Chapter 0362

The weight of Sebastian and Adrian's revelation hits Isolde like a physical blow. There's a stark difference between suspicion and cold, hard truth. I cup her face, pulling her close until our foreheads touch. "Talk to me, love."

A single tear escapes her lashes. My fierce mate has endured too much too soon. Though she carries herself like a warrior, moments like this remind me how young she still is beneath that steel.

I glance at our hosts. "We need some time alone. Thank you for the meal." Without waiting for responses, I scoop Isolde into my arms, ignoring her startled gasp as I carry her down the hallway.

"You didn't have to make a scene," she murmurs into my neck.

"Every fiber of my being disagrees." The bedroom door clicks shut behind us. "Being your mate means carrying you when your legs won't hold you. Especially when the truth cuts this deep."

I undress her methodically, tucking her between the sheets before joining her. She turns into my chest, silent sobs shaking her frame. My palms trace circles across her back as peppermint and vanilla scent pours from my pores, wrapping around her like armor.

"I loathe him." Her whisper cracks. "For what he did to her. For making me wish I'd never been born."

My lips find her temple. "The world is full of unworthy men in positions of power. But you?" I tilt her chin up. "You're the exception. The reason the Moon Goddess still believes in us."

Her fingers clutch my biceps. "If given the choice, I'd walk through hellfire again. Every scar, every betrayal led me to you."

The kiss she gives me tastes like salt and devotion. Slow. Deep. A vow etched in the slide of tongues.

When we break apart, she nuzzles my cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Her smile is weary but real. "For being the ground beneath my feet when the world tries to swallow me whole."

What follows isn't frantic. It's reverence. The slide of skin on skin becomes a prayer as I worship every inch of her. When she shatters, my name on her lips is sweeter than any victory.

We emerge hours later, fingers intertwined. The fading sunlight paints the packhouse in gold as we find Seraphina and Evelyn on the veranda, teacups steaming between them.

Seraphina springs up immediately. "We didn't mean to—"

"It's not your fault," Isolde assures her, accepting the offered teacup. "Truth doesn't stop being true just because it hurts."

Evelyn's gaze flicks to me. "The others are in Adrian's study. They asked for you."

A young omega appears to guide me. I hesitate until Isolde nods, her fingers brushing my wrist in silent reassurance. The kiss I leave on her knuckles lingers as I follow the retreating footsteps down the hall.