It was easy to imagine- the wind in her hair and fires burning all around. Women weren’t allowed permanent membership in the Wild Hunt- they were too fierce - but it was impossible not to imagine them taking a death blessed witch as a guest.

She finally looked back at him. “The Wild Hunt brought us home, when my mother died.” Nesta said. “Gywnn is the only father we ever knew. “

Slowly, Cassian traced circles on the back of her hand. The world was still blurring past, but he was almost certain she was letting magic drive for her now.

“So, Uncles?”

Nesta let go of the steering wheel entirely, and twisted her body to face him. “The hunters,” She replied simply, eyes sparking. Like they weren’t the legends and nightmares of the supernatural world. “They helped raise us. Alaistair, Oberon, Alcheon, Finn. Gim Won-Sul - all of the twelve, and some of their husbands.”

Of fucking course.

Of course- Nesta, death walking, magic incarnate- had been raised by the most feared and noble warriors the world knew.

Twelve, always twelve- who’d been culled from their final battlefields and granted immortality to ride with the Hunt, honor and violence and wildness in their blood forevermore.

And Cassian was going to meet them. At his brothers wedding, apparently.

Nesta laughed at the look on his face, and squeezed his hand once more before letting go and taking control of the car again.

Tamping down on the urge to touch her- to make sure this was all really happening- Cassian raked a hand through his hair. “So how does this all tie into the curse?” He asked, carefully, “The spindle was Seelie made?”

Nesta took a vicious turn on the empty round, car skidding with speed. Over the sound of the engine and his own heart, Cassian wouldn’t have heard her if he weren’t a wolf.

“Do you know the story of sleeping beauty?”

What- what? “Um, faery doesn’t get invited to a baptism, girl gets cursed, poor dragon gets hurt,” He ticked off the moments, uncertain, “Creepy sleep kissing? It’s a human story, isn’t it?’

Nesta’s knuckles whitened. “Not the real one.”

Cassian waited, and tried very hard not to think- so I’m the princess? Nesta the knight had a ring to it that was borderline erotic in his head, admittedly.

Finally, she sighed. “Once upon a time, a girl asked a faery to find her true love.” Nesta flicked an irritated hand, “She was a princess, or a witch- either way, young. Young and without any knowledge of the Seelie court.”

Cassian pushed down the image of Nesta holding a sword, and listened.

“Seelies like rules, and playing with mortals,” She continued. Cassian couldn’t help but remember his mothers voice telling him about the Unseelie- too busy taunting monsters and testing themselves. “So the faery asked her, why do you ask for love? Why not riches, or good fortune? And the girl replied, I cannot live without love. So the faery says, so you shall not.”

“And with his promise- the spell was cast. He made a spindle of gold, molten from the fire of a dragon, and told her to prick her finger. The world is a tapestry, the faery explained, and fate are it’s threads.”

“That’s true though,” Cassian interrupted. “Magic users feel the tug of fate all the time.”

Oddly, Nesta flushed. “That is true,” She agreed, “But we’re getting to the important part.”

She switched gears and continued, the road they were on a wild curve now. “Blood is the best binding for any curse. And Seelie cannot lie- but they can omit. He promised her she wouldn’t live without love, so she didn’t. For mortals who touched one of the faery spindles, it usually meant death. But if you were magical, you disappeared- slept, or dreamed, elsewhere, while the Seelie siphoned away the magic that made you.”

That was- “But my magic stayed intact,” Cassian said, “It never changed.”

“Nope,” Nesta said, sharp and happy. And slammed on the brakes.

While Cassian had been unable to look away from her, they’d changed places more. The magic road turned real, Nesta somehow driven them straight to the coastline.

“I thought we could use a detour,” Nesta said, but from the way her eyes wouldn’t stop moving over his face, Cassian didn’t think that was actually what she meant.

He followed her out to the sand, couldn’t help the small chuckle as she plopped right down onto the cold ground, hair whipping in the wind.

The arm she let him tuck around her pale shoulders almost made him laugh outright, sprawling beside her. Cassian took a deep breath, for second all wolf- salt and sea, bracken and wet sand. And in the center of it all Nesta, smelling like fire and his touch.

He bumped her shoulder lightly, grinning. “You brought me to a beach.”

Nesta had to twist to meet his eyes. “You took me to dinner, first.”

