Chapter 22
Damon's POV
She was lying.
I saw it in the way her pupils dilated. The way she looked away too quickly. The way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat.
She's hiding something.
My wolf snarled inside me, pacing, restless. 'She's lying. That scent. That male. He matters to her.'
But I forced the thought down. Locked it away.
No. She was just confused. Scared. That friend of hers—whoever he was—had probably fed her some bullshit about independence and standing up for herself. That's all this was.
She'd come back. She always did.
"Come on." I stood abruptly. "I'll drive you back to campus."
She didn't argue. Just gathered her things and followed me to the car.
The drive was silent. I kept my hands locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white.
She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Distant. Unreachable.
And that's when I noticed.
Her clothes.
Yesterday she'd been wearing that cream sweater. Today she was wearing something different. Dark. Expensive-looking.
"Elena."
"Hmm?"
"That sweater. Where'd you get it?"
She glanced down. For just a second, something flashed across her face. Panic?
"A friend lent it to me. I was cold."
Liar.
But I didn't push. Not yet.
I pulled up to the campus gates. Put the car in park.
She reached for the door handle immediately.
"Wait—"
But she was already out. Already walking away.
No goodbye. No backward glance. No smile like before.
She moved like she was escaping.
From me.
I sat there in the driver's seat, watching her disappear into the crowd of students. My hands were shaking. My wolf was screaming.
'Go after her. Demand answers. Make her tell you who he is.'
No. I needed to calm down. Needed to think.
I forced myself to breathe. Deep. Slow.
And the strangest thing? My wolf, despite its rage, had felt calm when she was in the car. That restless pacing had stilled. That constant edge of aggression had dulled.
Her scent did that. Always had.
Scarlett's scent made me want to hunt. To chase. To fuck.
But Elena's?
Elena's made me want to stay.
I shoved the thought away. Started the car. Drove too fast toward the East District.
---
When I walked into the apartment, it smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. She was sprawled on the couch in one of those silk things that was technically sleepwear but looked like lingerie, red hair artfully mussed.
She'd planned this. Timed it. Knew I'd be home now.
"Hey, baby," she purred, sitting up. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."
The scent hit me like a wall. Usually that would have me across the room in seconds, hands on her, mouth on her neck.
Today my stomach turned.
I stopped in the doorway, one hand still on the knob. "Sorry. Had to deal with some things."
"You okay?" She sat up, frown creasing her forehead. "You look—"
"Fine." I shut the door. Locked it. "Just tired."
She stood, glided toward me. Her fingers traced up my chest.
"Maybe I can help you relax."
I should have responded. Should have pulled her close. Carried her to the bedroom like I usually did.
But all I could think about was Elena's face this morning. The way she'd run from my car.
"Damon?"
Scarlett's voice pulled me back. She was staring up at me, confusion in her dark eyes.
"Sorry. Yeah. I just need to shower first."
I moved past her. Needed space. Needed air that didn't smell like artificial seduction.
But she followed me to the bedroom. Started unpacking shopping bags on the bed.
"Look what I got from Starport." She held up some designer bag I didn't recognize. "The girls said there were northern lights. We should go sometime. It's supposed to be really romantic for couples—"
"Maybe."
She paused. Looked at me. "You've been weird all morning."
"I'm not weird."
"You are." She set the bag down. Moved closer. Her scent intensified. "Is this about Elena?"
My jaw clenched. "No."
"Because I can smell her on you."
Fuck.
"She needed a ride. That's all."
Scarlett's eyes narrowed, but she didn't push. Just smiled. Soft. Understanding.
"You're a good guy, you know that? Taking care of her even after everything."
Everything. Like Elena was the problem. Like Elena had done something wrong.
I didn't correct her.
Scarlett's hands slid around my waist. She pressed against me, tilting her face up.
"You've been so stressed lately. Let me—"
She kissed me. Lips too soft. Her scent too sharp. Her hands too practiced.
Not Elena.
My eyes snapped open. I pulled back.
"Damon?"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Elena's face flashed through my mind.
Lost.
"I need a minute."
I turned away. Walked to the balcony. Gripped the railing hard enough to hurt.
Behind me, I heard Scarlett sigh. Heard her footsteps retreat.
"I'll be in the shower if you need me."
The bathroom door closed.
I stood there, staring out at the city, and tried to make sense of what the fuck was happening to me.
Elena was family. I'd always seen her that way. Sweet. Innocent. Someone to protect.
But this morning, when she'd pulled away from me, something in my chest had cracked.
And when I'd realized she was wearing clothes another man had given her, smelling like another man, lying about another man—
My wolf had wanted to kill.
Not metaphorically. Not as an expression.
Actually hunt down whoever he was and rip out his throat.
For Elena.
I laughed. The sound was bitter.
For her? I barely even want her. She's not my type. Too soft. Too timid. Too—
Too everything I can't stop thinking about.
Her scent in my car this morning. That calming, healing sweetness.
Scarlett's scent made me hard.
But Elena's made me whole.
"No," I said out loud. "No. That's not—I love Scarlett. Elena is just... she's family. She's my responsibility. That's all this is."
But even as I said it, I knew.
My wolf knew.
Last night, when I couldn't find her, when I drove through the city like a madman searching for her scent—
When I imagined her with someone else, letting someone else touch her, mark her—
The thought that had filled my mind, clear and sharp and undeniable:
Find him. Kill him.
Not because of duty. Not because of the blood pact.
Because she was mine.
And I'd rather die than admit that out loud.