Leila’s POV
I wake each morning to Sebastian’s soft voice beside me, murmuring assurances that I am safe, beloved, and forever his. The silk sheets slip from my shoulders as I sit up, heart still pounding from dreams I refuse to remember. Here in his private chambers, beneath heavy tapestries and flickering lanterns, I weave a careful performance, one that hides the fear and hope roiling inside me.
I am his Mate now, I remind myself as I brush back my hair. I must be his perfect mate.
Sebastian stands at the window, silhouetted against the pale dawn. His broad shoulders fill his dark coat, and his hair glints like night itself. He turns when he hears me move, a smile lighting his pale face.
“Good morning, my wolf,” he says, voice low and tender.
My stomach twists. My wolf, the phrase
