The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 155: A Night in the Light

Cassandra~

I should have known Sebastian wasn’t done with yet.

After the rooftop dinner—where the stars looked like they ca just to eavesdrop on our laughter and the skyline whispered promises of forever—I thought that was it. That was already more than I had ever been given. More than I had ever let myself want.

But no.

He had sothing else planned.

Of course he did.

The man didn’t know how to do anything halfway.

We were back in the car. My hand still in his. Music low. The night air cool against my skin. I was staring out the window when he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a soft, black blindfold.

I narrowed my eyes.

"What’s that for?" I asked.

Sebastian grinned. That damn grin—the one that made want to punch him and kiss him in the sa breath. "Trust exercise."

"That sounds like sothing people say right before they murder you."

"I’m already dead, darling. That makes the least suspicious person in the room."

I snorted but didn’t resist when he tied the blindfold over my eyes. His fingers were gentle, brushing my cheek before he knotted it behind my head.

"You know I can still sll everything," I muttered.

He leaned close, breath warm against my ear. "Then you’ll just have to enjoy the anticipation, my little bloodthirsty goddess."

Gods help —I smiled.

The drive wasn’t long. Maybe twenty minutes, maybe thirty. I lost track. All I could feel was the hush of the world outside and the subtle shift in the air—sothing ancient humd beneath the silence. My senses prickled. Magic. Old magic. The kind that could raise kingdoms or end them with a whisper.

The car stopped. The door opened. A hand slipped into mine.

"You ready?" he asked.

"No," I admitted.

He laughed and helped out of the car. Gravel crunched under my boots, and the air tasted like twilight—cool, a little wild, kissed with pine and sothing sweeter I couldn’t na.

He stood behind and untied the blindfold.

"Open your eyes."

I did.

And forgot how to breathe.

We were standing at the edge of a clearing tucked inside a forest that glowed with its own heartbeat. Lanterns—floating, glowing crystals—hung from the branches like captive stars, bathing everything in a soft lavender-gold hue. Vines stretched across tall archways ford from ancient trees, their leaves rustling like they were whispering secrets to one another. In the center was a ballroom—not of stone or marble, but earth, carved by ti and magic, frad by ivy and wildflowers. Fireflies danced lazily through the air like nature’s confetti, and in the middle stood a long candlelit table set for two. Crystal glasses. Silver dishes. Enchanted phonograph playing soft classical music that stirred the soul.

I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat.

"Sebastian..."

He stepped in front of , brushing a thumb across my jaw. "Tonight, you’re not the hunter. You’re the heart I’ve waited centuries to find."

It hit like a silver bullet to the gut—but warm, not cold. Sothing cracked open in my chest.

"I don’t know what to do with this," I said. Honest. Small. Lost.

He smiled. "You don’t have to do anything. Just be."

He pulled out the chair with a quiet kind of confidence, like he was used to this—used to taking care of in ways I still didn’t know how to accept. I sank into it, still stunned, like my brain hadn’t quite caught up with the magic of the mont.

The air was rich with the sll of roasted lamb, warm spices, and sothing buttery that made my mouth water even though I swore I wasn’t hungry.

"I had it made just for you," Sebastian said as he dramatically lifted the silver lid from the first dish, grinning like a kid revealing a treasure. "Apparently, there’s this chef in Prague who tailors als to werewolf palates. Took so coaxing—bribes, a favor... maybe a light threat."

I raised a brow, amused. "You threatened a chef?"

He gave a half-shrug, playful. "He threatened first. It was a whole theatrical thing. Very dramatic. Lots of yelling in Czech. You would’ve loved it."

I laughed softly, brushing my fingers over the linen napkin. "You do realize you already fed an absurdly fancy dinner barely an hour ago, right?"

He gave a look—one of those Sebastian looks that sohow managed to be both tragic and charming. "Yes, but that dinner was for sustenance. This one’s for your soul. Co on, just try it. For ."

And just like that, I caved. Because Sebastian had that way of asking that made it feel like you’d ruin the universe by saying no.

I picked up my fork, expecting just a few polite bites. But the food? It was ridiculous. lt-in-your-mouth tender, spiced so perfectly I wanted to applaud. Flavors I didn’t even have nas for blood across my tongue. Every bite made feel like I was rembering sothing I’d never known. Pleasure. Not just fuel.

Sebastian, of course, didn’t eat. Like before, he just watched—elbows on the table, chin in his palm, that infuriatingly soft smile playing on his lips.

