Cassian Rhysand Novels & Stories

I was not naive, and I knew Robert Junior had not used any protection that night. I closed my eyes and hung my head low, waiting for the queasiness to pass so I could continue my work, but it was taking longer than usual. I forced myself to straighten up when I heard some footsteps coming closer. The door opened, and the large man who bought me walked in. He exuded the strongest alpha aura I had ever felt, so I immediately knew who he was. Alpha Cassian, the darkblooded alpha and rebel of the republic. He was rumored to be a savage and ruthless demon.

“His death was necessary. Doors must open before kingdoms fall.” Rage threatened to unbalance me. “You murdered your own blood to get inside my walls?” “He chose weakness,” the man said lightly. “I chose evolution.” Kael stepped beside me, voice lethal. “Name yourself.” “Cassian of the Hollow Claw.” The name moved through the battlefield in frightened murmurs. Extinct, Kael had said. Clearly not. Cassian’s gaze slid between us, interest sharpening. “So the rumors were true. The rejected Alpha still circles his mate.”

The forest held its breath. Lena’s pulse pounded as the figure stepped forward, his dark robes flowing like liquid shadow. He moved with an unnatural grace, as if he wasn’t entirely bound by the laws of this world. The flickering firelight cast his features into sharp relief—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes that were nothing but swirling voids. The Rift surged inside her, responding to his presence. Cassian was in front of her before she could blink, his sword drawn, his stance rigid with battle-readiness. “Who the hell are you?”

He didn't even look impressed. "Keep your hands off her, Rhys," Caïn said, his voice a calm, tectonic rumble. "She is the Alpha of the North. She isn't one of your vassals, and she certainly isn't your property to handle when you’re frustrated by your own failures as a father." Rhys’s eyes flickered to Caïn’s hand, then back to mine. The jealousy that had been simmering since the night before finally boiled over. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his throat—a sound of pure, territorial aggression.

The newcomer finally shifted his attention back toward him. “My name is Cassian Vale.” Several warriors exchanged looks. Even Darian seemed surprised. Lyra didn’t understand why. Then Ronan quietly spoke. “That’s not good.” “What?” Darian whispered. Ronan’s gaze remained fixed on the newcomer. “That’s not just an Alpha.” The realization spread quickly. “Cassian Vale.” The Alpha of the Crescent Dominion. One of the most powerful wolves on the continent and he had come personally for Lyra. Cassian’s attention never left her.

Yet he had stood before the throne without trembling. Even then, there had been something strange about him. Cassian continued. “He was originally a hunter. Raised among borderland mercenaries who specialized in killing demons.” “Interesting upbringing,” Vaelreth murmured. “Yes.” Cassian stopped pacing. “But what impressed the court most was his efficiency.” Vaelreth raised an eyebrow. “How many executions?” Cassian thought for a moment. “Three hundred and twelve.” The king’s lips curved slightly. “And never refused an order?”

“Thank you, Mark.” The familiar rumble of the voice rings in my head, instantly sending ice through my veins. My mouth falls open. Rhysand stands there, handsomely dressed in a charcoal suit, like a prince of darkness. “Sir, this is Miss Fallon,” the assistant points to me. His silver eyes meet mine and burns with that familiar, dark amusement, that makes my anger catch like. But this time, I find no anger, my shock overwhelming. His mouth curls into a slow, utterly devastating smirk.

However, my entire being seems to have melted in the wind when I saw the one in front of me. It was a tall, lean man with pale skin, black hair, and the most startling grey eyes. His irises are the color of diffused storm clouds, and they look just as threatening. When he meets my gaze, a cold chill zaps my spine. It’s Rhysand, and his features keep shifting, changing, but I can still see who and what he is at the core of it all. He looks less monstrous and more handsome this time, but there’s no denying that behind those eyes, there’s nothing. He has no soul, no heart, no sympathy.

He is Athesmos after all, the ruler of Dark Castles and the conqueror of death itself. "My Lord," Dylan called as he walked into his Master's battle room. A room where the best armors worn in each battle the king had ever embarked on were laid peacefully. "Finally, something refreshing." Xrysos stood up from his golden seat to go hug his Chief Warrior. "News my lord." Dylan laughed as their hug came to an end. "Pray tell. I've waited long enough." Xrysos ordered that wine be poured for them. "Gouria is a cousin to Lord Athesmos."

He’s not backing down. “You don’t want to find out, trust me.” I make sure the coldness in my voice is still there. I am Rhett Reed, the future alpha of the Blackridge Pack—I can handle him. “Your little pepper spray stunt this morning?” I scoff. “Oh, trust me, I’ll fucking punish you for that.” Cassian smirks and moves even closer. I can feel his hot minty breath on my face as one hand touches my cheek slightly. “Punish me? I have a few ideas—”