The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 132: Guilt and Longing

Sebastian~

I stared at her, unconscious and pale against my navy blue sheets, and for the first time in centuries, I felt my age.

The chaos from earlier still echoed in the room—splintered wood from the stake embedded in the wall, claw marks on the dresser, a torn lamp shade dangling awkwardly to one side like it had survived a drunken party. And in the middle of it all, there she was—Cassandra.

I had carried her to my bed like something precious and breakable, her weight far too light in my arms. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her, her face relaxed now, no longer twisted in the agonized frenzy that had possessed her. I brushed a lock of her soft hair from her face, letting my fingers graze the soft curve of her cheek.

"You really know how to make a man go crazy," I muttered, offering a dry smile she couldn’t see.

She didn’t stir.

With a sigh, I stood, stretching out my limbs as the ache of tension settled in. My mind felt like someone had rung a bell inside it and forgotten to stop. I needed a distraction—something to keep me from completely unraveling.

Her duffle bag sat innocently near the closet.

I hesitated. Then crouched down, unzipped it slowly like it might bite me. Inside, I found—

My shirt. One of my favorite ones too. A black button-up with subtle silver threading. I chuckled bitterly, holding it up to my nose and catching the faintest whiff of her scent mixed with mine. Beneath that, neatly folded bills wrapped in a rubber band, a burner phone, and fake travel documents. Her pretty face stared back at me from the passport, next to a laughably fake name: Daniella Bloodsworth. Really? Who gives themselves such a terrible name?

"She was really planning to run far," I murmured to myself. "Of course she was."

I set the bag aside, rubbing a hand down my face. My thoughts felt like a storm with no eye. She’d packed my clothes. Mine. Like she wouldn’t be able to stop somewhere and get better clothes for herself.

Gods, I wished her life had been easier.

I wished she hadn’t been used, betrayed, hunted like an animal by Kalmia. I wished she didn’t have to live like a shadow, always looking over her shoulder.

And yet, here she was, trying to protect me by running.

I stood and paced the room, dragging my fingers through my hair. My heart was a mess of guilt and longing. I couldn’t fix everything—not tonight. But I could do something, however small.

"Alright," I exhaled, squaring my shoulders. "Let’s try not to burn the house down."

Twenty minutes later...

"YouTube, don’t fail me now," I muttered, tapping at the screen.

I was in the kitchen, apron slung around my waist like I was about to host a cooking show. The phone was propped up on a wine bottle, and a bubbly woman on screen chirped, ’Today we’re making creamy garlic butter chicken!’

"Sounds real fancy. Too bad I’m a vampire whose kitchen skills stop at biting unsuspecting takeout delivery guys."

I mimicked her movements, slapping the raw chicken onto the pan. It sizzled aggressively.

"Was that too much oil?" I asked the chicken, as if it had the answer.

The video chirped again. ’Now gently baste—’

The oil popped and hit my hand.

"Son of a—! Okay! Not so gently. Got it."

I reached for the garlic, knocking over a spice rack in the process. A bottle of cinnamon rolled under the fridge.

"Perfect. Cinnamon chicken. That’s what she’ll remember me for."

Despite the mayhem, something about it was comforting. Mortal. I wasn’t thinking about covens or demon contracts. Just... her. Cooking for her. Like a man. Like a mate. Not the Vampire Sebastian Lawrence, Master of One of the Oldest Covens on the continent. Just Sebastian. Cassandra’s Sebastian.

An hour later, the chicken looked surprisingly edible, the potatoes only slightly burnt, and the kitchen not on fire. I wrapped everything in foil, placed it in the fridge with a sticky note that said "Eat me or I’ll cry.", and leaned back against the counter with a triumphant sigh.

Then my phone rang.

Luca.

I winced before answering. "Hey."

"Lord Sebastian," he said, urgency in his voice. "Still no sign of Cassandra. She’s truly nowhere to be found, and none of our contacts can find her. We’re running dry."

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in my throat.

Tell him. You should tell him.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

"Stop looking," I said, my voice flat.

The line suddenly went silent. A pause then—

"...What?"

"I said stop the search," I repeated. "Call everyone back. Focus on the coven issues."

"Lord Sebastian, you were the one ordering the search this morning. You said we’d find her if it was the last thing we did."

"I changed my mind."

Another pause, longer this time. "Why?"

Because she’s here. Because she’s lying in my bed, unconscious, after nearly killing me. Because she’s my mate and I’m so hopelessly in love with her that I’ll lie to my own people to protect her.

"I’ll handle it," I said instead. "This is my burden. Let it go, Luca."

"You’re sure?" His voice was cautious, but I could hear the suspicion under it.

"Yes," I said tightly. "That’s an order."

"...Alright." His voice was quiet. "As you say, Master."

Click.

I dropped the phone on the counter and leaned forward, both hands braced against the marble. My dead heart, yet again, felt like it was hammering.

I had never lied to Luca before. Not once. He was more than my second-in-command. He was my brother in all but blood.

But if he knew Cassandra was here... after what she’d done...

It would break him. It would break all of them.

They all had one or two tales to tell about Cassandra’s cruelty to them. And now?

Now I was hiding her.

Protecting her.

How long could I keep this up?

I didn’t have the answer. Not tonight.

I ran a hand over my face and turned toward the hallway, the quiet hum of the fridge behind me the only sound. I walked down the dim corridor, past portraits and marble floors, until I stood before my bedroom door.

The moment I stepped inside, the tension in my chest loosened.

She hadn’t moved.

I slipped out of my shoes, shrugging off the apron with a tired laugh. "Well, love, you missed quite the culinary performance."

She didn’t stir, but her chest rose and fell softly. Peacefully.

I climbed onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much. Her scent wrapped around me again, calming my senses. My arms slid around her waist, pulling her close, gently but firmly. She sighed in her sleep and shifted, her body melting into mine like it belonged there.

Damn, she felt right.

I pressed my forehead to hers, closing my eyes.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I didn’t know how I’d fix any of this, how I’d balance a coven on the edge of fracture with the woman they feared lying in my arms.

But tonight?

Tonight she was here with me, and I was ok with that.