Warning: This chapter contains mature content that may not be suitable for some readers. Scroll at your own risk.

It was pathetic, she knew.

The days that followed were brutal, with him completely ignoring her. She even went to training but he wouldn't look at her. Wouldn't look at her when she stripped right in the kitchen. When she sat on his lap, kissed his neck and he only lifted her off and walked away. She pushed food that she'd made onto his plate, knocked on his door in the middle of the night, prepared him baths and cleaned the kitchen.

He ignored everything.

She felt like she didn't exist.

It was too much.

On the fourth day, he came home early and she scrambled out of his bed, naked from the waist down. She ran to the bathing room, cursing herself silently. Her smell was likely all over the sheets and her plan to wash them later was down the drain.

She wet a cloth, quickly cleaning herself, then scrambled around the bathing room for pants. There were, of course, none. Cassian kept his laundry in the closet which would require her to go back into the room to get to.

She was about to make a sprint for it when she heard the dump of weapons and gear on the floor. Cursing quietly, she wrapped a towel around her waist, ducking into the bathtub.

She heard the closet door open a moment before she noticed the painting hanging on the wall above the tub.

It was undoubtedly one of Feyre's paintings, depicting a dancing girl dressed in a flowing white gown. Her hair was golden brown, fanned about her, her eyes closed, face breathtaking. Beneath her bare feet was a battlefield, fresh with fallen warriors.

Nesta shivering involuntary.

There was a loud sniff, followed by, "What the hell?" It was the first time she'd heard his voice in days.

Nesta ducked further into the tub.

Cassian flung open the door, stalking into the room. Nesta barely saw the flash of a knife and a bare chest before he hauled her, flailing, out of the tub.

He dumped her on the counter, his snarling face inches from her. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

She could have cried. He was talking to her. He was looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

"For trying to force me into a mating bond or masturbating on my goddamned bed?" he shouted.

She didn't want to tell him that it wasn't the first time she'd done it in these passed days.

"You left me alone," she hissed. "I am your mate and you just left me."

"The only reason you want me if for the bond!"

"So? Everybody wants a mate."

"So? So!" His face was livid, pure animal, pure predator.

Nesta pushed off the counter sliding passed him. "Don't act like you've never thought of it-I know you have. You want a mate-you just don't me."

"Don't want you?" he growled. "You think I don't want you? You think the past few days haven't been the hardest of my life?"

She whirled back to him. "No! I don't! All of that was voluntary. If you really wanted me, you would try to… try to punish me like that!"

"I wasn't trying to punish you!" he roared. "I was trying to wrap my fucking head around the fact that you're my mate and you can just pretend that I wouldn't accept the bond if you had just told me!"

The only noise that followed his words were th sound of their breaths. She breathed in. He breathed out.

"Get on the bed," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to finish what you started. Get on the bed."

"What? No!"

"You had a dozen other places you could have done that on in this house, but you chose my bed. Why?"

"I'm not answering that." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking stubbornly away.

"Why, Nesta?"

"Because I missed you and it smelled like you," she shrieked, bring her hands up to cover her burning face. "Is that good enough? Are you satisfied with that answer?"

He stepped forward, sliding his hands up her arms. "You want me to be your mate. For more than just the sex and the bond, I know."

She brushed away his touch. "You'll accept it, though? The bond?"

"Of course I will. There's nothing… I have waited five hundred years, Nesta, for someone like you. Please. Let me-let me watch you love yourself."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I've never had an audience."

His eyes flickered. "Don't worry for one minute about my being here."

She opened her eyes, meeting his, and nodded. She moved into the bedroom, stripping of her shirt and bra. Then, her back to him, she let the towel around her waist drop.

She glanced over her shoulder, finding Cassian trembling slightly.

Turning, Nesta lay on her back on the bed and spread her legs. She dipped her hand between them, swirling her fingers through her folds. Pleasure spiked up her spine and she let herself fall into a rhythm.

She was dimly aware of Cassian dropping his pants, stepping to the edge of the bed.

Her mate.

She felt a coil in her stomach growing tighter with each pass of her fingers, each dip of them inside her heat.

Cassian pulled his length from his pants, stroking it in time with her movements.

It was almost too much.

Nesta closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow.

She gasped as she came, eyes flying open.

When she was done, she pushed herself to her elbows, slowly closing her legs.

Cassian's cock was still hard, his eyes heavy lidded. "That was quick." His voice was gruff.

She didn't respond.

He braced his hands on the bed, leaning forward. "Is that the best you've ever done? The best finish?"

"Near to it," she said and fell back, stretching.

The bed shifted under his weight as he crawled over her, dragging his eyes up her form. "I can bring you better-with only my fingers."

She raised a brow, recalling a time when she'd told him she'd sooner sully herself with her own hand than sleep with a boy of her village. "I'm not so sure."

His calloused palm slid over her hip. "You'll let me try?"

She opened her legs again in answer.

He slid his hand down, mimicking her earlier movement. Her clit was still sensitive and she sucked in a sharp breath at his touch. He pressed his lips to her collar bone, fingers brushing over her lightly.

She reached for his hand, hoping to get him to press hard, faster, but he secured her wrists with his free hand over her head. "No. Let me… let me do this."

He slipped a finger into her heat. She opened her mouth in a silent gasp.

He pumped slowly, his thumb swirling in time with his kisses against her neck. He curled his finger slightly.

Nesta arched, grinding her hips into his palm.

His teeth scraped her neck.

He slipped another finger inside, filling her so much that she wasn't sure she could breathe. She let out a moan. It sounded like his name. His fingers pulsed in and out, thumb rubbing that damned spot. He curled his fingers again, grating against that point of pleasure.

She cried out, hips bucking uncontrollably.

He picked up his pace, her moist heat letting his easily move his fingers. Nesta cursed. Cassian pressed his lips to hers.

She came hard, roaring his name.

He didn't stop moving though, fingers dragging out her climax until her legs shook and she was no longer able to form words.

Finally, he pulled back and licked his hand clean, eyes never leaving hers.

Her chest heaved against his. She lossed and hand and reached for his length.

He shook his head. "No, no. I don't want that from you-not now."

"What do you want?" She barely recognized her own voice. Her walls were gone, crumbled beneath his gaze.

He opened her legs wider, guiding them around his waist. "Yes?"

"Yes." She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed his lips.

They spent the day in bed, tangled in each other. There were no whispered nothings or hollow promises. Just the feeling of his body and the feeling of hers.

Nesta ran her hands through her hair, exhaustion wearing her down to the bone.

Cassian stood, reaching for his pants. He paused for a moment, hands on the buckle, bathed in the glow of the sunset. His wings were spread behind him, tattoos striking against the tanned muscle.

Nesta was thoroughly enjoying the view until he said, "I spoke with Rhys and Feyre this morning. We discussed some… things."

"Oh?" She propped her head on a hand, a sinking feeling settling in her gut. "Discussions" with the High Lord and Lady rarely ended well.

Cassian looked over his shoulder at her and his face was a mask of stone, covering any emotion she had hoped might be there. "I'm sending you back to Velaris. Alone."

She thought her heart might have stopped.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The Inner Circle came the next morning. Nesta didn't bother to hide.

She marched up to her sister, eyes like living flame. Behind her, she knew his brothers each put a hand on Cassian's shoulder. For comfort of restraint, she didn't care.

Cassian's gaze was like a sword in her back.

Nesta glanced over her shoulder only once before she grabbed Feyre's hand and they winnowed away.