CHAPTER 45: _ FLIRTY JERK

Darien dials, lifting the phone to his ear and letting his other hand rake lazily through his hair. Heidi’s pulse jumps at the masculine glory displayed before her. She tries to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but the sight pins her there.

He speaks into the phone with effortless authority, talking like he’s giving an order to a bunch of stray wolves, and she sits there, naked under the sheets, feeling absurdly nervous. Funny how she is not sweating because of the call—no. It’s because of him. Because she knows if he glances back right now and catches her staring, he’ll never let her live it down.

When he finally hangs up, he tosses the phone onto the bed and gives her a look that says I’ve handled it.

"Problem solved."

Her shoulders drop with a rush of relief she didn’t expect. "Thank God."

He’s still watching her, still wearing that faint, cocky curl of a smile, and for a second she almost says thank you. But before the gratitude can leave her mouth, reality slaps her again.

"The problem isn’t solved," she blurts out immediately, eyes bulging.

His brows draw together. "Oh?"

"The awakening ceremony is tomorrow," she rushes as reality continues to hit. "We’re not supposed to wear uniforms. Ms. Vesper said to come in our best outfits, and I don’t have a single thing to wear."

He stares at her for a moment like she’s a demanding math problem. Then he exhales through his nose. "You’re a lot of work, you know that?"

"Thanks," she mutters. "That’s helpful."

"You’re not supposed to be so excited about the awakening ceremony. Girl, that ceremony is what has ruined most wolves’ youth because what if you’ve got some weak wolf and low-ranked ability? Then what? You become even more miserable than you already are. You have no idea what they’ll do to you in this school if you turn out to be unfortunate." He scoffs like she’s the most pathetically naive Omega of the year.

Darien’s words hit her like a slap, the kind that doesn’t sting the skin but bruises somewhere deeper.

Heidi blinks at him, mouth parting. Miserable? Excuse you.

Her spine straightens under the sheet, heat prickling her neck. "Wow. Motivational speech of the year. Truly inspiring, Darien. You should consider writing a self-help book and title it; How to Crush Someone’s Soul in Ten Seconds or Less.

"

The jerk doesn’t even seem to care. If anything, his grin widens daringly like a wolf baring teeth. He leans his hip against the desk, arms folding across that sculpted chest with his muscles shifting as if just to remind her they exist. "I’m not here to sugarcoat reality for you, Heidi. You want to survive this new life, right?"

Her insides knot. No, I wanted a dress. A solution. Not a full-blown existential crisis disguised as a lecture.

"You’re unbelievable." She glares, though it feels weak under the way he’s looking at her. "What I need right now isn’t your philosophical take on the unfairness of wolf society. I need an outfit."

That makes his gaze drop to her body, tracing the outline of her body beneath the sheets. Her stomach somersaults.

"You already look fine naked," he winks at her.

C-can you believe that? Heidi jumps at the most flirtatious gesture she’s seen that month. The sheet shoots higher up her chest as if it can shield her from that devastating smirk. "That’s not the assignment! I’m not walking into the ceremony in my uniform, Darien." she hisses.

"Pity," he sucks his teeth, eyes still raking her naked body.

Heat floods her ears, her cheeks, everywhere. He is impossible. Impossible. She wants to smack that pridefulness right off his face and maybe kiss it right back on, which is even worse.

"You’re deflecting. You’re supposed to help me." She eyes him cynically, clutching the sheets closer to herself.

That shameless flirt!

Darien tilts his head. "Supposed to?"

"Yes!" she snaps. "Because this whole mess is technically your fault!"

His brows arch, his mouth twitching like he’s seconds from laughing. "My fault? How do you figure that?"

She narrows her eyes. "If you hadn’t brought me here and wasted my time with all that..." she gulps. "... all that—you know, sex, I wouldn’t be hiding in your bed right now trying to figure out how not to humiliate myself tomorrow."

"You weren’t complaining earlier," he starts to scratch his goatee.

Her throat closes. She should deny it, should scoff and roll her eyes and say God, you’re delusional, but instead her skin remembers too much. It vividly recollects how the way his hands had mapped her, the way he had drawn every sound out of her like he owned them.

"I hate you," she mutters, though it comes out far too breathless to land properly.

Darien chuckles and pushes off the desk, pacing closer, his shadow stretching over the bed. "So dramatic. You don’t hate me, Heidi. You’re just mad I’m right."

W-What?!

Heidi shrinks back an inch, then catches herself and stiffens. No. No retreating. If he smells fear, he’ll eat me alive.

"Look, let’s just find a way to help me." She says instead.

He looks away briefly, thinking. Then his mouth twists like he’s making a reluctant decision. "I hate to do this, but we may need to get my younger sister involved."

Something about the way he says younger sister makes her wary. "And which one is that?"

"You wouldn’t know her."

"I might," she says, lifting her chin. "Is it Isolde or Daphne?"

His head tilts in mild surprise. "You know my sisters?"

"Cut the crap," she scoffs, narrowing her eyes. "I saw an article about them when I was researching the pack."

"Ohhh. So you were researching me."

"Not you..."

"Don’t lie to me, loba." His grin is infuriating. "Anyway, it’s Daphne. She’s got all the gorgeous dresses, and she’s the only one who could pull off your hair and makeup for this thing."

"Right," Heidi says carefully. "And what’s the catch?"

"The catch," he says, leaning one palm into the mattress, bringing himself closer, "is that if we weren’t keeping this a secret, I’d have called the biggest stylist in the country to come and dress you."

Her heart skips, heat prickling along her skin. He says it like it’s a casual fact, but the picture he paints sends her mind spinning in ways she does not want to admit.

This fucking flirty bastard. For a grumpy ass, he’s super sweet too.