The moon is high, casting silver ribbons across the pack house when Cassandra wakes with a start. Her skin feels feverish, a sheen of sweat on her brow. Her throat is dry, and despite the night air slipping through the open window, she's unbearably warm.
She sits up slowly, pushing the tangled covers away. The room is silent, save for the soft rustle of trees outside. Something feels... different. Her wolf stirs restlessly beneath her skin, but not in alarm. It's more like anticipation.
With a sigh, she pulls on her robe and pads barefoot through the dim hallway, making her way toward the kitchen. Her nightgown brushes her thighs as she walks, soft silk, a gift from Grace, and far too elegant for someone who just wants water.
The house is quiet, and the familiar creak of the old wooden floors beneath her feet is oddly comforting. She rounds the corner and slips into the kitchen, flipping open the fridge. Cool air washes over her heated skin, and she leans into it with a sigh of relief.
She doesn't notice the presence behind her. Not yet.
Darius watches in silence from the far shadows of the kitchen.
He's been sitting there for the better part of an hour, nursing a mug of something that's long gone cold. He couldn't sleep. His wolf is agitated, pacing just beneath the surface of his skin, and no matter how hard he tries, he keeps returning to the same thought.
Cassandra.
And now, Goddess above, she's here. Barefoot. Barely dressed. Standing in front of his refrigerator.
The faint glow illuminates her in soft light, casting a halo around her messy bun and highlighting the curve of her thighs beneath the thin fabric. Her scent, wild lilac and something uniquely hers hits him like a storm, stirring something primal in his chest.
She has no idea he's here.
Not dangerous, his wolf murmurs, something worse. Disarming.
A storm wrapped in softness, unravelling him one smile at a time.
He rises without a sound, stalking toward her until he's standing behind her, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, leaning casually against the counter.
He watches. Waits.
She finally turns and startles.
Cassandra yelps softly as her gaze collides with his, the bottle slipping from her fingers. Darius's reflexes kick in immediately; he lunges forward, catching it before it hits the floor with a clean, one-handed grab.
"Careful," he says, his voice a low rumble, placing the bottle calmly back inside.
Her eyes are wide, breath catching in her throat as she backs up, only to find herself cornered between the fridge and his looming form.
"So," he drawls, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "alone at last."
She swallows hard, the blush creeping up her neck like wildfire. But to his surprise and admiration, she lifts her chin.
"Still being rude, I see," she shoots back, trying to sidestep him.
He mirrors her movement, caging her in with one hand on either side of the counter, blocking any escape. Her glare sharpens, but her pulse, he can hear it...skips like a stone on water.
"What's the rush, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice like velvet dipped in danger.
"I only came for water," she says evenly, folding her arms in front of her chest in what she assumes is a power move.
It only draws his gaze right where it shouldn't go.
He grins. "Is that all you came for?" His tone is a slow burn, dark with implication.
Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "I..."
But whatever she was going to say evaporates when he leans in. His scent wraps around her, dark woods and masculine spice. Something ancient thrums between them...something primal.
Cassandra places her hands on his chest, intending to push him back. But the second she touches him, Darius freezes. His nostrils flare.
And then...he snaps.
With a low, guttural growl, his hands are on her waist, pulling her flush against him. His mouth crashes onto hers, stealing the breath from her lungs. The kiss is hungry, wild, all-consuming. Her fingers clutch his shirt as if it's the only anchor in a sea of fire. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up, arching into him, matching his intensity.
Wrenching his mouth from hers, he nips and kisses along her jaw, his mouth moving down the length of her neck, reaching a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth, loving the moans escaping her lips, his hands pulling her up, bringing her in line with his hard cock, grinding himself against her core.
She gasps, head tipping instinctively to the side.
Her wolf howls in delight.
And then...it shifts.
The kiss ends abruptly. Darius stiffens, pulling back as if burned. His chest rises and falls in ragged breaths. His eyes...no longer filled with lust, but panic...meet hers.
"Go," he growls.
