Chapter 171
Lirael
After we disconnected, I sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen, my heart pounding. Then I methodically deleted all traces of the call and hid the communicator in the false bottom of my bag. My hands were still shaking.
Shit. This was really happening.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, taking a shaky breath. Then another. I couldn't fall apart now. Sebastian needed me to hold it together.
When I emerged, I found Sebastian still at his desk, surrounded by papers and holographic displays that painted his features in shades of blue and amber. He looked up as I appeared in the doorway, and his expression softened in that way it only did for me.
"Hungry?" he asked, setting aside whatever he'd been reviewing. "I had the kitchen prepare something light."
The fact that he'd noticed, that he'd arranged a meal despite everything else demanding his attention, made my chest ache. I crossed to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing my face against his neck for a moment, breathing him in.
"That sounds good," I said finally, releasing him before he could comment on the uncharacteristic display of affection.
Dinner arrived shortly after we settled at the table. We'd barely started eating when the door chimed again, and Isabella entered with a second cart. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes burned with barely suppressed emotion as they landed on me.
Oh, for fuck's sake. This bitch again.
"I thought I'd personally oversee the evening service," she said with false sweetness that made my teeth ache.
Sebastian's gaze tracked her movements as she began setting out dishes with exaggerated care, and I felt tension coil in my shoulders. Something about this felt wrong. I watched her hands, the way her fingers gripped the cart handle just a little too tightly.
It happened so quickly I almost didn't register it—Isabella reaching for the soup tureen, her hand seeming to slip, the heavy bowl sliding directly toward me. Time seemed to slow as I saw the scalding liquid slosh dangerously, and my body tensed to move—
But Sebastian was faster. He was out of his chair before the bowl had traveled more than inches, catching it with reflexes that shouldn't have been possible given his condition. The soup settled with barely a ripple, but his eyes had shifted to predatory gold, pupils contracting to vertical slits.
Holy shit. My heart was hammering against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system even though the danger had passed.
"Were your hands slipping," he said, each word dropping like ice into the sudden silence, "or are your eyes failing you?"
Isabella's face went pale, all color draining from her cheeks. "I—it was an accident, my lord. The cart's surface—"
"Don't." The word cut through her excuse like a blade, and I watched her flinch. "Don't insult my intelligence by pretending that was anything other than deliberate."
"My lord, please. I've served your family for fifteen years. I would never—"
"You would never what? Deliberately endanger someone under my protection out of petty jealousy?" His voice remained conversational, but violence simmered beneath it like magma beneath a thin crust. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly what you just attempted."
Isabella's gaze flickered to me, and I saw the hatred there, raw and undisguised. Good. Let her hate me. I met her stare steadily, refusing to look away, refusing to show the discomfort churning in my gut.
"She's not even one of us," Isabella spat, her composure finally cracking. "You're risking everything—your position, your family's approval, pack stability—for an outsider who will never belong in our world. Is that really worth throwing away everything your ancestors built?"
The silence that followed was deafening. I felt my nails dig into my palms, felt anger rise hot and fierce in my chest. How dare she. How fucking dare she act like she had any right to judge what Sebastian chose to risk, what he chose to fight for.
Sebastian's expression shifted to something colder, more dangerous—the look of a predator deciding exactly how to dismantle its prey.
"Marcus." The door opened immediately, as if he'd been waiting. "Isabella is demoted to third-tier staff. Strip all access privileges to executive floors. Reduce her salary fifty percent for three months. If she objects, terminate her employment immediately."
Isabella's face crumpled, shock and humiliation warring for dominance. "You can't—I've given my life to this family—"
"And this family has compensated you generously for that service," Sebastian interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "But your loyalty clearly has limits, and I have no use for staff who let personal grievances compromise their professionalism. Marcus, escort her out. Make sure everyone understands that similar behavior toward my partner results in immediate termination without severance."
I watched Marcus grip Isabella's arm with impersonal efficiency, guiding her toward the door despite her protests. She shot me one last look of pure hatred over her shoulder, and I held her gaze until the door closed between us.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs under the table, willing them to stop.
"You didn't have to do that," I said softly, though the words lacked conviction. "She was out of line, but—"
"But nothing." Sebastian moved around the table to stand beside my chair, his hand coming up to cup my face with surprising gentleness. "Anyone who shows you disrespect answers to me, and I'm not feeling particularly merciful these days. You are under my protection, Lirael. That means something in my world, and I need everyone to understand exactly what the consequences are for forgetting it."
I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing for a moment. "Thank you. For defending me. For making it clear where I stand."
"Always," he promised, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
After dinner we settled on the sofa, some classic film playing that I didn't really watch. I was too aware of Sebastian beside me, of the way his breathing had become slightly labored, of the heat radiating from his skin. Around ten, I noticed him flagging, his responses slower, his eyelids drooping.
"Bed," I said firmly, pulling him to his feet before he could argue. "You need rest, and I'm not taking no for an answer."
He allowed me to lead him without protest, which told me everything about his exhaustion. I helped him out of his shirt, my fingers brushing against skin that felt like a furnace. Too hot. Definitely too hot.
"Let me hold you tonight?" he asked, voice rough with exhaustion and something that sounded like vulnerability. "I need to feel you close, to know you're real and here and choosing to stay."
The raw honesty in his expression gutted me, stripping away every defense I'd tried to maintain. "Always," I promised, my voice catching. "You can hold me every night for as long as you want."
We climbed into bed and he arranged me against his chest, arms wrapped around me with possessive certainty. His body radiated heat, but I pressed closer rather than pulling away, one hand splaying over his heart to feel its steady rhythm.
"Forever," he murmured, already drifting toward sleep. "I want forever with you, Lirael. However long that turns out to be."
"Then we'll make it forever," I whispered, blinking back the moisture that threatened to gather in my eyes. "One day at a time."
His breathing evened out within minutes, and I stayed awake long after, listening to his heartbeat and trying not to think about tomorrow's delivery, about the moonshade and the two hours of agony that would follow.
I can do this. I have to do this.