A Court of Silver Flames (A Court of Thorns and Roses #4) by Sarah J. Maas

“Eris is the brute,” she shot back. “He is a brute and a piece of shit. And I would marry him, because I am just like him!”

The words echoed through the room.

His pained face gutted her. “I deserve Eris.” Her voice cracked.

Cassian panted, his eyes still lit with fury—and now with shock.

Nesta said hoarsely, “You are good, Cassian. And you are brave, and brilliant, and kind. I could kill anyone who has ever made you feel less than that—less than what you are. And I know I’m a part of that group, and I hate it.” Her eyes burned, but she fought past it. “You are everything I have never been, and will never be good enough for. Your friends know it, and I have carried it around with me all this time—that I do not deserve you.”

The fury slid from his face.

Nesta didn’t stop the tears that flowed, or the words that tumbled out. “I didn’t deserve you before the war, or afterward, and I certainly don’t now.” She let out a low, broken laugh. “Why do you think I shoved you away? Why do you think I wouldn’t speak to you?” She put a hand on her aching chest. “After my father died, after I failed in so many ways—denying myself of you …” She sobbed. “It was my punishment. Don’t you understand that?” She could barely see him through her tears. “From the moment I met you, I wanted you more than reason. From the moment I saw you in my house, you were all I could think about. And it terrified me. No one had ever held such power over me. And I am still terrified that if I let myself have you … it will be taken away. Someone will take it away, and if you’re dead …” She buried her face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I do not deserve you, and I never, ever will.”

Utter silence filled the room. Such silence that she wondered if he’d left, and lowered her hands to see if he was there.

Cassian stood before her. Tears streaming down his beautiful, perfect face.

She didn’t balk from it, letting him see her like this: her most raw, most base self. He’d always seen all of her, anyway.

He opened his mouth and tried to speak. Had to swallow and try again.

Nesta saw all the words in his eyes, though. The same ones she knew lay in her own.

So he stopped trying to speak, and closed the distance between them. Slid a hand into her hair, the other going around her waist and tugging her against him. He said nothing as he dipped his head, mouth brushing the tears sliding along one of her cheeks. Then the other.

She closed her eyes, letting herself savor his lips on her over-hot skin, the way his breath caressed her cheek. Each gentle kiss echoed those words she’d seen in his eyes.

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.

The kiss was punishing and exalting, thorough and frenzied, a claiming and a yielding. She had no words for it. She flung her arms around him, pressing as close as she could get, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke.

He growled and nudged her back toward the bed, his mouth devouring and tasting and saying everything she couldn’t yet voice, but one day, maybe soon, she could. For him, she’d fight to find the courage to say it.

The backs of her legs hit the mattress, and he broke their kiss to attend to their clothes.

She expected tearing and rending. But he gently removed her dress, fingers trembling as they unhooked each button down the back of her gown. Her own trembled as she removed his shirt.

Then they were naked, and staring at each other again with those unspoken words in their eyes, and she let him lay her upon the bed. Let him climb atop her.

There was nothing rough or wild about what followed.

She didn’t want his head between her legs. Didn’t even want his fingers. When he slid one down the center of her, she let him feel that she was ready and then took his hand, interlacing their fingers as her other wrapped around his cock and guided him toward her.

He nudged at her entrance, and then halted. His eyes met hers.

And then Cassian kissed her deeply as he slid home.

She gasped. Not at the fullness of having him inside her—but at that thing in her chest. The thing that thundered and beat wildly as he looked at her again, slid out nearly to the tip, and thrust back in.

On that second thrust, the thing in her chest—her heart … On that second thrust, it yielded entirely to him.

On his third, he kissed her again.

On the fourth, Nesta twined her arms around his head and neck and held him there as she kissed and kissed and kissed him.

On the fifth, the walls of that inner fortress of ancient iron came down. Cassian pulled away, as if sensing it, and his eyes flared as they met her own.

But he kept moving in her, making love to her thoroughly, unhurriedly. So Nesta let all that lay beyond those iron walls unspool toward him. Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful.