Chapter 80
Lirael
I watched from across the street as the Nightwatch contingent departed. Good. Fewer witnesses, fewer complications.
You can still turn back. Walk away and let nature take its course. No one would blame you.
But my feet were already moving. I was about to cross when two Onyx Guard members emerged, talking in low, urgent tones. I pressed into the shadows.
"—can't believe Marcus is actually considering it. The Lord would rather die than—"
"The Lord isn't conscious to have an opinion. And if he wakes up like this, he won't be the Lord anymore. He'll be a rabid animal that needs to be put down." A pause. "Marcus wants us to prepare the silver rounds. Full load."
My blood turned to ice. Execution. They're preparing to execute Sebastian.
The image flashed unbidden: Sebastian's body riddled with silver bullets, those amber eyes gone dull and lifeless. And I felt something twist violently in my chest, something that felt dangerously like panic.
No. Not like that. He doesn't deserve to die like a rabid dog.
I waited until they'd driven off, then spotted a medical waste truck idling near the service entrance. I didn't hesitate—just vaulted into the truck bed, ignoring the nauseating smell.
You're really doing this. You're really going to save him.
The truck carried me past security, down into the underground levels. I slipped out and found the maintenance ladder, climbing into the ventilation system.
Last chance. You can still leave. Still preserve your escape route, your freedom.
But I was already dropping to the floor, already moving toward the guarded door, already committed.
You're in love with him. Or you're going insane. Possibly both.
I pushed the thought away and opened the door.
---
Sebastian lay in a reinforced hospital bed, restraints across his chest and limbs—silver-threaded leather that would burn if he struggled. He looked terrible. Gray skin, sweat-plastered hair, black veins standing out like rivers on his neck.
He's dying. Really dying. And you're the only one who can save him.
My hand moved to the vial. Three years of tears. Three years of suffering. And I was about to use it to save the man who'd made my life hell.
Because he also saved you. Because he gave you justice. Because you don't want him to die.
Sebastian's eyes snapped open as I approached—pure gold and unfocused. His hand shot out, fingers clamping around my wrist.
"You." His voice was barely human. "You're trying to run again."
My heart stuttered. "I'm not running. I'm here."
"Liar." He pulled me closer, fever radiating off him in waves. "Little liar. Trying to steal yourself away." His fingers tangled in my hair. "Won't let you. Mine. You're mine."
He's hallucinating. The entropy's affecting his brain.
His teeth found my finger, biting down hard enough to make me gasp. "You look at me and all you think about is escape routes," he accused, voice cracking. "Calculate how many steps to the door."
He's not wrong. Even now, part of my brain is mapping exits.
But another part—the part I'd been trying to ignore—just wanted to smooth the hair back from his forehead, to tell him I wasn't going anywhere.
You're so fucked.
"I'm not going anywhere," I said, and this time it wasn't entirely a lie. "This is a dream. And in dreams, I stay."
His golden eyes searched my face, desperate and confused. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Then I'm locking you up. Somewhere safe where you can't leave." His voice dropped to a possessive growl. "Mine. Forever mine. Never letting go."
Even dying, he's still obsessed with keeping me.
But beneath the possessiveness, I heard something raw and desperate that made my chest constrict painfully.
His nose pressed against my throat. "You smell like moonlight and old magic. Like the forest the night I found you." His voice cracked. "You could save me. I know you could. So why do you keep trying to escape?"
Because you terrify me. Because I'm falling for you and that's the most dangerous thing that could possibly happen.
"In dreams, you don't have to be cruel," I whispered. "In dreams, I can help you. But you have to let me."
"I've always been gentle with you," he insisted, and the delusion would have been funny if my heart weren't breaking. "Haven't I?"
"Yes," I lied. "You've been so gentle. Now let me give you medicine."
But when I tried to tip the Moon Dew into his mouth, his jaw was locked tight, muscles spasming. I tried to pry his mouth open, but his teeth were gritted so hard I feared they'd crack.
Fuck. He can't swallow. The entropy's too advanced.
Every instinct screamed at me to run. But I couldn't. Because he'd saved me. Because he'd given me justice. Because some stupid part of me had started to care.
This is insane.
I tilted the vial, letting a single drop fall onto my tongue. The taste was sweet and cold, like winter starlight.
Then I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.
Everything stopped. Sebastian went rigid with surprise—but then his mouth softened, lips parting to accept the medicine I transferred.
This is medical. This doesn't mean anything.
But his arms came up despite the restraints, wrapping around me with desperate strength, pulling me down. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that had nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with obsession.
And god help me, I kissed him back.
Not because I had to. But because his lips were warm and his arms were strong and for one brief, perfect moment, I let myself pretend this was real. That he wanted me for more than my Moon Dew. That I wanted him for more than the twisted connection trauma had forged.
I could feel the medicine working, the entropy responding to the ancient magic. His temperature dropped, muscles relaxing as the crystallized tears gave him peace.
When I finally pulled away, gasping, his eyes had closed. His face was still buried against my neck, breath evening out.
"You came back," he murmured, voice thick with drowsiness. "Knew you would. Always come back to me."
Something in my chest cracked at the naked vulnerability in his voice. I did come back. What does that make me?
"I'm here," I whispered, and let myself stroke his hair just once.
His arms tightened. "Stay. Please stay."
I can't. When you wake up, you'll hunt me again, and this will all start over.
But I didn't say that. I just reached for the syringe on the medical cart.
"Close your eyes. Feel that I'm here."
Sebastian obeyed with heartbreaking trust. "Stay. Don't leave me alone."
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I positioned the syringe and plunged it home.
His eyes flew open, gold bleeding back to amber in a moment of painful clarity. His hand caught my wrist—not hard, just firm.
"You lied," he said, and there was no anger. Just terrible weariness. "Again."
I know. I'm sorry.
Then his eyes rolled back and he went limp.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at his unconscious form, my hand still tangled in his hair, trying to understand what I'd just done. I'd saved his life. I'd kissed him. I'd felt something when his arms wrapped around me, something that terrified me more than any collar or cage.
You're in love with him. You're in love with the man who hunts you, who owns you, who will never let you go.
I pulled away, forcing myself to focus. Cover the tracks. Clean the evidence. Pretend this never happened.
But as I wiped down surfaces and pocketed the broken syringe, I couldn't stop looking at his sleeping face. Couldn't stop remembering how he'd held me, how he'd begged me to stay.
This changes nothing. Sebastian will wake up and continue hunting you.
I was halfway to the door when I stopped, looking back. Sebastian looked peaceful in sleep, the predatory intensity smoothed away.
My hand moved before I'd decided, palm connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap. Then another, harder.
"That's for calling me a liar," I whispered fiercely.
Sebastian didn't stir. I allowed myself one more moment to memorize his face—the moment I'd been stupid enough to save my enemy's life .
Then I slipped out and disappeared into the night, carrying the certain knowledge that everything had changed.