Chapter 144
Lirael
I looked up from the tablet, concern bleeding through my carefully neutral tone. "You've seized power so openly, even used the clan seal to override your father... Victor and his allies won't let this go. Have you considered the consequences?"
Sebastian leaned against the console, arms crossed. "I'm the one calling the shots now. Victor's faction has been hollowed out. Those so-called allies need my commercial empire more than they need him. Turning on me would hurt them worse."
His confidence should have reassured me, but instead it highlighted how precarious our position was. I turned back to the tablet, scrolling through the medical reports Marcus had compiled. Nine patients stable enough for transport. Nine lives pulled back from the edge.
But three still hung in the balance. I zoomed in on the twins' latest scans, searching for any sign of hope in the data I barely understood.
"You're doing it again," Sebastian said, irritation sharpening his voice. Before I could respond, he reached over and locked the screen. When I looked up, his amber eyes had narrowed. "Staring at those photos like they're the only thing in this room. You haven't looked at me once since I showed you the reports."
I blinked at him, genuinely confused. "I was reviewing the medical data. Making sure I understood—"
"For fifteen minutes straight." He pushed off the console and closed the distance between us. "Without once acknowledging I'm here. Do you have any idea how that feels?"
The shift in his mood caught me off guard. We'd just been discussing logistics—when had this become about his wounded pride? "Sebastian, I was working. The transport leaves in six hours and I needed to—"
"You needed to what?" He plucked the tablet from my hands and set it aside. "Memorize every pixel? They're being taken care of, Lirael. By professionals. You don't need to obsess over details you can't control."
The hypocrisy of that statement—coming from the man who'd micromanaged every aspect of this operation—would have been laughable if his expression hadn't been so serious. I caught something vulnerable beneath the irritation. Not anger. Something closer to hurt.
"I wanted to see them recovering," I said quietly. "To know what we're doing is actually helping. Is that really so terrible?"
"No." He exhaled roughly, running a hand through his hair. "But I'd like you to look at me with that same intensity occasionally. To remember I'm here too."
The naked admission startled me into silence. I realized I'd been so focused on the rescued patients that I'd completely neglected the man who'd made it all possible. The man who'd betrayed his own father to protect them.
To protect me.
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it. "You're right. I got caught up and forgot to..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
"Forgot to look at me," he finished, his voice dropping lower. His hand came up to cup my chin, tilting my face toward his. "Forgot I exist when you've got something else to focus on. It's becoming a pattern, little moon."
The endearment sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard, aware of how close we were standing, of the way his thumb traced idle circles along my jaw. "That's not fair. I was just—"
"Looking at photos of people you've never met," he interrupted. "Staring at them like they're more important than anything else in this room. Than anyone else."
Understanding dawned. He wasn't just annoyed—he was jealous. Actually jealous of my concern for the patients, as if their suffering somehow diminished what we'd shared. The realization was equal parts absurd and oddly touching.
"They matter," I said carefully. "Their lives matter. That's why we did this, isn't it?"
"Of course they matter." He stepped closer, crowding into my space until I had to tilt my head back. "But so do you. So do I. So does whatever this is between us. And I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that occasionally."
The vulnerability beneath his words made my chest ache. I reached up, my fingers brushing the hand that cupped my face, and felt him tense. "I do remember," I said softly. "I'm here, aren't I? Working with you. Trusting you. That should count for something."
"It does." His thumb traced my lower lip with aching slowness, and I felt my breath hitch despite myself. "But I'm greedy, Lirael. I want more than just your trust. I want your attention. Your focus. I want you to look at me the way you look at those photos—like I'm something worth studying."
The raw honesty stole my breath. This was the Sebastian I'd glimpsed in rare moments—the one who'd retrieved chocolate from the trash because I'd told him to, who'd designed an entire confectionery line around lunar symbolism. The one who needed reassurance as much as he needed control.
"Alright," I said, watching surprise flicker across his features. "Then ask me properly. No demands. No ultimatums. Just ask."
He went very still. When he spoke, his voice had gone rough. "Can I see the reports with you? I want to know what you're thinking when you look at them."
Such a simple request, so far from his usual possessive declarations. Something warm unfurled in my chest. "Yes," I said. "But later. Right now, I'd like to know something else."
"What?"
I hesitated, then forged ahead. "Can I see the updates every day? Once they're transferred? I want to track their progress."
His expression shifted, eyes taking on a calculating gleam that immediately put me on edge. "Every day?" he repeated, the corner of his mouth turning up. "That's quite a commitment, little moon. Are you sure you can handle that level of investment?"
"I'm sure," I said firmly. "They matter to me. So yes, I want daily updates."
"Interesting." He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "You know, in wolf culture, when you're courting someone, there are certain... protocols. Certain ways of asking for things that show proper respect."
I blinked at him, confused. "What does that have to do with medical reports?"
"Everything," he said, and there was something almost playful in his tone now, a dangerous edge that made my pulse quicken. "A wolf doesn't just demand what they want. They negotiate. They offer something in exchange. They make it worth their partner's while to agree."
Understanding dawned with uncomfortable heat that pooled low in my belly. "You're not seriously suggesting—"