Chapter 19

The morning sun cast golden rays through the grand windows of Sebastian Blackwood’s estate, painting the marble floors in warm hues. Lillian stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body still humming with the remnants of last night’s passion. The scent of sandalwood and musk clung to her skin—Sebastian’s signature fragrance, now irrevocably intertwined with her own.

She stretched lazily, her muscles pleasantly sore, before her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic on the nightstand. A silver pendant, intricately carved with the Blackwood crest, rested beside a handwritten note in elegant script:

"For the woman who owns my heart. Wear this, and let the world know you’re mine."

Lillian’s breath hitched. The weight of the pendant in her palm felt like a promise—one that both thrilled and terrified her.

Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with activity. The clatter of fine china and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted from the dining hall. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his piercing gaze lifting the moment she entered. Oliver, his son, grinned around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Morning, Lillian!" the boy chirped. "Dad said you’d sleep in forever if he didn’t wake you."

Sebastian smirked, the dimple in his cheek deepening. "I considered it. You looked too peaceful to disturb."

Heat flooded her cheeks as she slid into the seat beside him. The pendant around her neck caught the light, drawing Sebastian’s attention. His fingers brushed against it possessively, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Good. You’re wearing it." His voice was low, meant only for her.

Before she could respond, Marcus Grayson, Sebastian’s beta, strode in, his expression grim. "Alpha, we have a problem."

Sebastian’s demeanor shifted instantly. "Report."

"Donovan’s pack has been spotted near the eastern border. They’re testing our defenses."

Lillian’s stomach twisted. Donovan—her ex-fated mate, the man who had betrayed her without hesitation. The thought of him lurking near Sebastian’s territory made her blood boil.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "Double the patrols. If he so much as steps a foot onto Blackwood land, I want him detained."

Marcus nodded and turned to leave, but not before casting a sympathetic glance at Lillian.

Oliver, sensing the tension, poked at his food. "Is Uncle Donovan being mean again?"

Sebastian ruffled his son’s hair. "Nothing for you to worry about, champ."

But Lillian knew better. Donovan wasn’t just testing borders—he was sending a message. And if there was one thing she had learned about Sebastian Blackwood, it was that he didn’t tolerate threats.

Especially when it came to her.

The morning sun cast golden rays through the curtains, stirring Lillian from her restless sleep. She groaned, rubbing her temples as the remnants of last night’s confrontation with Donovan replayed in her mind. His betrayal still stung, but she refused to let it break her.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Lillian? Are you awake?" Beatrice’s voice was muffled but concerned.

Lillian sat up, smoothing her tangled hair. "Yeah, come in."

Beatrice slipped inside, her expression tight with worry. "You look awful. Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," Lillian admitted, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "Too much on my mind."

Beatrice sighed, perching on the edge of the mattress. "I heard what happened with Donovan. That bastard."

Lillian clenched her fists. "I should’ve seen it coming. He was never really mine."

Before Beatrice could respond, another knock echoed through the room—this one sharper, more authoritative.

"Lillian?" Sebastian’s deep voice sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, well. Looks like someone’s got a visitor."

Lillian shot her a glare before calling out, "Just a minute!"

She quickly threw on a robe and opened the door. Sebastian stood there, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his dark eyes scanning her disheveled state.

"Good morning," he said, his tone unreadable. "We need to talk."

Lillian swallowed. "About?"

"Your safety," he replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "Donovan’s actions last night have consequences. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants."

Beatrice whistled low under her breath. "Drama."

Lillian ignored her. "What are you suggesting?"

Sebastian’s gaze locked onto hers. "You’re moving into my estate. Today."

Lillian’s breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

"It’s not up for debate," he said coolly. "Pack your things. I’ll send Marcus to escort you."

Before she could protest, he turned and strode out, leaving her stunned.

Beatrice grinned. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Lillian groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. "This is a nightmare."

Or was it?

A tiny, traitorous part of her thrilled at the idea of being under Sebastian’s protection. But she couldn’t afford to let her guard down—not when Donovan was still out there, waiting to strike.

And not when Sebastian Blackwood was just as dangerous, in his own way.

"I swear, whatever happened between Donovan and me is in the past. My only focus now is tutoring Oliver. Professionalism matters to me, and I’ll uphold it without fail," I blurted out, my words tumbling faster than I intended. Sebastian Blackwood had that effect on me—his presence alone made my nerves fray.

