Leo’s POVShock couldn’t even describe how I felt when Michael and Greg were in the same room as us. It was hard not to show my displeasure as I watched them sit eagerly, rubbing their palms at the delicacy presented to them. While Michael was just interested in whatever this was, Greg cast furtive glances at me, but I paid him no attention.The least he could have done was to have informed me beforehand that my best friend had offered him an invitation to have dinner at the house. I could have told him to decline. If he had, Michael would have done the same, and I wouldn’t have had to watch Lila so uncomfortable.She squirmed in her seat, not looking up from the table. Her plate was empty, as she had yet to take what she wanted. But she had already been accosted, so I doubted she was interested in whatever was in those dishes.“This is amazing,” Michael gushed like a child who had just been handed his favorite candy. “I’m sitting in the same room as Leo and Armani. I can’t wait to te
"…I promise to give my all to this Pack and make it the best in the country, the goddess be my witness. Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming and do have a lovely night." Damon, my mate and the Alpha of our pack ends his heartfelt speech and bows to the audience.The revving claps and cheers go on for minutes after he gets off the podium and returns to my side. He has the warmest smile while he waves and shakes the people around our table. But when he takes his seat next to me, I feel that terrifying, chilly aura around him. It makes my blood curdle.He leans in casually, placing a kiss on my lips. Then he rubs a finger over the spot that supposedly smudged. His eyes go from warm to vicious, and then he discreetly stomps on my toe under the table.I swallow my gasp, as his cold eyes still have me in chains. "Try not to look so sickly pale, honey. This isn’t a goddamn funeral." His voice is icy, and then he coats it with a facetious smile.A huge lump cloaks my throat
The voices and the disgusting skin slaps get louder with each ticking second. I’m yet to wrap my head around the heart-shattering reality glaring at me at the moment. I glance at the door, really considering going in, not because I wanna confront Damon, but because I wanna see for myself that it isn’t my best friend, Penelope in there with him. The voice may sound like hers but I wanna believe it’s not. It shouldn’t be. It can't be. She’s not capable of hurting me like this."I can't believe Anastasia used to have such a sweet dick all to herself. She’s such a greedy bore," the female voice moans out again, and it’s not helping that she’s sounding more and more like Penelope in every word she says.Like to give me the confirmation I need, Damon grunts. "I can’t believe such a hottie like you is her best friend either. Like, how do you put up with her boring ass?"It is Penelope. With that realization comes a painful wreck of my heart. I break down into heavy sobs, crashing against t
I am taken aback by his words. He’s back to drinking his whisky but I’m still frozen. Tears are falling again. I stand, ready to run off but he grabs my hand with a strong grip."Let me take you home."I tug at my hand but his big hand has it securely trapped. He steps closer, forcing his scent on me, assaulting me with it. I'm beginning to think he does that intentionally like he knows the effect he has on me and he's feeding off it."I came in my car," I reply, hoping that’ll convince him to let me go. He’s silent for seconds and it makes me wonder what he’s thinking. I can't look at him though, not with these tears in my eyes."Leave the car here. I'll have someone come pick it up tomorrow. Besides, you're kinda tipsy. It’s not safe driving in such a state."I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that I’m considering his offer. But then again. I don’t wanna be close to him. Not tonight. Not in my broken state. I fear the outcome of it."Let's go." He holds my shoulders, ignoring
Two weeks have passed in a blur, and my life is back to being sad, boring, and miserable. Damon is barely around, as he seems to be spending most of his time with Penelope. I see her texting him endlessly about their upcoming vacations, dinner dates, shopping sprees, and the amazing sex they commemorate their days with.As much as it yanks my heart into shreds, I still can't bring myself to confront Damon about it. Having a one-night stand with his father rid me of the right to confront him because I feel just as guilty. I can't confront Penelope either. I love that girl to bits and I fear I may just break down to tears if I do go to meet her. Because no matter how badly she’s hurt me, I still have a massive soft spot for her. It’s stupid of me but it’s there, just for her.So yeah, I’m bottling up the guilt, pain, heartbreak, and agony. I try not to spend much time alone as it always makes me backpedal into conjuring the images of the night I spent with Victor. I end up touching myse
His order sends my brain into overdrive. “What is wrong with you?” I frantically dry off my tears. “I'm not going to do that just because you asked me to. What If Damon sees us” He gives me a blank stare. “I'm sorry do I look like I give two fucks” I give his expression a once over. “No, you don't.” “Are you taking it off or should I do you the honors?” He closes the space between us and gently rubs his thumbs on my cheeks, drawing circles that make me have sinful thoughts. He moves his thumb to my lips, as if trying to wipe my lipstick off. I slowly close my eyes and lean into his touch, enjoying the peace and feelings the simple action gives me. I open my eyes when I feel his breath on my face. I wait for it. The kiss. But of course he takes his time, torturing me when I decide to give in. “Enjoy the party” Like a lightening, Damon's voice from outside the kitchen breaks the tension and feelings in the air. The embarrassment and fear hits harder, I can almost hear myself lose
As I approached Damon, a sense of apprehension gnawed at my insides, my steps hesitant and cautious. His usually composed and aloof demeanor is now twisted into a mask of fury and rage, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. Before I can even utter a word, his hand collides with my cheek in a stinging slap, the force of the blow sending shockwaves of pain radiating through my skull. I stumble backward, my vision swimming with tears as I struggled to comprehend the sudden onslaught of violence. But Damon isn't finished yet. With a strong grip on the collar of my dress, he yanks me towards him, his face so close to mine that I could smell his breath, it reeks of alcohol and bitterness. It is then that I realize he's drunk, his senses clouded all the alcohol he took. As he glares down at me with a mixture of what seems like contempt and disdain, a very sickening realization dawns upon me. Penelope, of course it has to be Penelope. That scheming biatch.
I groggily wake up the next morning to a disturbing noise. I open my eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep as Damon's noisy dress-up routine fills the room. He paces back and forth, muttering to himself as he rummage through drawers and closets in search of who knows what. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed and approached him, hoping to offer assistance or at least inquire about the cause of his unsettled morning. “What's the matter, Damon?” I asked, my voice lace with concern that I hate. But he merely brushed past me without a word, his attention consumed by whatever task lay before him. It was a familiar scene, his disregard for my presence, a constant reminder of the growing differences between us. I make my way to the bathroom, and soak myself under the warm water from the shower. It is a better choice. The shower I mean. If I choose to use the tub today, I might not make it out in a good piece. Not after what happened last night. Oh! don't be surprised you don't expe