Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 327

Lyra

Month Later

You know how people always say life flashes before your eyes when you almost die? Yeah, that’s bullshit. When I almost died from child birth all I saw was Damon’s face. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

But now, months later, here I am — alive, older, still dramatic, still running my mouth more than I should, but breathing. And so are my pups. All four of them. My miracle included.

And because Damon Thornvale doesn’t know how to do anything halfway, he didn’t just stop at keeping me alive and making me a mother of four at eighteen. No, of course not. He had to marry me.

Oh yes. We had a wedding. Not a huge, sparkly, fairy-tale wedding like normal girls dream of, but a Thornvale wedding — small, dangerous, full of powerful people in dark suits, and every single one of them looking at me like I had just been placed on a throne I didn’t ask for.

Damon put me in white, walked me down an aisle lit with candles, and when he slid that ring on my finger, I swear my knees almost buckled because it wasn’t just a ring, it was a chain. A chain I wanted and official made me his Luna.

I tell myself I’m too young for this, that I should be free and wild and figuring out who I am. But then I look at Damon holding the babies, his scarred hands so gentle, his wolf always prowling behind his eyes, and I know who I am. I’m his. Always his.

Tonight, the pups are finally asleep. Four little miracles breathing evenly in their cribs, tiny fists curling and uncurling like they’re already training to fight the world. I should be asleep too. My body is still a wreck most days, my hips ache, my chest feels like it’s been torn open permanently, and I’m exhausted.

But Damon is standing at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, kitten."

That voice. I should have ignored it, should have rolled over and forced myself to sleep, but of course I looked up, because I’m weak like that, and that’s when I saw it.

Tattoos.

I blinked. My mouth actually fell open. Damon Thornvale, my obsessive Alpha, my terrifying husband, my monster had tattoos now. Dark, twisting lines etched over his chest and arms, sliding around scars, making him look even more dangerous, even more untouchable, even more... mine.

"Oh my God," I whispered before I could stop myself, my brain short-circuiting. "You actually got tattoos. I thought you were joking when you said it" My eyes kept moving, tracing every curve, every inked shadow, and my mouth wouldn’t shut up.

"I swear to the Goddess, Damon, you were already too much, like way too much, and now you’re just..just unfair! Who told you to do this? Who gave you permission to get hotter when I was barely surviving you the way you were?"

My heart was pounding, my body still weak from months of healing, and my mind was a complete mess. What the hell, Lyra? You’re supposed to be mad at him, not drooling.

He ruined your life and saved it at the same time, gave you four babies before you even figured out how to breathe properly, and now here you are staring at his tattoos like you want to climb him like a tree.

Damon tilted his head, that dangerous smirk tugging at his lips, like he already knew every single filthy thought racing through my head.

"Hotter, huh?" His voice dropped lower, his eyes flashing with his wolf. "Say it again, kitten."

And of course my mouth betrayed me, because it always does. "Yes, hotter! Fine! You’re hotter! Happy now? You smug bastard, I hate you for it! Why would you do this to me? You’ve already wrecked my body, wrecked my sanity, wrecked my entire life, and now you’re standing there all shirtless and inked like some sinful god, and all I can think about is licking every line on your skin when I’m supposed to be sleeping!"

I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was useless, because the words were still spilling in my head. Don’t look at him, Lyra. Don’t. Oh Goddess, look at him. His chest. His arms. That vein in his neck. He’s so unfair. Why does he make me feel like this? Why do I want him even when I’m exhausted and sore and should be screaming at him to get out?

Damon’s smirk deepened as he climbed closer, his muscles flexing under the ink, his wolf rumbling low. And I knew — I was doomed.

"You like them," Damon said, his voice low and sinful, his eyes locked on me like he was reading my soul. "I can see it in your eyes, kitten. You want to touch them. You want to trace every line with your little fingers, don’t you?"