Nessian Trash Panda

Elain tries the key on the left of the keychain Nesta had given her, but while it slides in, the lock doesn’t turn. With a frustrated huff, she yanks the key back out. Just her luck, it seems, after the day she’s had. She adjusts her grip to switch to the key on the right when a sound from inside the apartment has her pausing. A giggle. Elain is confident that the last time she ever heard her older sister giggle was when they were both still girls, but there’s no mistaking the sound, nor the low, deep chuckle that follows.

Taking a deep breath and settling her expression into cool neutrality, Elain slides the correct key into the lock and opens the door. Nesta is perched on her kitchen counter, Cassian standing cradled between her thighs and leaning against his hands either side of her hip. The sound of the door has Nesta snapping her attention toward Elain, has her tugging the collar of her tee–or more likely, Cassian’s tee judging by the size–back up and over her shoulder.

“Hey, Elain,” Nesta greets easily, offering a small if not slightly embarrassed smile. “How was the bakery today?”

“It was fine,” Elain dismisses with a shrug, going over to where her bags live and crouching down to root through them aimlessly.

With her back turned, Elain is able to relax her face. She doesn’t have to worry about hiding her pinched lips and cool expression. It’s not that she isn’t happy for Nesta. She is, truly. Even if she’s still not fully sure where Cassian even came from, her sister’s boyfriend seeming to pop up one day and the two of them suddenly in love despite Nesta never mentioning him. Ever. But, it’s clear that her sister is happy, clear that Cassian loves her and respects her, clear that he’s exponentially better than Tomas Mandray ever was. But every time Elain sees the way Cassian looks at Nesta, sees the soft adoration shining in his eyes, it has her heart squeezing painfully between her ribs.

Graysen never looked at her like that.

Perhaps that should have clued her in sooner, should have been a sign of the messy end that was to come. She had just been so sure that Graysen was the one for her, that he was her true love, her soulmate, just like the princess books she read when she was little. But clearly that was an absurd notion, and all that love she held for him only led to her being blind. It only led to her coming home to their apartment and finding Graysen in their bed with his secretary.

The memories rushing back to the forefront of her mind has rage flaring back to life within her. It burns hot on the back of her tongue, sends sparks of red skittering through her veins, and Elain clenches her fists around the fabric in her hands. Fuck Graysen. Fuck him for disrespecting her like that. Fuck him for throwing away everything they had. Fuck him for having the nerve to kick her out of their apartment after what he did.

“Cassian made lasagna for dinner,” Nesta continues, unaware of Elain's tumbling thoughts.

“That’s alright. I have plans with Vassa,” Elain tells her, pulling out a simple sundress from her bag. “Just came back to change first.”

Before Nesta can say anything else, Elain scurries off to the bathroom. Her sister doesn’t need to know that it’s a lie, doesn’t need to know that she has zero interest in being an awkward third wheel. Again. As grateful as she is for Nesta allowing her to crash on her sofa until Elain figures out her own place, spending every night watching her sister and her boyfriend make obvious heart eyes that often lead to obvious heated stares at each other is not exactly Elain’s idea of fun.

Which is why Elain keeps up the pretense of plans with her best friend as she washes the flour from her hair and makes sure the strands fall in soft curls around her shoulders. Why she keeps up the pretense and changes into the sundress she grabbed. Why she keeps up the pretense and waves goodbye to Nesta and Cassian and walks right out the apartment even though she has nowhere to actually go.

The door closes with a soft snick behind Elain, and she lets out a quiet sigh. Now, she just needs actual evening plans. She supposes she could try one of the local bars down the road, but she doesn’t have an interest in listening to cheesy pick-up lines all night. She could text Vassa, maybe give some credibility to her lie, but then she’d just be trading in one third wheeling evening for another.

As Elain continues to contemplate her options, she hears the distinct ding of the elevator doors opening. Not wanting to be caught awkwardly in the hall by one of Nesta’s neighbors, Elain rushes away and pushes open the door to the stairwell, hiding out of sight. She presses her back against the wall and holds her breath, listening and waiting for any sounds out in the hallway. Voices coming from the stairwell just a floor below her have Elain scrambling up the stairs. She rushes up and up until the regular stairs end, until she reaches some sort of winding, rickety looking set of stairs.

