Destiny's Game* Chapter 5: Bitter Sweetness

Alistair’s POV

I handed Lous the chocolate cake with high expectations.

But... he took a bite.

He didn’t say anything — just looked at , his face tightening for a split second before he forced a faint smile. It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for. The disgust in his eyes was too quick to hide.

My throat went dry.

Was it that bad? Did I do sothing wrong? The cake was supposed to be sweet — not just literally, but... you know, a sweet gesture.

He pushed the plate back slowly.

"Thanks," he said. His voice was polite, almost too polite. Cold at the edges.

And I just stood there, holding that stupid fork like it ant sothing.

"I don’t like chocolate."

Those barely audible words slipped from his lips, followed by a pause that felt longer than it should’ve.

"But it was good," he added — almost as an afterthought. He tried to smile, but the expression that ford didn’t resemble one. It was... forced. Hollow.

I smiled anyway, pretending not to notice. "Why didn’t you tell ?" I asked softly, slipping closer, wrapping my arms around his.

He didn’t pull away — but he didn’t hold either.

From across the room, Charles snorted, loud enough for us both to hear, a smug grin on his face as he dug into the vanilla cake in his hands.

For a second, I almost envied that laugh — carefree, sweet, uncomplicated.

Charles walked closer, chuckling. "Louis has always been a dense monkey," he teased.

Louis rely lifted an eyebrow and sighed, unbothered as always.

"Here, try so of the cake," Charles said, his carefree grin lighting up the space around him. There was sothing reckless about it — a warmth I couldn’t help but notice. My heart skipped a beat.

I blushed, accepting the slice from his hand.

Louis’ eyes flicked toward the cake, sharp and knowing.

"Charles," I said quickly, trying to sound sweet, "since he doesn’t like chocolate, give him vanilla instead."

Charles looked between us, confused for a second before shrugging and doing as told.

And I smiled — that sa polished, practiced smile — pretending, once again, that Louis and I had the perfect relationship. Pretending it wasn’t sourer than li.

I glared at Louis as he ate the cake Charles had given him.

"Charles, thanks for teaching . It was a pleasure," I said, forcing a smile.

"The pleasure’s all mine," Charles replied, bending slightly and pretending to kiss my hand.

"How charming," I said with a small laugh, though I could already feel Louis’ gaze burning through .

"Charles," Louis said, his voice low — too low. There was sothing unrecognizable in it, sothing that sent a shiver down my spine. "Stop playing around."

Charles only smiled, that sa careless grin of his, before turning and walking away.

Louis followed a mont later, his expression darker, more serious than I’d ever seen it.

And just like that, I was left standing there — alone, confused, and wondering what I had done wrong this ti.

---

Charles’ POV

I felt a little guilty for not telling Alistair about sothing so petty — but when I saw Louis’ reaction, that guilt quickly lted away.

There was sothing oddly satisfying about it, watching his composure crack, even for just a second. I almost laughed, but I managed to hold it in — only a snort and a smirk escaped .

Their voices dropped to a whisper — I could barely hear them — but Alistair’s words cut through clear as day: "Why didn’t you tell ?"

His voice was soft, sweet even, but there was venom underneath it, and when he wrapped his hands around Louis’ arm, sothing inside twisted tight.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He didn’t know that the lifeless monkey standing beside him — that arrogant, pure-blood Alpha — was my fated mate.

Still, guilt burned in my chest, hot and ugly. I should’ve said sothing, anything.

But instead, I looked at the cake in my hand, then at Louis, then at Alistair — and I offered it to him.

He blinked in surprise, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. It was the first real emotion I’d seen from him all day, and damn it, it was... kind of endearing.

Louis noticed, of course. He always does.

---

I felt less irritated around Alistair — all because of that stupid blush.

He really was a good-looking oga. Smaller, delicate... cute, even.

It annoyed that I was noticing things like that — all because he’d turned red for half a second.

At so point, on Alistair’s request, I handed Louis a slice of vanilla cake. The gesture was simple, harmless — but the air between us wasn’t.

Louis took it without a word, his usual indifference plastered across his face. That sa calm, unreadable expression he always wore. It drove insane.

So maybe that’s why I did it — why I leaned down, caught Alistair’s hand in mine, and pressed a teasing kiss against his knuckles.

Not because I cared. Not really.

But because I wanted to see sothing — anything — crack that calm mask of Louis’.

His eyes flicked up, sharp burning piercing, his gaze was nerve wrecking .

"Charles," he said, his voice low — too low. There was a warning in it, quiet and sharp enough to cut. "Stop playing around."

For once, I didn’t smile back.

Not really. I just looked at him — at the man who was supposed to be my mate — and felt nothing but confusion and that sa cruel satisfaction from before.

So I laughed it off. Walked away. Pretended it didn’t matter,but it did .

---

I was shocked when Louis followed .

"Fuck off," I snapped, quickening my pace — heading straight for my room.

But he caught up easily. Perks of being a pure-blood, I guess. Stronger, faster, smarter... and always so damn composed.

He cornered before I could reach the door, still glaring — but the anger in his eyes shifted, softened just a fraction before he sighed. Then his hand shot out, gripping my waist and pulling close until I could feel his breath against my ear.

"Stay away from my fiancé," he whispered, his voice low and steady. His breath was hot against my skin, his tone leaving no room for doubt. It wasn’t a warning — it was a promise.

He ant every word.

But instead of backing down, sothing inside twisted — a reckless thrill rising where fear should’ve been.

When he finally let go and turned to leave, I just stood there, heart racing, mind already spinning with one thought:

If he wanted a war, I’d give him one.

And maybe... win Alistair in the process.