Nephele
Sitting in Eris' lap was a mistake. The feeling of him beneath me... the feeling of all of him beneath me... it was immeasurably distracting. And it was dangerously familiar. Dangerously tempting. If I'm not careful, I'll let myself be poisoned again.
Which is precisely why the festivities Feyre suggested we all have tonight in light of my attendance were such a bad idea. Normally, Eris arrives for a meeting over dinner with the inner circle, leaning shortly after, but now, we'd be staying later, dancing the night away in the court of nightmares.
I have no business dancing with Eris, but I absolutely must if I'm to look in anyway like I like him the way I've pretended. Even when it runs so much deeper than that. Already, I was addicted to him like a drug, and history would suggest that dancing with him seldom helped the problem. It had been when we danced at our wedding that I had kissed him for the first and last time of my own accord, not because I felt compelled to in order to save face, not because I begged him to make my first kiss magical, not because the priestess said he could kiss the bride. It was purely because I couldn't resist the impulse. I'm not sure if the kiss meant the same thing to him, but either way, it doesn't matter now. It only means that dancing with him is going to be a bad idea.
I take a confidence shot from a tray some terrifying man is carrying around for all the guests, letting my body relax and melt, trying not to cough at the burn in my throat. "Thirsty?" A voice teases from beside me. Cassian.
I roll my eyes, gesturing to the fully stocked bar. "Such divine refreshments demand to be reveled in, don't you think?"
"I knew I liked you," he grins crookedly. "Which why I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you for how you spoke to Rhys. I must admit, sometimes, I have this insufferable older brother instinct over him and Feyre- which is only magnified by my position as general."
I chuckle quietly. "I get it. I always wanted siblings growing up. Closest I'll get is Lucien- which I suppose is a good deal," I consider.
"Lucien is a good male," Cassian agrees. "It's a shame we don't see him more often- with his mate's indifference and all."
Yes, I had heard only briefly about Lucien's mate, but I could tell enough that things didn't exactly work out for him. It could break my heart. "Who is she?" I ask Cassian. "I don't mean to pry- I only ask because he doesn't talk about her much."
"I understand," Cassian says, leaning against the bar, sipping his ale. "I can't imagine what it must be like for him," he shivers. "Lucien's mate is the sister of my mate, the sister of the high lady."
I gasp softly. "Really?"
Cassian nods solemnly. "I'm surprised Eris hadn't told you."
I shrug casually. "It felt rude to pry him for information about his brother. He never mentioned that she was a woman so powerful as to be related to the High Lady."
Cassian snorts. "No, it isn't that she's powerful or high in status," he explains. "She's just uninterested, hung up on her human ex. She's awfully quiet and reserved as is, hard to grab the interest of- I suppose."
"Still," I swallow. "Lucien is a great guy. I imagine any woman would be lucky to have him as her mate."
Cassian shrugs again. "I don't believe he's the problem," he replies. "But I shouldn't speak ill of my sister in law."
I frown. "You don't get along?"
"It's not that," Cassian clarifies. "She's alright- boring if I'm being honest. My mate, Nesta... she was going through things after the war how we all were. Initially, I had seen Lucien's mate, Elain, as kind if quiet. But I think- with her- people tend to mistake her silence for poise."
I nod, knowing precisely what he means. "It's hard to like someone who wasn't kind to someone you love," I reply, understanding. "Even if it would seem that everyone else loves them."
"Funny enough, my mate is the main reason I walked over to speak with you," he chuckles, setting his ale onto the bar. "She and two other women lead a small legion of women called the Valkyries."
That clicks in my head. "Yes, I recall Eris mentioning them to me."
"She had heard your story from meetings with the inner circle- that had sprung an idea in her head that she'd want to meet you. Maybe train with you for a few sessions, just to make acquaintance," he explains, pride beaming in his eyes. I'm already in. I'd love to meet whatever woman is capable of making this big Illyrian general a massive softy.