Elain had almost forgotten that the apartment complex has roof access. She knew that Nesta was fond of spending time up there. Perhaps the roof could offer Elain the same escape. Testing the first step to make sure it’s actually steady and secure, Elain pads her way up to the large, metal door at the top. It takes a bit of force to get it to open, Elain having to practically throw her entire weight into it, but with a creak of the hinges, the door gives way, and she steps out into the evening air.

A quiet gasp tears its way free from Elain as she takes in her surroundings, the view. The city stretches out all around her, but it’s the sky that truly captures her attention. Streaks of pinks and purples through the clouds, the whole sky a golden orange hue as the sun sets. Elain’s feet are carrying her closer before she knows it, leaning against the western ledge to get a better look.

She reaches for her phone to take a photo, her arm brushing against something cold and hard. Elain looks to her left only to come face to face with a large gargoyle. She almost falls back on her ass as she jumps back and away in alarm. She’s not sure how she didn’t notice the gargoyle before. How she didn’t notice any of the gargoyles. Now that she really takes a look around the roof, she realizes there’s three. It seems odd to have an odd number, but perhaps it’s a lucky number?

Daring to step closer again, Elain takes a better look at the gargoyle facing the sunset. It seems to have some sort of strange carvings into the knees, and with the sun setting in front of it, the gargoyle’s face is cast in shadow in a way that’s almost unnerving. With a shudder, Elain turns away, focusing her attention on the other two gargoyles. The one facing south has large wings stretched behind its back that are just as unnerving, but the one facing east doesn’t look as ominous.

She walks over to the gargoyle and peers up at it, tilting her head as she admires the craftsmanship that must have gone into creating it. The gargoyle has been carved with almost a curtain of hair hanging down to the shoulders, and Elain realizes there’s horns too. She reaches her hand up, following the slightly ridged curve of them where they curl down toward the ears. Her fingers continue to trace a path to the face, to the lines that run like scars from eyebrow to cheek.

For a moment, Elain swears that she can hear a soft sigh on the wind, swears the stone almost seems to shudder beneath her touch. It has Elain snatching her hand back and cradling it to her chest. She spins back around to continue watching the sunset, but as the sun fades fully from view, the shadows and inky darkness of night start to creep in. Even with the full moon coming to life overhead, the darkness presses in from all around, leaving anxiety swirling in her gut.

Elain doesn’t know what it is, but it almost feels like there’s someone watching her, that she’s not alone. She wraps her arms around herself and tries to fight off a shiver, reminding herself that that thought is absurd, but she still can’t quite shake it. No matter what her rational mind says, her heart still ticks up between her ribs, the hairs on the back of her neck still stand on end.

She swears she feels the whisper of a touch along her arms, the warm presence of someone behind her, and Elain has officially had enough. She stomps toward the roof door and yanks it open, stepping back inside and into the safety of the apartment complex. She follows the steps down and down and down until she reaches the ground floor, putting as much distance between her and the roof, between that trepidation that had seized her, as possible.

She pushes out the backdoor of the complex and into the courtyard garden instead, taking in a deep breath of the sweet scent of begonias, of coreopsis and daisies. Now this is where she feels the most at home, the most comfortable. She follows the winding path deeper, toward the trees that mark the end of the courtyard and the property, and leans down to slide her fingers along the silky petals of the hydrangeas.

“My love.”

Elain jolts at the sound of a voice, at the strange nickname. She whirls around to find a man standing in the shadows just inside the tree line. He’s tall. Even from this distance, Elain can tell he must have over a head on her, and his eyes are pinned solely on her.

Elain has to swallow hard before she’s able to find her voice again. “Hello?”

