One Night to Ruin Him

Trusting Him

Chapter Seven

Sarafina

"Open the door, Little Wolf."

Sebastian's voice jolted me into stopping dead in my tracks. My fingers clenched around the small plastic bottle of vitamins I was holding. Seconds ticked by in which neither of us moved. Silence stretched until it was deafening. Then a second knock followed, not a demanding or impatient one, but simply a presence, a quiet waiting. My heart hammered a frenetic rhythm against my ribs. How much could he possibly know? The question echoed through me as I slowly walked to the door and placed my hand on the handle, then opened it. Sebastian stood there.

For a long moment, neither of us said a word. He looked different than he had at the gala. His movements seemed less controlled, his exhaustion etched into his face and the shadows under his eyes. There were faint scratches etched into the side of his jaw, and his black shirt had been rolled up to his forearms. It looked strange to see him like that- kings weren't supposed to look tired, but the exhaustion was so pronounced that it made his expression so much more real. He caught the glimpse of the vitamins in my hand before his eyes drifted back to my face. A fleeting, unreadable look flickered across his face.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

I blinked at him, shocked at his words. They were nothing like I'd expected. "What are those?" I asked instead, nodding towards the bottle in my hand. He simply stared at them for a long moment. "I thought they might help," he said. Help. Not confrontation or accusation, just help. That somehow made things infinitely worse. "Why?" I pressed.

His jaw tightened. "Because you haven't been eating properly."

I choked on a breath. His explanation was too well-rehearsed, too calm, as though he'd known I would ask. "Asher's physician records weren't difficult to acquire," he explained, his voice still calm and even. A chill ran through me. "You investigated me."

"I investigate everyone," he replied simply. "Especially those living under my roof." I hated how logical that sounded. He saw my expression, and the hint of amusement in his eyes vanished. "You've been avoiding me."

I crossed my arms. "You've been avoiding me too."

Sebastian almost smiled, a phenomenon that completely took me off guard and silenced my anger. "I suppose that's fair," he conceded. I was so taken aback by his admission that I didn't have a witty response ready. He took a step back from the doorway, giving me room, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. Neither did the fact that he made no attempt to come into the room. "I owe you an explanation," he said.

My eyebrows rose. "That would be a first."

A soft laugh escaped his lips, an alien sound that he rarely seemed to allow himself. "I deserve that," he admitted. Another response that I hadn't been expecting. The man standing before me was nothing like the monster I had conjured in my head, and that was more unsettling than anger. Monsters were simple, but people were complicated.

"I don't understand any of this," I admitted, and something softened in his eyes, though it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. "Then ask." The invitation took me completely by surprise. I studied him, and before I could think, the words tumbled out. "What happened to your parents?" The room seemed to freeze, and the air grew heavy with tension. I regretted it instantly as his gaze hardened and his expression became unreadable, but I had to wait for the response that was an eternity in coming. "My mother died when I was sixteen," he said finally, his voice unnervingly steady. "My father died three years later."

"I'm so sorry," I said, the words feeling utterly inadequate, yet honest. He gave a small nod of his head, and then there was nothing. The grief was buried so deep under years of discipline that it seemed to be a fossilized thing. I was struck then with the image of him at sixteen with the weight of an entire pack on his shoulders. So young. Much too young.

"Maeve told me everyone here is family."

He gave me that ghost of amusement again. "Maeve exaggerates."

"She called you impossible."

"That part was accurate."

I couldn't help it; a smile touched my lips. The sight seemed to catch him by surprise. He stared for a long moment without saying a word, then looked away first. Kings weren't supposed to look away from anything, yet Sebastian did, as if holding eye contact had become too difficult. Something wasn't right, and the longer we stood there, the more apparent it became. There was a tension to him, a carefully controlled restlessness, as though he was balancing on the edge of something dangerous.

"Why are you staying away from me?" I finally asked the question that had been burning in me since dinner.

He went rigid, and the silence that followed was heavy with an unspoken burden. "Because it's safer," he said, his voice dropping lower, a chill sending shivers down my spine.

"For who?"

He looked at me, and this time his eyes didn't waver. "For both of us." The honesty was staggering; no games, no manipulation, just truth. It was uncomfortable and raw, but I believed him for the first time since coming here. And, strangely, that was far more frightening than any lie could ever be. Honest people could be dangerous too. Sometimes they were the most dangerous of all. Especially when they were trying so hard not to become something else.

A notification pinged from somewhere down the hall. Sebastian glanced towards it, the moment shattered, and the king resurfaced behind the mask of the man. "I have a meeting," he stated. I hated the disappointment in his voice. He noticed my expression, and his lips twitched in a fleeting, almost-smile. "You'll be joining us tomorrow," he added. My stomach dropped. "What?" "The council." "No." "Yes." "I don't even know them." "That's precisely why you need to meet them." I groaned, and this time, a genuine, short smile broke through, turning him for one impossible second from king to just a man. Then it was gone, and he stepped back again. The distance returned, but something had changed. The fear and uncertainty remained, but they were now coupled with curiosity, and that was a dangerous thing. Curiosity led to understanding, and understanding could lead to trust. Neither one of us was ready for either; that was obvious. But as he walked away down the corridor until he was out of sight, I found myself watching him, and for the first time since arriving, I didn't feel quite so alone.