DAMON TIDBIT

DAMON POV

Matt and Fletcher are busy getting a black bag on his head. Clara bringing the car onto the grass, hoping to get him into the trunk before any humans wander onto the scene. The crew of us working in unison. Frankie helping them lift him into it, while Elle and Charity descend from the treetops.

Xander and Nora sitting on the picnic table, lost in their bubble, sparks singing along my skin as mine finds me. Her lips kissing along my shoulder, my hand closing around her fingers, my mind already thinking about the bath I am going to force her into later. She needs to relax, and I know exactly how to get her to.

‘Yes, you do, Alpha,’ she purrs, her velvety voice in mind. Elle is about to say more when the buzz of my phone distracts us both. Andrew knows what we are doing. He wouldn’t call unless absolutely necessary. Pulling the iphone from my pocket, I slide the button to the side, putting the microphone to my ear.

“This better be a goddamn emergency,” I mutter in a growl. Being an Alpha is a never-ending job. One Elle and I desperately need a break from the stress of running not only one, but two successful packs.

“It’s your dad,” Andrew says, not wasting anytime to get to the heart of the issue. His statement has my heart stopping in my chest.

“Is he….?” I ask quietly, barely able to force the question out of my lips. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. That he is still alive after rejecting his mate of twenty years is a miracle. Not that I would call a catatonic disassociative state alive. Not in the way he was, or that I blame him. My mom deserved everything that came her way.

“No,” he returns, “he is talking.” Of all the things he could say, I wasn’t expecting this. The doctor prepared me for the possibility of him staying in this state until he withers away to nothing. His eventual self-starvation would lead to organ failure, his heart stopping without intervention.

Elle circling around my body to stand in front of me, shock making her pupils wide, her mouth hanging in a small ‘o’. “We are on our way home.” I say, ending the call. Without hesitation, I invade on Nora’s and Xander’s intimate moment. My entire focus is on getting back to New Moon, and seeing my father.

Returning to the second car, we divide into them. Xander, Fletcher, Frankie, and Clara taking Dillon to one of their black sites. The locations are a highly guarded secret, even Elle and I don’t know. The four of them are going to be off grid the next couple of days.

Nora, Charity, and Matt pile into the back of the car, no one making a sound, sensing the impatience in my aura. Elle remains silent like the others, intertwining our hands together. The electricity of her touch sending waves of encouragement that everything will be alright.

Praying to the Goddess that this isn’t one of those situations where he miraculously gets better before he dies. A last moment of clarity some have before they pass on.

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Getting into the territory, I barely pay attention as the others leak from the car in a hurry. The tension in the small space is practically tangible. The energy was so thick I could pinch it between my fingers. Elle’s gaze flicking to me occasionally, worry written all over her.

Pulling into the entrance of the hospital, I throw the car in park, yanking the seatbelt free and throwing open the door. My eyes flying around anxiously looking for one of his doctors.

“Alphas,” Dr. Romero says from behind me, his head bowed in submission. Andrew standing next to me, a subtle smile on his lips, giving me hope that this is permanent.

“My dad?” I ask, breathless, my cheeks flushed, Elle standing at my side. My Luna. My everything.

“He’s up,” Dr. Romero confirms with a nod, his expression remaining somber. “Although, I must warn you….When he came to, he wasn’t making much sense….but..”

“But you don’t have high hopes,” I finish with a sigh. Why should I expect anything else? Goddess, knows the fact I have gotten this extra time is a miracle. He should have died in that cell next to my mother, but I am not complaining. I couldn’t handle losing him, too. He deserved more. More than Olivia and her pathetic obsessions.

“You just want me to be prepared for the worst,” I continue with speech, hearing it every time he makes it past a certain point. “You’ll continue monitoring him.” I finish turning away, unable to hear the debilitating speech once more.

Tugging Elle along, we journey to his room, her hand firmly tucked in mine. Inhaling, I hold the air in my lungs, pushing the door open, terrified of what’s within.

Stopping dead in the entryway, joy brewing as my stare locks onto my father in the rocking chair. Hearing us, his gaze holding a spark I haven’t seen in weeks. “Damon!” “Elle!” he chirps cheerfully, like the last month didn’t even happen.

Gulping, I enter, glancing at Elle as we venture towards him, unsure of the response he’ll have. “Dad, how do you feel?” I ask softly, kneeling in front of him, taking his boney hand in mine. His flesh is frail, from lack of nutrients and water. The doctors tried to place in feeding tubes, but after a few successful attempts ripping them out, we couldn’t risk serious injury too.

“Good,” he says cheerfully, as if nothing is wrong. “Do you want pecan pie? I am craving a pecan pie!” He exclaims eagerly, looking between my mate and I.

Did Hell freeze over? Did I wake up in an alternate universe? Of all the things, he should be worried about a fucking dessert isn’t one of them. “A pecan pie, you say?” Elle asks, sinking to the ground putting her hand at the top of ours. “That sounds delicious, Charles.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, a secret little smile sparking across his lips. His eyes returning to the window, and I cannot tell if he is truly better or hallucinating. His answers don’t clear the confusion either.

An eruption of music making us all jump from our happy little bubble. Pulling her phone from her pocket, a name that cannot be ignored sits on the screen. Nudging her I say, ‘go, I will stay here,’ through our bond. Nodding, she kisses my cheek, standing as she answers the call.

“Marcus, how can I help you?” she murmurs quietly, the volume lowering as she gets near the door. With a click of the latch, she exits, her voice muffled noise the further away she gets.

“Dad?” my voice turning upwards. “Are you sure you are feeling okay?”

“Stop being silly,” he shakes, laughing like my inquiries are the funniest jokes he’s ever heard. “Of course I am okay. She is coming. She said she is.” He looks at me as if I am the one talking in deranged circles.

“Who?” I wonder, looking at my father, who has returned his attention to the outside. Searching for something, or someone.

“My Angel.” He says matter-of-factly, “can we get that pecan pie now?”

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Hey Rebels, 

A little tidbit into what's been happening with Damon's dad since book one. I know a lot of people have been wondering. Since this is not part of the #Xandora's or #Drewtheo's storyline you do not have to pay for this content. Please enjoy :) 

Simon and Charles will be getting their own spinoff "2nd chance" stories which I am really excited to tell! I am not sure when they will get published. My once 3 book series has morphed into a 9 book series of interconnected standalones...Not to mention the spinoff series! I cannot wait to keep sharing this universe I created with you all! 

Thank you for your gems, reviews, and votes! The next chapter will pick back up with Xander.