The man steps forward, into the moonlight, and Elain realizes with a strike of fear that he’s not a man at all. He’s a monster. His fingers stretch down into points, into claws, and Elain notes the tail that swishes back and forth just behind his legs. Large, purple-ish horns curl up and over the deep, red strands of hair hanging around his face. He’s like something straight out of a storybook, out of a horror novel, and yet there’s something familiar about this monster, something that tugs and thrums deep within Elain’s chest and begs for attention.

Elain’s eyes dance over the monster’s face, taking in the different colored eyes. One russet and one golden. The long scars that run along the skin from eyebrow to cheek around that golden eye. It’s the scar that has Elain’s own eyes widening, realization crashing into her hard enough to steal the breath straight from her lungs.

“You’re the… the gargoyle. From the roof,” she whispers, barely believing her own words even as the truth stands right here before her very eyes.

“Yes,” the man confirms, daring to take a step closer. “I’ve waited a long time for my mate’s sweet scent to free me, and now, I will enjoy her sweet taste.”

Holy gods, he’s going to eat her. She came out here for some peace and quiet, an escape, and she’s going to be eaten by this monster.

Elain is still reeling from the fact that this is the gargoyle from the roof very much alive and standing in front of her that she doesn’t even realize he’s moved closer still until one of his arms is wrapping around her waist. Elain’s entire body freezes and locks up at that touch. His grip is strong, all but hauling her against his chest, and his skin is surprisingly warm despite him being literal stone before. For a moment, Elain swears she can hear his heartbeat thundering away, but maybe that’s just her own. With the claw resting at her waist, hand large enough to span the entire thing, the threat is clear. There’s no running.

The gargoyle leans in close, running his nose along her temple and seemingly breathing her in. He lets out a quiet sigh, grip tightening at her waist, and Elain starts trembling from head to toe.

“Please,” Elain begs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t eat me. I’ll do anything.”

He groans, his lips brushing along her temple and cheek. “Hearing you beg might be the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I can’t wait to hear you beg more, to hear you scream my name while you do it.”

Elain frowns at that. He wants her to scream out his name while begging him not to eat her? Clearly, this monster is some sort of masochist, takes some sort of sick pleasure in truly humiliating her before killing her. But still, Elain latches onto what she can. Maybe if she keeps him talking, he can’t do much devouring. Maybe, if she distracts him, he'll decide he doesn't want to eat her after all, or she can get away at least.

“And… and what is your name?” Elain asks, praying the waver in her voice isn’t too obvious.

“Lucien.”

“Lucien,” Elain repeats, causing the gargoyle to groan again. “That’s a nice name.”

“You're meant to tell me your name now.”

“Why would you need to know my name?”

Lucien pulls his face away from her hair at that, a frown tugging down his lips. His free hand reaches up toward her cheek, the tips of his claws just barely skating across her skin before her entire body tenses up, her head snapping away on instinct. The reaction just seems to confuse him more, eyebrows dipping low as he peers down at her.

“Why do you cower from me, my love?”

A near hysterical laugh bubbles up out of Elain before she can stop it. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Lucien cocks his head, the red strands of his long hair tumbling over his shoulder. “Am I not pleasing to you?”

Elain rakes her eyes over Lucien's form, finally really taking him in, and well, she supposes there are worse ways to go. If she's going to be eaten by a monster, at least it's an attractive one. With no shirt to be seen, it leaves the expanse of golden bronzed skin on full display, the shadows of the night around them cutting into the lines of lean muscle that make up his arms and chest. His torn linen pants hang low on his hips and hug tight to his thighs, leaving little to the imagination in the best way. His hair falls in a cascading waterfall of red around his horns and face, framing a strong jawline, framing those golden and russet eyes. Even with the scars slashed across his skin, he's beautiful, and Elain's fingers itch with the urge to reach out and gently trace the lines until he's shuddering beneath her touch.

“You have not answered my question, my mate,” Lucien says, breaking Elain out of her staring.

“You keep saying that: my mate. I don't know what it means.”

Lucien leans in close again, pressing his lips to her cheek. “It means you are mine.” He moves to kiss her other cheek. “And I am yours.” He shifts again until his lips are hovering just over hers. “It means that you have freed me.”

