Why she was so terrified to show Feyre her work, Theia didn't know. Her hands shook around the canvas as she and Nyx walked out of the studio. Would she be angry they had gone in there? Was Feyre saving this canvas for something special? Theia's mind spun with worry. Nyx led her down the corridor towards the entryway of the estate. Theia brought one hand to Nyx's arm and held herself against him, instantly feeling the calmness he drew from her.
Of course, Feyre was walking from the sitting room to the dining room, crossing in front of the corridor they walked down. Nyx called out to his mother, making her slow and blink down at them. Theia couldn't believe how she dressed so unlike a High Lady. Feyre was in a pair of cut pants, in shorts, the fabric gapping around her thighs. It looked like she wore one of Rhysand's lounging shirts and her long hair was braided over one shoulder. A wide smile danced over Feyre's lips as she turned to them.
"There you two are. I thought you'd never come inside," she laughed, glancing between them. Her eyes dropped to the canvas in Theia's hand and suddenly, a distant memory that had been wedged so far in Theia's mind came to the forefront. Theia had been a child, Penelope was still alive but their father was not. Maia had already been a shell of a female then, but not as bad as she had become when Penelope died.
She remembered that she had taken a scrap of fabric and made a dress for the wooden doll Penelope had given her. It was messy, unevenly cut, and far too big for the doll, but Theia had been so proud. It was her first creation without the help of her sister. Theia had ran to her mother, who was standing in the drab kitchen with a glass of whiskey to her lips. She remembered Penelope telling her that Mama had bought it with their last coin for the month.
Theia had shouted to her mother, who had flinched at the loud noise and glared down at her. She didn't speak often at this stage, but more often then she had later on. Theia had held out her dress, a bright smile on her face, just for Maia to pluck it from her hand. She grimaced, looking over the dress as she took a drink of the whiskey. Then she had scoffed, pulled out the small scissors, and snipped it in half.
That memory hadn't come to Theia's mind in centuries. Perhaps she had hid it away when it had happened, but it terrified her now. She thought Feyre might hate the sketch, she might rip the canvas or laugh in Theia's face. Her hand shook as she held it out, nearly forgetting to speak.
"I was hoping you'd paint this for me. I am not quite skilled with paints like you," Theia murmured as Feyre took the canvas. She held it up, lips parted as her eyes scanned the canvas, and then Nyx. Theia's heart pounded.
"Of course I will. This is incredible, Theia. I've never seen Nyx depicted like this. He never smiles for me when I do portraits," Feyre laughed. Theia forced a smile but the fear of an ungrateful mother was still at the forefront.
"Thank you," she whispered. Feyre lowered the canvas and offered Theia a bright smile.
"I'll go put it in the studio and lay out the paints. Tomorrow we can sit together and you can tell me any specific things you'd like done to it," Feyre explained, glancing to Nyx before she slid past them and down the hall. Theia let out a heavy breath, leaning into Nyx more. He tucked his arm against his stomach to bring her in, leaning down to kiss her hair.
"Are you alright?"
Theia nodded. "It made me remember a time that my mother destroyed something I had made. I felt afraid, but it's ridiculous. Feyre would never do that, I'm just being foolish," she responded softly.
"Memories can haunt us at any time. It's not foolish, it's just your mind trying to protect you," Nyx answered. Her eyes lifted to him, her cheek pressed against his arm. He shot her a quick smile before nudging her forward and leading her into the dining room. Theia almost felt disappointed to leave his arm as they walked to the table, which Rhysand already was sat at. He, too, wore lounging clothes.
"You two look like a mess," he mused, a brow raised. Theia's cheeks flushed as she remembered her muddy gown and certainly disastrous hair. Nyx dropped into the seat beside his father, grabbing the plate from the spot to his right and loading it with vegetables and roasted chicken. Theia sat down, watching Nyx's hands move as he filled her plate. Finally, he laid a roll of bread on the top and sat it in front of her. It was enough food to happily fill both Rhysand and Nyx, but Theia felt hungry enough to finish it and more.
"We were in the garden all afternoon and then spent some time in mother's studio," Nyx explained as he filled his own plate. Rhysand leaned back with a hum, his eyes on Nyx's plate as he took a bite of the vegetables.
"How was the rain, Theia? I'm sure you haven't seen much of it before," the High Lord continued, glancing at her over the rim of his wine glass. Theia picked up her cutlery.
"I enjoyed it. It was refreshing, beautiful even." Rhysand nodded in agreement, his eyes lighting up as Feyre walked in. He sent his mate a smile as she dropped into the seat to his left, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before diving into her food.
