Chapter 27
Lirael
The car was predictable—black, armored, way too much room in back. Sebastian pulled me onto the seat next to him immediately, arm over my shoulders, making it crystal clear I wasn't getting personal space.
His other hand captured mine, lifting it into his lap. Started playing with my fingers one by one—bending them, tracing my palm, examining my nails like a jeweler pricing diamonds.
I tried focusing on the city outside. Rain-slicked streets, Gothic spires mixed with glass towers, people with umbrellas like dark flowers.
But I kept thinking about the tiger.
Did he do this to it too? Pet it constantly until it lost its mind?
The image solidified—magnificent Siberian tiger reduced to a pathetic bald cat over months of this shit. Patches of missing fur, dead eyes, too used to being handled to remember it was supposed to be dangerous.
A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. Small sound, barely a breath, but in the quiet car it rang like a bell.
Sebastian's hand stopped. Fingers tightened.
"Something funny?"
I blanked my face fast.
He gripped my chin. "You laughed. Why?"
I gave him the wide-eyed innocent stare. Dumb animal.
His thumb brushed my lip. "Still pretending. That's okay. I'm patient. But every time you lie with that pretty face, every time you hide behind this act, you just make me more curious. More determined to crack you open and see what's really inside."
He let go but pulled me tighter against his side.
"You seemed happy about going out. So from now on, we'll do this every day. Can't have my pet getting bored."
No. That's the opposite of what I need.
But I couldn't say that. Couldn't show I understood the trap. So I sat there, pressed against him, and let him think whatever he wanted.
Marcus sat up front, carefully not looking back. Driver's eyes glued to the road. I was trapped between Sebastian and the window, his thumb making circles on my wrist right where he could feel my racing pulse.
"We're here."
The car stopped outside a building that screamed old money. Silver-gray stone, discreet security, entrance that looked more bank than club.
Sebastian's hand left mine. Reached for the door, paused, looked back.
"You stay here."
What?
Already getting out. Four Onyx Guard guys materialized in black tactical gear, all business.
He leaned back in. "Lock everything. Full surveillance. She tries to leave, stop her."
"Yes, sir."
"Alpha," Marcus said, "why not bring her up? Damian won't—"
"No." Flat and absolute. "She's mine. Not Damian's property to see. I don't share my possessions, and I'm certainly not parading her in front of a man who hasn't touched a woman in ten thousand years and might get ideas."
Ten thousand years? What the actual fuck does that mean?
But Sebastian was already gone, Marcus scrambling after him. I watched them disappear through silver-trimmed doors.
Okay. Okay. Think.
---
The door locks engaged with a solid click.
Two guards stationed themselves outside. Two more settled into the front seats. The driver activated additional security—I could hear systems engaging, see red lights on the cameras intensify.
Locked in. Monitored. Controlled. Fuck my life.
I closed my eyes, let my breathing slow to something that might look like sleep. Beneath that placid surface, my mind was racing.
Fifty meters. That was my leash. Beyond that, the gene-lock would drop me screaming. But fifty meters was still fifty meters. And Sebastian had just walked into a building, putting walls between us.
Think. Assess. Plan. Don't panic.
I shifted slightly, studying the car's interior through my lashes. Surveillance camera in the ceiling. Driver's hands on the wheel. Guards sitting rigid, hands near weapons.
Beta wolves. Strong enough to restrain me, loyal enough to report everything.
But loyal didn't mean smart.
My gaze drifted to the nearest guard's tactical vest. Standard equipment pouches—zip ties, communication devices, and there, on his belt, a small spray bottle. Standard Onyx Guard issue: fast-acting sedative.
That bottle. If I could just—
Movement outside caught my attention. Through the window I could see landscaped hedges, stone arrangements. And there: moon jasmine, night-blooming plants.
During the day they were dormant. But my abilities didn't follow normal rules. The collar suppressed my connection to nature, yes, but it couldn't completely sever what I was.
Could I wake them? Please, please let this work.
I let my eyes drift shut, breathing deep and slow. To anyone watching, I'd look like I was dozing. But beneath that peaceful surface, I reached out.
Wake up. Just a little. Just enough. Please.
The jasmine's consciousness brushed against mine—sluggish, confused. I coaxed it gently.
Release. Bloom. Share your gift.
The plant's chemistry began to shift. Not the sweet scent, but the other compounds—the ones that caused drowsiness, that slowed reaction times.
"Miss?"
My eyes opened. The guard nearest me had turned slightly.
"The boss said you might want water." He gestured at the front console, clearly uncomfortable. "Water?" He mimed drinking. "Thirsty?"
Perfect. You beautiful, predictable idiot.
I blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, then nodded slowly. Let myself lean forward with clumsy enthusiasm.
He fumbled with a water bottle, nervous about proximity, about Sebastian's threats. His hands shook as he twisted the cap, and in his distraction, he didn't notice when I let my body sway too far.
"Oh—careful, miss—"
I "lost my balance" with a graceless stumble, my shoulder bumping his vest as I caught myself on his seat. He jerked away, hands raised in panic.
"I didn't touch her! I swear—"
The other guard twisted around, equally alarmed. "She just fell, it's fine—"
In that moment, my fingers found the spray bottle's clip and released it. I palmed the cylinder and slid it up my sleeve in one fluid motion, then pushed off and settled back with an apologetic duck of my head.
Got it. Holy shit, I actually got it.
"Sorry, miss. Here—" He thrust the water bottle at me. "Drink. Please."