The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 154: First Date

Cassandra~

It’s strange how life can twist in one sudden breath, how the coldest heart can melt with the warmth of someone’s arms wrapped around you.

The morning sunlight filtered into Sebastian’s bedroom, spilling soft yellow rays over tangled sheets and the exposed curve of my shoulder. I lay with my head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear like a lullaby I never knew I needed. Three days had passed since I’d finally let him in—truly in—and it was like waking from a war and finding paradise.

And in a way, it was. I’d lived a life of endless commands, blood, and shadows. Now, every day, I woke up to the smell of cinnamon pancakes and the sound of Sebastian humming old rock songs under his breath as he cooked. I never thought I’d have this.

"Cass?" His voice was a low murmur beside me, lips brushing my hair. "You awake, beautiful?"

I blinked, then turned slightly so I could look up at him. That smirk—his signature, lazy, arrogant smirk—was already tugging at the corner of his lips. His black hair was tousled in that infuriatingly perfect way. I reached up and poked his cheek.

"You really need to stop looking at me like that, vampire," I mumbled. "It’s unfair."

"Unfair?" he repeated, grinning wider. "Cass, I’ve been staring at you like this for days and you’re only noticing now?"

"Shut up." I rolled over on top of him, straddling his waist, my fingers resting on his bare chest. "You’re smug. And annoying. And..."

"And?"

"...Perfect," I finished, my voice only a whisper.

We hadn’t left Sebastian’s house in three days. Not because we were trapped—but because the world outside just didn’t compare. Why would I trade soft blankets and his arms for chaos and shadows?

We spent those days tangled together, limbs and laughter woven in ways I didn’t know were possible. I’d stretch out on the couch, my head resting in his lap while he absentmindedly combed his fingers through my hair like it was his life’s purpose. We had the dumbest arguments over movies—he loved campy horror, I preferred action thrillers—but somehow we always ended up watching whatever had the cheesiest love story and the worst dialogue. He’d throw popcorn at me when I mocked the actors, and I’d toss a pillow at him when he pretended to cry over the tragic endings.

And the dancing.

Gods, the dancing. I found myself dancing every day for no apparent reason.

One morning, I didn’t even realize he was recording me until I saw the little red light on his phone. There I was, barefoot in his kitchen, swaying like an idiot to Beyoncé while he leaned against the counter, watching me like I was the most mesmerizing thing in the universe. When I caught him filming, I glared—but the smirk on his face melted me.

"You’re ridiculous," I’d said.

"You’re magic," he whispered back.

And just like that, my heart cracked open wider than I thought it could.

He cooked, too. Every single meal.

The man made pancakes like he was summoning a sacred ritual. Eggs, pasta, soup, stir fry—he did it all with sleeves rolled up and a focused expression like nothing else in the world mattered but getting it perfect for me. I’d sit on the counter, watching him hum to himself while flipping breakfast or plating dinner like we were starring in some feel-good domestic sitcom.

Then came the drinking.

After every meal, he’d take my hand, kiss my wrist like it was made of moonlight, and drink. Just a little. Slow. Careful. Like he was savoring me. Worshipping me. His eyes would close, and I’d watch his lashes flutter, his chest rise and fall, his lips linger on my skin longer than necessary. Then he’d lick the punctures and kiss them gently like he was sorry for hurting me—even though he never really did. It was... intimate. Addictive. For both of us.

By the fourth day, I started to think he might never let me out of his arms. And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.

So when he looked up from the couch, eyes gleaming, and said, "Get dressed, baby. I’m taking you out today," I actually choked on my soup.

"What?" I stared at him like he’d just suggested we take a vacation in Hell. "You mean... like outside? Where there are people? Where things could happen?"

He arched a brow, amused. "Yes, outside. As in the actual world. We’re going on a date."

I set the bowl down slowly. "Sebastian... I don’t think that’s a good idea."

His expression softened immediately. He stood and crossed the room to kneel in front of me. "Talk to me, Cass."

I looked away, ashamed. "What if someone recognizes me? What if Kalmia finds me out there? What if I run into someone I... I hurt?"

There it was. The weight I couldn’t shake. No matter how much joy he poured into me, there was always that cold shadow curled around my chest.