The meal was surprisingly serene. Theia had expected to feel on edge after her past with this family, but it was warm and full of jokes and smiles. As Theia finished the last bite of food, her stomach pressing into the tight fabric of the gown, her find moved to the rest of the family. Cassian, Azriel, Nesta, Mor. She hadn't soothed the tension between any of them. Gods, she wasn't even sure who the tension was with. Of course, it didn't matter in this moment, but it still ate at her nerves.
Her eyes were heavy when Nyx was finished with his meal. Theia had drank at least two glasses of wine and it fed into her already growing exhaustion. They all bid their good night and Nyx took Theia's hand to help her from her chair. She gave him a grateful smile, tucking her body into his side as they walked to his room. She thought it was strange how happy she felt. Her mind and body felt light, her heart beat steadily, her lips formed smiles easier. She was used to having a constant weight on her chest and shoulders, never finding a reason to smile. It was almost frightening how quickly it changed.
Nyx opened his bedroom door and led Theia to the bathing chamber. She grinned as he unlaced her gown and pulled down her body. Her skin warmed when she watched him strip his own clothes off and start the bath. There was something surreal about finding comfort in a person that she had hated not too long ago. She loved him, she loved him. It was all too real now; the touch of his skin on hers, the heat of his breath, the way her name on his lips made her nose sting.
Nyx settled in the tub and Theia was between his large thighs. He washed her hair, and then she turned her body around and washed his. The weight of her childhood and trauma lifted as she watched the suds run from his midnight hair. The suffocating depths of her sorrow washed down the drain just as the mud and soap did in the tub. When Nyx lifted Theia onto his hips and carried her to the bed, they didn't care about drying off.
He laid her down and hovered over her, lips curving into a half smile as they traced her own. Her hands slid up the carved muscle of his torso, gliding over the hills of muscle on his chest. Theia felt real. She'd been a ghost of a female coasting through centuries of a torturing past and overwhelming sadness, and now, in this moment, she was real. Nyx was real. His body and hers, their minds alike. The emotions hung in the air like tangible threads between them.
Nyx kissed her in such a gentle way. Theia never thought a warrior like him could ever move with such grace and softness. She tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and the whispers of his love on his lips. Her skin sang as he mouthed his love for her against the column of her throat and his fingers danced over the plush skin of her belly.
"I love you, Nyx," Theia spoke through a rush of her breath, back arching as his fingers dipped to where she desperately wanted him. He smiled against her throat, teeth nipping at the skin.
"I'll never tire of hearing those words from your pretty lips," Nyx cooed before kissing the hollow of her throat and moving down. One finger pumped into her, and then two, and his lips were on her breast. Nyx was skilled with his body and mouth, better than anyone had ever done to her. Theia had countless males touch her before, but Nyx somehow made it all the better. Maybe it was his words, or perhaps the emotions tied within. This wasn't a desperation to feel something other than the hollow sensation that plagued her, but simply a show of their love for one another.
Theia parted her lips as his tongue flicked her pebbled breast and his fingers drove deeper. She opened them in a moan, but words tumbled out. "I thought I loved you back then," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut when his thumb connected with the sensitive spot. "But I think it had been out of desperation. It's been long enough, and I love you. I love you now like never before."
Nyx pulled his mouth from her breast but he didn't slow his hand. Pressure built in her lower belly, her teeth grinding as he carried her closer to the edge.
"I hold that same truth," he murmured. Theia peeled her eyes open, crying out as his fingers curled deep within her. She met his lowered gaze, his tongue running over his lips. "I've fallen for you harder this time around. I crave you in every moment. I want to see that pretty smile and hear that beautiful laugh constantly. I want to hear you moan my name, only my name, and I want to be yours."
She felt herself clench around his fingers, her hips meeting the thrust of his hand as her fingers curled around his hair. He was far better at speaking his mind. She could only show him how she felt, but he spoke it so well. Nyx mouth met hers again as she crumbled. His fingers slowed, rising her through the high as she moaned against his tongue.
Even when the touches grew rough, her leg draped over his shoulder with his hand around her throat, Theia felt the rush of his words. Her eyes stung with tears as he held her gaze, thrusting into her hard enough for the bed to slam against the wall. His thumb pushed her chin up, his tongue tracing her throat as they both slammed into the oblivion of pleasure. Theia was sure she had cried out his name as he moaned against her skin, but when his hips stilled inside of her and kissed her until she couldn't breathe, she knew the words that left his swollen lips.
"I want you to marry me."