Chapter 26
Lirael
I woke up to sunlight and an empty bed.
Not just empty. Cold. The kind of cold that meant he'd never come back last night.
I lay still, taking inventory. The drug from his blood had worn off completely. Head clear, limbs working, just a metallic aftertaste and the phantom feeling of his skin under my teeth.
I bit him. I actually bit the bastard.
And he'd reacted like—like I'd done something to him. Not anger. Not punishment. Something that looked way too much like need.
I sat up, shoving silver hair out of my face. Morning light turned the greenhouse golden-green, pretty as a postcard and twice as fake. The white silk nightgown still clung to me, damp from last night. I needed to move, do something other than replay the feeling of his body against mine, shaking with barely controlled violence.
The closet had another white dress waiting. Longer, more modest, high neck and long sleeves. Of course. Everything here was white or cream or pale gold—colors that made me look like his personal moon goddess fantasy.
I dressed fast, trying not to think about his hands on me last night. The heat of his breath. That dangerous edge in his voice when he'd called me his lady in front of Isabella.
Strategic move, probably. Show dominance, tighten the leash, make me seem special while keeping me isolated. Textbook manipulation.
Except something in his eyes when he said it looked almost... real.
Stop it. He's playing you. Everything's calculated.
I headed for the stairs, planning to scope out today's fresh hell. At the top step, I spotted something in the new maid's pocket—a slim black communicator.
My pulse jumped.
Thirty seconds with that thing and I could reach Ethan. Damian. Someone who could help me get out without ending up face-down in a lake.
I drifted closer, pretending to adjust my collar—
"Enjoying the view from up there?"
Sebastian's voice floated up, amused and way too alert for someone who supposedly hadn't slept.
Fuck.
Through the railing I could see him sprawled on the leather sofa. Charcoal silk robe hanging open, wet hair, coffee in hand. Marcus stood nearby with a tablet, looking like he'd been up all night and was paying for it.
Sebastian hadn't even looked up. Still scrolling through his phone. But he'd known exactly where I was.
Cameras. Always fucking cameras.
"Come down here. Unless you're planning to lurk all morning."
I glanced at the maid. She'd gone pale and statue-still, clearly terrified of being caught between us. That communicator might as well have been on Mars.
I turned back toward the bedroom—
"Lirael."
My real name. Casual as anything. Like he owned it.
Stopped me cold.
I looked down. Now he was watching, phone forgotten, amber eyes tracking every micro-expression. Half-smile playing at his mouth.
"Come. Down."
Not a request.
I took the stairs slow, keeping my face blank, movements smooth. Prey runs. I wouldn't give him that.
When I hit the bottom, I angled toward a chair across from him. Distance. Space.
He moved faster.
One second I was walking. Next second his arm was around my waist, hauling me up like I weighed nothing. Before I could process, I was face-down across his lap, stomach on his thighs, legs dangling.
"What—"
His hand came down on my ass. Not hard, but firm enough to make a point.
"Punishment. For last night's little adventure."
I tried to push up. His other hand clamped on the back of my neck, holding me flat.
"Stay still."
I stayed still. Not because he said so. Because I needed to think, figure out his angle.
His hand left my ass, moved to my hair instead. Fingers threading through silver strands, gentle in a way that clashed hard with how he'd just manhandled me into position. Gathering a handful, letting it slide through, gathering again.
"Soft as moonlight," he murmured.
His other hand stayed on my neck, thumb stroking my throat. Possessive as hell. His thigh muscles were tense under me, breathing elevated.
He was getting off on this.
Fucking predator, getting his rocks off on having me helpless.
"I've been thinking," he said, still playing with my hair, "about sending some of this to our fragrance division. Create something exclusive. Bottle whatever this is—moonflowers and rain and that weird sweetness you've got going on."
My stomach turned. He wanted to commodify me.
His thumb found my earlobe. Pinched gently, rolled it. "Perfect symmetry. Most people have variations ear to ear, but you're flawless."
I kept breathing steady. Didn't react. Just another test to see if I'd slip.
Same exploration on the other ear. Then back to my hair, combing through it, holding strands up to the light.
He did this for twenty minutes.
By the end I'd gone from pissed to numb to something dangerously close to drowsy. Repetitive motion, warmth, steady breathing—my stupid lizard brain was reading it as safe.
It's not safe. He's a predator. You're prey.
But I couldn't stop thinking about his old tiger. The one that supposedly lost half its fur from constant petting. Had it felt like this? Humiliated and weirdly comforted at the same time?
The mental image hit me—magnificent Siberian tiger reduced to a balding house cat—and I couldn't help it. My mouth twitched.
His hand stopped moving. "What's funny?"
I wiped my face clean immediately.
He gripped my chin, forced me to look at him. "You smiled. Why?"
I blinked slow and innocent. Dumb animal, doesn't understand.
His jaw tightened. "Still playing your little game. Fine. I like games. But fair warning—I'm really fucking good at them. And I always win."
His phone buzzed. Something shifted in his face as he checked it.
"Marcus. Speaker."
Cultured British accent filled the room.
"Brother. Silver Moon Club, one hour. Genesis Foundation situation. Face to face."
Damian.
My heart kicked before I could stop it. Sebastian's hand was still in my hair—he definitely felt that spike.
His eyes cut to mine. Watching.
"I'll be there."
Call ended. Thick silence.
Then Sebastian smiled. The kind that meant someone's day was about to get ruined.
"You know what? Let's get you some fresh air. You've been cooped up too long."
Out. He's taking me out. Chance—
"I can see those wheels turning." He leaned in close. "You're thinking escape. All those lovely opportunities." His hand gripped my jaw. "Let me save you the trouble. Gene-lock, remember? You get too far from me, you'll be screaming on your knees before you make it a block."
Bastard wants me to run so he can prove his point.
"Go get dressed. Something nice. We're going somewhere that requires standards."
I stood there.
He picked up his coffee. "Thirty minutes. Don't make me come get you."