Chapter 81

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s estate. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the sprawling gardens below. She tightened the silk robe around her, the fabric cool against her skin.

Last night had been… unexpected.

Her fingers traced the faint mark on her neck—Sebastian’s claiming bite. The memory sent a shiver down her spine. The way his hands had gripped her waist, the possessive growl in his voice when he whispered, "Mine."

A knock at the door startled her.

"Lillian?" Beatrice’s voice was muffled through the wood. "Are you awake?"

Lillian hesitated. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, especially not after what had happened. But Beatrice had always been her anchor.

"Come in," she called softly.

The door creaked open, and Beatrice slipped inside, her eyes widening as she took in Lillian’s disheveled state. "Oh my Goddess," she breathed. "You did it."

Lillian’s cheeks burned. "It wasn’t planned."

Beatrice snorted, plopping onto the bed. "Please. You’ve been eyeing Sebastian since the moment you met him. The tension between you two could power a small city."

Lillian groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It’s complicated."

"Is it?" Beatrice arched a brow. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you finally accepted your fate."

Lillian’s stomach twisted. Fate. The word tasted bitter.

She had spent years running from the idea of a destined mate, especially after Donovan’s betrayal. But Sebastian… he was different. He didn’t demand her submission—he challenged her, pushed her to be stronger.

And last night, she had surrendered.

Beatrice leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "So… how was it?"

Lillian shot her a glare. "Really?"

"What? I’m living vicariously through you!" Beatrice grinned. "Come on, details!"

Before Lillian could respond, another knock echoed through the room—sharper this time.

"Lillian." Sebastian’s deep voice sent a jolt through her. "We need to talk."

Beatrice’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ooh, trouble in paradise already?"

Lillian shoved her off the bed. "Out."

Laughing, Beatrice winked before slipping past Sebastian at the door. The moment it clicked shut, the air thickened with tension.

Sebastian’s gaze raked over her, lingering on the mark he’d left. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "Sleep well?"

Lillian crossed her arms. "You’re insufferable."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "And yet, you’re stuck with me."

She huffed, turning back to the balcony. "What do you want, Sebastian?"

His expression sobered. "We have a problem."

That got her attention. She faced him fully. "What kind of problem?"

"Donovan." His jaw tightened. "He’s here."

Lillian’s blood ran cold. "What?"

Sebastian stepped closer, his voice low. "He arrived at the pack borders an hour ago. He’s demanding to see you."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. After everything—the lies, the betrayal—Donovan had the audacity to show up now?

"Why?" she whispered.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened. "He says he’s here to claim what’s his."

A growl ripped from Lillian’s throat before she could stop it. "I am not his."

Sebastian’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing the mark on her neck. "I know." His voice was a vow. "But we need to deal with this. Together."

Lillian took a shaky breath. The past was colliding with her present, threatening the fragile happiness she’d just found.

And she’d be damned if she let Donovan ruin it.

"Fine," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Let’s go."

Sebastian’s lips curved into a feral smile. "That’s my girl."

As they strode toward the door, Lillian couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

And the real battle was about to begin.

"Let's do your hair and makeup now," Beatrice said, grabbing her bag filled with styling tools and cosmetics. I grinned at her enthusiasm and settled into the vanity chair across the room. She worked her magic, first brushing out my tangled waves before blow-drying them into smooth submission. With practiced hands, she curled my hair into soft, cascading waves that framed my shoulders perfectly. A delicate hairpin kept my side bangs from falling into my face, and then she turned her attention to my makeup.

By the time she finished, I barely recognized the girl staring back at me in the mirror.

"Wow," I breathed, touching my cheek lightly.

"You look absolutely stunning," Beatrice gushed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Nathaniel is going to lose his mind when he sees you."

She grabbed a bottle of perfume and spritzed it lightly in the air, letting the mist settle over me. I flinched as a bit of it stung my eyes.

"Oops, sorry!" she giggled, not sounding very sorry at all.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and my entire body tensed.

"Oh my goddess!" Beatrice squealed, grabbing my wrist and yanking me toward the door. "He's here!" I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I followed her out of my room. I snatched my purse from the door handle before shutting it behind me, then hurried after her down the stairs. She scooped up a pair of sleek black heels that had been abandoned in the living room corner.

"I spotted these earlier—you have to wear them," she insisted.

I frowned. "Those are my mother's."

"She won't care," Beatrice dismissed with a wave. "You two wear the same size. Besides, these heels are perfect with that dress."

Reluctantly, I slipped them on. They added just enough height—maybe an inch—but not so much that Nathaniel would tower over me completely. (Not that it mattered—he’d still be a full foot taller.)

Beatrice gave me one last approving once-over before gesturing toward the door.

"I'll hide. You answer it," she whispered, then darted around the corner like a mischievous shadow.

Shaking my head at her antics, I reached for the doorknob just as the bell chimed again.

The moment I opened the door, Nathaniel froze. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly as his gaze traveled from my face all the way down to my heels—lingering just a second too long on the neckline of my dress—before snapping back up.

"Wow," he murmured under his breath. "You look…" His voice trailed off, as if he couldn't find the right word.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," I teased, assuming he meant to say something flattering. And he did look incredible—his tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders, the deep red tie a striking contrast against the crisp white shirt. His usually unruly blonde curls were neatly styled away from his face, and the clean shave made his sharp jawline even more pronounced.

I couldn’t help but smile at the effort he’d put in.

"We should get going," he said, finally dragging his gaze back to mine. "Don’t want to miss our reservation."

I nodded, then glanced over my shoulder where Beatrice was peeking around the corner, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Nathaniel leaned against the corner of the wall, flashing me a mischievous grin and a playful thumbs-up. My lips curled into a smile as I shut the door behind me, following him to the sleek black car idling at the curb. He opened the back door with a flourish, and I slid inside, feeling the plush leather seat beneath me. He joined me a moment later, his presence warm and reassuring.

Behind the wheel sat a young man who couldn’t have been much older than Nathaniel. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and he grinned, his suit slightly rumpled compared to Nathaniel’s impeccable one.

"Lillian, meet Dominic—my subordinate, my friend, and my future Beta," Nathaniel introduced, his voice laced with pride.

"Call me Dom," the young man said, twisting slightly in his seat to face me. His grin widened. "Nice to finally meet you. This guy hasn’t stopped talking about you since this morning."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I glanced at Nathaniel, who was now glaring daggers at his future Beta. Dom immediately shrank back, clearing his throat and focusing intently on the road ahead.

"We should get moving," Dom muttered, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

"Good idea," Nathaniel growled, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence. When we arrived at the restaurant, Nathaniel was out of the car before I could even blink, opening my door with exaggerated chivalry. He took my hand, lifting it to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss before helping me out. My heart fluttered as I followed him into the opulent dining establishment, the air thick with the scent of rich spices and expensive wine.

"A table for two under Nathaniel Whitlock," he announced to the hostess, his voice smooth and confident.

The woman’s eyes widened at the mention of his name. "Mr. Whitlock!" she gasped, bowing her head slightly. "What an honor to have you dining with us tonight."

Nathaniel smiled, draping a possessive arm around my shoulders. The hostess’s gaze flicked to me, her polite smile faltering for a fraction of a second before she forced it back into place. "Right this way," she said stiffly, snatching up two menus and leading us through the dimly lit dining room.

As we walked, an uneasy prickle crept up my spine—the unmistakable feeling of being watched. My eyes darted across the room, and then—

There.

Seated at a corner table, his piercing gaze locked onto mine, was him.

My stomach plummeted.

What the hell was Donovan doing here?