Chapter 3

Delilah’s Pov

It’s been Six days.

Six long, quiet, uneventful days of him lying still pale, lifeless, and unmoving, yet somehow the most powerful presence in this entire house. Malric. The Supreme Alpha. The sleeping lycan king.

And me? I’ve been treated like royalty. No one dares question who I am or why I’m here. They call me “healer,” but I see the way they lower their heads when I pass. As if they can feel it. The power humming beneath my skin. The kind that only comes from being broken, banished, and reborn.

No one’s mentioned Caleb.

No one’s even looked at me like I was once the Luna of Velmora.

Which leads me to two conclusions: either these people are entirely new… or they’ve truly forgotten. Either way, it plays perfectly into my hands.

But one hasn’t forgotten.

Seraphine.

She comes. Not every day, but often enough to make me wonder. She never lingers, never greets me with warmth or suspicion. Just silence and those ever-glowing eyes.

So when I saw her again today, walking up the hallway toward Malric’s room, I didn’t hesitate.

“Seraphine.”

She paused, slowly turning to me like she’d been expecting it.

I stepped forward. “Why haven’t you told Caleb and his warriors I’m here? Why haven’t they come for me yet?”

She looked at me without flinching. “Because there’s no need.”

“No need?” I repeated.

“When you revive him, you’ll leave. There’s no point in causing alarm.”

I stared at her, frowning. “So you haven’t told anyone?”

She shook her head. “Unless one of the guards recognized you, which they haven’t… no one knows you’re here.”

A silence stretched between us. I didn’t trust her—not entirely. Her calm unnerved me, the way she always seemed to know more than she was saying.

“And why do you keep coming here?” I asked. “Why him? Why Malric?”

“Because he’s the Supreme Alpha. A lycan,” she replied. “It is my duty to check on him.”

I didn’t believe her. Not completely. There was something else behind her eyes, something unreadable. But I didn’t press it. Not yet.

Instead, I turned away and went back to my little workstation. A few bottles, my mortar and pestle, and the last set of herbs I’d been preparing for days. This was it. The final tonic. The one that would pull him from the shadows and back into the land of the living.

It smelled sharp, bitter, and warm.

Perfect.

By the time I returned to Malric’s room, Seraphine was gone. As always, like a ghost there, then not.

I walked over to him. His chest still rose and fell softly. But the color had returned to his skin, subtly. His lips weren’t as pale. He was close. So close.

I sat beside him, lifted his head gently, and poured the tonic down his throat. He swallowed automatically. His body recognized what it needed, even in sleep.

And as I looked at him, so powerful even in stillness, I whispered, “Come back to me. Your story isn't over yet. And neither is mine.”

Then I stood, smoothing down my gown, and left the room.

I didn’t go far.

As I wandered through the halls quiet as breath I found it. A room just across from his. Not directly, but angled in such a way that when his door opened even slightly, and this one remained cracked, he’d see. All of it.

The bathtub inside was massive, carved from marble, filled by a slow stream of warm water. The light in the room was soft, kissed by the afternoon sun. It was perfect. Perfect for the start of everything.

I walked in.

Closed the door behind me, but not all the way.

And then, slowly, I slipped my dress off my shoulders, letting the fabric fall like silk to the floor. Piece by piece, I undressed bare to the light, bare to the revenge I was about to unleash.

His son had taken everything from me.

His father? Would give it back.

I sank into the warmth of the bath, sighing as it cradled my skin like silk. The light from the nearby lanterns flickered softly on the water, casting golden reflections over the marble walls.

My chest was bare to the cool air, and I didn’t care. In fact, I welcomed the sensation, because this was part of the plan.

Earlier, I had asked for this bath to be prepared. I’d told them it was to rest. To soak and recover from my long herb preparations. They didn’t ask questions.

I reached for the glass of wine that sat on the edge of the tub asI let my head fall back, my hair cascading down my back, the ends dipping into the water. I could feel the strands floating around me, like seaweed in a gentle current.

I began to play with the water, my hands skimming the surface, creating little ripples that danced and shimmered. I scooped up a handful and let it trickle down over my shoulders, the droplets tracing paths down my skin.

I could feel the heat of the water contrasting with the cooler air, sending little shivers of pleasure through me. I did it again, this time letting the water run down my chest, watching as it beaded and rolled over my breasts.

I heard the sound of a door opening, the distinct creak of hinges that I had come to recognize. Malric's door. My lips curled into a smile as I heard the footsteps, one, two, just as I had expected. I knew he would wake in few minutes, and then I arched my back, lifting my bare body up slightly, still deep in the water but now exposed, my breasts breaking the surface.

I started to play with the water on my breasts, cupping them and letting the water spill over, watching as it dripped from my hardened nipples. I could feel eyes on me, watching me, and I resisted the urge to look. I didn't want to spoil the fun, not yet. I wanted to draw this out, to make him watch, to make him want.

I let my hand trail down my body, over the curve of my waist, the flare of my hips, until I reached the heat between my thighs. I could feel myself getting wet, and not just from the water. I let out a soft moan as my fingers found my clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I began to circle it, slowly at first, then faster, my breath coming in short gasps.

I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, could almost hear the hitch in his breath as he watched me touch myself. I let my head fall back again, my hair swirling in the water around me, my body arching as I pleasured myself. I was so close, so close to the edge, and I knew he was watching.

I slowed my movements, my fingers barely grazing my clit, teasing myself,

I tipped my head to the side, eyes still closed.

I knew he was still there.

Still, I didn’t look. Not yet. Not until I felt the crescendo of my own moment, rising and falling like a breathless wave crashing inside me. My body trembled with the release.

Only then… I turned.

And when I did, my eyes met a pair of cold, familiar grey ones watching me from the barely cracked door. Eyes that widened… and vanished.

Gone.

Like they had never been there.