Cassandra’s POV
I raised my glass slowly, the crystal catching the firelight in brief, sharp flashes. Across from me, Adolphus mirrored the motion with a slight delay, like someone moving through water, cautious, unsure.
The moment the wine hit his lips, I saw it.
His body jerked subtly, like a thread had been pulled tight inside him. His fingers clutched the stem of the glass harder, his knuckles whitening.
A flicker crossed his face, something primal. His pupils dilated, black expanding rapidly into blue.
He was fighting it. Fighting something buried deep.
I took a sip of my own, unhurried, never breaking eye contact as the wine warmed my throat. My eyes stayed on him over the rim, watching his breathing turn shallow.
His chest rose and fell more visibly now, the subtle signs of restraint slipping. His gaze turned inward for a second, blinking like he was trying to see through fog.
Then, through the haze, I saw desire.
I felt the smirk form before I realized it, slow and full of satisfaction. Perfect.
“Adolphus?” I whispered, stepping toward him, my voice a low vibration in the charged silence. My body met his, warm skin brushing taut muscle, a deliberate invasion of his space.
His hands snapped to my waist, fingers digging into my hips, not gentle, not tentative. Heat radiated off his palms, and his grip sent a shiver up my spine. But I saw it immediately in his eyes.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He was seeing her.
The shift was unmistakable. His expression changed, hunger overtaking confusion, desperation overtaking awareness. A longing so deep it bordered on agony flickered across his face. He wasn’t here with Cassandra. He was somewhere else entirely.
He was with Katrina.
But not the Katrina who tucked herself away in oversized sweaters and wore silence like armor. No, the Katrina he imagined now, the one his mind molded, was unguarded.
She was soft, yielding. She had curves he had denied himself the pleasure of noticing until now, until the wine stripped the walls he’d built.
And I felt it all.
The second his mouth crashed onto mine, there was no mistaking the storm that had overtaken him. His lips were rough, desperate, as if trying to consume a memory. His hands roamed like he was searching for something just out of reach, grasping, pulling, claiming.
A sound rumbled from deep within him, a guttural growl, low and dangerous. His wolf.
I trembled. But not from fear.
From triumph.
He was unraveling before me, overtaken by need, and I was the one shaping that need, feeding it, bending it to my purpose. Every move I made was a quiet command. Every touch, a redirection. I didn’t have to speak to guide him. His body responded to mine like it had always belonged there.
The world slipped out of focus. The firelight blurred, the scent of wine and skin thick in the air. The boundaries dissolved, no more lines between hesitation and surrender, between thought and impulse.
Just the bond, pulsing and alive. Just the fire, burning through him, igniting everything he’d tried to keep buried.
And he let it.
He didn’t stop to question. He didn’t hold back. He dove into the moment, every restraint falling away like dead leaves, lost in the heat.
Morning crept in quietly, golden light slipping through the curtains in soft beams that stretched across the bed. I stirred, stretching like a cat, letting the silk sheets glide over my bare skin, cool and smooth.
Adolphus lay beside me, motionless, his face turned toward the window. His breath was slow, almost too even, like he was pretending to sleep.
But then his lashes fluttered.
He blinked once. Twice. And I watched it all unfold.
Confusion.
A flicker of panic.
Muscles stiffening under the sheets. The slow, dawning realization. His eyes darted, scanning the room, the bed, his body. And then, they landed on me.
“Cassandra?” His voice was ragged, barely above a whisper. Disbelief clung to the word like frost.
I smiled, lazy and unhurried, tilting my head as I reached for him. My fingers traced a soft, idle line down his chest, following the dip between his ribs. His skin twitched beneath my touch.
“My love,” I murmured, sweet as sin.
His entire body went taut. Tension rippled through him, breath catching. “What… what happened?” The question came slow, as if he was still piecing the night together through fogged glass.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear, voice barely a breath.
“You just claimed me.”