Darius stands frozen in the hallway for a full five whole seconds, blinking at the stubbornly closed door like it's suddenly become the final boss in a quest he didn't sign up for.
He mutters under his breath, "You've got to be kidding me."
From behind the door, Cassandra's muffled laughter rings out, light and teasing, like a dozen tiny bells tangled in mischief and triumph. It's the kind of laugh that says, You lost this round, Alpha.
His wolf growls softly, an irritated huff vibrating through Darius's chest.
"She slammed the door in our face," he whispers to himself, voice thick with disbelief. "After I bared my soul like some kind of emotional gladiator."
His wolf sulks audibly, like a grumpy teenager who just realized the ice cream truck passed by without stopping.
"You forgot the chocolate," the wolf grumbles, its voice layered with canine judgment.
Darius snaps back, "I'll get the damn chocolate," his tone sharp but grudging, already pivoting on his heel with the kind of determination only fuelled by wounded pride and the faint scent of desperation.
As he stalks down the corridor, muttering ominous threats about imported truffles and chocolate-dipped apologies, Aidan and Michael reappear from the shadows by the far wall. Both lean casually, watching him with matching expressions, part pity, part barely contained amusement.
"She slammed it in your face?" Aidan asks, popping a suspicious nut from a mystery pouch into his mouth with the air of someone who's seen this drama unfold too many times.
"She's got good aim," Michael adds, arching a perfectly groomed brow as if this were a shooting competition.
Darius glares at the pair like they just suggested he audition for a reality show called "How to Lose at Love, Fast." "Do either of you have chocolate?"
Aidan whistles low and slow. "Oof. You're already at the 'buy her forgiveness' phase? That escalated quickly."
"Shut up," Darius grumbles, stomping toward the kitchen like a man on a covert mission involving truffles, ego, and possibly the fate of the entire pack.
The packhouse kitchen is unnervingly silent this late in the evening, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and a suspicious creak somewhere near the ceiling. Darius throws open the pantry door like he's summoning a magic relic. Boxes shuffle and wrappers crinkle, sounding like a miniature forest awakening under his breath.
A faint growl echoes from deep inside the shelves, either the pantry's haunted or his wolf is reminding him this is serious business.
At last...victory.
Dark chocolate squares. Imported, rich, probably smuggled through enchanted borders. Possibly magical. Definitely worth more than Darius's pride at this moment.
He snatches the chocolate like a warrior clutching a sacred weapon and charges back down the hallway. The guards have retreated, praise be to the Moon Goddess.
He stops at Cassandra's door.
Knocks once...firm but hopeful.
No answer.
Clears his throat. "I brought chocolate."
Silence. Not even a sarcastic retort.
"Very expensive chocolate. I sacrificed my dignity for this."
Still nothing.
He tries again, voice cracking slightly, "Do I need to sing?"
A pause.
Then, from behind the door, Cassandra's voice floats out, dry and perfectly timed: "Dear gods, no."
The lock clicks.
The door swings open.
There she is, leaning against the frame, draped in that fuzzy blanket like a sleepy goddess of sarcasm and looming chaos.
Her eyes land on the chocolate. Then on him.
"Well," she drawls, voice thick with mockery, "look who finally remembered how to grovel."
He holds out the chocolate like a peace treaty, or maybe a very awkward offering to the gods of second chances.
She snatches it from his hand, rips open the wrapper, and takes a slow, exaggerated bite, eyes never leaving his face.
Darius watches, heart thudding a ridiculously loud beat against his ribs.
"Okay," she says, chewing deliberately. "You may enter. But only because I'm feeling generous. And slightly under-caffeinated."
He steps inside cautiously, bracing for another door slam or a trapdoor to open beneath him.
The room is warm, softly lit by flickering candles. The scent of lavender, old books, and something faintly metallic, like magic hanging in the air, wraps around him.
Cassandra moves to the armchair near the window, pulling her blanket tighter, looking every bit the reluctant queen of this cosy fortress.
Darius lingers awkwardly near the shelves, trying to seem casual but probably failing miserably.
"I don't bite," she offers, arching an eyebrow.
He shoots her a dry look. "You literally threatened to punch me earlier."
She smiles sweetly, which somehow makes his heart do a ridiculous, clumsy flip. "Different kinds of contact."
They settle across from each other now, separated by a low table littered with tea cups, a half-eaten chocolate bar, and one very nervous Alpha.
Cassandra watches him with eyes that are equal parts challenge and curiosity.
"So," she says, voice low and teasing, "Are you here because your wolf's still restless or because you're actually interested in me?"
He lifts his gaze slowly, like he's weighing every word. "Do you really think I'd go through all this for heat?"
She shrugs, playful but not cruel. "You nearly did. In the kitchen. Remember? You almost marked me without even wanting to."
His mouth tightens into a line.
"I know," he admits quietly.
"And now?"
"Now I'm asking." He leans forward, earnest. "I'm not perfect. Hell, I'm barely functional when you're around. But I'm trying. I want this, not just because of your scent or your magic or whatever ancient moon-tied pull this is...but because you're strong, smart and funny in a terrifying way. You make me feel like I'm not a walking curse."
"I don't want to hurt you," he continues. "I want to earn you. Even if it takes a hundred slammed doors and a mountain of chocolate."
Cassandra stares at him for a long moment, silence hanging thick between them.
Then she exhales.
"Okay," she says softly. "You get one chance."
He straightens, hope flickering. "One chance?"
She leans back, finger wagging like a drill sergeant. "To prove this isn't just hormones, guilt, and testosterone-fuelled declarations."
He nods firmly. "Fair."
"But first," she adds, eyes sparkling with devilry, "you're going to do something real for me."
"Anything," he says without hesitation.
"Tomorrow morning, you're babysitting the pups."
Darius blinks. "What?"
"From dawn," she says, grinning wide now, positively evil. "No help. Just you and ten wild, howling furballs. You want to prove you're not just some Alpha with a crush? Let's see you survive toddler werewolves."
He groans, already regretting the last twenty-four hours of his life. "You are the worst."
She smiles wider. "And yet... you like me."
He sighs, defeated but utterly smitten. "Unfortunately."
Later, after more laughter, several half-hearted exit attempts, and one very slippery chocolate wrapper, Darius finally rises to leave. The chocolate's gone. The blanket slipped off Cassandra's shoulders, and his control is on the edge of breaking.
If he needs to prove to Cassie that he's in this for real, then he needs to show her.
As he touches the door, something shifts, the air stills, the warmth flickers like a candle struggling against a sudden draft.
They both feel it.
Cassandra stands straighter, voice barely a whisper: "Did you...?"
"Yeah," Darius says, already turning back.
Outside, the wind howls, carrying a whisper of ancient magic.
And then, completely out of nowhere, she reaches up and presses a kiss to his cheek...featherlight, surprising, utterly tender.
"Thanks for the chocolate," she murmurs.
He watches her, dazed.
"You're still not getting lucky," she adds with a smirk.
"I figured," he mutters, grinning as he walks out.
Tonight, at least, the game has changed. And somehow, that's enough.