Delilah
The moon was high when I left Vivian’s chamber. My chest burned with something darker than hope—certainty.
She would speak to him. She’d open the door. That was all I needed.
By the next evening, the chance had come.
Nickolas had just returned.
I waited in the antechamber, perched on the edge of a dark velvet bench. I wore crimson—tight, backless, and daring. My body knew what I wanted even before I spoke it.
He came in, distracted. Then stopped when he saw me.
“Delilah?”
I stood slowly. “I need a moment.”
He frowned. “It’s late.”
“I know,” I said. “But Luna Vivian said you’d hear me out.”
His eyes narrowed. “My mother sent you?”
“No,” I replied, stepping closer. “She gave me the opening. I walked through it.”
He studied me. “I’m tired.”
“And I’m not here to waste tim