He reached for my hand, gripping it like it was the anchor to his whole world. "Cassandra," he said, voice low and steady, "you don’t have to hide anymore. You don’t owe the world your pain. You owe yourself a chance to live. And as long as I’m around, no demon, no nightmare, no past—none of it is getting near you."

"But—"

"No buts," he said, cutting me off with a soft kiss on the knuckles. "You’re not alone in this anymore. You have me. And I have you. Let me show you what that looks like out there."

His eyes locked onto mine with that stubborn, stupidly charming light in them. And damn it, he knew exactly how to dismantle me.

"...Fine," I mumbled, rolling my eyes. "But only because you’re impossibly annoying and charming."

He grinned. "That’s my girl."

I gave him a flat look. "I swear, if this ends with Kalmia on my ass again, I’m stabbing you with a stake."

He winked. "Worth it."

*******

I didn’t know where we were headed until the car rolled to a stop in front of a boutique that looked like it belonged on the cover of a luxury fashion magazine. Crystal-clear glass windows, a sign in golden cursive that shimmered in the sun, and a mannequin in the display rocking a gown that screamed royalty.

I squinted. "This is a clothing store."

Sebastian stepped out, walked around, and opened my door like a damn prince. "No shit, Sherlock."

I shot him a look, but he was already grinning like he had an ace up his sleeve.

"I rented it," he said, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "The whole place. Just for you."

My jaw dropped. "You rented an entire boutique? For me? Why?"

He took my hand, his voice smooth as silk. "Because you deserve to feel like magic. Every damn day."

I didn’t know what to say. I let him lead me inside, and that’s when my breath caught.

It was a wonderland of fabric and sparkle. Gowns that looked spun from moonlight. Silks that whispered when you walked by. Velvet so rich it made my fingertips ache. All my life I’d worn leather, black tactical gear, combat boots. Things you could bleed in. Things you could kill in. This was dreams and fairy dust stitched into seams.

I just stood there, frozen. My hands trembled.

Sebastian stepped in close, voice soft. "Cass?"

I turned to him slowly, vision blurring. Damn it—tears.

"Hey, hey." He cupped my face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the streaks. "What’s wrong?"

"I’ve never had this," I whispered. "No one’s ever treated me like this. I don’t even know how to be a girl. Kalmia made sure of that."

He kissed my forehead with a reverence that shattered something deep in me. "Then let me help you remember who you are. You were never what she made you. You’re allowed to have joy, Cassandra. You’re allowed to shine."

I buried my face in his chest, voice muffled. "I love you, Sebastian. You’re everything I didn’t think I’d ever have."

His arms tightened around me. "I know. And I love you. Now go find something that sparkles like the troublemaker I fell in love with."

I actually laughed through my tears. fгeewebnovёl.com

Two hours later, I stepped out wearing a lavender dress that shimmered like stardust when I moved. The thigh-high boots hugged my legs like second skin, and Sebastian—he literally forgot how to breathe.

"Holy... hell, Cassandra," he said, eyes wide. "If I had a heart, it would’ve exploded."

"You have a heart," I teased, doing a slow spin. "You just pretend it’s made of stone."

He stepped forward, fingers grazing the bare skin of my shoulders. "You look like a goddess that crawled out of one of my wildest dreams. I should be building temples in your name."

"You already worship me," I winked.

Dinner was on a rooftop, the kind of place where the stars felt close enough to touch and the city lights below pulsed like they were dancing just for us. He held my hand the whole time, thumb brushing over mine like he needed the contact to keep breathing.

He ordered enough food for a royal banquet—even though he wasn’t going to touch any of it. It was all for me. Every bite. Every flavor. And the way he watched me, soft and reverent, made me feel like I was the only person in the universe.

"I want to remember this," I said, my voice hushed as I gazed at the skyline. "Every second of it."

He leaned in, his voice low and intoxicating. "Then remember this."

He kissed me. Deep. Slow. Like we had all the time in the world.

"I want this life," I said when we finally came up for air. "You. Me. Chaos and cuddles. You in the kitchen, being a sexy vampire househusband. I want it forever."

"You can have it," he said. "Forever starts now."