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《Fated to my Alpha nemesis 》全部章節：第 71 章 - 第 80 章

85 章節

Blood lust

I wait a moment after Mason leaves, watching Damon’s chest rise and fall, once, twice, just to be sure.Then I move.I slip out of the room, easing the door shut behind me without a sound.The moment I step into the corridor, I have to swallow hard.Three bodies. Still and lifeless.A guard lies slumped near the doorway, head tilted at an unnatural angle, uniform darkened and heavy with blood.Another sags against the opposite wall, collar soaked, a trail running downward as if he had a terrible neck injury.I shut my eyes for a second, forcing the content of my stomach to remain down.It doesn’t fully cooperate.I dry heave, one hand pressing hard against my abdomen until the wave passes.When I open my eyes again, Mason is already farther down the hall.Leaving.Getting away.I force my legs to move.Past the bodies, past the metallic smell that clings to the air so tightly it feels alive.Each step is as quiet as I can make them.I follow at a distance.Far enough that his wolf hea

Chains and Holy water

“Where are you going?” I ask, looking between Mason and Rhoda. “We’re going to get him,” Mason says. Rhoda stays silent. “Why do you need tranquilizers, dart guns, holy water and—” Mason pulls out a heavy bundle of chains. My mouth falls open. “—chains?” He shrugs. “Precaution.” “Precaution for what?” I scoff. “Hunting a vampire?” Rhoda stiffens. Just for a second. But I see it. I turn to her, watching closely as she pretends I don’t exist. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?” My voice tightens. “How would any of you feel if you were kept in the dark like this?” Rhoda slowly lifts her head. Her eyes are sharp. Cold. “Maybe you should try minding your own business,” she says. “It is my business.” The words come out before I can stop them. “He’s my mate.” The second it leaves my mouth, I regret it. Too late. Rhoda’s gaze narrows into something dangerous. “He is my brother,” she grits out. “My brother.” “Okay—” Mason steps in quickly. “Everyon

I shouldn't have missed

His hand is still in mine.Warm. Heavy. Slightly unsteady.For a moment, nothing moves.Not him. Not me. Not even the night around us.Just silence stretching too tightly between heartbeats.I contemplate what to do next.Should I lead him back into the pack house and risk him losing control… doing whatever he did to those guards?My stomach twists at the thought.I push it away and make my decision.I’m just about to start leading Damon back into the pack house through the garden entrance when—his fingers twitch.From the corner of my eye, I catch the movement.Small.Subtle.But there.His grip tightens slightly around my hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel like he’s anchoring himself there.And then—Rhoda comes into view.Dart gun in hand.Already aimed at Damon.“Wait,” I tell her quickly. “He is okay now.”She doesn’t listen.Her eyes are locked on him like a predator tracking prey.His head tilts.Slow.Careful.Like her face is something he’s trying to recognize thro

I'm not ready to play nice

Mason stops mid-sentence, mouth slightly open.Rhoda goes still.Then she stands, already moving toward Damon.“I’m fine,” he says as she approaches him.I don’t blame Rhoda for not taking his word for it.Damon is covered in blood, dirt and things I can’t even begin to name.He’s almost naked, his clothes barely holding on—torn strips and loose threads doing very little to preserve his dignity.Yet he behaves like nothing happened.Like he doesn’t look like he just crawled out of a grave or something equivalent to one.Like he isn’t standing there drenched in blood, almost naked.Like the past three days weren’t anything out of the ordinary.I stand there, not quite sure what to do with myself.Trying—and failing—not to let my eyes wander away from his face.My cheeks burn.Mason is saying something to Damon.I don’t hear it.Rhoda is already checking him, hands moving quickly, efficiently—like she’s done this before.Like she knows exactly what to look for.I don’t know if I should

A shiver down my spine

I don’t start my digging as soon as I would like because, obviously, there are more important things to think about. Things like my possible doom at the hands of the Luna trial. And also— I share a room with Damon now. These present issues, however, doesn’t mean I plan to drop the matter of what happened three nights ago. No. I won’t ignore the fact that there is something incredibly off about Damon. Something I've only begun to notice ever since he got back from his two years stay at the winter pack. And I am almost a hundred percent sure it isn’t an Alpha thing. No. It’s something else. Something I don’t understand. And that is exactly the problem. Damon seemed to have known I wouldn’t stop my question about this blood lust thing, and therefore hadn’t shown up at the Alpha suite last night so as to escape any form of interrogation from me. Either that, or he didn’t want to inconvenience me by actually having to share the place with him. I doubt that would