"What?" she whispers, blinking in confusion.
"Go!" he barks, stepping back so fast he nearly knocks over a stool. His fists are clenched, his body vibrating with suppressed energy. "Get out of here. Now."
She doesn't wait to be told a third time.
Cassandra bolts, her bare feet flying across the hardwood, her robe trailing behind her like a cape. She doesn't stop until she's safely inside her room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. She leans against it, panting.
Her heart isn't pounding from fear.
No, it's something far more dangerous.
Excitement. Desire. And worst of all...longing.
She slides down the door until she's sitting on the floor, touching her still-tingling lips with trembling fingers. Her thighs clench involuntarily.
"What the hell just happened?" she whispers to the dark.
And her wolf, restless and smug, just purrs.
Meanwhile...
Outside, the night is cool, but it does little to settle the storm raging inside Darius.
He paces the clearing behind the pack house, fists clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm the beast within. His boots crunch against fallen pine needles, his chest rising and falling in ragged heaves.
His wolf snarls, furious at the separation from her, fur bristling beneath his skin, claws itching to come out.
Cassandra.
The name alone causes his jaw to clench.
He throws his head back with a growl and stalks deeper into the woods. The moonlight filters through the canopy in shafts, dappling his skin in silver. The scent of night and pine wraps around him, grounding him. Trying to, anyway.
But her scent is still on him, clinging to his hands, his shirt, his very skin. That delicate mix of wild lilac and something older, something ancient. He still tastes her on his tongue, feels the press of her soft curves against him.
He wants to run until his legs give out.
Instead, he slams his fists into the nearest tree with a roar.
Bark splinters, a small crater forming in the trunk. He leans forward, breathing hard, forehead pressed against the wood.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he rasps.
He's an Alpha. The Alpha. He's led this pack with strength and discipline for years. He's survived heartbreak, betrayal, and battle. His will is unshakable. His control is absolute.
Until her.
It's not just lust. He's had lust before. Plenty of it. He's bedded women more experienced, more willing.
But Cassandra? She looks at him like she sees past the walls, the scars, the mask. Like she's not afraid of the monster in him.
And it infuriates him.
Because Darius doesn't want to be seen.
He wants control.
And yet...
When her hand brushed his chest, when her breath caught in her throat, when her mouth opened to him with such sweet abandon, he felt something crack inside. Something he'd thought long dead.
A tether.
A bond.
The same pull he felt that day, years ago, when he found his first mate.
The memory claws at him like broken glass.
He was younger then. Hopeful. The moment he saw her, blonde hair, blue eyes, soft laugh, he knew. His wolf howled with recognition. But fate, cruel and careless, had already tied her to another. She wore another man's mark. She carried another man's child.
The betrayal nearly drove him mad. For weeks, he walked the woods alone, refusing food, refusing comfort. He'd lost something he never even had, and the ache hollowed him from the inside out.
So he made a choice: never again.
Never again would he open himself to that kind of weakness. No mate. No bond. No one to lose.
And now...a slip of a girl in a silk nightgown is unravelling all of that.
She is nothing like the mate he once thought he needed. She's stubborn, mouthy, reckless. She doesn't flinch when he growls. She sticks her tongue out at him like he's a playground bully.
And that, somehow, is worse.
Because it makes him feel.
Not just lust. Not just anger. Something deeper. And that is the most dangerous thing of all.
He sinks to his knees, fingers digging into the dirt. The cold earth grounds him slightly, but the voice of his wolf is louder now.
She is ours.
"No," he says aloud, voice hoarse. "She can't be. I won't let her be."
She's stronger than she looks. You felt it.
He did. In the kiss. There was a flare of something, some kind of magic, sparking beneath her skin. Not just passion. Power.
Something ancient. Dormant. Hidden.
He doesn't know what it is. But it frightens him in a way few things do.
Because if Cassandra is something more than a scared little runaway, if she's fated to be more than a passing temptation...
Then fate isn't done with him yet.
And Darius Blackthorn doesn't believe in second chances.