All Chapters of Fated to my Alpha nemesis : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

210 Chapters

The way habits are formed

MICHAELA'S POV I should sleep. I try to sleep. How hard I try. But the words still don’t leave my head. They don’t echo so much as circle, slow and stubborn, refusing to settle into something I can file away as finished. Or something I can examine later on. Something I can examine when my head is clear—when I'm not so confused. "I hated you because I couldn’t stop thinking about you." Even now, in the silence that followed, it feels like the atmosphere hasn’t fully recovered from it. Like the night itself is still holding its breath. I hug the blanket tighter around myself. I turn. Then turn. Then turn again. Trying to find the perfect position. But it always evades me. Because sleep has not come. It refuses to answer my summons. I recall the expression on his face as he'd said those final words. The tone of his voice. The way it cracked in places it wasn’t supposed to. Like the words had been ripped out of him. I recall the look in his eyes. Like I was both the probl

Overreacting

DAMON'S POV I wake up. I reach for her. She isn't there. My eyes snap open. For a moment, I don't move. The place beside me is empty. The blanket disturbed. The fire reduced to nothing but ash. It's morning. There's warm light. There's damp air. There's the sound of birds chirping in the forest trees. No Michaela. I sit up immediately. My gaze sweeps the clearing. The packs are still here. One of the blankets is gone. Still no sign of her anywhere. A knot forms low in my stomach. I stand. "Michaela?" There's no answer. The clearing remains silent except for the distant roar of the waterfall. I tell myself she's nearby. That she's going to walk out any second now. The thought lasts for all of three seconds. And then I'm moving. I search for her around the edge of the clearing. The path to the water. The rocks surrounding the pool. Nothing. "Michaela." My voice is louder this time. But there is still no answer. Still no sounds of movement. The knot in my stomac

As many times as you want me to

MICHAELA'S POV Have I mentioned that I hate the forest? Not dislike. Not find mildly inconvenient. Hate. Loathe. Despise. We have been walking for what feels like an eternity. In reality, it has been a little over a day and a half. Approximately two days. Two days of trees. Two days of roots trying to trip me. Two days of branches finding new and creative ways to attack my face. Two days of pretending every sound in the undergrowth isn’t something waiting to kill me. I am done. Completely and utterly done. The worst part is that there is still more forest. Endless forest. Trees in every direction. If I never see another tree again after this journey, it will still be too soon. My gaze drops to the uneven ground beneath my feet as I continue walking. The silence between Damon and me stretches ahead just as endlessly. Neither of us has mentioned what happened by the fire. Not his words. Not the waterfall. Not the argument the following morning. Nothing. His wor

The nearest leg store

MICHAELA'S POV There is no trace of humor on Damon’s face anymore. Just recognition. And somehow, that is worse. My stomach drops. “You know what kind of snake it was?” His jaw tightens. “Maybe.” Maybe. I hate that word. “What does maybe mean?” “It means I didn’t exactly stop to interview it before it bit me.” I glare at him. He has the decency to look slightly guilty. Only slightly. “Dizziness?” I ask. “No.” “Nausea?” “No.” “Blurred vision?” “No.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying?” A pause. “Possibly.” “Damon.” “Fine. A little.” I mutter something unflattering under my breath. Then I grab a piece of cloth from the pack and tear off a strip of fabric. His eyebrow lifts. “What are you doing?” “Something.” “That is not reassuring.” “Neither is being bitten by a mystery snake.” I wrap the fabric around his leg above the wound. Not too tight. Just enough to make me feel like I’m doing something useful. Because standing

unconscious

We both stop at the same time. Although I doubt it's because of some wilderness-developed telepathy and more because Damon's movement is now predominantly dependent on mine.The pack house rises ahead of us, stone catching the late light of the setting sun. Familiar paths cut through the grounds. Guards are already visible at the perimeter, posted at the outer gate.Safety.Distance from the forest.Distance from the snakes.Damon shifts slightly beside me.He exhales like the world has finally tilted back into place.We are halfway there when his knees almost buckle.I tighten my grip instantly."Hey. No. Don't you dare decide now is a good time to collapse."His laugh is weak. Barely there."I'm not collapsing.""You just tried to meet the ground halfway."A pause."I was negotiating.""Terrible negotiation strategy."We take another step.Then another.When I try to talk to Damon again, I realize he's slipping in and out of consciousness.That is not a good sign.I don't even know

