Chapter 65 Strategy
Amara POV
The halls feel different this time, and I cannot tell if it is because the place has changed or that my mate is here.
The last time I walked through these corridors, everything felt controlled, watched, and carefully measured. Every step I took felt like it belonged to someone else. Every breath felt borrowed.
Now, Sebastian walks beside me, and nothing feels distant anymore. Everything feels sharper, more real, like the world has snapped back into focus.
The servants guide us through the long corridors in silence. Their footsteps are soft against the polished black floors, and none of them dare to meet our eyes for more than a passing second. Still, I can feel it. The attention. The curiosity. The tension that lingers beneath the surface of everything here.
Sebastian does not speak. His hand remains wrapped around mine, firm and steady, as if he has no intention of letting go. Every so often, his thumb brushes against my knuckles, absent but grounding, like he needs the contact just as much as I do.
We stop in front of a familiar set of doors.
My doors.
The same ones I was brought through days ago.
A servant steps forward and pushes them open. “Your chambers,” she says softly before stepping back.
Sebastian steps inside first.
Then he stops.
I follow just behind him, and the sight of the room hits me all over again. The large bed is still made with soft, layered blankets. The tall windows spill pale light across the floor. The carved furniture sits untouched. The faint scent of herbs and something sweet still lingers in the air.
It does not look like a place someone was kept.
It looks like a place someone was meant to stay.
Sebastian exhales slowly, taking it all in. “Well,” he mutters, “this isn’t what I expected.”
I glance at him. “What were you expecting?”
He lets out a quiet huff. “Chains. A cell. Something I could tear apart without thinking twice about it.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Disappointed?”
His gaze shifts to me, steady and intent. “No,” he says. “Just.. adjusting.”
There is something in his expression that I cannot fully place. It is not anger, and it is not relief either. It feels like something in between, something heavier.
His eyes move around the room again, slower this time, taking in every detail like he is measuring it, understanding it. Then his attention settles back on me, and everything else seems to fall away.
The bond tightens between us, not painfully, but undeniably present.
His hand slips from mine, only so he can step closer.
I do not move away.
I cannot.
There is something in the way he looks at me now, something intense and searching, like he is still making sense of everything that just happened. The truth about me. About what I am. About what that means.
But there is no hesitation in him.
Not anymore.
His hand lifts slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, tracing lightly along my cheek like he is grounding himself in the fact that I am still here.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, even though my chest still feels tight from everything that just unfolded. “Yeah.”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he does not fully believe that, but he does not push.
Instead, his hand slides to the back of my neck, careful, steady.
My breath catches.
The connection between us pulls tighter, stronger, like something that had been stretched too thin is finally snapping back into place.
“Good,” he murmurs.
And then he kisses me.
It is not hesitant. It is not careful. It is immediate and firm, like something he has been holding back for too long.
I respond without thinking, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as I pull him closer. The world outside the room fades instantly, replaced by the warmth of him, the familiarity, the pull that feels like it belongs to us and no one else.
His hand tightens slightly at the back of my neck, tilting my head just enough to deepen the kiss. It is heated, intense, carrying everything that neither of us said out loud. The fear, the relief, the anger, the need to feel something real after everything that just happened.
I press closer to him without realizing it, and he doesn’t stop me. If anything, his other hand moves to my waist, pulling me in until there is no space left between us.
The bond hums, alive and steady, threading through every touch, every breath. Tingles shoot throughout me, spark fly.
For a moment, nothing else exists.
Not the castle.
Not Leviath.
Not Cassian.
Just this.
Just us.
Then..
A sharp knock cuts through the moment.
We both freeze.
The sound echoes louder than it should in the quiet of the room.
Sebastian exhales slowly against me, his forehead resting briefly against mine like he is deciding whether or not to ignore it.
The knock comes again.
More insistent this time.
I pull back slightly, breath uneven, and glance toward the door.
Sebastian mutters something under his breath that sounds very much like a threat before straightening just enough to respond.
“What?” he calls, his tone flat and clearly irritated.
The door opens just enough for a servant to step inside, her head lowered respectfully.
“Lunch will be served shortly in the dining hall,” she says carefully. “The King requests that all guests attend.”
Of course he does.
The timing is almost laughable.
Sebastian’s jaw tightens slightly, and I can feel the irritation rolling off him. He does not like being interrupted. He definitely does not like being summoned.
“Tell him we’ll be there,” he says after a moment.
The servant nods quickly. “Yes, my lord.”
She disappears just as quickly as she arrived, the door closing softly behind her.
Silence settles again, but it is not the same as before.
Sebastian lets out a slow breath and runs a hand through his hair.
“I don’t like this,” he mutters.
“I know,” I say quietly.
His eyes shift back to me, and for a second, the tension eases just slightly.
“Stay close to me,” he says.
There is no command in it.
Just certainty.
I nod. “I will.”
He studies me for another second, like he is making sure of it, before reaching for my hand again.
His grip is just as firm as before.
Grounding.
Steady.
And despite everything waiting for us beyond that door…
I hold onto it.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
The room feels quieter now, but not in a peaceful way. It feels like the kind of quiet that settles before something shifts again, like the castle itself is holding its breath along with us.
Sebastian’s thumb brushes slowly over the back of my hand, and I realize he is thinking just as hard as I am. Not about the room. Not about the interruption.
About everything.
Leviath.
Cassian.
That girl..
What happens next.
“This isn’t over,” he says finally.
I shake my head slightly. “No. Not even close.”
His jaw tightens just a fraction, and his eyes flick briefly toward the door, like he can already see through it, already anticipating whatever waits on the other side.
“Lunch invitation from a vampire king right after everything that just happened?” he mutters. “That’s not hospitality. That’s strategy.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
Because I do.
Nothing here is simple.
Nothing here is given freely.
His gaze shifts back to me again, sharper this time.
“If anything feels off,” he says, “you say something. Immediately.”
There is no hesitation in his voice. No room for argument.
I nod. “I will.”
He watches me for another second, like he is committing that to memory, like he is measuring how much he trusts the situation… and how much he does not.
Then his expression softens just slightly.
Not much.
Just enough.
“Still okay?” he asks again, quieter this time.
I let out a small breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“I am now,” I admit.
Something shifts in his expression at that. Not relief exactly. But something close.
His hand tightens around mine once more, and this time it feels less like grounding… and more like a promise.
“Good,” he says.
Then he glances toward the door again.
“Let’s go see what game he’s trying to play,” he adds.
I nod, even though something in my chest tightens again at the thought.
Because whatever this is…
It isn’t just a meal.
And we both know it.