The Scorned Luna-Chapter 61: Did He Touch You
Sofia jumped back from the bed, her heart slamming wildly in her chest as she pushed Alexander away and fumbled to straighten her dress.
"Open up!" Damien yelled, banging on the door. He was just seconds away from pulling the metal door down. Sofia, terrified and trembling, looked at Alexander, who looked more annoyed than frightened. He wished he could fight Damien here and now for Sofia, but he couldn’t—not without getting the evidence to prove her innocence.
Damien was on the verge of losing his shit; he could sense them just inches away. He could smell the sweat, the sex, and the raw intimacy that should have belonged only to him. With a devastating kick, the lock snapped, and the double doors flew open, hitting the interior walls with a deafening crash.
Damien stood in the threshold, his chest heaving, his suit jacket discarded, and his sleeves rolled up. He looked like a god of war. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, his eyes instantly locking onto Sofia, who was standing by the bed, her hair a mess and her gown slightly askew.
"What the fuck happened here?" he asked, his eyes roaming all over Sofia—from her red cheeks to her swollen lips, to the smell of sex in the room.
Alexander frowned, shielding Sofia from Damien’s piercing gaze. "Nothing happened..." he paused. "Not yet."
Damien’s anger flared; he rushed to Alexander and punched him right on the lips. Sofia gasped, her eyes widening.
"Nothing happened?" Damien repeated, his voice a low, vibrating growl that sounded barely human. He pointed a shaking finger at Sofia’s swollen lips and then at the disarray of the bedsheets. "You think I’m a fool? I can smell you on her. I can smell her all over you. You dared to touch what belongs to me."
Alexander wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, a cold, sharp smile twisting his face. He didn’t shift; he didn’t even raise his fists. He stood his ground, moving back in front of Sofia to shield her from Damien’s lethal golden gaze.
"You don’t deserve her," he said clearly. "And I will take her away from you." Alexander declared, those words as a vow, and that spiked Damien’s rage. He reached out and grabbed Alexander by the collar of his shirt, his piercing gaze fixed on him. "Over my dead body will I let you or anyone take Sofia away from me. She is mine and mine alone," he spat before forcefully letting go of him.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Sofia by the arm and pulled her out of the suite along with him. Sofia winced in pain at the bruising grip he had on her arm.
"Damien, you’re hurting me!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the posh, empty hallway.
He didn’t slow down. His long strides forced her to practically run to keep up, her midnight-blue gown swishing frantically around her legs. He dragged her into the elevator and slammed his hand against the button for his suite. The moment the doors hissed shut, the silence was more terrifying than his shouting had been.
Damien stood in the corner, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing a predatory, molten gold. He looked at her—and saw the smeared lipstick on her chubby, flushed cheeks and the way her dress was bunched at her voluptuous waist.
"Did he fuck you?" he whispered, the words vibrating through the enclosed space.
Sofia looked at the floor, her heart hammering against her chest, but said nothing. He stepped into her space, pinning her against the mirrored wall of the elevator. He leaned down, his nose grazing her neck, inhaling deeply. His growl was low and primal. "He had his mouth on you, Sofia. I can smell the scent of your arousal and his filth all over your skin. Did he fuck you?"
"No," she gasped, her hands coming up to rest on his hard, muscular chest to push him back. "He didn’t. We didn’t go that far..."
Damien grabbed both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. His other hand went to her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "You are mine. You belong to me."
He crushed his lips against hers then, but it wasn’t a kiss of love. It was a kiss of war. He was trying to burn away Alexander’s lingering taste, his tongue invading her mouth with a possessive hunger that made Sofia’s knees go weak.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to his suite. He didn’t let go of her wrists. He dragged her inside, throwing her onto the large bed.
"You know what," he spat, unbuckling his belt. "I’ll remind you who you belong to."
Driven by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and a bond he refused to acknowledge, he hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his hands pinning her wrists beside her head. He dipped his head, attempting to reclaim her mouth with another punishing kiss, but Sofia turned her face away, a sob finally breaking from her throat.
"Please... Damien, stop," she wept, her body shaking violently beneath him.
Damien froze, his face inches from her neck. His heart was thundering, his wolf screaming for dominance, but the sight of her tears acted like ice water on his rage. He looked at her and saw the way she flinched from his touch. He saw the marks his grip had left on her arms and the absolute terror in her sea-blue eyes. She was terrified—she was terrified of him.
His grip on her wrists slackened. His jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might snap, and his eyes shifted from that terrifying molten gold back to a pained, stormy green.
With a guttural growl of self-loathing, Damien shoved himself off her. He stood by the bed, his chest heaving, looking down at his trembling hands as if they belonged to a stranger. He couldn’t do it. Even in his madness, the sight of her terrified because of him was the one thing he couldn’t endure.
He buckled his belt and grabbed his discarded shirt. He didn’t say a word. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, fearing that his voice would break or explode back into anger.
Without a backward glance at Sofia, Damien turned and stormed out of the bedroom. Sofia heard the heavy thud of the suite’s front door slamming shut, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence.