He studied me for a long, silent moment, his piercing gaze making my pulse stutter.

"I won’t cross any boundaries," I added hastily.

His lips quirked slightly. "And what about me?" His tone wasn’t mocking—just curious, almost boyish. The softness in his eyes sent warmth flooding through me, my cheeks burning in response.

"No boundaries crossed with you either," I promised, my voice steadier than I felt.

Sebastian considered me for another heartbeat before giving a curt nod. "See that you keep that promise." His words held a quiet challenge.

Before I could respond, the waitress returned with our wine, and the tension eased—slightly.

He shifted the conversation to my schedule, and we settled on days that worked for both of us. Then, he slid a contract across the table, explaining it was standard—employment terms, salary, confidentiality.

"You’re not to disclose who you work for," he added, his voice firm. "Safety precaution—for both of us. All my staff agree to it."

I nodded. It made sense, so I didn’t argue.

He handed me a pen, and after scanning the document, I filled in my details and signed where he indicated. Moments later, our food arrived.

"This looks amazing," I said, taking my first bite of the crisp, fresh salad.

Sebastian had ordered a rare steak with roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes. We ate in comfortable silence, sipping wine between bites. By the time I finished, the wine had gone straight to my head.

"I need to use the restroom," I murmured, sliding out of the booth. "Be right back."

He gave a brief nod, and I made my way toward the bathroom. As I passed a striking woman with auburn hair and emerald-green eyes, she deliberately brushed her shoulder against mine—hard enough to make me stumble.

No apology. Just a cold, assessing glance.

I pushed the encounter from my mind and hurried to the restroom. When I returned, Sebastian was standing, arms crossed, speaking to the same woman in low, clipped tones. She looked furious.

As I approached, her words sliced through the air.

"So this is why you’ve been ignoring me? You’re with some little nobody now?" Her voice dripped with venom.

"That’s enough, Penelope," Sebastian warned, his tone dangerously calm.

"Answer me, Sebastian. Are you seeing her?" Hurt laced her demand.

His gaze flicked to me, sensing my presence. Without a word, he closed the distance between us and pulled me against his side, his arm possessive around my shoulders.

Heat and the intoxicating scent of him enveloped me, sending sparks skittering across my skin. His face was unreadable, but his grip was firm—a silent declaration.

And just like that, I was caught in the middle of a storm I hadn’t seen coming.

Sebastian’s lips brushed against the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Penelope’s eyes burned with fury as she watched him, her expression twisted in barely contained rage.

"And if I am?" Sebastian murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. My heart pounded so hard I feared it might burst from my chest.

"You’ll get bored of her soon enough," Penelope sneered, crossing her arms tightly. "You always do. And then you’ll come crawling back to me."

Sebastian arched a brow, unfazed. "How long do you plan on intruding on our date?"

My breath caught at his words. Penelope’s scowl deepened, her fingers curling into fists.

"This isn’t over," she spat before shooting me a venomous glare and storming off.

The moment she disappeared from sight, Sebastian released me. My legs trembled so violently I nearly collapsed, my knees buckling beneath me. I barely managed to steady myself as Sebastian casually returned to the table, resuming his meal as if nothing had happened.

"W-what was that?" I stammered, my voice embarrassingly breathless.

Sebastian glanced up, his expression unreadable. "That was Penelope," he said simply. "A noble Lycan. And my late wife’s sister."

The revelation stunned me into silence. "Oh," I managed weakly.

"My mother has been pushing for us to be together—a second chance, she calls it," he continued, his tone indifferent. "I didn’t want to reject her too harshly. I apologize for using you like that."

Heat still burned in my cheeks, and though I was certain he noticed, he said nothing about it. I nodded mutely, too flustered to form a coherent response.

We finished our meal in silence. Sebastian paid the bill, then had the driver take us back to my house. As I stepped out of the car, I murmured a quick thanks for the meal and the job before hurrying to the door. The car didn’t leave until I was safely inside, the engine fading into the distance.

I exhaled sharply, unaware I’d been holding my breath.

But the brief moment of relief shattered when I heard voices in the living room. My mother was speaking animatedly to someone. The second I stepped into the entryway, my entire body locked in place at the sight of the person lounging on the couch, chatting with her as if they were old friends.

My blood ran cold.

Because sitting there, with a smirk that sent dread coiling in my stomach, was—