Slapped my guest

“What’s on your mind, Damon?” Lisa asked, her voice soft. She had noticed he hadn’t been himself since the moment she arrived.

“I’m fine. Stop with the questions,” Damon replied tersely, his eyes closing to block out his thoughts.

He had summoned Lisa, hoping to distract himself from the constant thoughts of Amara. But even as he lay with her, his mind drifted back to the one woman he couldn’t forget.

Suddenly, a knock came on the door, and his brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

“The door is open,” he called out, gesturing for the person to enter.

The door opened, and Damon was surprised to see Amara walking into his room with a tray of coffee in her hand. He hadn’t requested it, but as usual, he always had his coffee first thing in the morning—and Amara kept to that routine.

“Oh, did you ask the maid to bring me coffee?” Lisa cooed, kissing Damon’s cheek with a flirtatious grin. “How thoughtful, baby.” She signaled for Amara to come forward with the tray.

Amara, whose heart was aching with pain, masked her emotions with a blank expression. As she stepped closer to the bed, Lisa picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip.

But her face twisted with irritation. “What the hell is this?” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. “No sugar? Are you completely useless?”

She glared at Amara with anger that seemed disproportionate to the mistake. Before Amara could respond, Lisa flung the hot coffee at her.

The liquid splattered across Amara’s chest and arms, scalding her skin. Amara flinched but didn’t cry out. Instead, her eyes blazed with sudden, fierce anger.

A moment of stunned silence passed before Amara, driven by a raw surge of emotion, stepped forward and slapped Lisa hard across the face. The sound echoed sharply in the room.

Lisa gasped, her hand flying to her reddening cheek. “How dare you?” she screeched.

Amara’s voice was low but sharp as she replied, “You have no right to treat me that way. I’m not your servant.”

A proud smirk appeared on Damon’s face at Amara’s reaction. He loved how she dealt with Lisa and wished he could applaud her—but of course, he couldn’t.

“Damon, why are you quiet?” Lisa demanded, her rage bubbling inside her. Masking his emotions, he turned to hold Amara’s gaze.

“How dare you? How dare you slap my guest?” Damon muttered, acting angry.

“She poured hot coffee!” Amara tried defending her actions, but was abruptly cut off.

“You are a common maid! You have no right to slap her!” he yelled, his angry voice echoing in the room.

Amara’s face tightened with pain. Once again, he was reminding her of her place.

“Go to your room,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “I’ll decide on a suitable punishment for you later.”

Amara’s eyes narrowed with anger, but she held back her words, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Leave!” Damon demanded.

And with that, Amara turned on her heels and left the room.

His wolf cried with discomfort at his attitude toward her. But what could he do? He had to make her hate him—and this was the only way.

“Baby, you have to punish her,” Lisa whined, her eyes welling with fake tears.

“Get dressed and leave,” Damon demanded coldly.

Lisa blinked, taken aback by Damon’s cold command. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice faltering.

Damon’s frown deepened, his eyes cold as he repeated, “I said, get dressed and leave. Now.”

Lisa’s face twisted with disbelief and anger. “You’re throwing me out for her? A maid?”

She spat the last word like it was poison. Damon’s jaw tightened, but he maintained his cold demeanor.

“This isn’t about her,” he lied, his voice firm. “It’s about you crossing a line in my house.”

Lisa’s eyes blazed with anger. “You think you can treat me like this?” she hissed, her voice rising. “I am not some toy you can discard whenever you please, Damon!”

Damon’s face remained impassive, but his patience was wearing thin. “Get out, Lisa,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And don’t come back.”

Lisa stood there seething, but she could see he wasn’t going to budge. With a frustrated growl, she grabbed her clothes and hastily began dressing, muttering curses under her breath.

She cast a venomous look at Damon. “You’re going to regret this,” she snapped before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Damon closed his eyes, trying to push back the guilt gnawing at his insides. He hated himself at that moment for what he’d just done to Amara—for what he would continue doing. But he knew he couldn’t afford to let his emotions show. Not now.

He rose from the bed, pulled on a shirt, and made his way to Amara’s room. As he walked through the hallway, he caught sight of a maid.

“Tell Darius that Amara isn’t feeling well. Don’t mention I told you,” he instructed in a low voice.

“You are ridiculous,” his wolf, who knew what he was up to, sneered at him.

But he chose to ignore it.

Reaching the door to Amara’s room, he pushed it open, stepped in, and shut the door before turning around to see Amara seated on the bed, her eyes filled with anger for him.

“What do you plan to do to me?” she spat, her voice shaking with anger.

For a moment, Damon couldn’t speak. He wanted to tell her everything—to confess his feelings—but he couldn’t afford to. Not now. He had to stick with his plan.

“How dare you slap my guest?” he growled, trying to sound angry.

“You saw what she did!” Amara snapped back. “She spilled hot coffee on me!”

“And you think that justifies slapping her?” Damon roared, stepping closer. “You’re just a maid. Know your place!”

Amara’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, but she refused to show weakness.

“Get down on your knees, Amara,” Damon demanded, causing Amara’s eyes to widen.

“Now!” he ordered.

But just then, the door swung open, and Darius rushed in, looking confused.

A maid had just told him Amara suddenly fell ill, and he had rushed to check on her, but was confused to see an angry-looking Damon in the room.

“What is going on here?” Darius asked, stepping forward.

Damon, whose plan had worked, turned to Darius. “It seems Amara has forgotten her place,” Damon muttered, glancing at Amara momentarily before turning to face Darius. “She had the guts to slap Lisa, and she will be punished for it.”

Damon declared, beginning to unbuckle his belt, making Amara’s eyes widen in shock at the realization of what he was about to do.

“What do you think you are doing?” Darius asked angrily, moving over to where Amara stood and positioning himself before her, shielding her from Damon.

“Move away, Darius. This has nothing to do with you,” Damon ordered, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Over my dead body will I allow you to hit Amara with your belt! Are you insane?” Darius retorted, standing his ground, his voice firm as he faced Damon. “I won’t let you lay a hand on Amara,” he repeated. “Not now, not ever.”

Damon clenched his jaw, struggling to stay calm. “Step aside, Darius,” he ordered. “This isn’t your business.”

Darius refused to back down. “It is my business. If you try to hurt her,” he shot back, “I won’t let it happen.”

Damon stared at Darius for a moment, realizing his plan was working. Darius was protecting Amara just as he had hoped.

Then Damon sighed and rebuckled his belt. “I don’t want to fight with you, brother,” he muttered. “Have it your way.”

He glanced at Amara, hiding his true feelings behind a cold expression. “But remember, Amara, I won’t always be this forgiving,” he warned, before leaving the room with a sharp slam of the door.

Darius turned to Amara with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Amara nodded, though she was still shaken. “Thank you for stopping him,” she said softly.

Darius smiled kindly. “You don’t have to thank me. I won’t let anyone hurt you—not even him.”