Chapter 38
Lirael
The sound woke me—a low groan Sebastian couldn't quite suppress. My eyes snapped open and I found him propped against the wall, face bone-white, breathing in harsh pulls that made his chest hitch.
His right hand gripped the tactical knife like a lifeline while his left arm hung useless. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage at his shoulder, the edges dark and crusty, but the flow had slowed to an ominous seep. Even from across the room I could see his whole body trembling, muscles locked in spasms that made his jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth.
But it was his eyes that made my breath catch. They glowed in the darkness, pupils elongated into vertical slits that reflected the moonlight. The gold had almost completely consumed the amber. The beast was winning, and his human consciousness was losing ground.
I pushed myself up. "Sebastian—"
"Don't." Half-growl. His hand tightened on the knife. "Don't come closer."
I was already moving. When I knelt a few feet away, I could see the damage more clearly—the wound had clotted, crude but effective, yet his skin had taken on a grayish pallor that spoke of something worse than blood loss. Fever heat radiated from him in waves. Poison was working through his system.
"Let me see the wound."
His hand shot out, catching my wrist in a crushing grip. "Don't touch my blood." Up close I could see his canines beginning to elongate. "Stay back, Lirael. I mean it."
"You're poisoned—"
"I said stay back!" The roar wasn't entirely human. Beneath the aggression I caught something else—fear. Fear of what he might do if I got too close, fear of what the toxin was doing to his control.
I forced myself to breathe. "You need medical attention."
"No." His grip loosened slightly. "Conventional treatment won't work. My physiology..." He paused, breathing hard through another spasm. "I'm not like normal people."
"What are you talking about?"
He shifted his hand and a drop of blood fell from beneath the bandage onto the floorboard. Where it landed, the wood immediately began to smoke, the surface turning black as it corroded like acid burning through paper.
I jerked back. "Your blood—"
"Corrosive." His jaw clenched. "Side effect of the experiments. The drugs they use to suppress the beast—they poisoned my blood. Made it toxic." His eyes met mine. "So when I tell you not to touch it, I mean it."
Memory flashed—the bathroom on the yacht, when I'd bitten his finger and tasted something acrid beneath the copper. I'd thought it was shock. Now I understood. His blood was literally poison.
"The pain. It's making it worse." Another tremor ran through him, violent enough to make his teeth chatter. "The toxin from the blade—it's reacting with the drugs in my system. Amplifying everything. Can't hold it back."
The transformation was coming, accelerated by the chemical warfare happening inside his body. I could see it in the way his bones seemed to shift beneath his skin, in the lengthening of his nails into claws.
"Why?" The question escaped. "Why is your blood like this?"
His eyes found mine. "Want to know?" His voice was strained. "Then tell me something first. Tell me what you really are."
Even dying, he was bargaining. The audacity would have been impressive if it wasn't so infuriating.
"I told you—"
"Don't lie to me. Not when we might both die here." He paused, breathing hard through clenched teeth. "The experiments were designed to enhance Alpha capabilities. Make us stronger, more resistant to the entropy that drives us mad." His jaw clenched. "Side effect was my blood, my saliva, everything became toxic. I'm walking poison, Lirael."
The bitterness in his voice was sharp. He was a prisoner of his own body, just like I was a prisoner of the collar.
"Your past. Your abilities. Stop pretending you don't remember. I know you're more than that."
I wanted to deny it, but something in his voice stopped me. The rawness. The pain that had nothing to do with the wound.
"I don't know what you want me to say." I avoided his gaze.
"Liar." No heat in it, just exhausted resignation. "Always the—"
He cut off with a strangled sound, suddenly pitching forward like his spine had given out.
I moved without thinking, lunging to catch him before he hit the floor. My hands found his shoulders, trying to ease him down—
Then his arms closed around me like a trap, pulling me against his chest. His low laugh ghosted across my ear. "Gotcha."
My whole body went rigid. "You bastard—"
"So you still care whether I live or die." Pain in his voice but also satisfaction. "Good to know."
I tried to pull back but his grip was iron, one arm locked around my waist while his hand tangled in my hair. This close I could feel the fever heat burning through his clothes, smell the blood and sweat and something acrid—the poison working through his system. His heart hammered too fast against my chest, erratic and dangerous.
"Let me go."
"In a moment. First tell me why you tried to catch me. Why you didn't just let me fall."
"Because you're—" I bit off the words.
"Because I'm what? Your captor? The monster who collared you?" He paused. "Or because somewhere under all that hatred, you actually give a damn?"
Before I could answer, his body went rigid and a real growl built in his chest, the sound vibrating through me where we touched.
When I pulled back to see his face, my breath caught. The gold had consumed his eyes completely, pupils narrowed to slits, canines elongated. His skin burned under my hands, tremors running through him as the beast fought to surface, fueled by pain and toxin and failing restraint.
"Sebastian—"
He released me abruptly, shoving me back, and in one fluid movement he was caging me against the wall, arms on either side of my head. "Don't. Don't say my name like that."
I pressed back, heart hammering, very aware of how close he was, how his breath came in harsh pants, how his whole body trembled with the effort of control. His features were shifting, bones restructuring, humanity slipping away with each passing second.
His gaze dropped to my face, to the remnants of the prosthetics. Something like disgust flickered across his features. "Those masks you wear. They're offensive."
Before I could respond, he dragged the back of his hand across my cheek with bruising force, scraping away the damaged latex, leaving raw skin. I gasped, tried to turn away, but his other hand caught my chin.
"There." His voice barely human now, gravelly. "Much better. Your real face." His thumb traced my cheekbone, almost gentle despite the claws. "This is what I want to see. Not the lies. Just you."
"Sebastian, you need to—"
"Need to what?" His hand slid to my throat, not squeezing but resting there. "Need to let you go? Need to be reasonable?" His laugh was harsh. "I'm past reasonable. Past control. Can you feel the beast winning?"
I could. In the way his body pressed against mine, in the heat and tremors and barely leashed violence.
"You need to fight it."
"Fight it." His hand tightened fractionally. "I've been fighting it my whole life. Thirty years." His forehead dropped to press against mine. "And for what? To end up here, dying, with the one person I can't afford to lose about to watch me become a monster?"
His fingers traced my jaw, mapping my features with unexpected gentleness. "You'll never escape me. Never. Even if I die here, even if the beast takes over—I'll drag you with me. Into death. Into hell." He paused. "Wherever I go, you're coming too."
A chill ran down my spine. "You're delirious—"
"No. I'm finally being honest." His eyes burned into mine. "I won't allow it. Won't let you end up like..." Something flickered across his features. "Like the little wolf."
The little wolf. The one in his pocket watch. And now he was saying—