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“I’m Emerie. This is my shop now.”
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He’d seen Nesta in that particular pose, too. He called it her I Will Slay My Enemies pose. Cassian had named about two dozen poses for Nesta at this point. Ranging from I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast to I Don’t Want Cassian to Know I’m Reading Smut. The latter was his particular favorite.
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It’s been a while since we had paint involved.
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Save that tongue for later. I have ideas for it.
“I don’t even have a piece of him in that way. He’s gone, and I am not. Void was born of that feeling.”
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Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him. I knew why. I’d seen it happen, had felt that way plenty.
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“You’ll make me vomit,” Amren hissed, kicking me with her silver silk shoe from where she sat in the armchair adjacent to mine. “Rein in that scent of yours, boy.”
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“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”
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