All Chapters of Bite Me, Daddy Wolf: Devil's Pet: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Verret’s Pov I stood over her a long time, watching the way she curled herself around the floor as if it could hold her together. She looked small and fragile. I could not fathom what had happened, when I could have taken her life and ended whatever she carried inside her.“Thank you,” she breathed at last, voice thin. “Thank you for saving me.”Do not be quick, I told myself. Do not be sudden with mercy. “Do not thank me…not yet,” I said aloud, and the words tasted strange in my mouth.I shut the door, locked the hall behind me, and let the silence of my chambers settle. My skin still prickled where Ramon had bled. The wound I had given him had closed so fast the air had barely had time to taste iron. That more than any other thing disturbed me. Nothing I had done in a hundred winters had felt like this. I had never been confused. Priests do not confuse. We calculate, we bargain, we take what we are owed. We do not act in the small, hazardous way that a man enamoured of a face act

Malric’s PovDays… no, weeks. That’s how long it’s been since Delilah vanished. Each sunrise felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest, each sunset like another reminder that I’d failed her. I had searched every town, every forest, every ruined corner of this cursed land…bones, blood, ashes—but no trace of her. Not even the faintest scent of my mate.I’d just returned from my last search, mud and fury clinging to me like a second skin, when Reyna’s voice broke through the silence.“Any progress? Did you find her? Anything?”Alyssa was there too, standing behind her, eyes rimmed with the same exhaustion I carried.“No.” My voice was sharp, heavier than steel. “I didn’t.”Reyna’s lips trembled. “I can’t believe she’s gone. What if… what if she’s dead?”I spun on her, rage flooding my veins. “Don’t you dare say she’s dead. She’s somewhere. If my mate dies, I will know. I will feel it.”Her chin lifted stubbornly. “What if she left? Because of you. Because you didn’t accept her.”“W

Delilah’s PovMy hand was still burning, stinging from the slap, and his face was inches away like a dark moon I’d never expected to orbit. I’d meant the slap to hurt—meant it to puncture that arrogance, to make him taste what it felt like to be refused, but when he grabbed me by the hair I watched the mockery in his eyes fold into something colder, harder. For the first time in days the delicious defiance that had kept me alive shrank inside me, small and brittle.“Never…ever…lay your hands on me,” he hissed, his voice like ice under leather.There it was: the Verret I’d only caught glimpses of before, sharp, dangerous, far more dangerous than the man who’d fed me like a reluctant guardian. For a sliver of a second I pictured my own blood soaking his hands and I felt a pure, white fear that had nothing to do with bravado. My mouth went dry; the iron taste of panic moved in. I had said I’d rather die than belong to him—had shouted it, promised it, but the promise had been an ember.

Verret’s Pov It had been days—long, dull, suffocating days—since Delilah had begged me to let her go.And since then, silence had taken her place.No more fiery words.No more defiance.No more spirit.Just quiet.At first, I thought her silence was a victory—peace, finally. But it wasn’t peace. It was emptiness.And gods, I hated emptiness.This morning, I walked down the marble stairs, my boots echoing softly in the stillness of the manor. I didn’t expect her to be there. She rarely came to the dining table these days unless she was summoned. But there she was…sitting straight-backed, eyes on her plate, her hair falling over her shoulder like a soft curtain of fire.She looked up briefly when I entered. “Good morning,” she said.Her voice was gentle, almost distant.I only nodded and sat opposite her. The servants had already laid the table, a quiet meal, warm bread, roasted meat, dark wine. I started eating. She did too.No words.Just the occasional clink of cutlery.And for the

Verret’s Pov “What do you mean, me?”Her words still echo in my head, light, trembling, daring me to repeat what I’d said. I don’t even think before I move. My breath fans against her ear as I whisper, low enough for only her to hear.“You know what I mean, Delilah.”She freezes. Her pulse flutters against her neck, and it’s the sound that undoes me — that fragile reminder that she’s real, that she’s right here, and yet somehow still not mine. My lips find the skin just beneath her ear, a dangerous place where restraint dies easily.“Don’t ask me what I'm doing, or tell me about your mate” I said to her.Her scent is maddening, something like crushed roses and iron, warm and alive. I don’t even remember deciding to touch her. One second I’m breathing her name, the next my mouth is against her skin, tasting the heat that burns off it. She shivers, her fingers clutching at nothing.“Verret…stop…I have a mate?”Her voice cracks, thin as silk in my grip.“I told you not to say that word