“Oh…” Elain breathes, already pressing up onto her toes, already leaning into him, almost subconsciously.

“Tell me your name,” Lucien requests quietly, his breath a whisper across Elain's lips.

“Elain.”

“My mate. My love. My Elain.”

Maybe it's because no one has ever spoken of her like that, with so much reverence, like they really, truly mean it. Maybe it's because deep down she is still bitter and hurt by what Graysen did. Maybe it's because for a moment, Elain swears she feels something golden and strong wrapped right around her heart, tugging and urging her on. Whatever it is, Elain reaches her hands up, burying her fingers amongst the strands of his hair, and yanks until the space between them vanishes.

Elain's not sure what she expects kissing a gargoyle, but kissing Lucien sends heat skittering down down spine, her toes curling in her shoes. Lucien seems to radiate heat every place that he touches her, as though fire burns just beneath his skin and in his veins. And he kisses like it too. His lips slot and slide against her own, his tongue pressing past the seam and into her mouth. Even with his claws, he cradles her face so gently, bending forward to keep their lips firmly locked together despite the height difference.

Before Elain knows it, her back is pillowed amongst the grass and the dirt of the garden, Lucien settling above her. His hands trail across her shoulders, down her arms to her wrists, pinning her hands up above her head. He tears his mouth away from hers but only to press a line of kisses along her jaw and throat.

“Shouldn’t we… um… should…”

Elain’s words trail off as Lucien scrapes his teeth along her pulse point, any and all thoughts eddying out of her mind. Her entire body feels like it’s blazing, a familiar heat that’s been missing for longer than she cares to admit. Even before she and Graysen broke up, Elain wouldn’t say she had a lot of experience with passion with her ex-fiancé. But it’s hard to think of any other man when Lucien is sliding the strap of her sundress down and aside, the path of his lips moving down along her collarbone.

“Oh, gods,” Elain moans quietly, arching up against him as Lucien mouths hotly at the swell of her heaving breast.

The trail he’s tracing barely seems to pause, Lucien continuing down along her sternum, across her covered stomach. He slides down until his shoulders are cradled between her spread thighs, Elain pressing up onto her elbows to watch him. The sight has her breath catching in her throat. Lucien’s hair hangs around him like a fiery halo, a wild expression on his face, and in that moment, Elain swears she can see an actual flame sizzling in his gaze.

“Does this mean you're not going to eat me?”

The smirk Lucien settles her with is downright devilish. “Oh, Elain. I most definitely intend to eat you. I intend to have you falling apart on my tongue and my fingers until you're begging to fall apart on my cock.”

“Right,” Elain somehow squeaks out, swallowing hard. “But. We’re outside. In public. We should…”

But Elain doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. They should what? Go upstairs to her older sister's apartment? She knows that Nesta has adventurous taste in romance books, she’s certainly seen some of the titles and covers on her sister’s shelf, but this feels like a step too far. Walking through the door with a literal monster in tow? Elain can already picture Nesta’s shocked face, and Elain has a creeping suspicion that someone of Cassian’s size would probably try to protect her, try to fight her gargoyle. Besides, where would they even go? Fuck on Nesta’s sofa?

“I cannot wait another moment for a taste of my sweet mate,” Lucien argues, his hands sliding up Elain’s thighs, pushing up the hem of her sundress with them until the fabric is bunched around her waist. He presses two fingers against her still clothed cunt, drawing a gasp out of Elain as he traces a line upwards. “Are you already wet for me, my love?”

Elain whines high in the back of her throat when Lucien starts to draw tantalizingly slow circles over her clit, bucking her hips up against his touch. “Lucien, please.”

“Did you need something?” Lucien asks lightly, his too innocent tone not fooling Elain for a second.

“Stop teasing.”

“Use your words, Elain. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to keep your word,” Elain snaps with a huff. “What happened to not being able to wait another moment?”

Lucien’s smirk only seems to grow at the quip, something like excitement sparking in his gaze. Something like pride. His claws finally hook in the waistband of her panties, tugging the fabric down her legs and off. The clothing item is barely discarded before Lucien’s mouth is pressing along her inner thigh. His teeth nip at the skin as he traces up and up, heat curling in Elain’s gut as he gets closer to where she really wants him.

