A Court of Curse and Roses; acotar

𝕴𝖑𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓

ACOWAR;

As he thrusts into me one final time, unleashing himself with a roar, I know that he doesn't love me.

Perhaps one day. But not today.

He pulls out of me with a grunt.

I don't mind that he hardly lets me finish. He still makes me feel good. And nothing makes me happier than seeing him release everything, all his stresses, his worries, into me. 

A warm, summer breeze kisses my still-tingling skin. It carries with it the scent of our fused bodies. Shadows dance over his scarred, tanned skin, and I can't help but run a hand across the male's sculpted back. 

The Illyrian looks across at me and gives me a small, satiated smirk. And for a moment, his armor cracks, and I see a glimpse of the sadness plaguing him. I understand his loneliness too well. It is what ties us together, the consistency that brings him back to my cottage night after night. 

Before I can say anything, the Illyrian climbs up and off my bed. 

The wooden frame creaks beneath his weight. He shakes out his wide wings as he tugs up his trousers. 

I watch him, not bashful as I was once, as he gathers the strewn belongings from my bedroom floor. His head almost hits the wooden roof as he stretches to his full height. His muscles, forged from the agonizing training Illyrians do, ripple with power and strength as he stands. My cottage is dwarfed with him in it. 

I sit up and brush back my long hair. My fingers brush through the tangled, brown knots. 

I try not to sound disappointed as I ask him, "Going so soon?" Quietly, I add, "We didn't even make it to the table, "

The Illyrian sheaths his sword and shoots me a look. 

"Perhaps another time, " he grunts, though he doesn't give me his usual mischievous smirk.

I spare a look at my kitchen table and memories flood my mind. Rough lovemaking. Bodies starving for each other's touch as though we hadn't seen each other in centuries. As though we were the only two bodies that could make each other feel good.

The Illyrian rolls back his shoulders. He lets out a sigh. Lines crease his forehead and he is fast to redress; his shirt goes on almost as fast as it was torn off. Something is troubling him. His frame ripples with tension and his wings are taut.

There has been an unspoken tension between us since he returned from Hybern. He refused to tell me what was bothering him, so I took him in my mouth instead. His grumbles had soon taken to moans and his face had filled with bliss. I knew I had given him what he needed, what he always needed. But still, the tension between us has lingered.

I get to my feet, letting the sheets fall off my body, and place a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs away from my touch. His dark eyes peer down at me. They are unreadable.

I have seen everything in the eyes of my lovers; fear, mercy, pity, but nobody looks at me the way he does. It often tastes like desperate disdain. Lately, it feels like a thousand secrets.

"Cassian," I murmur.

"We have to stop doing this Persephone," Cassian says, "These visits aren't beneficial for either of us, "

I want to disagree but his harsh tone tells me he is not in the spirit of an argument. I never triumph when we bicker.

But what do I expect when I argue with Cassian? He is the General Commander of the Night Court armies. He is as unmovable as the rainbow bridge. 

Instead, I throw myself back onto my bed. 

I huff. 

"You know you feel better after we've fucked, Cassian," I expose my naked body and raise my eyebrows, "Do not try to deny it,"

His expression shifts. His lips turn down. 

He bends his head and frowns at the ceiling. 

"I must go now, Persephone," Cassian declares, "Rhysand has summoned me for a meeting. Urgently." He shrugs on his armor and despite his stoic expression, his siphons hum and glow.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's been bothering you?"

Cassian glances at me and his handsome face remains blank. "Nothing is bothering me," he growls through gritted teeth.

"You don't need to lie to me Cassian, you're siphons haven't stopped glowing since you came back from Hybern,"

A pained look crosses Cassian's face. He is silent for a moment before he shakes his head. End of conversation. I won't pry further.

He turns to me and gives me a long foreboding look. "I'm sorry Persephone, but I do have to go," Cassian repeats. He stares at me for a moment before his brown eyes soften, "I'll see you shortly, I'm sure." 

He doesn't spare me a kiss, or a glance, as he strides to the open window. He ducks out it in a fury of bitterness and soars into the evening air. 

I sigh as I watch him disappear into the sky. The musk scent of him still lingers on my pillows.

I have laid with many Illyrians, but I have never felt the fire that fumes between Cassian and me. My mind is at peace when I am with him. The loneliness in my heart softens into a dull ache when he kisses me. 

Many years ago, I prayed that the Cauldron would bless me with a mate such as Cassian. He is a proud, loyal Illyrian, handsome and wonderful in bed. I begged that on one fateful day, the mating bond would click between us. 

But lesser fae like me receive no such blessings. 

We must fight for what we want - and fight even harder to keep what we have. 

I breathe in his scent, at least I can savor him while I have him.

My body aches as I force myself from my bed. Sleepy and aching, I blow out the array of sweet-smelling candles I lit earlier. 

I brush my hand over the mantlepiece as I look around my humble home. 

Even now, I still admire the beauty of this small, unsightly cottage. Cassian was the one to gift me this home - a flimsy, brick cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, next to the Sidra River. 

I had been an orphan, forced to sell my body in Hewn City when I first laid eyes on Cassian. He materialized at the end of an alleyway I had been cornered into. The moon at his back illuminated him. He looked like a winged gift from the Cauldron itself. A savior. He rescued me from the pack of groveling high-fae males. He took me to Velaris, found me a job as a maid for the Inner Circles townhouse, and gave me this small cottage.

I was so grateful that I couldn't help but smile every time I saw him. Smiling turned into flirting, contorted into whatever it is that we are now. 

I pick up my lingerie and pout, he should have torn it off of me. I had it picked out, the same shade of red as his siphons. A few months ago, he would have torn it off. But lately, I only see him in fleeting moments, in which he wants only one type of release from me. 

And of course, I oblige him, again and again.

I blow out the final candle and am plunged into hushed darkness. I lie back down on my bed and watch the sky outside of the window Cassian flew out of.

As I begin to drift off to sleep, I swear the all-knowing stars wink at me.