Could She Be Our Mate?

Damon’s POV

As I left the study where my father and I had just finished arguing, I made my way to my room so I could stew in private.

I was more than annoyed about the fact that he had been helping a mere omega access the library.

I had no idea why he’s helping her so I guess he just needed one more bed warmer. That’s what he always does.

Our argument had gone on long enough for both of us to be angry at the other.

And unlike the other times my father and I had been angry at each other, this time I was actually sorry.

I was out of line with at least half of the things that I had said, and if I could take all of it back, I absolutely would, but we had left things off on a very bad note.

There was no way that I wouldn’t end up apologizing.

That was the thought on my mind when a knock sounded at my door., and

I opened up the door to find that one of my father’s personal guards was standing right outside my door.

I raised a brow in confusion. “Is something the matter? Do you need something from me?”

“No, sir,” he apologized. “I am so sorry for bringing myself here against your summons or request, but I was instructed by your father to give you this note and ask you to meet him in the conference room.”

With a bow, he handed me the note and left after a bow.

As he left, I carefully pried open the note and read out what he had to say

“Damon, meet me in my room. We need to talk. We both said some things that we didn’t mean and disagreeing should not have made both of us not to speak to each other that way. Meet me outside, won’t you?”

I was surprised that he was the one that apologized first.

He only cared about my big brother so I have never had his apologies. Every time I begged him to forgive me.

With a sigh of relief, I folded back the note with the grooves it had from my father’s hand.

I made my way over to the conference room, ready to apologize for the role I had played in our disagreement.

As I got to the room, I realized that the side door had been left open, the very room that was made as an easy way to address the subjects who were downstairs whenever we had meetings.

Confused, I looked at it and made my way there, seeing as my father was not in the main room.

Opening the door exposed me to the oddest sight I had ever seen in my life, and I stepped back in a panic.

Seated on one of the lounge chairs was my father, but the angle at which he was draped was unnatural.

I could see that he was breathing, but the sea of blood I saw made me wonder if I was hallucinating.

I walked closer to him and realized that there was a dagger stuck in his chest, and with a frustrated sigh, I pulled it out and draped my father’s body more comfortably.

While attempting to fetch a first-aid kit, the double doors separating the individuals suddenly swung open, revealing an entire room filled with my father’s associates. Reflexively, I pushed a dagger aside.

It dawned on me; I understood the situation. Many of them had noticed I was covered in my father’s blood, and a significant number had already concluded that I was the one responsible for his demise.

My gut feeling said it was time to feel sad rather than trying to explain or protect myself.

I knew that I had not been the one to kill my father, and everyone who mattered did too.

But the thing is that the news of his death and loss spread around the pack like wildfire in this area, and if I was not careful, every single rogue and enemy of the pack would be aware of it by now and they would begin to make attacks on the pack.

I didn’t know why we were meeting, but I used the opportunity to stand confidently, ignoring the blood on my clothes and encouraging them to do the same.

“Following the death of the current alpha, I announce myself, Damon, as the Alpha of the White Claw pack.”

There, it was done. I didn’t even have time to feel sad for my father’s death.

I could not have lived with myself at the possibility of a pack as powerful as mine existing without a leader.

Wolves need to be protected.

And I got used to pretending to be ruthless.

I made eye contact with someone in the sea of people, and a flash of recognition ran through me. The girl from the library.

As odd as it sounded, I cared about what she thought of me, and I did not want her to have a wrong impression of me.

The realization of this line of thought startled me, and I felt almost stilled.

I was well known for being cold.

I just didn’t want her to hate me.

Why did her opinion matter so much to me, I wondered, snapping out of my reverie when one of the elders came to offer me their condolences.

As the event continued on, I was surrounded by varying degrees of people who were coming up to offer me their deepest sympathies.

Understanding that it was the only way they would feel good about the death, I allowed them.

I thought I had put the library girl out of my mind, but in no time, I was looking at her as she walked around and served food to the elders and others who were on the floor.

When I realized, I found myself always searching for her.

I didn’t even know why I was doing this.

After all, I couldn’t suddenly explain to a girl who doesn’t know me well that I am not a killer.

By midnight, she was one of the few maids that had left the area, and I knew, because I had looked everywhere. I saw her suddenly, and I swiveled to get a look at her.

Through the window of her room, I saw her blowing on a candle stuck into a miserable looking cupcake.

I watched, dazed, as my wolf asked me, “Damon. She smells good. Could she be our mate?”