19. Let Me See You
19
LET ME SEE YOU
Cassian
The Past
Fresh casualties of the war crawled out of the River of Souls every day. Enough to provide a population decrease within the Mortal Land. Between the war and Finnian’s vow to only revive souls within the territory of his new city, Cassian sent Mavros to halt Malik’s killings.
Nathaira, alongside the Errai, greeted the souls emerging from the River. Other Errai guided souls from the mortal realm and distributed them in the Land. Cassian toggled between the two wherever he was needed most.
When executioners escorted in new deities assigned with punishments, Shivani would torture them for a certain length of time—as a welcome to Moros—and then call Cassian once they were settled into their designated sector of the prison. He would craft an illusion, a personalized nightmare, while deciding on their punishment.
After ushering two healed souls into the Paradise of Rest, he took the opportunity to sneak away.
He walked the path of his garden, his sights set on the entrance of Finnian’s Grove. Its iron gate was flanked by blooming violets.
Halfway, his steps faltered.
Whenever you wish to see me again.
It had been nearly a month in the Mortal Land since he’d last seen Finnian. A short breath of time that felt like ages.
The yearning in Cassian consumed his thoughts, especially after their last encounter in Finnian’s townhome with the sigil and pleasant conversation.
Cassian surfed his fingers through his hair, conflicted. Could he show up with no warning? Finnian had not summoned him since, and what of Ruelle? He knew she was watching him, waiting?—
Stop overthinking it.
He dropped his hand, his shoulder slumped, and he sighed. The perpetual ache in his chest hadn’t let up since he departed Finnian.
I miss him.
Letting that single thought steer his actions, he rearranged his appearance into Everett—of dark strands and vibrant blue eyes.
The gilded darkness of his divine power furled around him, and he disappeared.
The earthy, floral scent of Finnian’s home washed over him, braiding in his hair and sticking to the material of his tailcoat.
He stood in the center of the apothecary room they had been in last time.
The room was dark and cool. Various bundles of herbs hung upside down from the ceiling, drying. The workbench was cluttered with an open grimoire, gibberish scribbles on the page, crystals, bones tampered together with twine, and open vials.
Cassian smiled at the mess.
He didn’t sense Finnian’s presence nearby. It appeared Cassian was alone. A good excuse to leave.
Instead, he sauntered across the room to the wooden staircase leading up to an open door.
He stepped inside a small kitchen. A mortar and pestle sat on the round table in the corner. Beside it was a ceramic cup and a stainless steel percolator. No steam came from either, but Cassian could smell the remnants of coffee in the cup. They’d been sitting out for a while.
Finnian likes coffee . The detail was small, intimate; Cassian stored the information in his mind like a precious jewel.
Up against the brick wall was a wood stove with a cast iron pot and a teakettle on the unlit burners. Positioned on the other side near the window was a wooden cabinet and a washbasin on its surface. The look of a typical mortal home. It was far from the moonstone crystal palace Finnian had grown up in. It appeared the young god favored simplicity over lavishness.
Cassian shifted his weight to glance around the threshold. The old wooden planks creaked beneath his feet.
The short corridor led into a sitting room. Mahogany-threaded couches faced a small hearth where embers in its pit faintly glowed. He could see Finnian sitting with his two apprentices, begrudgingly teaching them how to spark a flame with their magic.
A twinge of jealousy struck Cassian’s chest.
He strolled over to the kitchen table to take a seat. Halfway through the room, the energy in the air shifted and a warped gust ruffled behind him.
“I was starting to believe you had forgotten about me.” Finnian’s voice traveled through him, a silvery ring of chimes.
He pursed his lips to control the width of his smile before turning around. “Impossible. The war keeps me busy is all.”
“Well then, I am glad you found the time to drop by.” Finnian started unfastening the buttons of his billowy, long-sleeved shirt, one by one. The flash of his rings mesmerized Cassian. “I had business to sort out. I am glad I did not miss your visit.”
“Business that required you to button your shirt, I see,” Cassian mumbled.
Though, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Finnian’s collar hanging open, exposing the arches of his clavicles and the defined cuts of his torso, his bare skin the shade of maple syrup. His black strands were down and perched over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the beige linen.
