Chapter 20

Damon's morning unfolded in the familiar chaotic rhythm that he had grown to despise within the palace walls. The relentless commotion of bustling maids only intensified his disdain for the opulent surroundings

The teeth of the hound was still stuck in his arm

It was the same arm that had been subjected to the punishing touch of silver and wolfsbane now it bore the additional burden of hellhound fangs. It was going to take longer to heal. Damon methodically bound his arm with a bandage. A clash with a serving maid heightened the morning's frustrations. Afterwards, he headed to the stables to check on his horse, Stallion.

Then headed next to the training hall his knights were positioned at. Craving solitude, Damon sought refuge in an abandoned garden tucked away within the palace grounds.There, amidst the tranquil solitude, he decided to temporarily shed the weight of his armor. A momentary reprieve, however, was eclipsed by the searing discomfort emanating from his wounded arm. He unwrapped it.

The volume of blood lost would have incapacitated an average werewolf, but Damon stood unfazed. A sigh punctuated the moment as he contemplated rewrapping the wound.

There was the subtle change in the air. Her scent preceded her, a subtle yet distinct fragrance that wafted through the air, catching Damon's attention before his eyes confirmed her presence.

She found solace in a secluded corner of the garden, radiating contentment as he observed her. It took her a while to detect his presence, and when she finally did, her response defied his expectations. Instead of retreating, she approached him with a curiosity that left him momentarily stunned. Her gaze fixed upon his bloodied arm, and a thoughtful expression crossed her face.

"That can't be good," she remarked, her concern genuine. Without hesitation, she took it upon herself to assist him.

"Let's wash that." She suggested.

His internal musings questioned her sanity; perhaps she was oblivious to the potential danger. Despite his injured state, harming her would require minimal effort, it would be as easy as snapping a twig, a fact she seemed blissfully unaware of. With a resigned sigh, he contemplated instead leaving.

"Wait," she called out, boldly stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Her audacity left him momentarily dumbfounded. To his further surprise, she reached out and took hold of him, her intent clear to lead him towards the fountain. In that moment, an unexpected jolt of electrification coursed through him at the touch.

Her directive came forth, a mixture of assertiveness and an odd threat, "You'd better let me finish this up so you can leave." The audacity of this small creature to imply that she could prevent him from departing was amusing. Resigned, he complied with her unspoken command as he settled down, his curiosity piqued.

Damon scrutinized her with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. His gaze lingered on her petite, pouty lips, yet no inkling of fear emanated from her. Surprisingly, his inner wolf, Zeus, seemed to respond in a gentle, almost affectionate manner. The touch of her hand sent a shiver through him, an unexpected sensation that momentarily clouded his senses.

Her eyes held a fiery spirit, a quality Damon found perplexing. Men, warriors, and even knights cowered in fear at his presence, and even the King himself was uneasy around him. Yet, this seemingly fragile creature dared to defy him, boldly blocking his path. What baffled him more was the effect of her touch, stirring something within him and his wolf that he hadn't experienced before.

As she focused on tending to his injury, Damon took the opportunity to study her features. His gaze fixed on her face, causing her to tremble lightly under his scrutiny, her lips bitten in a nervous gesture. His attention returned to her lips, appearing remarkably soft. The thought crossed his mind, a curious wonder if they were as soft as they seemed, especially as her hands continued their delicate dance around his injured arm. The complexities of the moment heightened the intrigue, intertwining the realms of vulnerability and curiosity within him. His wolf urged, 'Take a bite, feel it.' Damon flinched, standing abruptly. What was happening to him today? The unusual impulses and sensations bewildered him.

She stared at him, her expression marked by puzzlement. "I'm sorry. Did it hurt?" she asked gently.

In a stance of unwavering determination, she closed the distance between them, gently pushing him towards the stone seats of the garden. Her palm brushed against him, eliciting a subtle tickle, while Damon experienced an unexpected chill. The audacity of this woman to touch him surprised him; she had touched him not just once, but repeatedly. Damon, towering and unyielding like a mountain, looked down at her in disbelief as she persistently tried to move him backward.

His stoic stance eventually gave way as he took a step back, choosing to sit down on the stone seats. Jasmine visibly exhaled a sigh of relief, a subtle acknowledgment of her small triumph. It was then that she embarked on articulating the reasons behind her concern, she knew she was intruding, but she'd do it anyway. Her intoxicating scent enveloping Damon's senses. Zeus, his inner wolf, seemed to revel in it, a fact that irritated Damon to some extent. Damon on the other hand was puzzled. All his life, he has been known as a scary man possessed by a Demon who had wrecked havoc to the world in it's past life. He carried that aura, how couldn't she sense it.

The unfolding events took an even more surprising turn when he watched her grapple with the weight of his sword. After a determined struggle, the sound of fabric ripping resonated in the air. With a triumphant yell, she declared, "There." Seating herself back down, she endeavored to wrap the bandage around his arm, her proximity causing Damon's breath to hitch.

Uncomfortably close, he couldn't endure it any longer. Abruptly standing, he shoved her away and walked off, the bandage hanging half-finished.

As he made his way back to the training site, his mind couldn't shake off the enigma that was her. What kind of woman could remain so oblivious in the face of danger, staring at a wound without a hint of recoil? And how had she managed to bewitch his wolf in such an unconventional manner?

It presented a new challenge, a growing predicament that required his attention. First, Kronos had his occasional rebellions, and now Zeus appeared to be slipping out of control.

Thinking of Kronos, he was alot more silent these days. Zeus was louder.