Chapter 8

As soon as the door clicked closed behind me, I rested against it, my heart pounding. I took the vial from my pocket and raised it toward the light. The liquid shimmered faintly, its potency clear even from the way it moved in the glass.

This has to work, I told myself, setting the vial on the bedside table. It’s the only way.

I turned to the small vanity near the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow across its surface. My reflection stared back at me, the faint lines of worry etched into my face. I looked younger, more vulnerable than I wanted to.

With trembling hands, I reached for the small collection of cosmetics the rogues had allowed me to bring. The motions were deliberate, each stroke of mascara and swipe of lip balm calculated to enhance my natural features. My hazel eyes seemed larger, brighter; my lips fuller, more inviting.

Astra paced restlessly in my mind, her unease mirroring my own. This isn’t who we are, Sia, she said softly. You don’t need to stoop to this.

Yet I ignored her again, focusing instead on rehearsing the lines I had practiced in my head. Flirty, innocent, submissive—everything Lucas expected.

My fingers brushed over the vial one last time before tucking it into the hidden pocket of my dress. The material seemed denser now, as if the burden of my scheme had infiltrated the stitches.

I inhaled deeply, calming my jitters. Failure was not an alternative. This was about survival, about protecting the tiny life growing inside me.

Straightening my spine, I turned back to the mirror, my calm façade firmly in place.

You’ve got this, I told myself, even as my heart whispered, I hope so.

With that, I opened the door and stepped into the hall, ready to play the most dangerous role of my life.

...

Standing before Lucas’s door, I paused, my fingers lightly touching the smooth wood. My heart raced wildly, the noise of it echoing in my ears. Astra shifted restlessly, her growl faint yet constant echoing in my thoughts.

Please don’t do this, Sia, she murmured. You still have time to reconsider.

I tightened my fists by my sides, pushing the uncertainty aside. If you have any better idea l, say it. Else keep quiet. I told her, even if the words sounded empty. Lucas had to place his full trust in me. It was the sole method to prevent him from scrutinizing too intently, from discovering the reality.

Drawing in a calming breath, I tapped gently.

The door swung open almost at once, revealing Lucas, whose gray eyes widened a bit in surprise before a hint of amusement appeared on his face. He wore only black pants, his broad torso exposed and shaped like a statue chiseled from marble.

“Having trouble sleeping, little wolf?” he queried, his voice a deep growl that caused an unbidden shiver to run along my spine.

I angled my head a little, allowing the gentle light to illuminate my hazel eyes. A subtle, tentative smile appeared on my lips as I moved nearer, my fingers brushing gently against his chest. His skin felt warm, the gentle pulse of his heartbeat constant under my touch.

His breath caught, and I noticed a flicker of something instinctual in his eyes. "You're daring," he whispered, his mouth rising into a satisfied grin.

The aroma of him—pine, soil, and a deeper essence—enveloped me, dense and overwhelming. Astra softly whined in the depths of my consciousness, yet I disregarded her, concentrating on the strategy.

Lucas raised his hand to gently hold my chin, angling my face toward him. His kiss was as authoritative as the man himself, strong and resolute, and I sensed my body responding despite the chaos inside me. I compelled myself to embrace it, allowing him to draw me nearer until I was against him.

"You're full of surprises," he murmured gently, his tone filled with admiration as he ended the kiss.

I smiled once more, despite it feeling fragile, and let him guide me into the room. The lighting was faint, with the warmth of a solitary lamp creating soft shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was thick with his fragrance, and every part of me urged to flee.

However, I wasn’t able to.

Lucas positioned himself at the edge of the bed, his stare fixed on me with a fervor that sent a shiver across my skin. I moved in slowly, positioning myself over him, and sensed his hands grip my hips securely. My fingers shook as I extended my hand for the wine on the nightstand, ensuring my motions stayed steady.

He lifted an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement showing in his eyes. "Would you like some wine?" "At this time?"

I emitted a gentle hum, angling the bottle to fill two glasses with the rich red liquid. My hands remained steady as I removed the cork from the vial concealed in my pocket, the subtle aroma of the sedative concealed by the wine’s richness. Astra growled in dissent, her energy flowing nervously within me, yet I continued.

With effortless skill, I passed Lucas a glass, holding onto my own as I leaned in closer to him. He took a drink, his eyes glued to mine, and I compelled myself to replicate the motion, allowing the liquid to brush my lips without swallowing.

The elixir took effect rapidly. I sensed his hold on my hips relax, his intense stare turning gentle as his head rested against the headboard. His breathing became slower and more even as the sedative began to take effect.

I gazed at his unmoving body, the movement of his chest being the sole indication of life. My hands shook as I placed the glasses down, my heart pounding in my chest.

You accomplished it, I said to myself, but relief still didn’t arrive.

Astra let out a soft whimper, her tone tinged with embarrassment. This isn't fair, Sia. This does not represent who we are.

I overlooked her, concentrating on the task before me. I tugged at the neckline of my dress, allowing it to slide slightly to reveal my shoulders, and bent down to deliver the slightest of nibbles on his neck. His skin felt warm against my lips, and although it made my stomach churn, it had to appear believable.

With the tips of my nails, I traced subtle red lines on my neck and shoulders, the pain intense against my skin. The image of myself in the bedside mirror drew my attention, and for an instant, I couldn’t identify the woman looking at me.

Gingerly, I settled next to him on the bed, my dress crumpled and my hair intentionally tousled. My hand rested on his chest for a moment, the slight touch of his heartbeat against my palm a stark reminder of the peril I faced.

This was about staying alive.

Stepping off the bed, I adjusted my dress and glanced back at the arrangement I had created. It was ideal—sufficient to imply closeness without allowing any uncertainty.

He will be convinced, I thought as I settled back into bed.