You are dead now

He doesn’t move immediately. Just watches me for a second too long. Then he pushes off the wall. “Your guard is terrible,” he says flatly. Like he’s not starting a conversation. Just stating a fact. His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Five days,” he continues, quieter now. “And you still can’t tell when you’re not alone.” I fold my arms, ignoring the way my pulse picks up. “Five days,” I echo. “And you weren’t here for any of them.” I pause, shooting daggers at him. “So forgive me if I didn’t train myself to your standards.” I let that sit. Then tilt my head slightly. “Or…” I say, voice edged with something sharper, “is criticism the only part of training you’re good at?” I barely finish the sentence— Before he moves. There is no warning. No shift in posture. One second he’s there— The next— My body reacts too late. His hand snaps out, knocking my arms apart before I can even register the movement. My balance falters, weight shifting wrong— And then his foot hooks behind

Shaking

If Dad could see me right now, he’d probably be disappointed. All those years of training, and here I am—panting like a dying animal after a few rounds of sparring. But the truth is— Dad didn’t train me for this. Whatever this is. He trained me to anticipate rhythm. To understand my opponent’s rhythm, memorize it, then break it. Cole taught me the same. So did Mason. Well… in his own way. But Damon— Damon is trying to override all of that. His movements make no sense. No pattern. No consistency. Or maybe there is one— And it changes every second. Either way, I’m left trying to retrace my steps, forcing my body to adjust while I’m already moving, already reacting. It’s exhausting. Frustrating. And every second of training with Damon forces me to consider something I don’t want to admit— That I might fail this trial. That I might not become Luna. That I might not be able to liberate the humans. That I might fail every single person who thought I could be their s

Tear drop

Damon doesn’t slow. The world blurs past in streaks of stone and shadow, the air sharp against my wet face. My body feels too heavy. Too light. I don’t know where we are until we stop. A door slams open. “Dorion.” Damon’s voice cuts through everything—sharp, leaving no room for refusal. There’s movement. The rustle of fabric. A chair scraping back. “For the Goddess’ sake, you can’t just—” the healer starts, irritation clear, “I was in the middle of—” Then he stops. Silence. I don’t have to see him to feel the shift when he finally looks at me. “Put her down.” The irritation is gone from his voice. Flattened into something quieter. Damon lowers me onto something soft—a bed, I think. My body sinks into it without resistance. I’m still shaking. Still crying. It won’t stop. It won’t stop. “Move,” Dorion says, already there, hands firm but not rough as they turn my face toward the light. His fingers press against my wrist. Then my throat. He doe

The discovery of the poppy flower

I walk down the corridor that leads to the kitchens. I need some water and food in my stomach as soon as possible. Whatever Dorion used to stabilize me has left me feeling extremely dehydrated and famished. I woke up earlier in the Alpha suite—not even sure when I had drifted off—and was met with an empty room. It’s becoming concerning, the number of times I’ve passed out in the last month. I wasn’t a sickly female. I open the door to the kitchen and am assaulted with the scent of whatever Georgia is making. Warm. Rich. Comforting in a way that settles something restless in my chest. It reminds me of those times when Mum would make dinner for us and I’d help her out with the little stuff. The memory sends a pang through my chest. I don’t linger on it. It has been the only way I can cope with everything going on. By dealing only with what is in the moment. “Goddess…” I say, pushing away these thoughts, my mouth already watering at the scent that permeates the kit

Just stupid

“Well…” she says carefully. “He is not in a very good mood.” I turn to Coby and tell him I'd be back as soon as I can to finish up his crown. He nods absently, too invested in weaving the poppies into something that would hold. I don’t ask any more questions. Emory doesn’t offer any more answers. We walk down the corridors in complete silence. The quiet presses in, thick and watchful. My steps seem awfully loud as they contrast the quiet hum of the evening. My steps slow slightly as we approach the study doors. The doors are open. Not just open though. They were left open. Something in my chest tightens. Emory stops a few steps behind me. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. She would not go in. Something tells me it is more out of fear than respect. I push the door open the rest of the way and step inside. The first thing I notice— is the silence. Heavy and pressing. It seems to have followed me through my journey from the gardens and into Damon's study. After

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