Home / Werewolf / Fated to my Alpha nemesis / Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

All Chapters of Fated to my Alpha nemesis : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

234 Chapters

Sharing a room

“I want to speak to Michaela,” Damon says.His words cut clean through the silence that followed Rhoda’s last statement.“Alone.”Rhoda stands and leaves without protest.I hadn’t expected that.Mason follows her out. As he passes me, he leans in slightly.“Good luck,” he murmurs.I can’t tell if he means it.Cole lingers.Of course he does.He locks eyes with me.There’s a question there.And a warning.I nod once.“I’ll be fine.”He doesn’t look convinced.But he leaves anyway.Damon watches the door close behind him.Then his gaze returns to me.Assessing.Like he’s trying to peel something apart.“Why is he still here?”It takes me a moment to understand.“You mean Cole?”“Yes.”“He’s not leaving until I’m leaving.”Damon’s expression hardens slightly.“And why is that?”“Because he wants to stay,” I say simply. “He doesn’t want to leave me here alone.”With you.I don’t say it.“I don’t remember approving this arrangement.”I shrug. “You want me here. We come as a package deal.”

Miss him already?

There is no one here. I realise it after a few seconds of standing in the expanse of the room. It’s too still. Too quiet. In fact, it doesn’t even feel lived in. Just… Empty. Clean. Perfect. Untouched. For a moment, I almost convince myself Damon doesn’t stay here. That this is just for show. A space meant to impress. Not to be used. But then I step into the walk-in closet. And pause. Male clothing lines one side. Dark. Structured. Precise. Opposite it— Female clothing. Dresses. Fabrics. Colors I don’t recognize. Not mine. But definitely in my size. I study them. My fingers brush against the array of clothing. Soft. Expensive. Yet I had no knowledge of where they came from. Or at least I tell myself I don't. I pull my hand back. Fast. I don’t think about it. I don’t want to. Instead, I step out of the closet and glance around the room again. I’m not settling in, I tell myself. No. I’ll wait. We’ll talk about this. Damo

Don't open the fucking door

It doesn’t take me long to pass out cold on my bed. I don’t even bother taking a bath. My muscles ache so much that I doubt I could make the journey to the bathroom. Sleep takes me fast. Heavy. Complete. I don’t know how long I’ve slept when I hear it. A scraping sound against the door. I pause. Listening. I don't hear anything. For a moment, I almost convince myself I imagined it— Then it comes again. Louder. Like metal— No. Not metal. Claws. Dragging against wood. “Michaela.” I freeze at the sound of that voice. It slips through the door like a whisper. Like a caress against my skin. Wrong. Too soft for something that sounds like that. I push myself up from the bed, every muscle protesting, and walk toward the door. The sound grows louder the closer I get. Restless footsteps. Uneven. Pacing. Back and forth. Panic claws up my spine. “Who is that?” I ask, my voice sharper than I feel. My mind is already reaching—searching—for s

Black

…And yank the door open.For a second—Nothing happens.No movement.No sound.Just—Him.Damon stands on the other side of the door.He is close. Too close.Like he had been leaning against the door. The only thing keeping him out.His head is slightly lowered.Shoulders tense.Breathing uneven.I look around his body for injuries. Anything that could be the cause of his distorted state and heavy breathing.I don't see any.That is when I really begin to worry.I'm about to step closer when—He looks up.My grip tightens around the lamp.Because his eyes—They are not green.They are not normal.There is no white in them.They are just—Black.Not dark.Not shadowed.Black.Like something has swallowed the light out of them completely.My breath stutters.Those eyes are zeroed intently on me. I don't move.I don't know how.Beautiful and horrific all at once“Carylon—”The name barely leaves my lips before something in his expression shifts.His gaze drops.Not to my face.Lower.My

You don't wanna know

“What did you do to him?” I scream as Damon’s body jerks—violently, unnaturally—like something inside him is pulling the strings wrong. A sickening series of snaps follows. Bones. Muscles. Then— Nothing. He goes completely still, his body collapsing to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. “Don’t worry, Red,” Mason mutters, already crouching beside him, straining slightly as he hauls Damon up. “It’s nothing he can’t handle.” Nothing he can’t handle. Damon looks like he just died. His head lolls to the side, his body slack in Mason’s grip—too heavy, too still. I’m moving before I can think. I rush forward, sliding under Damon’s other arm, his weight dragging against me as we lift him together. Step by step, we maneuver him to the bed. We lay him down carefully. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t breathe— No. I freeze. Then I see it. The slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Air rushes back into my lungs. I don't even consider the fact that I probab

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

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