Chapter 104
Lirael
The galley was smaller than I'd expected—all stainless steel and hidden compartments and the kind of efficient luxury that came from decades of private aviation experience. I'd volunteered to help prepare tea, desperate for any excuse to escape Sebastian's suffocating presence in the main cabin, to have thirty seconds where I could breathe without feeling those amber eyes cataloguing my every micro-expression.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
What did I think would happen?
That I could just waltz onto his private plane and he'd politely ignore all the inconsistencies?
Melissa—the flight attendant, middle-aged and professionally pleasant—was showing me where everything was kept, her movements practiced and efficient. Too efficient. The kind of efficiency that came from years of service to people who noticed everything and tolerated nothing.
She's watching me too.
Reporting back to him.
Every word, every gesture, every tell I can't quite suppress.
"The tea selection is in this cabinet." Melissa opened an upper compartment, revealing an array of premium loose-leaf teas that probably cost more per ounce than most people's groceries. "Lord Blackwood prefers the Darjeeling, but we have Earl Grey, English Breakfast, several herbals—"
"Earl Grey is perfect." I reached for the tin with Sophia's practiced grace, hyper-aware of Melissa's scrutiny. "For both of us, I think."
Just make the tea.
Don't do anything suspicious.
Don't give them more ammunition.
I was measuring leaves into the infuser when it happened.
Melissa reached past me for the kettle, movements smooth and professional, and then suddenly she wasn't—her hand slipped, the kettle tilted, and boiling water arced toward my arm in a trajectory that would've meant second-degree burns and a trip to the emergency room.
Instinct took over.
My hand shot out with speed that had nothing to do with Sophia Thornwood's carefully cultivated refinement and everything to do with three years of surviving in a cage where reflexes meant the difference between pain and survival. I caught the kettle mid-fall, fingers closing around the handle, arm absorbing the momentum, not a single drop of scalding water touching skin.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
That was too fast.
Way too fast.
The silence in the galley was absolute. Melissa stared at me with wide eyes, her professional mask slipping just enough to show genuine shock. And in the doorway—because of course he was in the fucking doorway—Sebastian leaned against the frame with arms crossed and expression that managed to be both amused and predatory.
"Well." His voice was silk over steel. "That was quite impressive, Miss Thornwood. Reflexes like that... not exactly typical for someone who spends their time in research laboratories and university lecture halls."
Play it off.
Find an explanation.
Don't let him see how badly you're panicking.
I set the kettle down with exaggerated care, manufactured a slightly embarrassed laugh that Sophia might have made.
"I apologize for startling you both." I smoothed my skirt, buying time to think. "I suppose I should have mentioned—I've trained in self-defense since childhood. Growing up in Europe, traveling alone for research... my parents insisted I learn to protect myself. The reflexes become rather automatic after a while."
Please let that be believable.
Please let him accept it.
Please—
Sebastian pushed off from the doorframe, moved into the galley with that liquid grace that made my hindbrain scream warnings. He was close enough now that I could smell whiskey and winter storms, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, close enough that escape was impossible.
"Self-defense training." He repeated the words like he was tasting them, testing their validity. "How thorough of your parents. And what style, exactly? Krav Maga? Jiu-jitsu? Something more... exotic?"
He knows.
He knows that explanation doesn't quite fit.
He's playing with me.
"Krav Maga, primarily." I kept my voice steady through sheer force of will. "Some kickboxing. Nothing exotic, I'm afraid. Just practical techniques for a woman traveling alone."
His smile widened fractionally, revealing teeth that seemed just slightly too sharp.
"Of course. Practical." He glanced at Melissa, who was still staring at both of us with barely concealed shock. "Melissa, why don't you return to your other duties? I'll help Miss Thornwood finish preparing the tea."
No.
No no no.
Don't leave me alone with him.
But Melissa was already nodding, already backing toward the door, already abandoning me to whatever Sebastian had planned.
"Of course, Lord Blackwood. Please let me know if you need anything."
She disappeared, and the galley suddenly felt about three sizes smaller, the walls closing in as Sebastian reached past me—deliberately invading my space—to retrieve two cups from the cabinet.
"So." His voice was conversational, but I could hear the predator beneath it. "Krav Maga. Developed by the Israeli Defense Forces, if I recall correctly. Emphasizes instinctive responses to threats, simultaneous defense and attack, neutralizing danger as quickly as possible."
He knows too much.
Way too much.
This isn't casual knowledge.
"You're quite well-informed, Lord Blackwood."
"I make it a point to understand anything that might be relevant to my interests." He handed me a cup, fingers brushing mine deliberately. "And Miss Thornwood, I find you very interesting indeed. So many unexpected facets. Academic brilliance, self-defense expertise, those remarkable reflexes... One might almost think you were more than just a simple researcher."
He's cornering me.
Verbally boxing me in.
Testing how I'll react under pressure.
I focused on preparing the tea with exaggerated care, buying time, trying to think through the panic flooding my system.
"I'm afraid I'm quite boring, actually. Just a researcher who happens to have practical survival skills. Nothing mysterious about it."
"Mmm." The sound was noncommittal. "And yet, there's something about you that doesn't quite... fit. Can't put my finger on it. But I will. Eventually."
Threat wrapped in courtesy.
Promise that he won't stop until he's unraveled every lie.
I finished steeping the tea, poured it into both cups with hands that only trembled slightly, then made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes directly.
Gold swimming in amber. Predator evaluating prey. Hunter who'd already decided the chase was won and was just enjoying the final moments before the kill.
"Shall we return to the cabin?" I kept my voice light despite the terror. "I'm sure the tea is best enjoyed while it's hot."
And while there's more space between us.
And while I can breathe without feeling like I'm suffocating.
"Of course." He gestured toward the door with exaggerated courtesy. "After you, Miss Thornwood. And do be careful with that tea. Wouldn't want you to spill it. Those reflexes of yours might not be quick enough to catch everything."
Asshole.
Smug, terrifying, too-perceptive asshole.
I preceded him back to the main cabin, hyper-aware of him behind me, of the way his presence felt like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders, of the absolute certainty that I'd just failed whatever test that galley incident had been.
We settled back into our seats. I handed him his cup, careful not to let our fingers touch this time, and took a sip of my own tea.
Which tasted like soap and stagnant water and absolute fucking disaster.
What—
I nearly choked, managed to swallow through sheer force of will, felt my eyes water as the vile concoction hit my stomach.
Someone tampered with my cup.
Put something in it.
Cleaning solution, maybe, or—
"Something wrong with your tea, Miss Thornwood?" Sebastian's voice was pure innocence, but his eyes were laughing. "You look rather... distressed."
He did this.
He fucking did this while I was distracted.
Testing me again.
Seeing if I'd react, if I'd complain, if I'd—
"Not at all." I forced another sip, nearly gagged, kept my expression serene. "It's lovely. Thank you for your help."
I am going to murder him.