You owe me a new shirt

Dorion steps inside. One look at Damon and every trace of casualness vanishes from his face. The room is empty now except for Damon and me. Sweat beads along his hairline and across his chest and torso. Dorion crosses the room immediately. "What happened?" "Snake bite," I answer. "Where?" I point toward Damon's leg. Dorion's gaze snaps downward. He crouches beside the bed and carefully pulls the torn fabric back. The puncture wounds are impossible to miss. Neither is the angry redness surrounding them. His fingers hover over the wound before finally pressing lightly against the skin. Damon doesn't even flinch. For a second, I think Dorion didn't press hard enough. Then I realize he did. Damon simply didn't react. My stomach knots. Normally he would have complained. Or threatened someone. Or at the very least glared. But right now he is unconscious. Again. "What kind?" Dorion asks. "I don't know. I didn't get a clear look." "How long ago?" "A few hours." Dor

Ridiculous

MICHAELA'S POV When Dorion finally leaves, the room feels strangely empty. Too quiet. Too still. I don’t mind it though. I just sit beside the bed and stare at Damon. Watching. Waiting. His chest rises. Falls. Rises again. The movement is almost imperceptible, but it is there. A small reassurance in the middle of everything else. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring until the door opens. No knock. No warning. Just the sudden swing of the door. “Red?” I turn. Mason steps inside. The words die in his throat as his gaze lands on Damon. Then stays there. He goes completely still. Which is alarming, because Mason is never still. Ever. His eyes move over Damon. The sweat. The unmoving bulk of the Alpha on the bed. Then his gaze shifts to me. Slowly. Carefully. Like he is only now noticing me properly. His brows pull together. “You look terrible.” I blink. Trust Mason to start with the least urgent observation. “Hello to you too,” I say dryly. “You look

Counting

MICHAELA'S POVDamon still hasn't woken up.Five days.Five entire days.The healing sleep is taking longer than Dorion anticipated.For werewolves, it is rare.For an Alpha, rarer still.From what I've understood, the body shuts everything else down and focuses on one thing only.Survival.Repair.Healing.At least, that's what Dorion says.Right now, I am having a very difficult time believing any of it.Because healing should look like improvement.Healing should look like progress.Healing should look like waking up.Damon does none of those things.He just lies there.Day after day.Hour after hour.Unmoving.Silent.Too still.I have discovered there are very few things more terrifying than the silence of someone who should not be silent.The first day, I barely left his side.The second day, I don't think I slept properly.By the third day, I found myself checking his breathing every few minutes despite knowing perfectly well that he was alive.I still do it anyway.I find my h

Good signs

MICHAELA'S POV Dorion is already moving.His expression sharpens as he crosses the room and leans over the bed."How is he?" Rhoda asks.She moves to the opposite side of the bed, not sparing me another glance.Her attention never leaves Damon.Things between Rhoda and me have been even worse since we returned.I showed up at the pack house with her brother unconscious, poisoned, and half-dead after disappearing into the forest with him for three days.She hasn't said it outright.She doesn't need to.Every clipped response.Every look.Every silence.They all say the same thing.You were supposed to bring him home alive. Fully alive.It makes me wonder if Mason might have shared his crazy theories with her.I hope not.Dorion doesn't answer her immediately.Then —Dorion's eyes flick briefly toward Rhoda."Give me a moment."Which is healer's code for:I don't know yet.I hate those words.For several long minutes he examines Damon.For several long minutes, we wait in silence whil

Dreams don't punch

DAMON'S POV I place one kiss on her forehead. Then another on her brow. She stirs. A small sound escapes her as she buries her face deeper into the sheets. Still asleep. I brush my lips against her temple. Then the bridge of her nose. “Michaela,” I whisper. A sleepy frown appears between her brows. “Damon,” she mumbles. A strange warmth settles beneath my ribs. The sound of my name on her lips still feels unreal. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. But I know for certain that I'll never stop wanting it. For a moment, I simply stare at her. Because I wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting her. Wasn’t expecting anything. The last thing I remember is pain. Venom burning through my veins. Dizziness. Her voice. Darkness. Then nothing. Endless, suffocating nothing. And now… I wake up to find her curled beside me. Warm. Beautiful. Close enough to touch. For one ridiculous moment, I wonder if I’ve finally lost my mind. Maybe I’m

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