“For the sake of avoiding Eleanor’s nagging.” Finnian continued undoing the buttons, making it to his navel.
Several necklaces dangled around his neck—a dark gemstone with blood-red spots, another that was metallic and adorned with golden-brown blotches, and a teal pendant that looked as if it had been dug up from deep within the sea. They rested between the smooth contours of his pecs.
Finnian’s look was disheveled, but in an arousing way Cassian had never found appealing before.
Cassian noted how Finnian’s arms were now relaxed down at his sides. Silence had settled between them, prompting him to lift his eyes, meeting Finnian’s twinkling green gaze, alight with happiness. The slyness of his smirk and the flicker of his dimples caught in Cassian’s stomach.
A flush rose on his cheeks and he cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the cast iron pot on the wood stove. “Your home. It is comforting. Eclectic. ”
“Is that a sophisticated way of saying too cluttered for my taste ?” Finnian strolled past him, untucking his shirt from his waistline. There was a playfulness caressing his tone, a comfort in his character that Cassian had only caught glimpses of in the past. It was the complete opposite of the pragmatic, hardheaded version he normally presented.
Cassian pocketed his hands, a light smile tugging on his lips. “Perhaps a little too cluttered, but I find the quality endearing.”
“What other qualities of mine do you find joy in?” Finnian glanced over his shoulder as he gathered the cup and the percolator.
Cassian watched him place them in the washbasin. “That you are a mage and choose to hand wash your dishes.”
Finnian spun around, scratching at his nape with a sheepish look. “I used to help Naia in the kitchen when I was younger. Because I didn’t want Mira to know about my magic, I refrained from using it. The act is nostalgic, I suppose.”
The mention of Naia wrung Cassian’s gut. It was a reminder of the future to come—the mark he would leave on her in the upcoming years. She’d be cursed to live in a land with Mira. The cruelty of it outweighed the bigger picture, something Cassian had to keep in the back of his mind. In the end, Naia would bear a demigod child of the Himura bloodline, and he would use it to end Ruelle once and for all.
“Ah.” He kept his response short, countering the nagging need to confess everything to Finnian.
They stared at each other for a moment.
Finnian regarded him with soft eyes and a curve to his mouth. It made Cassian’s skin kindle and his eyes flit around, fidgeting with his fingers inside of his pockets. If Finnian kept looking at him that way, he wasn’t sure what he’d end up doing.
“I hear the mortals are erecting altars and temples across the western lands in honor of the High Goddess of War and the High Goddess of Peace,” Finnian said, regarding the conflict.
“Mortals tend to show their devotion when they are in need of something.”
“I don’t believe that only applies to mortals.” Finnian crossed his arms. “Deities and mages can be quite vexing as well.”
“You seem to speak from experience.” Cassian raised his eyebrows, pinpointing the tension in Finnian’s shoulders.
“It appears the occupation of a leader is accompanied by a never-ending to-do list. It is rather annoying.” He scowled.
Cassian cracked a genuine grin. “Do tell.”
“I’ll make tea. Have a seat.” Finnian pointed to the kitchen table before moving across the kitchen to the wood stove. “What kind do you prefer?” He crouched beside it and opened the side door.
With the snap of his fingers, a flame sparked on his fingertip. He reached inside the box and lit the logs.
He’d grown stronger since the last time they were together. Cassian distinctly recalled Finnian speaking an incantation to perform the same spell. Now, he could do it without uttering anything.
Cassian glided to one of the wooden chairs, unbuttoned his tailcoat, and gently sat, hoping the fragile legs of the furniture wouldn’t snap. “I enjoy lavender or lemon.”
Finnian held a hand up and one of the glass jars on the shelf above the washbasin floated into his palm. “Lemon balm?”
“Yes, please.” Cassian twisted his head to survey the rows of jars crammed full of dried herbs. “Do you enjoy tea?”
With a slow swivel of his wrist, the teakettle filled with water. He positioned it over the flame on the stove. “I prefer coffee, but Eleanor is an avid tea drinker. I keep a stock on hand for her.”
He spoke of the apprentice as if she were a close friend. Was that all there was to it?
“It sounds like you care for her,” Cassian murmured, and then held his breath.
