Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 137

Damon

This is not how I wanted her to find out.

Fuck.

I stood there, frozen, watching the sheet slide off her trembling shoulder as she gripped the banister like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Her eyes were wide. Wet. Wounded. And they were staring at me like I’d just ripped her soul out and smiled while doing it.

Because I did.

Not with a blade. Not with claws.

With silence.

With a lie I told so long ago it felt like a different lifetime.

"She’s dead." That’s what I told her. That’s what I looked her in the eyes and said, knowing damn well it wasn’t true. Knowing I had no fucking right. But I told her anyway. Because it was easier than telling her the real truth. Because if I had told her the truth, I would have lost her before I even had the chance to make her mine. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

And now?

Now I was watching her bleed from the inside out, wrapped in nothing but a crumpled sheet and my cum still leaking down her thighs.

And I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t fucking breathe.

Because she looked destroyed.

And I did that.

Not with my knot. Not with my hands.

With my silence.

With that one stupid lie I told the night she curled up in my bed and asked me if the woman in the picture was my wife.

"She’s dead," I said.

I remembered the way she looked at me. Like she understood. Like she felt sorry for me. Like she trusted me enough to let me hold her in my arms after that.

That moment built something.

This one just burned it to the ground.

I watched her from across the room, every inch of me begging to go to her, but I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch. Because how the fuck do you fix something like this? How the fuck do you explain why the woman you said was dead is now standing in your kitchen looking like she’s ready to reclaim everything?

I didn’t know she was coming back today.

Now she was here. Standing tall. Dressed in white. Hair perfect. Skin glowing like she just came from a spa retreat instead of a rehab center. She looked too good.

Too composed. Too... polished. Like maybe she’d gotten some work done before showing up. Like maybe she knew exactly how she wanted this reunion to go.

And I didn’t give a single fuck.

Because my eyes never left Lyra

She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t breathing. She was just standing there at the top of the stairs like her soul had been torn out. I saw her eyes. I saw the confusion. The betrayal. The heartbreak. And then I saw the tear.

One single tear falling from her cheek as she clutched the railing.

And it broke me.

My jaw clenched. My fists curled. My throat burned with all the things I wanted to say but couldn’t, because I didn’t even know where to start. I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted her to find out like this.

But I was out of time.

"Damon," Camilla whispered.

Her voice was soft. Sweet. Like it used to be. But there was something else in it too. A familiarity I didn’t want. A claim she had no right to anymore.

"I missed you."

I didn’t even have a second to react. She stepped forward and suddenly her arms were around my neck. Her body pressed into mine. Her lips crashed against my mouth like she still belonged there.

My entire body locked.

My mind went blank.

And then rage poured in like a tidal wave.

I ripped her off me so fast she stumbled backward and nearly knocked into the counter.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?!"

Camilla’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her chest like she was the one who’d been violated.

"You kissed me back," she said, like it was fact. Like she could rewrite the truth just by saying it with enough conviction.

"No," I growled, "I didn’t. I stood there because I was too fucking shocked to believe you were insane enough to try that in my house.

I stopped myself.

Bit down on the words.

Because that wasn’t something I could say. Not now. Not like this. Not with Lyra still standing upstairs, barely able to breathe.

"You’re still angry," Camilla muttered, brushing herself off like she wasn’t the one who blew her last chance at dignity.

"Angry?" I laughed once, sharp and dry.

"I’m out now, Damon. I’m clean."

"Fuck," she added, her voice cracking as her heels clicked against the floor behind me. "I missed you. I missed you so fucking much."

I didn’t speak. I stood there, breathing through clenched teeth, trying to control the violent pulse hammering through my veins. My hands were already balled into fists. My jaw locked so tight I could hear it creak.

I heard her footsteps behind me before I felt her.

She came closer. Slowly. Carefully. And then—

Her fingers touched the front of my sweatpants.

It was a soft, tentative graze, like she thought she still had the right to reach for me. Like my cock belonged to her just because it used to. Like the woman I just knotted upstairs didn’t exist. Like the scent of sex still on my skin, the memory of Lyra’s trembling thighs and tear-soaked moans, wasn’t still tattooed across my whole fucking body.