"You’re staring again," I said, chewing on a garlicky potato that probably ca from heaven.

"I’m soaking it in," he said. "This is the first ti I’ve seen you drop your armor. It’s... beautiful."

I looked down at my plate. My throat tightened a little. "I don’t know how to be soft."

"You don’t have to be soft," he murmured. "You just have to be you. I’ll take every version."

And just like that, we talked.

Gods, we talked.

About Kalmia. About everything she’d done to . About the way she molded into sothing sharp and dangerous, only to cast aside the second I stopped being her perfect weapon.

"I was just a sheath for her blade," I whispered. "She never wanted . She wanted my body."

Sebastian leaned closer, his voice quieter than the wind. "You’ve always been more than what she tried to make you. You’ve always been more than she could ever see."

I didn’t cry. But it felt like my heart did.

Then, in true Sebastian fashion, he changed the air around us. He told stories—stories spun from centuries of chaos and charm.

The ti he insulted a duchess and had to hide inside a coffin of roses for a week.

The ti he and Zane were chased through Venice by a cult convinced Sebastian was their lost moon god.

The ti he gave up everything—riches, ho, na—to save a girl who didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Each tale made laugh, made ache, made feel like I was waking up from a long, bitter sleep I didn’t even realize I’d been trapped in.

When the plates were gone and a new tune humd to life from the old phonograph, Sebastian stood and extended a hand toward .

I eyed it suspiciously. "What’s this?"

"A dance," he said simply.

I blinked at him. "You do rember those weird dances I did at ho house, right? That should probably stay buried."

He smiled—a slow, sinfully warm smile. "Co on. Don’t think. Just feel. Let show you what it’s like to live."

I hesitated. Then I slid my hand into his.

The mont he pulled close, it was like everything inside aligned. His hand curled around my waist, the other held mine, and he moved with such ease—slow, sure, like we’d been dancing together for lifetis.

The forest hushed. The music wrapped around us like silk. The wind whispered through the trees, and far off, wolves sang to the moon.

I rested my head against his chest. His breathing was steady, grounding like a lighthouse in the dark.

"I could get used to this," I murmured.

"You’d better," he whispered. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

We swayed together, lost in a pocket of ti where nothing else existed. No blood, no pain, no destiny pressing down on our spines. Just us. Just now.

Then, slowly, he stilled.

"I have sothing for you," he said, reaching into his coat pocket.

He pulled out a ring—silver, etched with ancient runes, and crowned with a diamond that shimred like frozen starlight.

I froze.

"It’s not a proposal," he said quickly, reading with terrifying ease. "It’s a promise."

He slipped it onto my finger.

"This isn’t just for protection. It’s a reminder. That you’re not a weapon anymore. That you can have a life, Cassandra. You deserve one."

My breath caught. My fingers trembled around the cold tal.

Then it ward.

He kissed my knuckles.

And I let him.

I let him cradle all the fractured, bleeding pieces of without pulling away.

"I don’t know if I can be what you need," I whispered.

"You already are."

The forest seed to glow a little brighter.

The stars leaned in a little closer.

And ?

I started to believe him.

Just a little. Even if it was just for tonight.

Because this night—this impossible, fragile, perfect night—was light in the middle of all my darkness. And I wasn’t afraid to reach for it.

**********

We drove back ho under a sky full of stars. The air was cool, clean, and quiet—like even the world was letting us be. No more words. Just our hands intertwined, and the soft sound of the car’s engine around us.

Inside, the warmth welcod us like an embrace.

He ran the shower while I sat on the bed, still tracing the runes on the ring. When I finally stepped under the water, it felt like washing off centuries of weight. Steam curled around like soft vines, and by the ti I stepped out, I felt almost... new.

Sebastian was already in the living room, a pair of cozy sweatpants and a hoodie thrown on, a ridiculous rom-com queued up on the screen. I padded in barefoot, hair damp, wrapped in one of his oversized shirts that slled like him.

We curled up on the couch, a thick blanket thrown over us. The movie was absurd—ridiculously romantic, full of cheesy lines and slow-motion kisses. We laughed. We gagged. I may have thrown popcorn at him at one point.

And sowhere in the middle of it all, I fell asleep—tucked safely in his arms, the sound of his quiet laughter still echoing in my ears.

As I drifted off, my last thought was simple and soft.

Please let this last.

This warmth. This peace. This impossible happiness.

Just let it last.

Even if it’s just for tonight.