Elain opens her mouth, ready to complain about his teasing again, but any possible words are cut off with a loud moan when Lucien licks a thick stripe over her, tongue swirling on her clit when he reaches it. The vibrations of Lucien's answering groan against her has Elain’s hips bucking up to press closer to his mouth, but his hands curl around her thighs, claws digging in the barest hint and holding her still.

Graysen certainly had little interest in ever going down on her, and Elain had started to suspect that no man particularly enjoyed the act, but with the way Lucien devours her, she’s beginning to think perhaps she was wrong. With the way he keeps groaning against her, his hands flexing as he works his mouth over her, it seems like there’s nowhere else Lucien would rather be.

He keeps alternating his pace, what he’s doing. Slow, thick licks. Fucking and curling his tongue up into her. Swirling over her clit and sucking it between his lips. It has Elain’s head swimming, dizzy with the pleasure that courses like sparks beneath her skin with every change up. She can do nothing but grasp onto Lucien’s horns and hold on, can do nothing but let him draw every moan of his name past her lips.

Elain can feel herself cresting higher and higher, feel that heat coiling tighter and tighter in her gut. As if he can sense how close she is, Lucien turns all his attention to her clit, one of his hands sliding across her hip, up over her stomach, and to her breast. Without missing a beat, he tugs down the scoop neck of her dress, palming at her breast and tweaking at her nipple. It sends her tumbling over that ledge, Elain hips jolting up against Lucien’s hold as her orgasm tears through her.

She expects Lucien to pull away then, but he only seems to bury himself deeper, tongue continuing to lap at her. It has another round of aftershocks crashing through Elain, a whine torn from the back of her throat even with the overstimulation. She shifts one of her hands from his horn to his hair, tugging at the red strands, but the gesture merely makes Lucien groan again, Elain shuddering at the vibrations.

“Lucien,” Elain somehow chokes out, tugging at his hair again.

Lucien finally pulls back, and just the sight of him has Elain swallowing hard. His red hair is tousled and messy where it hangs around his face, an almost wild expression to his golden and russet eyes. And she can see the remnants of her release smeared around his smirking lips. It’s absolutely sinful.

“Did you enjoy that?” Lucien asks, sliding his thumb across his bottom lip before sucking the digit into his mouth.

“Did you?” Elain fires back, daring to raise a challenging eyebrow.

Part of it is because of the underlying teasing tone to his question, but the other part is to see if the reaction she garnered from him before was a fluke or not. Graysen had never hesitated to tell Elain when she was being bratty, when she was being a bitch. He never hesitated to remind her that she should be quiet, that she should be docile, the perfect, meek little housewife that he wanted. Never raise her voice. Never speak back. Never get her hands dirty.

But the way Lucien’s eyes spark, the way he keeps smirking, it has Elain’s heart pounding in the most dangerous way.

Lucien raises himself back above Elain, aligning their hips and rocking his still clothed hardness against her. “You tell me.”

Lucien closes the distance between them, kissing her hotly and pressing his tongue into her mouth. Elain whimpers against his lips, able to taste herself on him. She tugs more meaningfully against his hair, keeping him close to her as she rocks her hips up against him and chasing what friction she can.

Elain feels a pressure curl around her thigh, and for a moment, she’s confused. She can feel Lucien’s hands cradling her face. But when Lucien pulls away from the kiss, she glances down and realizes it’s his tail that’s holding her open and keeping her hips pinned to the ground. As if it has a mind of its own, the end of the tail slides teasingly up and down along the inside of her thigh, sending a shiver skittering up Elain’s spine.

“Beautiful.”

The whispered tone of Lucien’s voice draws her attention back to his gaze, and Elain supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find him staring intently at her. But she doesn’t expect the softness that’s taken over his expression. She doesn’t expect the tender way his thumb skates across her skin over the blush she’s sure is spilling across her cheeks. Words die in and clog the back of Elain’s throat, and she can do nothing but pull Lucien down into another searing kiss.

