POV Eva
Sleep refuses to come.
I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows shift across the ornate plasterwork as clouds drift past the moon. My mind won't stop racing.
I throw off the covers and sit up, heart pounding against my ribs. I need something—anything to quiet the screaming in my head.
I need to feel wanted, alive, present in my own body instead of floating above it like a ghost.
Why not take what pleasure I can? It's not like I have anything left to lose.
The decision crystallizes before I can second-guess it. I slip from my chambers in nothing but my silk nightgown and a thin robe, feet bare against the cold marble floors.
The estate is silent at this hour. I navigate the darkened corridors from memory, heading toward the guest wing. Toward Sebastian's room.
Halfway there, I round a corner and nearly collide with a familiar silhouette.
Dominic stands in a pool of moonlight, his broad shoulders outlined silver against the darkness. He's on patrol—of course he is. Even now, even in the dead of night, he's watching over me from the shadows.
His brow furrows the moment he sees me. "Eva? What are you doing out here?"
The concern in his voice wraps around my heart like a vice. "I couldn't sleep."
"Nightmares?" He steps closer, close enough that I can see the worry creasing his features.
The observation lands too close to the truth. I force a smile that feels brittle on my lips. "Just restless. Too many thoughts."
Dominic studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
He's always been able to read me—since we were children, since before he became my bodyguard, back when we were just two young wolves.
"Wherever you need to go, I'll accompany you." he offers quietly.
The gesture is so typically him. Protective without being controlling. Offering support without demanding explanations.
He's never restricted my freedom unless absolutely necessary—never treated me like a prisoner even when my father's rules made this estate feel like a cage.
He trusts me. That trust cuts deeper than any accusation could.
"I just need some fresh air." The lie tastes like ash on my tongue. "I'll walk the corridors for a bit and return to bed."
He hesitates. I can see the war playing out behind his eyes—duty versus instinct, obedience versus the desperate need to protect me from whatever shadows I'm chasing.
But in the end, his respect for my autonomy wins out. It always does.
"Be careful." The words come out rough, weighted with things he won't let himself say. "Please."
"Always."
I slip past him before my resolve can crumble. Before I can change my mind and throw myself into his arms instead—the arms that have always felt like home, the arms I can never truly have.
I'm deceiving him. But he deserves better than my lies. They all do.
Sebastian's door looms before me sooner than expected. I raise my hand to knock, then hesitate—one final moment of doubt, one last chance to turn back.
I knock anyway.
The door opens, and Sebastian stands before me in loose sleep pants, golden hair disheveled, surprise brightening his amber eyes.
"Eva?" His voice is rough with sleep. "What's wrong? Is everything…"
I don't let him finish. I step forward, cup his face in my hands, and kiss him.
He freezes for a heartbeat—then his arms wrap around me, pulling me inside, pulling me close. The door clicks shut behind us as the kiss deepens.
His mouth is warm and willing, parting for me without hesitation, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that makes my knees weaken.
"Are you sure?" Sebastian breathes against my lips, pulling back just enough to search my face. "After yesterday…"
"I'm sure." I pull at his shoulders, pressing myself against the solid warmth of his bare chest.
Something shifts in his golden eyes. His hands find the tie of my robe, and he pauses, a silent question. I nod, and the fabric falls from my shoulders, pooling at my feet.
His fingers trace the strap of my nightgown, sliding it down my shoulder with agonizing slowness. He watches the exposed curve of my breast, and his breath catches audibly.
"Can I?" His thumb hovers over my nipple, waiting.
"Yes." The word comes out breathless. "Touch me. Please."
Sebastian doesn't rush. He peels the nightgown away like he's unwrapping something precious, letting the silk whisper down my body until I'm bare before him.
His gaze travels over every inch of exposed skin, hungry but patient, worshipful in a way that makes me feel seen rather than consumed.
"Lie down." He guides me toward the bed, his hands warm on my waist. "Let me take care of you."
The sheets are cool against my heated skin. Sebastian follows me down, bracing himself above me, and his mouth finds my throat—gentle kisses trailing lower, teeth grazing my collarbone.
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers tracing the curve of my hip before dipping between my thighs. The first touch against my center makes me moan.
"I want to taste you," he whispers, already kissing his way down my body. "Will you let me?"
I can only nod, words lost to the pleasure building inside me.
Sebastian settles between my thighs, golden hair tickling my skin, and his first lick sends electricity crackling through my veins.
His tongue works against me with devastating patience. When he adds a finger, then two, curling them inside me, I cry out sharply.
"Please," I gasp. "I want to feel you. All of you."
He rises over me, positioning himself at my entrance, and pauses. His golden eyes meet mine, soft with something that looks dangerously close to love.
"Tell me if it's too much." He brushes hair from my face. "We go at your pace."
When he finally pushes inside, it's slow and reverent. He holds my gaze the entire time, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, giving me time to adjust to the stretch of him.
"You feel incredible." His voice shakes.
He starts to move, and the words dissolve into groans. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, hitting places inside me that make stars burst behind my eyes.
Sebastian's forehead drops to mine, our breath mingling, his hands cradling my face like I'm something precious.
The pleasure builds again, slower this time, deeper. Sebastian adjusts his angle, and suddenly he's hitting a spot that makes me cry out with each thrust.
The orgasm shatters through me like breaking glass, and I feel Sebastian follow moments later, his whole body shuddering as he spills inside me.
He buries his face in my neck, gasping my name like a prayer, and I hold him through it—this golden prince who treats me like I'm worth cherishing.
Afterward, Sebastian's fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, and I can feel his smile against my hair.
Guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave.
This man is kind and patient and genuine. He's offering me everything—understanding, protection, a future built on warmth rather than obligation.
And I'm deceiving him with every breath, hiding the truth that would make him recoil in disgust. I'm using a good man while concealing everything that matters.
"Thank you," I whisper, because it's the only truth I can give him.
And I hate myself for how little it means.