Thalia’s POV
”Whose Damien?” I blurted out.
Natalie froze, her head snapping around to stare at me.
“Where did you hear that name?”
I hesitated, unsure if I should admit what happened between Dion and me in his room.
Deciding it was too risky, I lied, claiming I’d just heard him mutter it in passing.
She looked suspicious, but didn’t press further.
I desperately wished I possessed Natalie’s talent for minding her own business.
But I didn’t.
Ever since that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how shattered he had looked calling out for whoever Damien was.
Part of me pitied him.
Another part felt he deserved the karma.
But a deeper, darker part of me felt…
jealous.
And I hated myself for it.
Over the next few days, our paths crossed constantly, but Dion acted like that night had never happened.
He moved around the territory taking care of his pack as if he hadn’t been sobbing on his knees hours before.
So, I tried to let it go.
It was a full moon tonight, and everyone had already started preparations for the traditional bonfire dance that ran until sunrise.
It was a custom back in Blackfang pack, and I wasn’t expecting rogue packs to also celebrate it.
From my spot on the grass, I watched Dion delegate tasks and pitch in with the heavy lifting.
When he wasn’t being a dick to me or crying like a child, he was very helpful and nice.
“If you keep staring at him like that, people are going to assume he stole money from you or something.” Natalie appeared behind me.
“I wish I had a legitimate reason to hate him,” I sighed, dropping a bundle of logs into the iron fire drum.
Turning to fetch another pile, my clumsy foot caught on a tree root and I fell.
“Damn it…” I winced, pushing myself up as sharp wooden splinters pierced my palms.
It was no secret that I was wolfless.
In fact, it spread like wildfire the night I got here.
And since my secret had been exposed, everyone in the pack, well, except Dion, had been treating me like an egg, even the young pups.
So, the exact moment I hit the ground, a dozen pack members abandoned their tasks and rushed over to help me up.
“I’m fine, really—” I tried to reassure them, but they ignored me completely.
“Get the first aid kit from the toolshed, hurry!” a woman called out.
“Seriously, I’m okay—”
Before I could finish, a pair of strong arms lifted me off the ground.
“Move,” Dion’s deep voice commanded from above me.
I glared up at his sharp jawline.
“I don’t need to be carried!
It’s just splinters!” I snapped, pulling a face.
“Can you stop overreacting?”
”You don’t have a wolf, Thalia.
You don’t heal in seconds,” he said strictly, not bothering to look down at me.
“It needs to be cleaned before it gets infected.”
He dropped everything he was doing just to carry me to the medic station and watch my palms get pulled free of splinters.
It was infuriating. This story is hosted at g.com.
These are the types of things he does that made me want to bash his head against a wall.
One minute he was cold, distant, and pretending I didn’t exist; the next, he was acting ridiculously protective.
By nightfall, the celebration was in full swing.
The music was loud enough to be heard at the borders of the pack territory.
Even the guards had left their duties to join in on the festivities.
And as usual, Dion had gone back to his hating me mode.
It was driving me insane.
I had promised myself I’d keep my distance after the incident in his room, but he was making me so angry to the point that I wanted to confront him.
I gulped down a cup of strong alcohol, coughing as the liquid burned my throat.
Scanning the crowd, I caught sight of Dion slipping away from the noise, heading back into the main house toward his private chambers.
Without thinking, I gulped down a second cup and followed behind him.
The alcohol made me stagger, but I didn’t lose focus.
I was going to corner him and ask why he hated me so much.
And maybe, just maybe, ask about Damien.
When I barged into his chambers, he was slumped back in his chair, completely wiped.
He glanced up at me and groaned.
“I am in no mood for your antics tonight, Thalia.” My name rolled off his tongue like melted butter, smooth despite the edge in his voice.
“Who’s Damien?” I slurred, cutting straight to the chase.
The alcohol made me bold, stripping away my usual hesitation.
I watched as his shoulders visibly stiffened.
He looked away at first, and for a long moment I thought he was going to kick me out.
“Damien was my first love,” he said quietly.
“My first mate.”
Hearing the word mate hit me like a slap.
I pulled out a chair and slumped into it.
“We were inseparable,” he continued, his gaze drifting to the far wall.
“Happy and in love.
But everything fell apart when our old pack was ambushed.
Everyone was running to safety, trying to protect themselves…”
I could feel my heart already aching for his sake.
He must have lost his mate in the ambush.
How devastating.
“I just stood there.
Useless.
Weak,” he muttered, staring blankly into his glass.
“I wasn’t the powerful Alpha I am now.
I was just a boy.
A weak Alpha in love.” He took a sip from his drink.
I could tell he was drunk, but at least he was sane enough to be aware of his surroundings.
“Damien wanted to stay alive.
I get that. Get faster updates on g.com.
I really do.” His voice cracked on the final word.
“We were hiding under a collapsed shed,” he went on, the memory clearly eating him alive.
“The leader of the attackers made an announcement saying whoever could fish me out would be spared and given power beyond their wildest dreams.”
He paused, clearing his throat with a harsh cough.
“I wasn’t even scared.
I trusted Damien with my life.
Or…
I thought I did.
I still remember the look in his eyes when he grabbed my arm and dragged me into the open, whispering that he had found us a better hiding spot.”
I held my breath, not ready for the next sentence.
“The moment we stepped outside the hiding spot, I was ambushed.
Damien had sold me out for his own safety.
I didn’t know how to feel; I watched as he stood behind the commander like they had known each other for years.”
He shook his head, his eyes turning glossy.
For someone as tough as him, he sure does express his feelings easily.
“He abandoned me.
He stood there and watched as they slaughtered every single member of my pack.
If I had just known… if I had seen the signs sooner… maybe, just maybe, my pack members—”
”No.” I cut him off before he could finish that statement.
“It wasn’t your fault.
You didn’t kill them.
You couldn’t have known he would betray you like that.”
He shook his head in disagreement.
“Don’t try to make me feel better.
It was all my fault.”
”No, it was—”
”I WAS THEIR ALPHA, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He slammed his hands down on the desk and surged to his feet, screaming the words directly into my face.
“IT WAS MY RESPONSIBILITY TO KEEP THEM SAFE!” His chest heaved as he glared down at me.
“And I let love make me stupid.
I let it make me weak.”
Whether it was the whiskey or the fact that I felt sorry for him, I didn’t flinch or get scared.
I watched as his lips quivered before pulling into a tight, pained line.
“I swore to myself I would never let anyone make me weak again,” he whispered, “And I was doing fine.
I was keeping to my word… until I caught your scent.”
”My scent?” I breathed.
“Yes!” he choked out.
“There’s something about it that makes everything else disappear.
Every single agonizing memory, every bit of pain, it all vanishes the moment you get close.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to ask why on earth that was a bad thing, but no sound came out.
He kept rambling, growing angrier at himself for letting me tear down his defenses all over again.
I couldn’t listen to him beat himself up for another second.
So I stepped forward, closed the distance between us, and kissed him.
He gasped against my mouth, taken aback by my lips on his.
His hands automatically locked around my waist, his muscles tensing as if he meant to push me away.
But when a soft moan escaped my throat, vibrating against his lips, his grip shifted, turning bruisingly tight and possessive.
He yanked me against his chest and kissed me back.