Finnian pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat. Lounging back, he extended his legs, and his shin brushed the side of Cassian’s ankle. A spark of heat climbed up Cassian’s inner thigh. “I care for many people.”
Do not ask.
“Isla, Naia…” Cassian listed off, internally cringing at himself. He joined his hands on the surface of the table, resting his weight on his elbows.
“Eleanor and Isla are close friends. They help me more than I help them now. Did you know they created a city council and organizations to perform various other duties? Because of this, I am able to deal with more pressing matters—like the two mages who attacked each other this morning and destroyed a building in the business district. Apparently, their family history is riddled with feuds and violence.” He rolled his eyes.
Cassian’s grin broadened, amused by Finnian’s complaining. “Sounds like an eventful morning.”
Not lovers then. The relief unclenched the ball in his chest.
Finnian grew quiet. He rested his forearm on the table, his fingers flexing and flickering tendons across the back of his hand. “You never asked me why I decided to create a city.”
“You were teaching Eleanor and Isla how to use a sigil.” Cassian glanced at Finnian’s rings, secretly measuring the infinitesimal gap between their hands.
“Do you recall every little thing I say?”
“Of course.”
The hushed hiss of the fire and the quiet boil of the water filled the silence.
Finnian’s eyes cast downwards as he drew circles on the surface of the table with his finger. “Ask me why.”
Cassian moved his full attention from the ring on Finnian’s index finger to his face. Something about his bashful tone and the way he was no longer looking at Cassian piqued a grave interest in him. “Why?”
“The day Naia leaves Kaimana, I want her to have a home to go to. Shacks and graveyards were places she told me not to settle down in.”
“I believe a house would have sufficed if you didn’t want to go through the hassle of running a city.”
“Primarily, I created it as a boundary for myself.” Finnian’s circles widened closer to Cassian’s hand. A subtle brush to his knuckles, leaving tingles where he touched. “After I learned of the deal you had struck with Mira, I desired to compromise.”
Cassian’s heart struck the walls inside of his chest and his lips parted, baffled by what he’d just said.
Finnian lifted his gaze onto Cassian then. The discomfort was easy to read in the slight flush creeping across his cheeks.
He was being vulnerable, truthful, sharing his feelings. It was an openness Cassian couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. He’d dreamed of peeling Finnian’s layers back to behold what was inside—something unfathomable, given their rocky relationship.
Cassian wanted to reciprocate in some meaningful way, express to Finnian how grateful he was, knowing the levels of unease it probably made him feel to share. And yet, all Cassian could think was how utterly reckless it was, how much Finnian had gone through for his sake. A city. The idea was astonishing, and beautiful proof that Cassian did not stand alone in his feelings.
The capacities of his actions were limitless when it came to Finnian, and it appeared Finnian, too, felt the same.
The sound of boiling water grew louder.
Cassian studied the somberness across Finnian’s features, conflicting feelings warring in his tight chest, a paralyzing panic he did not expect to feel.
Suddenly, his limbs felt jittery.
He removed his arms from the table and raked a hand through his hair. “Why? To appease your guilt for the length I’d gone through not to curse you?” It wasn’t meant to come out accusatory, but a genuine question. One Cassian hoped the outcome would be a disappointing truth—that Finnian did not care for him, but instead he simply had a wish to make things right.
“The same reason you came to see me.” Finnian’s tone was rational, his expression stoic, so absolute and sure of his feelings. It immediately enhanced the fright in Cassian.
Finnian sat up in his chair and leaned over to grab Cassian’s hand.
His skin warmed, ensnared by Finnian’s touch. The threads of his self-control threatened to snap against the sensation.
It was validation. The only kind he needed to snatch the edge of Finnian’s chair and yank him closer. To bring their mouths together and taste him, swallow his words. But before he could do so, Ruelle’s face flashed in the front of his mind, freezing the warmth coasting his veins.
Whoever yearns in your soul will be just in reach, but never able to fully grasp.
His heart stuttered, and he abruptly ripped his hand from Finnian and stood.
With his back to him, he rubbed a hand over his face, gaping down at the dark-stained wooden floor. “I took your father away from you, chased you around with the threat of a curse. Do you honestly expect me to believe you created a city for my benefit?”
