POV Eva
Sebastian arrives at my chambers precisely at three, wearing a smile that could melt glaciers and carrying a wicker basket that looks absurdly romantic.
"My lady." He offers an exaggerated bow. "Your chariot awaits. Well, your picnic blanket awaits. Same principle."
I manage a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "You really didn't have to go to this much trouble."
"Nonsense. I won a prize, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it." He offers his arm with theatrical flourish. "Besides, you looked like you needed an escape from these walls. Am I wrong?"
He's not wrong. The estate has become a prison of watchful eyes and weighted silences. My father's cold assessments.
Matteo's knowing glances. Soren's intensity burning holes through me every time we're in the same room. Even Khalil, gentle as he seems, has started watching me with something sharper than curiosity.
"Lead the way," I say, taking his arm.
The meadow is beautiful—I'll give him that.
Wildflowers scatter through tall grass like fallen stars, purple and gold and white against the green. A stream bubbles nearby, catching the late afternoon sunlight until it glitters like liquid amber.
Sebastian has thought of everything: soft blankets spread across the grass, cushions for comfort, a basket overflowing with delicacies. My favorite pastries from the capital. Cheeses I mentioned loving once, in passing.
A bottle of wine that probably costs more than most wolves earn in a month.
He's charming as he sets everything out, keeping up a steady stream of conversation about his morning run, the beauty of Aldridge territory, a funny story about getting lost near the eastern forest.
His golden eyes crinkle when he laughs. His hands are gentle when he pours my wine.
I remain polite. Distant. Unmoved. Because they're all princes, aren't they? They can all buy expensive wine and arrange elaborate picnics.
Material gestures mean nothing when my future feels like a transaction—when I'm carrying a secret that could destroy us all.
Sebastian notices. Of course he notices.
His golden confidence wavers, dimming like a candle in the wind. He sets down his wine glass and studies me with an expression I haven't seen from him before—uncertain, almost vulnerable.
"You're not having a good time." It's not a question.
"I'm fine. The meadow is lovely, and the food is…"
"Eva." He cuts me off gently. "You don't have to perform for me. I get enough performance at home."
Something in his tone makes me look at him—really look. The charming mask has slipped, revealing something rawer beneath.
"What do you mean?"
Sebastian laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I mean I know exactly what you're feeling right now. The weight of it. The exhaustion of being a symbol instead of a person."
He gestures at the elaborate spread around us. "You look at all this and see another prince trying to buy your affection. Another transaction in a life full of them."
The accuracy of his observation steals my breath. "Sebastian…"
"I'm not offended." He leans back on his elbows, staring up at the golden sky. "How could I be? I've been playing this game my entire life. The charming prince. The golden boy. The heir who makes everyone smile."
His jaw tightens. "Do you know what terrifies me more than anything?"
I shake my head, drawn in despite myself.
"That my charm is all anyone sees."
His voice drops, rough with honesty.
"That beneath this exterior, there's nothing of substance. My father was a great Alpha—wise, strong, beloved by everyone who knew him. When he died, the entire pack mourned for months."
He swallows hard. "I've spent every day since trying to fill shoes that will never fit. Pretending I know what I'm doing. Smiling when I want to scream."
The confession hangs between us, raw and unexpected. This isn't the Sebastian who danced with me at the gala, all warmth and easy confidence. This is someone real.
Someone broken in ways that mirror my own fractures.
"Everyone expects perfection," he continues quietly. "And I keep delivering it, because I don't know what else to do. What happens when they realize I'm just pretending? What happens when they see the terrified boy behind the golden mask?"
My chest aches with recognition. "They won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been pretending my whole life too." The words escape before I can stop them. "The composed princess. The graceful heir. Meanwhile, I'm screaming inside, suffocating under expectations I can never meet."
I look down at my hands. "At least you have a wolf. At least you belong somewhere."
Sebastian sits up, his golden eyes soft with understanding. "Belonging isn't about what you are, Eva. It's about who sees you."
He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I see you. Not the princess. Not the political alliance. Just... you."
The touch sends warmth cascading through me. Not the consuming fire of that night at the club—something gentler. Sweeter. The simple pleasure of being seen by someone who asks nothing in return.
"Sebastian..." His name comes out barely a whisper.
"You don't have to say anything." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "I just wanted you to know that whatever you're carrying, whatever weight is pressing down on you, you don't have to carry it alone."
The kindness undoes me.
I lean into his touch, and when his lips find mine, I don't pull away. The kiss begins gentle, questioning, careful, but something hungry wakes beneath my skin.
I pull him closer, fingers tangling in his golden hair, and Sebastian responds with a groan that vibrates through my bones.
His hands explore my body with reverent heat, tracing curves through silk, finding places that make me gasp.
The meadow spins around us as he lowers me back against the blankets, his weight a welcome pressure, his mouth trailing fire down my throat.
I lose myself in sensation. In the simple pleasure of being wanted.
Then Sebastian stops.
His breathing is ragged, his golden eyes nearly black with desire, but he pulls back. Creates distance. His hands shake as he braces himself above me.
"We should slow down."
Confusion cuts through the haze. "What? Why?"
"Because you're not ready." His voice is rough but certain. "You've seemed vulnerable lately, Eva. Fragile in ways you're trying to hide. And I refuse to take advantage of that."
"You're not taking advantage. I want…"
"I want you present." He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Fully willing. Not escaping into my arms because the world outside is too heavy to bear."
His thumb strokes my cheek. "When we do this, if we do this, I want it to be because you chose me. Not because you needed to forget."
The words crash over me like ice water.
Guilt floods my chest, so sharp I can barely breathe. This man, this kind, patient, genuine man, is protecting me from myself. He's offering understanding, respect, restraint. Everything I don't deserve.
And I'm deceiving him with every breath.
He doesn't know about the club. About Matteo and Soren. About the life growing inside me that belongs to another wolf entirely. He's opening his heart to a woman who's already destroyed any chance of an honest future.
"Sebastian." My voice breaks. "You're too good for this. For me."
He smiles, soft and sad. "Let me be the judge of that."
I close my eyes against the tears threatening to fall.
He doesn't deserve my lies.
But I don't know how to give him anything else.