Chapter 65
Lirael
The panther's massive paw landed on my shoulder with enough force to knock most people flat, but I'd been expecting it. His claws were retracted—he knew better than to actually hurt me—but the weight of him pressing against the chain-link made the whole structure creak ominously.
"Easy," I murmured, reaching up to scratch behind his ear in that spot that made him go boneless. "You're a panther, not a house cat. Have some dignity." But there was no real heat in the words, and he knew it, could probably sense the way my whole body relaxed in his presence. The animals didn't want anything from me except affection and food, didn't try to own me or control me or break me down. They just were, and right now that simplicity felt like the most precious thing in the world.
The panther made a sound half-growl, half-whine, his huge head pushing against my hand as he tried to squeeze more of himself through the fence gaps. I laughed despite myself—rusty and unfamiliar after days of maintaining stony silence—and tapped him lightly on the nose when he got too pushy. "You're worse than a spoiled house cat," I told him, but I was already reaching for another piece of meat, watching as he delicately took it from my fingers. "I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were—"
The panther's entire body went rigid under my hand, his ears flattening back against his skull as a low, threatening rumble built in his chest. The change was instantaneous—one moment an oversized kitten begging for treats, the next a predator recognizing something more dangerous than himself. He backed away from the fence and deeper into his enclosure, and a shadow fell across me, blocking out the afternoon sun.
"Drag it out," Sebastian said, his voice flat and cold and utterly devoid of mercy. "Strip its fur off. All of it. I want it bald."
I was on my feet before I'd consciously decided to move, spinning around to face him with my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs. His golden eyes had shifted to those vertical slits that marked his wolf rising to the surface, and the expression on his face was calculated cruelty that made my blood run cold even as rage began to burn hot in my chest. This wasn't about the panther. This was about me, about my continued refusal to acknowledge him, and he was going to punish an innocent creature for my perceived transgression.
I turned away without another word, my jaw clenched so tightly I could feel my teeth grinding together, and started walking back toward the house. Behind me, I heard him draw in a sharp breath, could practically feel the shock radiating off him at this latest dismissal, but I kept moving, kept putting one foot in front of the other even though every instinct was screaming at me to turn back, to beg, to do whatever it took to protect the panther.
"You have one more chance to reconsider," Sebastian said, his voice carrying across the garden with perfect clarity, and there was something in his tone that made me hesitate despite myself. "One more chance to make this right, Lirael. After that, the choice is out of your hands."
I paused, my hand coming up to brush at my shoulder where the panther's paw had left a smudge of dirt. For just a moment I let myself imagine it—turning back, apologizing, playing the role of the grateful pet who understood her place. It would be so easy. Just a few words, a show of submission, and the panther would be safe.
But I'd spent ten days locked in his bedroom teaching myself to bake French pastries I had no intention of sharing with him, ten days proving to myself that I could exist in his space without bending to his will. If I broke now, he would know he'd found the lever he needed to control me, and he would use it again and again until there was nothing left of me.
---
Sebastian
One hour later,she'd vanished. Simply disappeared as if she'd never been there at all, and the security footage showed nothing, the guards reported nothing. I stood in my office with Marcus's tablet in my hand, staring at empty room after empty room on the surveillance feeds, my rage building to a point where I could feel my control starting to fray at the edges.
"Sir," Marcus said carefully, his voice pitched low and soothing, "we've checked all the usual places—the greenhouse, the library, the kitchen, her bedroom. She's not in any of the guest areas, and the perimeter alarms haven't been triggered. She has to be somewhere in the house."
"Then find her," I snarled, slamming the tablet down on my desk hard enough to make the wood groan. Marcus flinched but didn't argue, just nodded and pulled out his phone to coordinate with the rest of the security team. I paced the length of my office, hands clenched into fists at my sides, trying to think past the red haze of fury.
"Sir," Marcus said, appearing in the doorway with his phone pressed to his ear. "We've deployed the infrared drones. They've found her. She's... on the roof."
I was moving before he'd finished speaking, shouldering past him and taking the stairs three at a time, my heart pounding with a mixture of fury and something else I refused to examine too closely. The roof. Of course it was the roof—the one place in the entire house where surveillance was minimal, and she'd figured that out somehow, had found the one blind spot in my carefully constructed prison and exploited it.
When I finally hauled myself up onto the roof, I found her exactly where the drone footage had shown her—stretched out on one of the support beams with my copy of Classic French Pastries draped across her face. She looked utterly peaceful, her silver hair spilling over the edge of the beam and her chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.
The first drops of rain began to fall as I watched, light and scattered at first, and I saw her stir slightly, one hand coming up to brush at her face. She didn't wake, didn't seem to realize the weather was turning, and I felt my resolve—my determination to drag her down from there and lock her somewhere she couldn't escape—waver slightly as more drops began to fall.
"Sir," Marcus said from somewhere behind me, having finally caught up, and I could hear the question in his voice even though he didn't voice it aloud.
"Get me an umbrella," I said, the words coming out harsher than I'd intended. I stood there in the increasing rain and watched as Lirael finally began to wake, her movements slow and drowsy as she reached up to lift the book off her face and blink up at the darkening sky.
Our eyes met across the distance, and I saw the moment she registered my presence, saw her entire body go tense as she sat up on the beam with casual balance that suggested she'd been up here more than once. She didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge me beyond that initial moment of recognition, just sat there with rain beginning to soak through her white dress.