Nearby, a distinctly male snort of derision sounded.
“Go eavesdrop on someone else, Yeran,” Borte snapped toward her betrothed. But the Berlad captain only answered back, “A fine commander you are, mooning over the Fae like a doe-eyed girl.”
Borte rolled her eyes. “When they teach me their killing techniques and I use them to wipe you off the map at our next Gathering, you can tell me all about my mooning.”
The handsome captain stormed over from his own ruk, and Nesryn ducked her head to hide her smile, finding herself immensely interested in brushing Salkhi’s brown feathers. “You’ll be my wife then, according to your bargain with my hearth-mother,” he said, crossing his arms. “It would be unseemly for you to kill your own husband in the Gathering.”
Borte smiled with poisoned sweetness at her betrothed. “I’ll just have to kill you some other time, then.”
Yeran grinned back, the portrait of wicked amusement. “Some other time, then,” he promised.
Nesryn didn’t fail to note the light that gleamed in the captain’s eyes. Or the way Borte bit her lip, just barely, her breath hitching.
Yeran leaned in to whisper something in Borte’s ear that made the girl’s eyes widen. And apparently stunned her enough that when Yeran prowled to his ruk, the portrait of swaggering arrogance, Borte blushed furiously and returned to cleaning her ruk.
“Don’t ask,” she muttered.
Nesryn held up her hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He stood in the middle of the street when our cars pulled away on that sunny afternoon. He stood there, motionless, and watched us go, and when his figure was finally swallowed up by the space between us, I turned back around in my seat. Caught my heart as it fell out of my chest.
My phone buzzed.
don't give up on me, he wrote.
And i never did.

"He's so polite", my mother kept saying to me. "Why aren't you polite ? what did we do wrong?" She looked at Ocean. "Ocean, azizam", she said, "please tell Shirin she should stop swearing so much."
Ocean almost lost it for a second. I saw him about to laugh, hard, and he stifled it just in time.
I shot him a look.
My mom was still talking. She was saying, "It's always asshole this, bullshit that. I say to her, Shirin joon, why are you so obsessed with shit? Why everything is shit?"
"Jesus Christ, Ma", I said.
"Leave Jesus out of it," she said, and pointer the wooder spoon at me before using it to hit me in the back of the head.
"Oh my God," I said, waving her away. "Stop it."
My mom sighed dramatically. "You see?" she said. She was talking to Ocean now. "No respect."

He, of course, very politely took my parents' side, insisting that he didn't mind, and my mother asked him again if he wanted more tea and he said no, thank you, and she poured him more tea anyway, and she asked him if he wanted more food and he said no, thank you, and she filled four large Tupperware containers with leftovers and stacked them in front of him.

"Wait, I don't understand one thing–why would you ditch class with a guy who thinks you don't exist?"
I shook my head. Sighed. "Different guy," I said.
My brither raised his eyebrows. "Different guy?" He glanced at his friends. "You three hearing this shit ? Shed says it was a different guy."
Carlo laughed.
"These kids grow up fast," Jacobi said.
Bijan grinned at me and said, "Damn girl."
"Oh my God", I said, squeezing my eyes shut. "Shut up, all of you. You're being ridiculous."

It was such a simple thing. It was a quiet, completely momentaneous moment. The world didn't stop turning ; birds didn't suddenly start singing. Obviously I'd seen his eyes before. But somehow, suddenly, it was like I was seeing them for the first time. And somehow, suddenly, I couldn't stop staring at his face. Something fluttered against my heart. I felt my armor begin to break.
He had really beautiful eyes.

I wanted you to fight for me. I wanted you to do the ridiculous werewolf mating thing, where you bring me food, and flirt with me, and growl at any other male who tries to hit on me. I had these ridiculous fantasies of you dramatically showing up out of nowhere.

He leaned back an inch. A slow smile stretched his, lips but there was no humor in it. It looked harsh and bitter. “Well, look at that. The illustrious Julie Olsen remembered my name.”
Cold drenched me. “You knew.”
“Yes.”
It had to have been the blood armor. “Since when?”
“Since the beginning. I saw you ride into the city.”
“How? My face is different; my scent is different.”
He leaned closer, his lips almost touching my ear. “I don’t need to see your face or smell you. I could tell it was you by the way you rode your horse.”
My brain screeched to a halt.

