Chapter 31 Broke the promise

Chapter 31 Broke the promise
Cassius,

I woke with a splitting headache and a sharp heaviness pressing against my chest. The slow, rhythmic sound of breathing brushed against my skin. Every muscle in my body went still. Someone was there.

My gaze dropped. A curtain of long, black hair covered my view, moving gently as she breathed. No scent lingered in the air except the faint trace of jasmine. My brow furrowed. Jasmine air freshener.

My eyes darted upward, landing on the wooden ceiling and the crystal chandelier above me. Recognition hit like a blade. The beach house. My personal retreat. The place no one dared enter without permission.

Then how did she end up here?

The last thing I remembered was drinking with my guests. A strange dizziness had started to crawl through my head. My instincts must have dragged me here, like they always did when I felt off.

But who was this woman lying on me?

My hand moved instinctively, brushing over smooth, warm skin. My breath stilled. Her back was bare. My body went rigid. What did I do? Had I lost control after all these years of restraint?

My jaw tightened as the thought sank in.

A faint sound escaped her throat. The quiet hum of her sleepy voice vibrated against my chest. She shifted, her hair slipping across my skin, and turned her face toward me.

The sight made my stomach twist. Faustina Thorne.

Her face was calm, her features almost angelic, with strands of hair half-shadowing her cheek. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath steady. The faintest flush of color stained her neck and shoulders. A line of red marks traced her skin. My marks.

For the first time in years, my thoughts faltered. I, Cassius Brightblade, the man known for his composure, sat frozen. My heartbeat was steady but my mind spun like fire.

She moved again, a small frown forming between her brows, her fingers brushing my ribs before she slowly pulled her hand away. Even in that small movement, she looked composed, almost deliberate, as though she knew exactly what kind of chaos she left behind.

My eyes hardened. Whoever had drugged me would pay for this. No one touched the Lycan King without facing consequences.

I exhaled, forcing control back into my voice as I gently moved her head from my chest and set it against a cushion. My gaze flicked around the room. We were on the couch. The damn couch.

My chest tightened. I pushed myself up quietly. But just as I straightened, her voice came, low and smooth, carrying an edge of amusement.

"Are you trying to escape from your responsibility, Mr Brightblade?"

I turned sharply. She was sitting up, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, the soft light outlining her shoulders and the graceful curve of her collarbone. A faint scar crossed her left shoulder, and a small tattoo of a moonflower gleamed on her wrist. Her eyes were half-lidded but sharp, watching me.

Her tone was teasing, yet her expression was steady, almost unreadable. "Leaving without a word? That’s a cowardly move, Mr Brightblade. I never involved myself in anything like this before. Because of my health, I avoided it. So practically, you attacked me last night and took my first time without any consideration."

Her words landed like a strike to the chest. My muscles stiffened. Her first time.

"Ms Thorne," I said, my voice colder than before.

She raised her hand, silencing me with an almost effortless gesture. Her expression softened, but her eyes remained calculating. "It’s fine. Forget my tone. As an apology, I would like you to make breakfast for me. Nothing complicated."

My lips twitched. Breakfast.

Of all the reactions she could have had, she chose to command me. Bold. Reckless. Intriguing.

"What do you want for breakfast, Miss Thorne?" I asked, my voice low and steady as I pulled my pants on.

"Anything you can prepare. I am not a picky eater," she replied, adjusting the blanket around her body before turning toward the stairs. Her bare feet made little sound against the floor. She moved gracefully, her back straight, her steps calm and deliberate.

When she reached the stairs, she paused. Her head tilted slightly, just enough for me to catch the faintest smirk playing on her lips. Then she disappeared upstairs, leaving the scent of jasmine lingering in the air.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. My eyes fell on my chest and abs. Scratches lined my skin, red and raw. Memory flashed—her nails against my body, her breath trembling against my throat, the sound of her voice when she whispered my name.

Damn it. She had no scent, and yet every part of me still remembered her. The way her skin felt against mine, the faint tremor in her voice, the heat that still lingered on my fingertips.

"You are losing your edge," Aedric’s voice growled in the back of my mind, rough and mocking.

"Don’t start," I muttered through clenched teeth. My throat felt tight.

"You enjoyed it," he drawled, his tone dark and amused. "Every second of it. Her warmth, her sound, her touch. You wanted her."

My jaw locked until I heard my teeth grind. I forced my breath steady as I stepped into the kitchen. The silence pressed in on me. The faint hum of the refrigerator, the ocean wind sneaking through the half-open window, and the scent of salt from outside all mixed into one suffocating reminder of the night before.

Every time I came here, my chest grew heavier. It was as if the house itself carried the ghosts of every promise I had made and failed to keep.

"Regretting it already?" Aedric mocked, his voice curling with amusement. "It is not like you have ever touched anyone before. Isn’t this your first too?"

"Enough," I hissed, my voice sharp enough to cut the air. My fingers twitched, and for a brief second, my wolf pushed against the surface, hungry and restless.

"Then admit it," Aedric whispered, quieter now, almost taunting. "You regret it because you broke your promise."

My hand stopped mid-motion, gripping the refrigerator handle. The metal felt cold under my palm. A faint tremor ran through my fingers as the memory resurfaced, uninvited and cruel.

"Cass… if you ever give someone else your first kiss, I will never forgive you."

That voice. The one that made me stay human. Stopping me from turning into an actual monster. Yet filled with the kind of certainty that once anchored me. The sound of it echoed in my chest until it hurt to breathe.

My eyes dropped, the reflection of the kitchen light glinting off the floor tiles. My expression hardened, but my pulse betrayed me, thudding unevenly.

Not only had I slept with Faustina Thorne. I had given her something I swore would belong to no one else. My first kiss.

My grip on the handle tightened until the faint creak of metal sounded. My knuckles turned white, veins bulging under my skin.

Regret burned through me, heavy and silent. But regret did not change a damn thing. The air in the room thickened with it, with the weight of my own choices.

What was done was done.

There was no undoing what had already been broken.

And for the first time in years, I realized that even kings could bleed where no one could see.