CHAPTER 4: USED AND REJECTED

ROSALINE’S POV:

My contentment felt like a cloud.

I was so high up, I never wanted to touch the ground. I roll on underneath the comforter, spreading my arms on either side of me. A smile jerks the corners of my lips as last night’s memories play though my head.

Goddess, he was so sweet.

I’d only ever heard about what it would be like to have sex with one’s mate. I can say without a doubt, that the tales did it no justice. The soreness between my thighs, the taste of him still lingering in my mouth, his smell. It was too much, yet I wanted so much more.

I squint my eyes open, wanting to catch a glimpse of him in the early hours of the morning, all disheveled and breathtaking. My eyes snap open once I realize he’s not on the bed. I sit up slowly, scanning the room.

“Damien?” I call out.

No answer.

I slide out of the bed, tugging on one of his shirts from the armchair across the room. Opening the door, I stick my head out, “Damien?”

No response.

Panic rises within me. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t. After all, this is his house.

 Maybe he’s giving you enough time to take the hint and take a hike. A voice in my head whispers.

No.

He wouldn’t.

Not after last night.

I check the rooms upstairs, most of them are locked and the opened ones are empty. I grow agitated as I head down the stairs.

Loud voices travel through the house from the kitchen, my stomach crawls all the way to my mouth as I head towards that direction. I peep my head through the doorway, noting some lingering guests from last night’s party.

But Damien is nowhere in sight.

One of the guys notices me, and I give a small wave.

“Have you seen Damien?” I ask the group. Their conversation halts at the sound of my voice.

“That’s her, right?” I hear a voice not so subtly whisper from the crowd.

They all stare at me, and suddenly I’m hyper aware of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a shirt that’s way too big for me. Damien’s shirt, it’s the same one he wore last night, so it’s quite obvious where I’ve been, and what I’ve been doing.

My cheeks warm.

“I know where Damien is.” A tall brunette says, standing up. The guy from earlier shoots her a look, and she meets it with a shrug.

“I’ll direct you,” she says, looking up at me again.

She leads me outside, pointing at the pool house on the side of the estate. I thank her, marching up the steps in Damien’s direction. I’m freezing in nothing but his shirt, and I can’t help but wonder why the hell he’d be swimming when it’s so cold in the mornings.

Once I get to the building, I have to manipulate my way around it, so I can actually see the entrance. Damien’s nowhere in sight outside, so I open the door to the pool house.

I’m greeted by a low groan, followed by girly giggles.

My head is barely lifted and on them when I start to mutter out an apology, already retracting my steps. But the words die on my tongue.

Damien sits on a low pool chair, one of the blondes from yesterday perched across his lap, trailing kisses all over his bare chest. Another girl stands above him, her hands massaging his shoulder as she leans down, kissing him.

My stomach drops back where it belongs, and then lower.

“Damien?”

At the sound of my voice, they all turn to face me. I recognize the other girl instantly too. The blonde’s friend, the one he’d made apologize on her knees.

“What…” my eyes dart back and forth between them, “The hell is going on?”

Damien’s eyes slide closed for a second. When he opens them, a mask of indifference slides over his features. Hardening the grey of his gaze as he stares at me.

“What does it look like?”

I shake my head at him, “You’re…”

“I’m?” he cocks his eyebrow, “I’m what, Maxwell?”

Tears well up in my eyes. “You lied to me. You said we were mates.”

“Are we not?” he questions.

“I gave you-” I stammer, my heart crumbling in my chest, “I gave you-”

“Pussy?” he deadpans the question, making the girls around him laugh.

I pin him with a hot stare, my voice breaking, “I trusted you.”

“You should’ve known better, Maxwell.” he chides, “What made you think you would be different?”

“You said so!” I growl, the words turning watery and meek, “You said it would be different.” I’m making a fool of myself, outing all his empty promises to me in front of the girls he betrayed me with.

But I can’t bring myself to care.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I thought it would be.” My brows furrow at his response, “But then, I fucked you and I realized… Mated pussy isn’t all they make it out to be. I’ve had better.”

A tear slips down my cheek. He watches the trail with a disinterested look. But he’s not done yet, he grabs the waist of the girl on top of him, leaning forward, “And as a matter of fact, out of all the women who’ve graced my bed, you, were by far the worst.”

The blondes burst into a fit of cackles and heavy laughter. Each shrill sound peeling at the layers of my skin. Making it harder and harder to not outright sob on the spot.

“Were not doing this mate bullshit.” he says, looking away from me, “I’ve had my feel and I’m over it. So, get lost.”

“Damien-” I whisper.

“No.” he snaps, “Let me make this perfectly clear for you, hm? I, Damien Creed, reject you, Rosaline Maxwell as my mate. I will never have you.”

He doesn’t cast another glance in my direction. I watch as the blonde on top of him leans forwards, molding her lips over his.

Bile churns in my stomach, it burns in my throat.

My heart crumbles by my feet on the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry, Rosaline,” the girl who apologized yesterday mocks, “No mate for you.”

I spin away from them, shutting the door of the pool house behind me. I don’t waste a second, darting up to his room and collecting all my things. I dress up quickly and power on my phone.

‘Come home, the minute you see this. It’s important.’

I stare at the message. Dad never summoned me home for anything. The last thing I needed was another tragedy to deal with after what just happened with Damien. It was the most embarrassing, heartbreaking moment of my life.

I gave him my body, I trusted him. Just to have him use me like that. I wipe at the tears on my cheeks on the walk back home.

My entrance into the house interrupts father’s conversation with a guest in the lounge. I offer an apology, moving to head upstairs, towards my room.

“Rosaline,” my father stops me, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

He directs me into the center of the room. Cold black eyes trail over my body from head to toe, making me want to curl up into a ball and lather myself with disinfectant.

A snarl twists the large man’s upper lip, like he’s naturally on the pissed off side.

“This is Alpha Magnus Stone,” he clears his throat before adding, “Your soon to be husband.”