Aurielle's POV
The hallway was nearly empty—everyone already headed for lunch. My stomach growled, but something made me slow down when I heard the snickering.
And the whimper.
I rounded the corner and saw them.
Three werewolves. Bigger. Older. Towering over a petite girl backed into a locker. Her white hair was wild and bright—like fresh snowfall. She was hugging her books to her chest, trying to make herself smaller.
"What's wrong, Snow White?" one boy sneered. "Lose your dwarfs?"
The second yanked at her hair.
I didn't even think.
"Touch her again and I'll relocate your jaw to your colon."
They turned.
"Oh, look—it's the princess of the pack," one mocked.
I stepped closer. "You must be feeling brave today. Should I break it out of you?"
Their laughter died.
One muttered something, but they slinked away like the cowards they were.
The white-haired girl was trembling.
I crouched down. "You okay?"
She nodded, but her voice was quiet. "Thank you."
"What's your name?"
"Cassara," she said. "Cassian's sister."
I blinked. "Wait—Cassian?"
She smiled shyly. "Yeah. The angry one. Don't let his eyebrows fool you. He's not completely awful."
I laughed. "That's debatable."
She tilted her head. "You're Auriella, right?"
"…Yeah."
Her eyes sparkled. "He talks about you. All the time."
I frowned. "He what?"
Cassara nodded. "Not like... open-mouth gushing. But he gets this... look. Like you're a riddle he can't solve. A fire he knows he shouldn't touch, but still warms his hands on anyway."
I stared at her, speechless.
"Be kind to him," she said. "Cassian doesn't let people in. Not since... not since Mom."
Then she gave me a small smile and walked away.
And I stood there, heart a little confused. Mind racing.
Was I just his distraction—or his undoing?
I found him by the balcony again.
Cassian always went there at dusk—like he needed the wind to cool whatever wildfire raged in that chest of his. He leaned over the rail, fists clenched, shoulders tense, like the world was one wrong word away from tipping him over the edge.
I hated how much I liked looking at him.
"You're quiet today," I said, walking up behind him.
"Didn't realize I owed you noise," he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. "Gods, do you always have to be a brooding dick?"
"Do you always have to trail after men who want nothing to do with you?"
I blinked.
His words hit harder than a punch to the gut.
He turned, his face blank—but his eyes weren't. No, those eyes were volcanic. And still, he looked through me like I was nothing.
"I'm not Alervon, Auriella," he said. "I don't brood because it's sexy. I do it because talking to people like you makes me want to jump off cliffs."
I swallowed hard, heat flooding my cheeks. "People like me?"
He stepped closer, his voice lowering to something sharp. "Entitled. Naïve. Arrogant. Always looking for someone to worship you because you've never lifted anything heavier than your own ego."
"I didn't come here to be insulted," I said, voice shaking.
"No. You came here hoping I'd say I want you."
His silence stretched.
I forced a laugh. "But you don't. Right?"
He smiled then. But it was ugly. Hollow.
"You're not the kind of girl someone wants," he said. "You're the kind they fuck to forget someone else."
That broke something in me.
I tried to mask it with a scoff, with a snide remark—but it didn't come.
He turned his back to me.
And I did what I always did when people walked away.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and told myself I didn't care.
But gods… I cared too much.
"""'
I was halfway between sleep and memory, the storm muttering against the windows like an old secret, when I heard it—
A click.
Then a rush of air.
Then the scent of cigarettes.
Not the cheap kind. The rich, earthy ones—like guilt and bourbon and something older.
I sat up. My heart spiked.
And there he was.
Cassian.
Drenched head to toe. Black shirt soaked through and clinging to his muscled chest. His dark hair hung across his forehead, dripping like the rain hadn't even tried to show him mercy.
"What the hell—" I started, but the words tripped over my breath.
His eyes.
Those eyes. Gray. Smoke-stained. Haunted. They pinned me in place like I was the crime he couldn't forgive.
"What did you do to me?" he asked, voice low. Wrecked.
I blinked. "What?"
He stepped forward, the storm still clinging to him like a lover that didn't want to let go. Water tracked down his jaw, his throat, disappearing beneath the line of his collar.
"I can't eat. I can't sleep. I close my eyes, and you're there. That mouth. That fire. That goddamn rage you wear like perfume."
My breath stilled.
He kept walking until the air between us disappeared.
"You're under my skin, Auriella," he said. "Like poison I'm too fucking broken to spit out."
I swallowed, heat crawling up my spine. "Cassian—"
He grabbed my wrist—gently, but like it hurt him not to crush it.
"What is he to you?" His voice cracked. "Alervon. What the hell is he?"
I looked away.
That was my answer.
"Shit," he muttered, stepping back like I'd hit him. He ran both hands through his hair. "You feel something for him."
I didn't speak. Couldn't.
But he wasn't done.
"I get it," he said, pacing now. "You like the cold, controlled ones. The ones that look at you like they're above it all. Like they can handle you. But I've seen how he looks at you. Like you're a mission. A job."
He turned.
"I don't look at you like that."
His voice dropped, hot and cracked.
"I look at you like you're a fucking fire I'd gladly burn inside of."
I stood.
He was in front of me in two strides. His hand came up—hovering—before it landed on my cheek. Wet thumb tracing the line of my jaw.
"I shouldn't be here," he said.
"You're right."
"But I can't stay away."
I opened my mouth—to stop him, maybe. Or maybe to beg him not to stop.
But he didn't wait.
His lips crashed against mine like thunder.
And gods, I let him.
Because it wasn't soft.
It wasn't gentle.
It was grief and hunger and every word we'd never say.
His hands were rough, desperate, skimming down my waist like he was trying to memorize me in one night.
I kissed him back like I wanted to forget everything. Alervon. The prophecy. My cursed blood.
Just for a moment, I wanted to disappear into Cassian's ruin.
His mouth dragged down my throat. His hand tangled in my hair.
"Tell me to stop," he growled. "Tell me now."
I didn't.
Because in that moment, I wanted him to break me.
But then—then he pulled back.
Eyes wild. Jaw tight. His breath hitched like he'd just realized something too late.
"You'll never be mine, will you?"
I froze.
"Even if I bury myself in you, you won't be mine."
I looked at him, blinking back something I didn't want to name.
Cassian stepped away.
"This was a mistake," he said. "I'm not him. I can't pretend I don't feel this. And I won't beg to be second."
He turned, the storm already clawing at the window behind him.
And before I could say anything—before I could stop him—
He was gone.
And I was left alone with the taste of a kiss that should've meant more—
But didn't.
Because my heart had already betrayed us both.