Chapter 89
Sebastian
The private clinic's fluorescent lights carved harsh shadows across Lirael's flushed face as I carried her through the doors. She was burning up in my arms, her body a furnace against my chest, and every whimper that escaped her throat felt like a blade sliding between my ribs. Marcus had called ahead, but even so, the night-shift doctor's eyes widened when she saw us—saw me, the infamous Blackwood patriarch, cradling a fevered girl like she was made of spun glass and moonlight.
"Examination room three," the doctor said, her professionalism snapping back into place. "Quickly."
I laid Lirael on the bed, and immediately her hands reached for me, fingers tangling in my shirt collar with desperate strength. Her silver-gray eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide, and when she tried to pull me down to her, I caught her wrists as gently as I could manage. The wolf in me snarled at the restraint, golden light bleeding into my vision, vertical pupils threatening to eclipse the amber entirely.
"Hold on," I told her, my voice rougher than I intended. "We're somewhere safe now. I won't touch you while you're like this."
She made a sound that was half-sob, half-plea, and I had to look away before I broke every promise I'd just made.
Behind me, Marcus hovered near the doorway, tension radiating from every line of his body. "Alpha, the doctor says she's prepping the fastest analysis available. Blood work should be done in minutes."
"Good." I didn't release Lirael's wrists, even when she struggled weakly against my grip. "Tell her I want answers, not theories. And have ice baths prepared, strongest sedatives on standby."
The doctor worked with efficient precision, drawing blood while I held Lirael still, murmuring reassurances I wasn't sure she could hear. When she inserted the vial into a rapid-analysis machine, I watched the screen like it held the secrets of the universe, my jaw locked so tight I could feel my teeth grinding.
Three minutes. That's how long it took for my world to tilt on its axis again.
"This is a modified estrogen-based hallucinogen," the doctor said, her tone clinical but her eyes troubled. " It forcibly activates dormant reproductive systems while systematically dismantling rational thought processes."
My hand tightened on the edge of the examination table hard enough to make the metal groan. "Treatment options."
"Two." She pulled up a molecular diagram on her tablet. "We can inject a hormonal antagonist to counteract the effects, but it will cause significant long-term damage—potential infertility, chronic hormonal imbalances, possibly permanent disruption of her natural cycles."
Every word landed like a physical blow. I thought of Lirael's body, already pushed to its limits by three years of captivity and my own possessive brutality, and something in my chest constricted painfully.
"Or?" The word came out as a growl.
The doctor's gaze flickered to Lirael, then back to me. "Or the traditional method. Physical release with a partner. The drug metabolizes through the system naturally that way, leaving no lasting damage."
I stared at the woman, then at Lirael writhing on the bed, her skin flushed and damp with perspiration. She was looking at me with those moon-touched eyes, and even drugged out of her mind, even barely conscious, she was the most devastating thing I'd ever seen.
"The antagonist," I said. "Prepare it."
"Sir, I should warn you—even after treatment, her hormones will be unstable for at least three months. She'll experience—"
"I don't care." I cut her off, but my hands were shaking where I gripped the table edge. "Prepare the injection."
But even as I said it, I couldn't stop thinking about Lirael's future. About children she might want someday, a life beyond this nightmare I'd dragged her into. About taking away choices she hadn't even had the chance to make yet.
"Give me five minutes," I said abruptly. "Everyone out."
Marcus and the doctor exchanged glances but obeyed. I stood there listening to Lirael's labored breathing, watching her body arch against invisible torment.
Then I gathered her up, carried her back to the car, and drove us to the only place I trusted completely.
Home.
---
The master bedroom was all black silk and shadow when I kicked the door open, Lirael still burning in my arms. I laid her on the bed as carefully as I could, pulled the covers over her, but she kicked them off immediately, a frustrated sound tearing from her throat.
Her eyes had gone wrong—too red, too wild, like something feral had crawled behind them. She twisted on the sheets, every movement fluid and desperate, and when I tried to step back, her hands shot out and grabbed my arms with supernatural strength.
"Sebastian..." My name on her lips was pure agony. "Please. Please, I can't—it hurts so much—"
She pulled herself up, pressed her whole body against mine, her mouth finding my jaw, my neck, kissing and biting without any coherent pattern. Just pure, mindless need. And at the corners of her eyes, I saw it—crystalline liquid beginning to form, the first stage of Moon Dew.
My wolf roared to the surface. Gold flooded my vision, vertical pupils snapping into focus, and from deep in my chest came a sound that was more animal than man. Every instinct I had screamed at me to give her what she needed, to claim her completely, to make her mine in every way that mattered.
Instead, I caught her face between my hands, forced her to look at me even as my breathing went ragged.
"Listen to me," I said, my voice barely human. "This isn't what you want. Not really. When you're clear-headed again, you'll hate me for this. Do you understand?"
She whimpered, trying to pull me closer, and I had to physically pry her hands off my shirt, set her back on the bed, and retreat to the bathroom before I lost what little control I had left.
---
The cold water hit my overheated skin like a shock to the system. I braced my hands against the shower wall, letting the spray hammer down on my shoulders, trying to shock the wolf back into submission. It didn't work—I could still smell her, still hear her crying my name in the next room, still feel the phantom heat of her body against mine.
I lasted maybe sixty seconds before I shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and stalked back into the bedroom dripping wet.
Lirael was still writhing on the bed, her face tear-streaked and desperate, and when she saw me, she reached out with trembling hands. I should have stayed away. Should have called the doctor back, had her sedated, made the rational choice.
Instead, I pulled out my phone, opened the recording app, and leaned over her.
"Lirael," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "Do you want to be with me right now?"
"Mmm..." She nodded, eyes unfocused, reaching for me.
"This is what you're asking for? You're sure?"
"Yes... Sebastian... please..."
I stopped the recording, stared at the phone for a long moment, then muttered to myself, "Good. If she tries to kill me for this later, I have proof she consented."
It was insane. Completely, utterly insane. But I was already leaning down, already reaching to unbutton her coat, already prepared to cross a line I'd sworn I wouldn't—
Lirael curled in on herself with a sharp cry. "It hurts—God, my stomach—"