Finnian’s chair scooted back, making a scratch sound against the wood.
Cassian could feel him moving in, his body heat drifting against his backside, like a blanket of comfort he desperately wanted to lean into.
One day, when you know the kiss of love, all you will have left is regret.
An ache cracked his ribcage. He couldn’t do it. If he ever came to regret his actions involving Finnian, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself.
Cassian removed his hand from his hair, fingers coiling into a fist.
I should have stayed away.
I have no choice here.
He whipped around, eyes blazing. “We loathe each other. You raise the dead and I despise you for it.”
Finnian’s nostrils flared. “You also cannot curse me. You’ve chased me, yes, but you always help me. You sent your god of death to check up on me regularly, prior to creating my city. Say whatever you wish out of your conflicted feelings, but you came here today for the same reason I crafted a spell to keep every deity out of my home but you.”
Cassian’s eyes slightly widened.
He hadn’t even considered such a thing. A mage's power was endless with their knowledge, and Finnian mentioned it previously. Hollow City was protected by magic from the war, from other deities even locating it. Of course he had enough sense to protect his home.
Only Cassian was an exception.
A peace filled the hollow patches within his chest.
Finnian’s trust meant something to him, and he held it in the palm of his hand like a gift.
This is what Ruelle is waiting for.
He scoured Finnian’s face, brow crumbling in defeat.
She will use him. Just like she used Saoirse.
He did not know what to do.
And it will destroy me this time.
The water screamed in its pot.
“I should not have come, but I ache when I am not in your presence,” Cassian’s voice strained.
The tension melted from Finnian’s features.
His eyes fell to Cassian’s lips, and he inhaled deeply. “And do you think I do not share the same feeling?”
Gods, Cassian craved him. The desire swelled outside of his skin and consumed him whole.
I am not strong enough for this.
Cassian’s mouth went dry, the breath in his lungs swiftly draining the longer he held Finnian’s gaze. “You cannot care about me.”
Finnian took a daring step closer. “Oh, it is far too late for that.”
Cassian’s pulse flickered, and he backed away, his tailbone meeting the edge of the cabinet.
“I will hurt you if I let you in,” he said, breathless against his own desire.
“I do not break as easily as you’d think.” Finnian closed in and propped his hands up on the surface of the counter behind Cassian, pinning both arms around him. The tips of their noses grazed.
Cassian’s jaw set. He turned his head away, internally scolding his willpower.
“Cassian.” His name left Finnian’s lips, a whisper, pleading. The sound of it slowly spread through him like spilled honey, weakening his resolve.
His breath trembled as he reached for his good sense. To turn away and leave. But yearning was all he could find—spilling out of the chambers of his heart, overflowing, warping his better judgment.
Fate be damned.
He snapped his arms up, cupped Finnian’s cheeks, and whisked him into a kiss.
The undying thoughts of Ruelle silenced.
His mind stilled.
The kiss was depraved breaths huffing into mouths, fingers tangling in hair and in clothes. Cassian had not realized how starved of Finnian he’d become until the taste of him touched his tongue.
Finnian’s teeth sunk into Cassian’s bottom lip.
Pain ruptured in his nerves and a quiver zapped down his middle as Finnian’s hands slid up his back. One tangled in his hair and gripped the side of his head, while the other clung to the back of his shoulder, fingernails clutching the material of his tailcoat.
He used the grip to deepen their kiss, reaching down inside of Cassian and making a mess of him.
“I loathe you,” Cassian said against his lips. He ran his hands down the sides of Finnian’s neck, over his shoulders, around his waist, and grazed underneath the back of his shirt. “I long for you.” He traced his fingertips over Finnian’s spine, memorizing every divot of bone, the lush terrain of his skin.
Finnian tightened his grasp in the back of Cassian’s strands and lightly tugged, breaking apart their kiss and pulling away with hooded eyes, dark and full of lust. “Let me see you. ”
It took a second to process Finnian’s request through the state of his arousal. “Is Everett’s appearance not to your liking?”
