Chapter three: Night of regret.

Rhea POV

The door shut behind me with a resounding thud.  

The room was dim, the only source of light coming from the fireplace. Shadows flickered across Damon’s face as he stood before me, his gaze dark and unreadable.  

My heart throbbed in my chest. 

I wasn't close to being naive. I knew the meaning of this moment. The Alpha's met with their mate, cementing their bond.

But this was different.  

What suffused his face was coldness. No warmth or concern.

Just dominance.  

The air between us thickened, charged with an invisible force I couldn't fight as he closed the distance between us.

Damon's command reverberated in my ears, low and unwavering. “Now take those filthy clothes off.”

A shiver ran down my spine. My fingers twitched at the hem of my dress, hesitating. Every part of me screamed to resist, to fight, to run. And yet, something stronger than fear—something ancient, primal—kept me rooted in place. The mate bond was a force beyond reason, beyond my will.  

A jolt ran down my spine. My fingers hesitantly ran through my dress, something hesitating when he asked in concern.

“But why is your cloth stained in blood?” He asked.

“Why are you acting as though you just saw it?” I exclaimed in the breath that had already been caught in my throat. “I have no answer to that.”

What was the next reply were his strong palms colliding on my face, reminding me of my place in the pack as a slave—a weak wolf that doesn't deserve compassion. I couldn't help but dash out an instant tears streaming down my pale cheeks.

“You dare not talk to the heir Alpha like that, you nonentity.” Damon’s voice resonated like a sting swirling through my thoughts. “Since you have no good answer to my question, let's get back to business. My wolf is already throbbing intensely in my chest.”

“Now hurry with those clothes before I do that for you in a way you will forever regret.”

With trembling hands, I peeled away my clothes, each layer slipping from my skin like fragments of my dignity being stripped off.  

Damon’s gaze roamed over me, dark and uncanny like a predator about to lunge at his prey. His eyes, a storm of shadows and fire, devoured every ounce of my fragility. For quite some minutes, he remained mute, but the silence between us was deafening, filled with unspoken things neither of us dared acknowledge.  

Then his hands fell on my bra, rubbing the bra as he caressed the nipples that hid at the back of it. His other hands took my thighs as he rubbed it, approaching towards my core that was still covered with my pants.

His scent—smoke, leather, and something intoxicatingly dark—wrapped around me, suffocating and exhilarating all at once. His fingers, calloused yet strangely gentle, traced the curve of my neck, brushing over my pulse like a whisper. I sucked in a sharp breath as his touch traveled down my arms, leaving a trail of searing heat in its wake.  

I should have recoiled. I should have fought. But my body, my wolf fell for the pleasure that seemed to await me. 

Damon’s lips descended, pressing against the tender skin of my neck, lingering just long enough to grow my core from getting wet—a silent claim. My breath hitched. He moved lower, each kiss igniting something dangerous inside me, something that made my body yearn despite the war raging in my mind.  

I couldn't help with the resistance but to oblige to the pleasure already swirling through my body when his fingers caught my clit. The rubbing slow motion made my visions blurry in pleasure. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with possession.  

A part of me ached at the words, craving them in a way I despised. But another part—the part that remembered everything he had done—rebelled against the intoxicating pull of his presence.  

“Now, I want this to be memorable for us," he exclaimed, his voice husky, edged with something dark and unyielding as he slowly removed my bra, his lips already taking over my nipples– licking and sucking that sent a jolt of impulse to my brain I couldn't help.

His fingers still on my clit as he rubbed gently with something I couldn't resist as I let out a loud moan that had been hiding at the back of my clenched teeth. 

What I felt next was my pants being removed from my thighs. His tongue on my nipples as he licked my body symmetrically from my breast to pelvis.

It was at this moment I couldn't hold on to my resistance as I held his arms as though to swallow him all. His lips held on to my clit as he sucked and licked it. His fingers took over my pussy as I shot loud moans to the air.