I consider for a second, thinking of Cress, thinking of how we could both use some friends besides her cousin. I look back up at Cassian. "Can I bring a friend?"
...
"You've been avoiding me," Eris says from behind me, startling me from my seat. I scowl over my shoulder.
"And that surprises you because...?"
"Because I'm a hopeful fool," he waves his hand as if the statement were insignificant. "Would you dance with me, Sweetheart? At least for the good of appearances."
I scoff, taking his hand. "Don't call me that," I say grumpily, letting him lead me to the dance floor. He raises a brow.
"But you used to love when I called you that," he whines, smiling over at me. "It used to fluster you something fierce."
I narrow my eyes. "You lost your right," I reply. "But keep taunting me. See if I won't stay home next Tuesday and leave you to this court alone."
He smiles then, tucking a curl behind my ear. "You won't do that," he says quietly, his eyes admiring. "You missed the politics too much, the thrill you get from manipulating a situation into your favor. And I think you feel just as disappointed to see your talent wasted at home like the homemaker your mother groomed you to be. You were always more than that."
Now, he flatters me. I can't peg his game. I can't figure out what he's trying to do, how he's trying to win my favor back. I can't imagine why he'd even wish to be friends again. Our friendship seemed so disposable when he left me in bed two months ago, knowing I'd never forgive him.
I think his plan might just be to confuse me with my own feelings until I can't remember why I'm even angry. Why else would he be running his fingers up the ridge of my abdomen with a seemingly absent mind as he stares into my eyes, a soft and lost smile on his lips? He must know I feel too many things for him that I'm afraid to put into words. Too many things that I cannot justify, let alone quantify.
"What did Cassian talk to you about?" He dips me, curiosity flashing in his eyes in the same measure as jealousy. He so hates to see me with others like I might love them how I loved him. So territorial.
I should lie and say he flirted with me, just to drive him crazy. Just to dish some dishonesty back. "He told me how his mate would like to meet me," I say instead, deciding I probably shouldn't care about enticing his jealousy. "Cress and I are invited to join them for training this Thursday."
There's a proud look in his eye which is quickly replaced with dread. "What?"
"Nesta isn't my biggest fan," he admits. "And I feel that if I tell you why, you won't be either."
I roll my eyes. "Because you're on my good side now?" I raise a sarcastic brow, and he shrugs, conceding.
"I may have asked her to marry me last year," he sighs casually, and I think I stop breathing, blinking dumbly at him. "In my full defense, I seemed to be the only one who would acknowledge that she was Cassian's mate, and I only ever planned to use her as leverage against night."
My mind goes blank for a second, and I'm not sure what to think. "I suppose that makes sense, though it's twisted even for you," I admit despite myself. "Exactly how many women have you proposed to before me?"
He chuckles quietly. "Just the two," he winks. "Third time is the charm."
"Right," I reply hollowly as the song begins to pick up. I could groan at the change in tune, knowing the style of dance will change with it.
The beat turns more sensual, and I could turn into goo as Eris trails behind me, his arm snaking around my waist as I swallow hard. His chest is warm against my spine as he pulls our joined hands skyward, his breath tickling my neck. "Your heart is beating really fast," he whispers against my throat, kissing my pulse. My eyes flutter shut.
"That's what hatred will do to you," I reply breathlessly, glad he can't see my face.
He chuckles, the sound absorbing into my skin, heating my blood as he presses closer against me, his hips against my backside. I don't give him the satisfaction of gasping, but I can't help my slight squirm. "You don't hate me, do you Sweetheart?"
I turn a fiery glare over my shoulder at him as he whips my chest to his, my breasts pressed against his bare skin in his open shirt. "You're right- I do hate you," I sneer up at him, training my face in a sweet smile for the benefit of appearances. "Hating you would imply that I care at all anymore to feel anything about you." The lie is dirty, though it tastes like soap on my tongue, bitter and lingering, but it's worth it to see his face look stricken before he fixes it in favor of an impassive expression, staring through my eyes as we dance until morning.