Day two of “I accidentally poisoned the scary Alpha and now everything’s weird” was going about as well as expected.
Which is to say, not well at all.
Cassian sat on the bed like some kind of brooding statue, jaw locked, muscles still doing that twitchy thing that meant the wolfsbane was still fucking with his system. His eyes tracked me around the room like a predator deciding whether I was dinner or entertainment.
“So,” I said, because silence was making me twitchy too. “How’s the whole ‘not being dead’ thing working out for you?”
Nothing. Just those storm-grey eyes following my every move.
“Cool. Love a good conversation.”
I retreated to my corner, which had become my default spot for “watching the probably-still-dying Alpha and wondering if I should make a run for it.” He wasn’t angry, which was somehow worse than if he’d been screaming at me. Anger I could handle. This quiet, feral intensity? This was new territory.
His breathing was still fucked—shallow, controlled, like he was trying to keep something caged. Maybe he was. Maybe that something was the urge to snap my neck.
“Are you planning to stare at me all day?” I asked. “Because it’s getting a little—”
He moved.
One second he was across the room, the next I was pinned against the wall with his arms caging me in. Heat rolled off him in waves, and I could smell the poison still working through his system—metallic, bitter, wrong.
“You taste like the death of me,” he whispered, voice rough as gravel.
Well, shit. That was not what I’d expected him to say.
“Yeah? What’s death taste like?” I asked, because apparently my mouth had a death wish.
“Like copper and lies.” His eyes burned silver, close enough that I could see the flecks of darker grey. “Like everything I shouldn’t want.”
“But you still want it.” It wasn’t a question.
“But I still want more.”
The admission hit like a physical blow. Because fuck me, I wanted it too. I wanted him too, and that was either the stupidest or most honest thing I’d felt in weeks.
“Then take it,” I said, because subtlety had never been my strong suit anyway.
He kissed me like he was trying to devour me whole. Nothing gentle about it—just teeth and tongue and the kind of desperation that came from almost dying and deciding to live instead. His claws shredded the back of my dress like tissue paper.
“Jesus,” I gasped against his mouth. “Warn a girl before you start renovating her wardrobe.”
He made this sound—half growl, half laugh—that vibrated through my chest. I dragged my nails down his skin, leaving red trails across scars that already told stories I didn’t know. He groaned, and the sound was feral and broken and alive.
We were all violence and want, pretending we didn’t need anything soft.
I could feel the poison still working through him—the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breath caught sometimes. But he kissed me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
My hands found his shoulders, his neck, his collarbone. Every inch of skin I could reach. He let me touch the parts of him no one else dared to see, and that felt like power and privilege and something I didn’t have words for.
Then the door exploded open.
“Get off her!”
Valen’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. My heart stopped, dropped, and decided to take up residence somewhere around my ankles.
Cassian didn’t even flinch. Just turned slowly, putting himself between me and the door like a shield. His arm stayed curved behind him, fingertips brushing my waist.
“She’s not yours!” Valen’s boots hit the floor hard enough to rattle the windows.
“She was never yours either,” Cassian said, voice level as a blade.
Valen’s eyes found mine, and the hurt there was almost worse than his anger. “You let him? After everything we planned—”
“We planned nothing,” I snapped, finding my voice. “You ordered. I obeyed. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He stepped forward, but Cassian made this sound low in his throat that made my bones vibrate. “You think this means she’s yours?”
Cassian’s mouth curved into something sharp and dangerous. “I know it.”
I stood there, trapped between them, torn dress and racing heart and absolutely zero regrets. Because watching Valen’s face crumble was better than any revenge I could have planned.
“You want to know what I think?” I said, stepping out from behind Cassian. “I think you’re both fucking idiots if you think I belong to anyone but myself.”
Valen’s face went white. “Lucy—”
“But if I had to choose,” I continued, “I’d pick the guy who drank poison and didn’t try to make me pay for it after.”
Cassian’s hand found the small of my back, warm and steady.
Valen looked like I’d just gutted him. Good. Maybe now he’d know how it felt.
“Get out,” Cassian said, and his voice held the kind of authority that made even Alphas think twice.
For a second, I thought Valen might actually challenge him. Might be stupid enough to try.
Instead, he turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake dust from the stones.
“Well,” I said into the silence. “That was dramatic.”
Cassian’s thumb traced along my spine. “Regrets?”
I looked up at him—this man who should be dead, who was still poison-sick and trembling but had put himself between me and danger anyway.
“Only that I didn’t do it sooner,” I said.
His smile was sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