“Please,” Elain begs against his lips. “Lucien, please. I need you.”

“I made you a promise, Elain,” Lucien tells her, his teeth nipping into her bottom lip and tugging. “And I intend to keep it.”

Lucien’s hand slides down her front, tugging her dress down even further until it’s merely a belt of bunched up fabric around her waist. His lips follow the same path, nipping and sucking at her skin, laving attention to each breast in turn. His hand continues the downward trek, but it’s clear he’s done teasing.

Elain gasps as he sinks a finger into her, clenching hard around the single digit. She doesn’t know what to pay more attention to, the way he pumps his finger or the way he swirls his tongue around her nipple. Either way, Elain can already feel herself cresting higher again dangerously fast.

“Fuck, Lucien,” Elain moans, digging her nails into his shoulders, down his arms. “Don’t stop. Gods, please don’t stop.”

“So beautiful. My beautiful Elain,” Lucien tells her, sinking a second finger beside the first and curling them until Elain is keening. “But you’re even more beautiful when you come, and I’d like a repeat showing.”

Lucien increases the pace of his fingers, his tail sliding further up her thigh until it presses against her clit. Another curl of his fingers and Elain arches up off the ground, coming with a shout she just barely has the foresight to cover up with a hand to her mouth.

Elain is still coming down from the high of her release when Lucien shifts above her. He discards his pants and aligns their hips, sinking into her inch by inch. He’s larger than Elain expects, stretching her in a way that has her toes curling, in a way no one ever has, in a way she’s not sure she’ll ever get enough of. At least, Lucien seems just as affected. He buries his face in the crook of her neck with a groan, one of his arms stretching beneath her and grasping tightly to her waist, keeping their chests pressed flushed together.

“I think I might be addicted to your sweet cunt,” Lucien murmurs against her skin. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

“So don’t.”

Elain rocks her hip up, encouraging him to move. Lucien lifts his head and smirks down at her, and Elain worries that he is truly going to make her beg for it, going to tease and make her use her words again. But then Lucien pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again. Each rock into her is deep and hard, setting Elain alight until she dissolves into a litany of moans and Lucien’s name.

“That’s it, Elain. Tell the whole world who you belong to,” Lucien breathes hotly against her lips before stealing another searing kiss, the pace of his movements picking up. “Gods, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Lucien’s hand snakes between their bodies, finding her clit with ease. His fingers traces circles across it in time with his thrusts, and the dam breaks. White spots dance behind Elain’s eyes as she orgasms again, her entire body feeling weightless as she arches up into him. She’s half aware of Lucien stilling above her, of warmth filling her deep. She sinks back against the dirt, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“Have I tired my sweet mate out?”

Elain opens her eyes to find Lucien peering down at her, amusement dancing in his own gaze. It has fire sparking anew in Elain’s veins. She hitches her legs up higher on Lucien’s hips, pressing her thighs in and using momentum to flip them over. Lucien lets out a quiet sound of surprise as he goes sprawling on his back into the dirt, Elain astride across his hips. His hands reach for her waist, to steady her, but Elain is quick to capture his wrists in her hands, pinning them up by his head and leaning down so her nose brushes against his.

“Who said anyone was tired?”

Elain begins to circle and rock her hips until Lucien is groaning beneath her, until she can feel him hardening again. She sets a hard and brutal pace, using her hands on Lucien’s chest as leverage as she rides him. Every press down of her hips is an overstimulation to her clit, but it’s still not enough, and Elain tosses her head back as she chases her pleasure.

“Gods, I’m the luckiest male ever. Look at you.”

Lucien shifts beneath her, planting his feet, and then he’s snapping his hips up to meet her every movement. It only takes a few more thrusts before Elain is clenching hard, her whole body practically shaking with her orgasm. Lucien groans out Elain’s name as he follows her over the ledge, both of them riding out the aftershocks together.