He did not move. Not an inch.
His dark eyes met hers. There was no fear in them.
Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you. The fearless Balruhni woman in Adarlan’s empire. Neith’s Arrow. And I knew …”
Nesryn sobbed, tugging and tugging.
Sartaq smiled at her—gently. Sweetly. In a way she had not yet seen.
“I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said.

Yeran nodded gravely, a soldier receiving an order from a commander—a captain ordered by his prince. Then he looked over to Borte.
She gave him a vulgar gesture.
Yeran only winked at her before he whistled to his ruk and shot into the skies, leaving a mighty breeze behind that set Borte’s braids swinging.
Borte watched Yeran until he was sailing toward the mass of the others, then spat on the ground where his ruk had stood. “Bastard,” she hissed, and whirled,
storming to Nesryn and Falkan.
“That young captain, Yeran,” Falkan said carefully to Borte. “You seem to know him well.”
Borte scowled. “He’s my betrothed.”

Yrene’s eyes shot right to them, dancing over him. “Are you capable of using your manhood?”
He tried not to flinch. Even Nesryn blinked at the frank question.
“Yes,” he said tightly, fighting the heat rising in his cheeks.
She looked between them, assessing. “Have you used it to completion?”
He clenched his jaw. “How is that relevant?” And how had she gleaned what was between them?
Yrene only wrote something down.
“What are you writing?” he demanded, cursing the damned chair for keeping him from storming to rip the paper out of her hands.
“I’m writing a giant no.”
Which she then underlined.

But he’d take his time. Enjoy every moment, as he had told her to do.
Because this would be his last hunt. He had no intention of wasting each glorious moment in one go.

Manon smirked at Lorcan.
“Your claim on her, male, is at the very bottom of the list.”
Iron teeth slid out, turning that beautiful face petrifying. Lorcan didn’t let go. Manon crooned in that way that usually meant death,
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
“You don’t give me orders, witch,” Lorcan said. “And you have no say in what is between us.”
Elide frowned at him. “You’re making it worse.”
“We like to call it ‘territorial male nonsense,’” Aelin confided. “Or ‘territorial Fae bastard’ works just as nicely.”
The Fae Prince coughed pointedly behind her.

He yielded a foot but held eye contact with her as he grinned.
“But you know what I told them? I said that they didn’t stand a chance in hell.”
Aedion lowered his voice, holding her pained, exhausted stare. “Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I’ll be generous and let you pick when, even if it’s ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.”

The Blackbeak Matron snapped, “Be done with it, Manon.”
Manon met Sorrel’s eyes, then Asterin’s. And Manon gave the Thirteen her final order.
“Run.”
Then Manon Blackbeak whirled and brought Wind-Cleaver down upon her grandmother.

Cassian’s eyes blazed. “Say it.” She refused. “Say it, Nesta.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ask me why I vanished for nearly a week after Solstice. Why I suddenly had to do an inspection right after a holiday.”
Nesta kept her mouth shut.
“It was because I woke up the next morning and all I wanted to do was fuck you for a week straight. And I knew what that meant, what had happened, even though you didn’t, and I didn’t want to scare you. You weren’t ready for the truth—not yet.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Say it,” Cassian snarled. People gave them a wide berth. Some outright turned back toward the direction they’d come from.
“No.”
His face shuttered with rage even as his voice became calm. “Say it.”
She couldn’t. Not before he’d ordered her to, and certainly not now. She wouldn’t let him win like that.
“Say what I’ve guessed from the moment we met,” he breathed. “What I knew the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night.”
She wouldn’t.
“I am your mate, for fuck’s sake!” Cassian shouted, loud enough for people across the river to hear. “You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?”

Cassian pulled back, and remained that way long enough that she opened her eyes again to find his face inches from her own. “You’re not going to marry Eris,” he said roughly.
“No,” she breathed.
His eyes blazed. “There will be no one else. For either of us.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Ever,” he promised.
Nesta laid a hand on his muscled chest, letting the thunderous beating of the heart beneath echo into her palm. Let it travel down her arm, into her own chest, her own heart.
“Ever,” she swore.
It was all he needed. All she needed.
Cassian’s mouth met hers, and the world ceased to exist.

Steps scuffed down the hall. A warning. From someone who knew how to remain silent.
Cassian stiffened, then shoved his aching cock into his pants. Nesta heard the sound and moved a few feet away, refastening that top button. Cassian had just finished setting himself to rights when Azriel strode in.
“Good evening,” his brother said with a grating level of calm, striding toward the table.
“Az.” Cassian wasn’t able to keep the bite out of his tone.
He met his brother’s too-aware stare and silently conveyed every bit of annoyance he felt at his timing. Azriel only shrugged, surveying the food the House had brought him. As if he knew exactly what he’d interrupted and took his chaperone duties very seriously.
Nesta was watching them, but as soon as Cassian turned to her, she launched into movement, pushing off the table and aiming for the door. “Good night.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she was gone.
Cassian leveled a glare at Az. “Thanks for that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Az said, even as he smiled down at his food.
“Asshole.”
Az chuckled. “Don’t show your hand all at once, Cass.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Az nodded toward the doorway. “Save something for later.”
“Busybody.”
Az took a bite. “You let her suck your cock in the middle of the dining room. At a table I’m currently using to eat my dinner. I’d say that entitles me to an opinion.”
Cassian laughed, his earlier gloom chased away. By her. All by her. “Fair enough.”

Cassian whispered in her ear, “Do you know what I’m going to think of tonight?”
A small sound must have come out of her, because he grinned as he stepped to the side. Let go of her hand.
The absence of his warmth, his scent, was like a bucket of ice water.
He smiled, nothing but wickedness and challenge. “I’m going to think of that look on your face.” He took another step down the hall. “I’m always thinking of that look on your face.”

Nesta didn’t, couldn’t, move as Cassian leaned to whisper in her ear, “The first time I saw that look on your face, you were still human. Still human, and I nearly went to my knees before you.” His breath caressed the shell of her ear and she couldn’t stop her eyes from fluttering shut. His smile brushed against her temple. “Your power is a song, and one I’ve waited a very, very long time to hear, Nesta.”

“You’re in deep shit,” Azriel said mildly to him on the chilly veranda as Nesta donned her cloak inside.

Cassian shoveled more eggs into his mouth and said around them, “Doesn’t count when you use your hands to do most of the work.”
Nesta schooled her face into utter disdain, even as a hiss rose inside her. “I bet that isn’t what you’ve been telling yourself at night.”
Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Cassian set down his fork, his eyes gleaming with challenge.
Cassian’s voice dropped an octave. “Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it’s only at night?”
It took a heartbeat for the words to settle. And she couldn’t stop it, the heat that sprang to her face, her glance at his powerful hands. Even with Azriel now biting his lip to keep from laughing, she couldn’t stop herself.
Cassian said with a wicked smile, “It could be anytime— dawn’s first light, or when I’m bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.”
She didn’t miss the slight emphasis he put on long, hard.

Her fingers curled once more. She selected her next words like throwing knives. “If you think this training nonsense is going to result in you climbing into my bed, you’re delusional.” She added with a slice of a smile, “I’d sooner let in a mangy street dog.”
“Oh, it’s not going to result in me climbing into your bed.”
Nesta snickered, victory achieved, and had reached the stairs when he crooned, “You’ll climb into mine.”

“Glad to see you woke up ready to play, Nesta.” His voice dropped to a low rumble.
She couldn’t help the thundering of her heart at that voice, the challenge in his eyes, the nearness and size of him. Had never been able to help it. Had once let him nuzzle and lick at her throat because of it.

“You need to get out in the practice ring more, brother,”
Cassian told him, surveying his friend’s powerful body. “Don’t want that mate of yours to find any soft bits.”
“She never finds any soft bits when I’m around her,” Rhys said, and Cassian laughed again.
“Is Feyre going to kick your ass for what you said earlier?”
“I already told the servants to clear out for the rest of the day as soon as you take Nesta up to the House.”
“I think the servants hear you fighting plenty.” Indeed, Feyre had no hesitation when it came to telling Rhys that he’d stepped out of line.
Rhys threw him a wicked smile. “It’s not the fighting I don’t want them hearing.”