Overhead seagulls screamed of an oncoming storm, but the sky had nothing on the light in her eyes. “And you took me dancing, at the only bar in New York where we could actually get drunk.”

Nesta smiled. “I did, didn’t I?” She’d grabbed a handful of his sweater when she turned, the weight of her hand on his stomach some kind of wonderful torture.

Rather than kiss her- because if he kissed her right now, Cassian had no idea if he’d ever stop- he dragged Nesta even closer. She turned her face into his shoulder, laughing.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Nesta seemed completely content to lean on him and watch the ocean. There was no pretending that simple action didn’t make his heart swell in his chest. The third time, however, that the wind flipped her hair in his face, Cassian started idly braiding it back.

“So,” He began, fishtailing together soft locks, “No one who touched the spindle ever found love?”

It seemed infinitely sad, but also- impossible? If rules were set, magic had to obey them. Most of the time, at least.

“Mhmm,” Nesta replied at first. She was nuzzling his neck, her scent so warm and happy that Cassian almost regretted asking. “Not quite.”

She sat back, pulling her legs under her to kneel facing him. “When faeries say true love, they don’t mean what humans or even most magical creatures do.”

The sky rumbled, and the ocean sang its soothing song. But Cassian got it a moment before she said it, pure unadulterated adrenaline crashing through him. A burn- a promise.

“It’s the rarest thing in the world, a soul bond.”

He stopped breathing. With cold, shaking hands, Cassian cupped her face. It took a few tries to get the words out. “Nesta- Nesta- we’re soulmates?”

And she smiled back, not a sharp edge in sight.

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, uncaring as the wind kicked up around them, as soft drops began to fall. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you that you’re my mate- that I’m- but you’re my soulmate.”

“Soulbonded,” Nesta corrected, with a watery laugh. “With the red string of fate. There’s no life where we haven’t met. Our bones are the same stardust, our magic the same alchemy.”

Cassian stopped pretending the only wetness on his face was the rain.

He’d lost his father and then his mother. His oldest brother hadn’t known he’d existed for his first century of life. His entire pack, ripped from his soul. Had grown up close enough to humans to know what fear looked like on their faces, and for a long time, fought alongside his brother just to have a safe place in the world.

But he had a soulmate.

Cassian lurched forward until his forehead touched Nesta’s. He didn’t have the words for what he was feeling, only that he was so god damn lucky. The tears were coming in earnest, silent and embarrassing, but Nesta held him tight as the storm crashed in.

Finally, saltwater on her lips, Nesta murmured. “Precioso lobo.” His heart wasn’t made to contain this much happiness. “Do you know I always hated dating? It was always too much, or not enough.”

Cassian laughed, low and abbreviated. “And left a trail of broken hearts behind you, probably.”

“I’m sorry,” Nesta shot back, close and dripping and perfect, “There is no way in hell you learned to dance like that without many partners.”

He laughed for real that time, the noise too big for the precious space between them. “That’s true,” Cassian admitted, “But I started learning from my mom.”

The light in Nesta’s eyes flared, wicked. “That makes sense,” She said, utterly serious before sliding into a laugh, “Since she taught me to speak Spanish when I was four.”

“Oh my god,” Cassian grumbled. He was too happy to be truly embarrassed, but some part of him was. That explained entirely why Nesta’s accent reached right out for his heartstrings and pulled.

He buried his face in her neck.

Slowly, Nesta’s hands reached to card through his hair, hesitant. “I think,” She said, voice nearly swallowed by the ocean, “She wanted to make sure that when I said what mattered, it would feel real.”

Nesta was more than real- a dream, a gift. But Cassian thought of every word he wanted to give her- love, love, love; mi vida, mi corazon, the best parts of himself.

The rain began to pour down, dripping from Nesta’s face onto his.

He pulled back to meet her eyes. “Fate was always on our side.”

She breathed half a laugh. “Always is,” Nesta purred, before jumping to her feet.

And then she was running through the downpour, down the beach and back to car. It took half a second to rise and follow, her laugh cutting through the thunder as Cassian gave chase.

She cheated of course, magically traveling ahead when he got too close.

But when Cassian slid into the car to find her laughing- soaking wet, beautiful- it didn’t matter.

He had Nesta Acheron by his side, and he’d remain there for the rest of his life.

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