Then silence fell, exquisite and serene, and Cassian remained buried in her, staring down at her with wonder and joy in his face.
Nesta reached up to kiss him.
One kiss led to another and another, and hunger rose like the tide within her, between them. And then Cassian was moving in her again, faster and harder, and time ceased to exist once more.
Hours later, days and weeks and months and millennia later, when they were both finally spent, when their souls had cleaved together entirely, Cassian pulled out of her and collapsed against the bed.
Nesta could hardly remember words. But she found them when she whispered into the darkness, “Stay with me.”
A shudder rocked through him, but he only smiled as he tucked her into his side.
And warm and safe and home at last in Cassian’s arms, Nesta slept.
CHAPTER
59
Nesta opened her eyes.
She knew she was warm and content, though it took her a moment to remember the reason. To realize she was still in Cassian’s arms. She reveled in it. Savored each breath that brushed against her temple, felt the press of his fingers along her lower back. A calm settled over her, strikingly similar to what she felt when she did her daily Mind-Stilling.
Cassian awoke soon after, giving her a sleepy, sated smile. It softened into something tender, and for long minutes, they lay there, staring at each other, Cassian idly brushing his hand down her back. Caressing soon turned to more fervent touching, and as the dawn broke, they tangled again, their lovemaking thorough and unhurried.
When she again lay sweating and panting beside him, running a finger down the groove of his muscled stomach, Nesta murmured, “Good morning.”
Cassian’s fingers idly smoothed her hair. “Good morning to you, too.” He glanced toward the mantel—the small wooden clock in its center, then lurched upright. “Shit.”
Nesta frowned. “You have somewhere to be?” He was already hopping into his pants, scanning the floor for the rest of his clothes. Nesta silently pointed to the other side of the bed, where his shirt lay atop her dress.
“Snowball fight. I’ll be late.”
Nesta had to unload each word of his statement. But she could only ask, “What?”
“Annual tradition, with Rhys and Az. We go up to the mountain cabin—remind me to take you there one day—and … Well, it’s a long story, but we’ve done it pretty much every year for centuries, and I haven’t won in years. If I don’t win this year, I will never hear the end of it.” All of this was said while shoving himself into his shirt, leather jacket, and boots.
Nesta just laughed. “You three—the most feared warriors in all the land—have an annual snowball fight?”
Cassian reached the door, throwing her a wicked grin. “Did I mention we take a steam in the birchin attached to the cabin afterward?”
From that wicked grin, she knew he meant completely naked. Nesta sat up, hair sliding over her breasts. His eyes dipped lower, a muscle pounding in his neck. For a heartbeat she hoped he’d lunge for her again. Indeed, his nostrils flared, scenting the need that boiled in her just at the sight of his gaze roving freely over her body, the way every part of him tensed.
But Cassian swallowed, grin and wickedness fading as he cleared his throat. “After the fight, I need to do a comprehensive inspection of the legions in Illyria for a few days. I’ll be back after that.”
Without so much as a farewell kiss, he vanished.
Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile. But he didn’t object when she brought her Symphonia to the ring each morning for some extra motivation while exercising. The priestesses had marveled at the gift, a few of them dancing to the music, but Nesta had only been able to think about how much time and effort Cassian had put into it. How he had known what such a present would mean to her.
Her entire body ached with need, setting her teeth on edge. Three days without him might as well have been three months. She’d become desperate enough for him that her hand now slid between her legs in the bath, in bed, even during lunch in her room. But release left her empty, as if her body knew it needed him in her, filling her. She’d asked Azriel every day when he’d be back, and Azriel had only said, Soon, before conducting their lessons.
Maybe she’d gone mad. Maybe that was what that iron wall around her mind had been—the thing that kept her sanity in check. Surely it wasn’t normal to think of a person this much, need them this much.