Chapter 170
Lirael
Sebastian's hand stayed wrapped around mine the entire drive back to Obsidian Tower, his thumb tracing absent patterns against my knuckles in that way he did when he needed to ground himself. I watched the city lights blur past the window and tried not to focus on the tremor running through his fingers—subtle, but there. The entropy was getting worse, manifesting in muscle spasms he could no longer fully hide.
Fuck. It was progressing faster than either of us wanted to admit.
The underground garage was all polished concrete and sleek metal when we descended into its depths. Sebastian guided the car into his reserved spot with practiced ease despite the tremor, and Marcus materialized from the shadows near the private elevator before the engine had even died.
"Report," Sebastian said as he stepped out, his voice carrying that edge of authority that made people straighten their spines.
"Isabella attempted to access the penthouse three times in your absence, sir." Marcus's gaze flicked to me briefly before returning to Sebastian. "She became emotional when denied entry. I've stationed additional security at the elevator access points."
I felt my jaw tighten. Of course she had. That jealous bitch couldn't take a hint if it was tattooed on her forehead.
I watched the muscle in Sebastian's jaw jump. His eyes shifted to that predatory gold for a heartbeat before he wrestled the beast back under control.
"No one approaches the top floor without my explicit permission," Sebastian said, each word dropping like a stone. "Not family, not staff, not the fucking Pope if he decides to pay a visit. Understood?"
"Perfectly, sir."
The elevator ride up was quiet except for Sebastian's thumb resuming those patterns against my palm. I leaned into his side, feeling the heat radiating from his body—that low-grade fever that had become his constant companion. My chest tightened with worry I couldn't voice, couldn't let him see.
"Isabella's going to cause trouble again?" I asked softly as we passed the seventieth floor, keeping my tone light even though I wanted to find that woman and show her exactly what happened to people who couldn't mind their own damn business.
"She'll understand her position soon enough." His tone carried a finality that made me wonder exactly what form that understanding would take. "Anyone who shows you disrespect answers to me."
The penthouse took my breath away again when the doors opened. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but it was the décor that made me pause, a surprised laugh bubbling up despite everything. Lunar motifs everywhere—crescent moons carved into side tables, constellation patterns in the rug, silver threadwork on the curtains depicting moon phases. The whole space was a shrine to my heritage.
"You really went all in on the moon theme," I said, unable to keep the incredulous amusement from my voice as I turned to face him. "What's next, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling?"
Sebastian shrugged out of his jacket, that rare genuine smile transforming his face from dangerously beautiful to devastatingly so. "I only have an obsession with one particular moon elf. If that helps narrow the focus."
My heart did something stupid and complicated in my chest. Goddamn it, I was supposed to be immune to this kind of thing.
Before I could respond, he'd swept me into his arms and carried me to the sofa. We sank into the cushions together, and the kiss that followed was unhurried despite the urgency thrumming through his frame. I melted into him, my hands coming up to tangle in his hair, trying to memorize the taste of him, the feel of his lips against mine. When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes half-lidded.
"You should rest," he murmured, though his hands pulled me closer, contradicting his words. "It's been a long day."
I pulled back to meet his eyes, noting the exhaustion carved into his features, the way gold flickered at the edges of his pupils. "What about you? You look like you're about to collapse."
"I have documents that need attention." He brushed hair from my face with fingers that trembled slightly. "Financial reports, security protocols. The usual empire maintenance that doesn't pause for personal crises."
Liar. I could see right through him—he was giving me space, sure, but more than that, he needed to feel useful while he still could. The thought made my throat tight.
"Alright," I conceded, rising from his lap even though every instinct screamed to stay, to keep him close. "But don't stay up too late."
I retreated to the bedroom, and the moment the door clicked shut, my carefully maintained composure cracked. My hands were shaking as I retrieved the encrypted communicator from my bag, fingers fumbling with the power button. Come on, come on.
The video call connected almost immediately, and I nearly sagged with relief.
"Lirael." Damian's face filled the screen, relief shifting to concern as he took in my expression. "I was beginning to worry."
"I'm at Obsidian Tower. We're living together now. Officially." The words came out steadier than I felt.
His eyebrow arched but he had the grace not to comment. "I have the information you requested. Are you certain you want to proceed?"
"I'm certain. Sebastian's deteriorating faster than we thought. His father cut off the suppressants, and the memory lapses are increasing. We're running out of time." My voice cracked on the last word, and I dug my nails into my palm to regain control. "We're running out of fucking time, Damian."
Damian's fingers moved off-screen, and my tablet chimed. "I'm sending you the complete protocol now. Read it carefully before you decide."
I opened the file with trembling fingers, scanning the dense text until I reached the section highlighted in red. The words swam before my eyes as I read them once, twice, trying to process what they meant.
Moonshade Extract: Required dosage—seven stalks, administered orally over fifteen minutes. Side effects: severe gastrointestinal distress, systemic inflammation, temporary paralysis, extreme pain, potential seizures, loss of consciousness. Duration: approximately two hours. Pain management contraindicated. Subject must remain conscious and unmedicated throughout.
"Jesus Christ," I whispered, my free hand coming up to press against my mouth. "This sounds like torture."
"It will feel like torture," Damian agreed grimly. "The moonshade forces your system into overdrive. Previous subjects described it as having their organs systematically shredded while remaining fully conscious. It's not something I would recommend lightly."
I swallowed hard, fighting back the nausea that rose in my throat. "But it would work? It would produce enough to stabilize Sebastian?"
"Based on my calculations, yes. Three times the potency of natural moon dew, sufficient to halt the entropy for at least six months, possibly longer." He paused, his expression troubled. "But Lirael, you need to understand what you're volunteering for. This is agony designed to break even the strongest wills."
"I can handle pain. I've survived worse." The words came out more defensive than I intended, my shoulders tensing.
"Have you?" His gaze was penetrating, stripping away the bravado. "Because this looks less like survival and more like martyrdom."
The accusation stung because it carried truth I'd been trying to ignore. I looked away from the screen, my jaw clenching. "Does it matter? Whether I'm doing this out of love or guilt or some fucked-up need to prove I'm worth keeping around, the result is the same. Sebastian gets what he needs to survive, and I get to keep him a little longer. That's all that matters."
Damian studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to meet his gaze again, refusing to back down. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with reluctant acceptance.
"Very well. I'll arrange delivery tomorrow afternoon, disguised as cosmetics. Three PM at the eighty-seventh floor reception."
"He can't know," I said urgently, leaning closer to the screen. "Damian, you have to promise me. If Sebastian finds out what I'm doing, he'd rather die than let me suffer. I know him. He'll try to stop me."
"I know. Which is why you need to keep a communication line open throughout. I can monitor your vitals remotely and talk you through the worst of it."