Finnian dipped beneath his chin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the bulb of his throat. “If I am going to kiss you…” He smoothed his palms over the plain of Cassian’s pecs to the starched knot at his collar. “...run my hands over you…” He unraveled the knot with one hand, working the buttons of Cassian’s waistcoat with his other. “...then I’d prefer it to be the real you.”
Heat unfurled in Cassian’s abdomen at the request.
He inhaled a breath of humid air from the boiling teapot and rearranged his appearance into his true form.
Finnian’s movements turned sluggish as he slipped the waistcoat down Cassian’s arms, fixing his attention on the transformation.
Cassian felt his jaw jut out and square, the rigid slice of his cheeks sharpen, and the swirling hue of blue irises brighten into two golden diamonds. “Happy now?”
Something primal crossed Finnian’s features.
He chucked the waistcoat over his shoulder and devoured Cassian with another kiss—a feral rush of swollen lips and twirling tongues; hands tangling in clothes and fingers knotting in hair; bodies curving into one another; a desperate frenzy to drink the other in.
Tension twined through Cassian’s insides. He held Finnian’s cheek and kissed down the line of his jaw. He wanted to taste every inch of him. Explore the scape of his skin with his tongue, over the contours of his collarbones, down his chest.
He gathered Finnian’s shirt over his head, careful not to let it catch on his hearing aid, and tossed it somewhere across the room—having only a brief thought to pause, neatly fold it, and place it somewhere more appropriate than a ball on the floor.
As if Finnian could sense his thoughts, he tightened his grip on the loose knot of his collar. “Don’t even think about it.”
Cassian chuckled as Finnian yanked him off the edge of the cabinet, their bodies hard and pressed against each other.
Finnian’s divine energy pricked the air. A cloud of crimson fabricated around them.
Cassian was nudged back as his feet left the floor. He stumbled on his footing, landing on a satin-covered mattress.
“I take it this is your room,” Cassian said, breathless, glancing around at the cluttered bedside table and cloth strewn in an unmade state.
Finnian climbed on top of him and pulled the hem of Cassian’s tucked shirt out of his waistband. His movement ground his arousal against Cassian’s pelvis, creating a friction of pleasure that rose into his lower belly.
“Do you have someone iron your clothes for you?” Finnian asked.
A laugh burst from Cassian, the harmonic sound echoing in the room.
“You do.” The chilled air hit his chest as Finnian worked his shirt over his head, disheveling his hair. “Your deities of Death iron your clothes for you.”
Cassian propped himself up on his elbows, bare-chested, grinning. “Not all of us are mages who can use our magic to do the task for us.”
“Do you see me performing magic to undress you?” Finnian traced the pads of his fingers down the lines of Cassian’s abdomen, his pupils dilating and swallowing up the playful glimmer in his gaze.
Cassian’s heart rate accelerated. The desire to become one with Finnian was as maddening as his own curses. He reached forward to undo the fly of buttons on Finnian’s trousers, but Finnian lightly pushed against him.
Cassian sank down flat on the mattress, allowing Finnian to explore every bend of muscle along his torso with his lips. Slow, wandering kisses explored his stomach, teasing above his waistband.
Cassian’s muscles quivered and his head fell back on the pillow.
Finnian’s fingers worked to undo the buttons of Cassian’s trousers.
“I want to watch you fall apart,” Finnian said, voice gruff.
Cassian twitched against the material, eager.
“I want to make a mess of you.” Finnian worked Cassian’s trousers off and crawled back up, settling his head between the crook of Cassian’s neck.
The crystals of Finnian’s necklaces were cool against the skin of his shoulder. Gooseflesh spread like water down Cassian’s nape.
“Hear you say my name.”
Finnian gently took him into his hand, swallowing Cassian’s hitched breath with a kiss.
A zealous heat burned in his bloodstream.
“I loathe you.” Finnian stroked, slow and languid.
A shiver blew through Cassian and his hips jerked.
Finnian nipped at his earlobe, the side of his neck, his clavicle. “And I long for you.”
Tension coiled further and further up Cassian’s midriff, a pleasure climbing against the swift beat of his pulse. It wasn’t enough.
He clutched Finnian’s shoulder, teeth gritted, hips moving to the pace Finnian set. “I yearn for more.”
