"I'm not sleeping on the floor of my own cabin, Nes."
Nesta turned from the window. Snow had buried the world outside in white, the wind screaming down the Illyrian peaks. Cassian filled the room—long black hair half-tied back, worn leathers cut open at the shoulders for his vast wings, red Siphons glinting dully. He was grinning, the bastard, while he worked the fire higher.
"You'd sleep anywhere I told you to," she said, her braided crown catching the firelight, blue-grey eyes flat as steel. She hadn't removed her own leathers—drill-damp, clinging at the shoulder, her stance still balanced for a fight she refused to admit was over. "We could always settle it the way we did on the stairs."
"You lost on the stairs." He crossed the room, close enough that the fire-heat came off him as much as the hearth. "I could keep you warm. No rules about what a mate's for." His voice dropped, hazel eyes on her mouth. "One bed, Nesta. What's the worst that happens?"

MyTales

One Bed in the Snowbound Cabin

What happens next?