I could feel my core getting wetter, my breast and nipples erect as I held his head for him not to leave the spot he was already ravaging with his tongue on my pussy.

I felt the butterfly leaping heavily in my belly when he tormented me with slow, deliberate movements, his fingers teasing the heat pooling between my thighs until I was trembling, gasping his name like a god when I felt his dick rubbing my pussy. He used his dick to whip my pussy in a manner my brain wasn't responsive to due to the dopamine that surfaced my body.

I couldn't help with the first pain followed by pleasure that shot a loud moan from my lips, my fingers digging into his shoulders as pleasure and pain blurred into one intoxicating sensation when he… “More of that. Please don't stop. Please don't stop.” I felt my thigh trembling, gasping his name like a desperate prayer.

Damon’s movements were controlled at first—deep, slow thrusts that sent waves of pleasure swirling through my muscles. But as the tension coiled tighter, his restraint unraveled. His moves turned desperate, each thrust harder, deeper, pushing me closer to climax from the cow girl to the doggy, to the hands in the air styles.

My eyes rolled when I felt it was about to be. The point of climax when he slowly and rhythmically thrusted his dick in and out of my G-spot as he took me on a missionary style. 

“Oh baby! Just don't stop. Keep going, I am about to cum.” I said, my quivering tone struggled to escape my lips from the pleasure that swirled my body.

“I need that. We will cum together.” Damon's voice barely above a whisper, his running breath cascading on my neck. “I am cumming.” Those were his last words as I felt a hot rush of liquid deep inside of me like the mix of two fluids.

He let out a hard growl of pleasure as he pressed his lips on mine, still trying to reel from the climax we had reached seconds ago.

“You are so sweet, Damon.” I said, my hands on his face as I locked my eyes on his.

“It isn't over yet.” He said with a tone that felt authoritative, but sweet.

I held unto him with my foot, nails raking down his back as my body arched beneath him. The pleasure was uncontrollable, consuming, drowning me in a pool of sensitivity so intense I could seldomly catch my breath.  

“Damon,” I gasped, my voice quivering as I shattered beneath him, my body convulsing with wave after wave of cum.  

His name was still on my lips when he found another hot release, his body tensing above me, a deep, guttural growl ripping from his throat. For a flick moment, I felt him hesitate, as if fighting the instinct to mark me—to make me his forever.  

But he never did. Even in the throes of pleasure, he held back.  

When we were done, I lay close to him in tiredness, my body still shaking from the aftermath of what we had done. I stretched out my arms, my fingers resting on his arm, searching for warmth, for an assurance that what he had just done meant something.

But Damon shifted away, dashing me off as though I was air.

My chest instantly felt heavy. I had given him my virginity as my mate. My everything. And yet, I still looked disdainful towards him.

I turned to him, resting my eyes on him as I tried to hold onto the hem of hope that this wasn't happening.

For one night, I had let myself believe that he was mine. That I was his.  

But I was foolish to ever act gullible to that.  

So painfully, devastatingly wrong.  

My heart throbbing against my rib cage in a fast race as I clenched my hands to the bed sheet.

“You can leave my bedroom now.” His voice was cold, devoid of warmth, of any emotion at all.  

For a moment, I froze. The heart I thought had been repaired from his fragments had shattered again. This time it was worse. “Damon..?” 

“But…” I tried to speak on my already trembling vocal.

“But what. Leave my chambers right now.”

He said nothing more. He didn’t even look at me.  

I fought with any further tears that could expose my vulnerability and weakness, as I gathered my clothes in silence. With each step away from his bed, the cruel reality settled in—I was just an identity to satisfy his pleasure.

But when I turned to face him, expecting… something, anything—his expression was cold and indifferent.

“But you’re my mate. And it’s past one am already.”

“Save me those words of yours,” he said with an exhausting tone from the journey we had rode together minutes ago. “You are nothing but a whore to satisfy my dick.” He sneered, a warm smirk tugged at his lips.