Finnian’s thumb swirled at his tip. “More of what?”
Cassian trembled as he slid his hand into Finnian’s hair, letting the tendrils fall in between his fingers.
Dazed, he met Finnian’s eyes. “More of you.”
Finnian sat up then, straddling Cassian’s lap as he unfastened the buttons on his own trousers.
A thrilling tremor struck in Cassian’s chest as Finnian’s eyes drifted and darkened with intense hunger. He was a sight to behold with his tan cheeks tinted red, strands of his black hair stuck to his face. The pieces near his temples were curled.
A miniscule detail that spurred Cassian to say, “Remove your glamor.”
After all the changes he’d noticed over the years in Finnian’s hairstyles, he was sure of it.
Finnian paused on his buttons, head cocking with a wolfish smirk, his dimples cutting in his cheeks. “My, aren’t you observant?”
“You are rather overt with your glamor,” Cassian teased.
Finnian’s chuckle rumbled as his onyx-black strands lightened to the shade of coffee. Their ends crawled up his chest and met his shoulders. Curls coiled throughout, creating a bed of waves in its bone-straight texture.
Cassian stared at these small changes, captivated.
Finnian freed himself from his trousers. The muscles danced beneath the skin of his torso as he sank down. He held himself up on his hands at each side of Cassian, dragging his length against the inside of Cassian’s thigh, over his hip bone, and against his own arousal.
A tremble shook through Cassian, followed by a wrought tension gathering in his stomach.
Finnian cupped both of them and squeezed.
A mind-numbing pleasure swept over Cassian.
Finnian’s mouth parted and his chin fell, exhaling a shaky breath.
Greed swelled within Cassian as he chased the feel of Finnian against him, moving in sync with his rhythm. It still wasn’t enough.
He reached down and grabbed Finnian’s wrist. “Give me more, Finny.”
Finnian halted and stared at him intently for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“Implicitly.” Cassian widened his knees, inviting.
Finnian continued to hang over him, their faces inches apart. A subtle excitement lit in his eyes. “I presume this is not your first time with a man?”
Cassian rolled his hips in a lazy motion, enjoying the bursts of nerves shooting up his abdomen from the friction.
Finnian bit back his bottom lip in response.
Satisfied with his reaction, Cassian gave a lousy smirk. “I am over five thousand. What do you think?”
Sexuality confinements within the mortal society were nonexistent to deities. They lived far too long and grew bored far too easily.
“A you are correct would have sufficed,” Finnian grumbled, stretching over to his bedside table to dig inside a drawer.
Cassian chuckled.
Finnian pulled out a vial filled with yellow-tinted oil and doused his hand with it. The fragrance of olives touched Cassian’s nose as he lifted his arms and gathered Finnian’s long strands out of his face. He neatly tucked them behind his shoulders.
Centuries of sound and static had plagued Cassian’s mind. He’d walked each day unknowing of peace, secretly envious of the souls he led into the Paradise of Rest. It was an eternal landscape of respite he’d carved within his own realm. Cassian always longed for the day he would be granted such serenity.
Finnian was his stillness in the storm; silence in the screaming; peace in the chaos.
The evening sunlight trickled through the window, reflecting the various shades of green in his eyes. Glittering particles of dust shimmered in the rays. It was all a dream. It had to be. Laying on his bed, the feel of his fingers drawing circles of pleasure, slipping deep, flexing, curling.
Cassian’s ragged breaths filled the room.
Finnian caught each one and gulped it down in a kiss.
“Long for me.” He sat up on his knees and hooked both arms underneath the crooks of Cassian’s legs, lifting his hips.
He entered with a careful thrust.
Tingles shot down Cassian’s spine and a moan spewed from his lips, arching into him.
Cassian felt possessed by a longing to tear out of his own skin and claw through Finnian’s until they were one. It was unhinged and delusional, a delirium he’d never craved before in his life.
The ecstasy of Cassian’s desire surged like a river in his blood.
“Always long for me.” Finnian gripped both hands around Cassian’s waist and buried himself deeper.
Cassian rolled the back of his head into the pillow. The sensation of building pleasure coiled like a vine, slowly wrapping around him, consuming him.
“Always.”