Cassius’s POV
The restaurant was beautiful, perched on the edge of the lake with windows that opened wide to reveal the shimmering water. The moon hung low, casting silver ripples across the surface, a sight that might have been soothing if my thoughts weren’t such a mess.
April sat across from me, her silhouette framed by the soft candlelight on the table. She looked as composed as ever, her usual armor firmly in place, but her eyes betrayed her. There was something raw in her gaze, something vulnerable that had me both frustrated and aching for her.
I was angry. Angry at her for not telling me, but more so at the gnawing feeling that I’d failed to see through the walls she had built. And underneath all of that anger, there was an ache-deep and persistent. My wolf prowled within me, restless, uneasy, but oddly silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, the question spilling out before I could stop it. My voice was sharp, harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t rein it in.
She froze, her fingers halting on the edge of her wine glass. She didn’t meet my gaze at first, her eyes fixed on the lake as if she could find her escape there.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied softly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Her response only fueled my frustration. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”
Her head snapped toward me, her eyes blazing now. That fire-it always stirred something primal in me, even when it was aimed directly at my chest.
“How is it not the same, Cassius?” she demanded. “You didn’t tell me you were a werewolf until you felt like it. You let me fall into this… thing with you while you held back a huge part of yourself. So why am I the only one at fault here?”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut because they weren’t wrong. I had kept my secret for weeks, maybe months, rationalizing it as protecting her, protecting myself. But this wasn’t about me.
“You knew,” I said, quieter now, though the frustration still simmered in my voice. “You knew what I was from the start, and you didn’t say anything. You let me believe I was the only one holding something back, all while hiding your own truth.”
Her expression faltered then, a flicker of guilt breaking through her usual resolve. But she didn’t crumble-not April. She straightened her shoulders, her gaze steady even as her voice softened.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she said, the words tinged with hesitation.
“Why?” I pressed, leaning forward. “Because you didn’t trust me?”
Her head shot up, and the look she gave me was a mix of anger and pain so raw it made my chest tighten.
“It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to live the way I have? To know that the wrong person finding out the truth about you could cost you everything?”
Her words stung, sharper than I expected. My wolf stilled, its earlier agitation morphing into quiet reflection. No, I didn’t know what that was like. My position as Alpha granted me power and safety that she clearly had never known.
“April,” I started, but she wasn’t done.
“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “You don’t get to be angry with me for protecting myself. You don’t know what it’s like to be rejected by your own kind, to have someone who’s supposed to love you throw you away like you’re nothing. You don’t know what it’s like to carry that around, to bury every part of yourself because it’s safer that way.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and the pain in her eyes was like a dagger to my chest. I wanted to be angry, to cling to the sense of betrayal, but how could I? Not when she was baring her soul in front of me, her vulnerability laid bare in a way that made my wolf whimper with guilt.
“I would’ve understood,” I said softly, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “You didn’t have to go through it alone.”
She laughed then, a bitter, hollow sound that twisted something deep inside me.
“Maybe you would have,” she said, her tone laced with doubt. “But I didn’t know that. And by the time I thought I might be able to trust you, it felt like it was too late.”
Her words hung between us, and I felt their weight settle heavily on my shoulders. She was right. I hadn’t done enough to make her feel safe, to show her that she could trust me.
“I didn’t tell you what I was either,” I admitted, the words bitter in my mouth. “Because I was afraid. Afraid of what you’d think, of how you’d look at me if you knew.”
Her eyes softened, and for the first time tonight, the tension in her expression eased.
“Then you understand,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less intense.
“I do,” I said, and I meant it. But that didn’t erase the ache in my chest, the questions still gnawing at me. “But we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep hiding from each other.”
Her gaze dropped to the table, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass again. For a long moment, I thought she wouldn’t respond.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes meeting mine with a vulnerability that took my breath away.
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
Relief washed over me, a balm to the raw wound her words had opened. Without thinking, I reached across the table, my hand covering hers. Her skin was warm, her fingers curling around mine almost instinctively.
“Then don’t,” I said softly. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
The promise in those words felt monumental, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe that this could work-that we could work.
. Even if we were not mates, I did not care because that did not change the fact that I wanted her, all of her.
“Together,” She said in agreement as she squeezed my hand while looking into my eyes. My heart was beating so fast, and I bet she could hear it, given how she is a werewolf and all.
Damn, the woman I have been pining for is a real-life werewolf, just like me. That was the best news I had gotten; the anger I felt was now gone and replaced with happiness because the biggest complication of all between us was her rejecting me because of my true nature, but now that was unlikely to happen because we are the same kind.
Plus, I felt real joy, something I had not felt in a really long time because April and I could actually be together. It seemed impossible before, but not anymore.