The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 133: Acceptance

Sebastian~

At around 9:00 pm, I felt Cassandra stir against me.

It started as a twitch. A small shift of her fingers beneath mine, then a sudden jerk of breath that nearly stole mine with it. My eyes flew open. The room was still dim, the lamplight drew a golden halo over her tangled hair and my undead heart stumbled.

"Cassandra?" I whispered. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

Her lashes fluttered. And then... those eyes. Gods, those tortured, haunted eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light. And for a brief second, there was panic in them. Pure, animal panic. Like she didn’t know where she was. Like she didn’t know who I was.

Then she gasped.

Her hands shot out and gripped my shirt. "Sebastian," she breathed, and her eyes searched my face like a lifeline. "Sebastian—are you okay? Did I hurt you? Gods—tell me I didn’t—"

"Whoa, hey—" I tried to sit up, but she was already moving.

She pushed me back, checking my neck, my arms, my chest. Her fingers trembled as they skimmed my skin. There was this frantic, heart-breaking desperation in every touch. Like she thought she might fall apart if she didn’t check every inch of me.

"Please," she whispered, "please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I wasn’t—I wasn’t in my right mind. I wasn’t—"

Her voice cracked, and something in me shattered. "Cass..."

"I didn’t want to do it!" she said, eyes wide with pain. "Kalmia—she—she cursed me. She’s had a curse on me this whole time. It wasn’t me, Sebastian. It was never me. It’s been crawling in my head like a parasite. The voices, the urge to kill you—it wasn’t mine! You have to believe me!"

"I do—"

"I’m dangerous," she choked. "I can’t stay here, with you. I’ll end up hurting you. I’ll—"

"Stop."

Her words faltered like a runaway train grinding to a halt. She blinked at me, her lips parted.

"Cass, listen to me." I took her hands in mine, gently but firmly, like I was anchoring her. "I know."

"You—what?"

"I know everything," I said, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "I don’t know if you know him but, Mist—The Wolf Spirit—he came while you were going crazy. He’s a smug bastard with great hair and a terrible sense of timing, but he helped. He came alongside The Fire Spirit, and also Natalie. Well, it’s a long story."

Her eyes widened. "The Wolf Spirit?"

"Yeah. Showed up casual like it was a Sunday picnic," I muttered. "And somehow, that overpowered fluffball managed to rip Kalmia’s curse right out of you. He said something about a divine cloak. It’s some sort of invincibility magic. So Kalmia can’t find you now."

Cassandra’s lips parted, trembling. "You’re serious."

"I swear it," I said. "You’re free. She can’t find you. Not for a while. And the part of you that was cursed?" I tapped her chest gently. "It’s gone."

She stared at me like I’d just handed her a star. Then her hands flew up to her mouth and she collapsed into my arms, sobbing. I held her tight, rocked her even though the motion felt strange for someone as ancient as me. She shook like a leaf in a storm, clutching my shirt in her fists like I might vanish.

"I don’t deserve you," she whispered into my chest.

"Oh, don’t start," I groaned.

"I mean it," she sniffled. "I tried to kill you. I said horrible things. I—"

"Cass." I pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "You were being manipulated by a power-hungry demon with a god complex. That’s not on you. That’s on her."

"But—"

"Don’t sweat it," I said, and gave her a crooked grin. "I’ve had exes who did worse. One poisoned my blood supply with garlic. You just tried to stab me a little. It’s fine."

A laugh bubbled from her lips, wet and surprised. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet, undeniably charming."

She gave me a look that was half smile, half eye-roll—and that’s when I scooped her up into my arms.

"Sebastian!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck like a startled cat. "What are you doing?!"

"Carrying you to the kitchen," I said matter-of-factly, strolling down the hall with her cradled against me. "You’ve been unconscious for hours. You must be starving. I made food."

"You... cooked?"

"Surprisingly well, might I add." I raised a brow. "And only burned two fingers. Very impressive for someone who doesn’t eat."

She buried her face in my chest again, her voice muffled. "I don’t want to ever leave your arms."

"Good," I said softly. "Because I’m not letting you go."

Her grip tightened. "I’ll be better for you. I’ll try—I swear I’ll try. I’ll be stronger, more stable, anything you need—"

"Cass..." I slowed to a stop, just at the edge of the dining room. "You don’t have to try to be anything. You’re already everything I need."

That’s when I felt it—warmth.

Not literal heat. But the kind that blooms when someone you love gives in. Cassandra trembled once, and then—to my horror and complete confusion—she started crying.

"Cassandra?" I shifted her slightly, trying to see her face. "Cass—don’t cry."

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just... I never thought anyone would fight for me like this. Not even myself. And then you—"

I pressed a kiss to her hair. "Hey. Hey. No more crying, alright? I need you strong so you can appreciate my first ever attempt at garlic butter chicken."

A choked laugh escaped her. "Fine. But you’re feeding me."

"Done."

I gently set her down at the head of the table, pulling out her chair like some gentleman from a Jane Austen novel. She sat, still sniffling, her eyes following me as I walked to the kitchen to grab the food.

But before I could even reach the fridge, I felt her.

She was behind me. Her scent hit me first—blood and forest and something dark, like magic. I turned, and she was already moving.

Her hands grabbed my shirt, tugging me forward. I dropped the foil-wrapped plate on the counter.

"Cass—"

And then her mouth was on mine.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was wild and rough and raw, like she was trying to devour every second she’d lost. Her fingers buried into my hair. I gasped against her lips, and she used that moment to deepen the kiss. Her body pressed against mine, heat and desperation igniting every dead nerve in me.

My back hit the fridge. Her hands were under my shirt, sliding over my chest. I groaned, gripping her waist, lifting her up as her legs wrapped around me. Our kiss grew darker, hungrier. She moaned into my mouth, and I was undone.

The dining room table creaked behind us.

I carried her to it like she weighed nothing—like the woman who once nearly killed me was now the only thing keeping me alive.

Our mouths crashed again, harder, rougher, like we couldn’t breathe without touching.

And just as I laid her across the table, tearing my lips from hers to catch a breath, I saw it in her eyes—

Need.

Mine probably mirrored hers.

I kissed her again, and this time, there was no holding back.

Tonight, I was going to make her mine.

Completely mine.