Chapter 127
Lirael
I'd survived fifteen conversations with investors who circled like sharks, and my face ached from the professional smile Damian insisted was necessary. When another silver-haired CEO leaned in too close, reeking of scotch, I cut him off mid-pitch.
"Excuse me," I said, already moving before he could trap me with another question about venture capital strategies.
Damian's hand settled briefly on my shoulder. "Gentlemen, I'm sure Ms. Fish would appreciate some breathing room."
I seized the opening like a lifeline. "Bathroom," I murmured, not waiting for his response before weaving through the crowd. My heels clicked against marble in a rhythm that felt too much like a countdown, and I had to resist the urge to kick them off and run.
The dessert table appeared ahead and I grabbed a pastry without thinking, needing something—anything—to ground me in the present moment. Behind me, the servers' voices dropped to that particular frequency of gossip that people think is quiet but carries perfectly.
"...heard the Blackwood clan's Alpha is supposed to make an appearance tonight..."
My fingers went numb. The pastry slipped from my hand before I could stop it, shattering against marble. Sugar scattered like fragments of whatever peace I'd built over two months, and I stared at the wreckage with my heart suddenly lodged in my throat.
No. No, no, no.
"Seriously? I thought he was still dealing with that family drama—"
"Shh. But yes, apparently he's been spotted in the city. First time in months..."
The ballroom temperature hadn't changed, but suddenly I couldn't breathe. The purification elixir I'd been taking religiously for sixty-three days was supposed to block the blood bond, supposed to keep me from sensing him through the mark on my throat.
Don't panic. Don't you dare fucking panic, I told myself, bending to grab a napkin with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. He doesn't know you're here. He can't possibly—
"Two months without so much as a phone call," a voice said behind me, low and rough and devastatingly familiar. "Tell me, Lirael—when did you learn to hide so well?"
Every muscle in my body locked up. For a heartbeat I couldn't move, couldn't think, could only stand there with a crumpled napkin in my fist while my hindbrain screamed at me to run.
I forced myself to turn slowly, my neck stiff with tension. Sebastian stood three feet away in a black suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, close enough that I could smell expensive cologne layered over something darker—something that made my traitorous body remember things I'd spent two months trying to forget.
His amber eyes tracked my every micro-expression like a wolf studying wounded prey, and I saw the exact moment he registered my fear. His mouth curved slightly, satisfied.
Bastard.
Don't be afraid, I told myself, lifting my chin even though my pulse was hammering. You already paid your debt. You don't owe him shit.
I repeated it like a mantra, trying to steady my breathing, trying to ignore how the bite scar on my neck had started burning the second I heard his voice.
"Mr. Blackwood." My voice came out steadier than I felt, even if the formal address tasted like ash. I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to anchor myself. "I wasn't aware you'd be attending tonight."
A lie. I'd checked the guest list three times, had built my entire sense of safety on the assumption that he'd still be in hiding.
His mouth curved into something predatory. "Funny. I could say the same." He took a step closer and I fought every instinct that screamed at me to retreat. "Although I shouldn't be surprised Damian would bring his new Chief Investment Officer. Such a corporate way to describe family."
The emphasis on that last word hit like a slap. My fingers found the table edge behind me, gripping white linen hard enough that I felt the fabric tear slightly under my nails. From his perspective, I hadn't just left—I'd left him dying and immediately shacked up with another Alpha.
"Damian gave me an opportunity when I had nowhere else to go," I said carefully, each word chosen like I was defusing a bomb. "He offered me legitimate work and protection."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and I watched something dangerous flicker in their depths. "Protection." He tasted the word like poison. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you traded one collar for another, except this one comes with a salary and a press conference."
The accusation stung because part of me had thought the exact same thing during my first week in Damian's villa, when I'd woken up in silk sheets but still felt trapped. But I'd made my choice, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him twist it into something shameful.
"At least Damian asks permission before touching me," I shot back, the words sharp enough to cut.
Sebastian's entire body went rigid. His eyes flashed gold—actual gold, his wolf surfacing—and I realized I'd just poked a predator with a very short stick. The muscle in his jaw jumped from how hard he was clenching his teeth, and for three heartbeats we stood frozen while the ballroom continued oblivious around us.
Then he moved, faster than I could track. His hand shot out and closed around my wrist, not quite hurting but firm enough that I felt the threat of his strength. My pulse jumped against his fingers and I knew he could feel it, knew he was cataloging my fear like ammunition.
"Come with me."
"Let go," I hissed, trying to wrench my arm back. His grip tightened fractionally—a warning.
"Now, Lirael." His thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist, finding my racing pulse with unerring accuracy. "Unless you want this conversation here where everyone can watch."
I glanced desperately toward where I'd last seen Damian, but he was trapped in conversation on the far side of the room. Sebastian had timed this perfectly, had waited until I was isolated and vulnerable.
"There are two hundred people here," I said through clenched teeth, my free hand curling into a fist at my side. "You can't just drag me out without anyone noticing."
Sebastian's smile turned genuinely amused, and somehow that was more terrifying than his anger. "Watch me."
He started walking toward the side exit, pulling me along. I had two choices: dig in my heels and make a scene, or go with him and hope I could talk my way out once we were alone. My mind raced through possibilities—I could scream, could use my magic to cause a distraction, could—