Elain slumps forward against Lucien’s chest, sighing happily when she feels his arms wrap around her and holding her close. She lets her eyes flutter closed, smiling softly when she feels his lips press against her hair. With her head nestled against him, she can hear the steady beat of his heart just beneath her ear, her own an answering echo between her ribs.

When Elain opens her eyes again, she’s surprised to find her dress has been readjusted to cover her again, that she’s been moved beneath the shade and cover of the treeline. For a moment, she almost wonders if she imagined everything that happened before, if she fell asleep in the gardens and it was all some strangely vivid dream. But when Elain shifts, she finds Lucien sitting beside her, his elbows resting on his raised knees as he stares out at the flowers around them, at the way the early morning light before dawn breaks paints everything in hazy golds.

Elain sits up as well, hooking her arm through Lucien’s and pressing a sweet kiss of greeting to his shoulder. Lucien shifts his hand to lace their fingers together, and Elain realizes that no longer does he have claws. In fact, he looks perfectly human now, no horns or tail to be seen.

“My love,” Lucien greets her quietly, bringing their joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You don’t look like a gargoyle anymore.”

“No. You freed me from the curse that was placed upon my village, that made me into that. Cursed to be locked away in stone until the day my mate came to me on the night of a full moon.”

“So, I’m still your mate?”

“You will always be my mate,” Lucien assures her, turning so he can slide his free hand across her cheek. “And you will always have my heart.”

Elain can’t help but blush at his words, but she leans forward and closes the distance between them. As Lucien kisses her back, something warm, something so incredibly right, blooms in her chest, settling like roots between her ribs. That golden thread glows brighter, grows stronger, where it’s twined around her heart, and Elain is sure that she’s never felt happier.

~ * * * ~

“Elain.”

Elain paces back and forth across the small space. She tugs at the hem of her top and then her hair, letting out a quiet sigh. It’s fine. Everything will go just fine.

“Elain, my love.” Lucien’s arms curl around Elain’s waist, tugging her closer and into his chest. “You need to stop worrying.”

“Easy for you to say,” Elain huffs against the fabric of his shirt. “You were literal stone a week ago. Now, go through the story again.”

Lucien sighs, even as he drops a sweet, soothing kiss to her hair. “Elain—”

“I don’t need my sister thinking I’m crazy. Go through the backstory again.”

“I was a regular at the bakery,” Lucien begins dutifully. “And I always had a crush on you. When I heard that you and that absolute piece of shit—”

“Graysen.”

“—broke up, I decided to finally ask you for drinks, and you agreed. And now we are madly in love and you can’t get enough of me,” Lucien finishes with a devilish smile, reaching his hand down to squeeze Elain’s ass and haul her closer still.

Elain bats Lucien’s hands away with a fond roll of her eyes just as the elevator doors open with a ding. She steps out into the hall, Lucien capturing her hand in his and lacing their fingers together as they walk the short distance to Nesta’s apartment door. Taking one final deep breath to steady herself, Elain raises her fist and knocks.

“Elain,” Nesta greets when she pulls open the door, stepping back to allow them into the apartment. “And this must be—”

“Lucien! Gods, it’s so good to see you again.”

Elain can do nothing but gape, nothing but blink in surprise, as she watches Cassian pull Lucien into a big bear hug, slapping him on the back with a wide grin. She doesn’t understand what she’s seeing, doesn’t understand how this is possible. Cassian is greeting Lucien as if he knows him, as if they are old friends, but Lucien was a gargoyle before.

And then it hits Elain.

Cassian seemed to come out of nowhere, Nesta never mentioning him before he moved in with her. Much like how Elain announced her new boyfriend along with her new apartment she’s renting with Lucien. And when she had first gone up to the roof, she had thought it strange there was not a fourth gargoyle to make it an even set. But that would mean…

Elain snaps her attention to Nesta, her older sister’s eyes wide and the barest hint of a blush coloring the apples of her cheeks. As if she too has come to the same conclusion, has realized the implication of Lucien and Cassian clearly knowing each other. For a moment, there’s just awkward silence hanging in the air between them, and then Elain can’t help it, she laughs.

—