Chapter 59 Chapter 59
DAMON'S POV
The moment I stepped out of Elijah’s room, anger rolled through me like fire, and it twisted inside my chest, and it tightened around my throat, I hated that I had listened to him, and had let him convince me to let Anna live.
But I was glad I wasn't letting her live any longer.
Anna should have been dead already, and yet I had let her slip through my hands. The thought of that made my blood boil because she didn’t even know she was a Tribid, and she hated them already, and believed they shouldn’t exist.
If Anna ever found out the truth about what she truly was, she would break.
She would hate herself and collapse.
And a part of me—twisted, hungry, and dark—wanted to see it all. I wanted to see her wide eyes fill with horror the moment her reality snapped. I wanted to hear her voice rip apart with disbelief.
By the time I reached my room, the pressure inside my chest had risen so sharply that I could barely breathe without wanting to destroy something. I shoved the door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall and cracked. The room was still wrecked from earlier, but my rage didn’t care.
It demanded more.
I tore down the remaining curtains, and threw the chairs across the room. I ripped pillows apart until feathers exploded into the air like white fire. My fists hit the walls again and again until my knuckles burned with heat.
When the destruction settled, the silence felt intense. I stood in the middle of the chaos, my chest rising and falling, and realized I needed something else.
I needed pleasure and control, something to distract me from what was in my head.
So I stepped out of the room.
The hallway was full of servants moving boxes, carrying laundry, and dusting corners. The moment they saw me, they froze. Not one of them spoke or dared to breathe too loudly.
Their fear drifted toward me like smoke.
But their desire followed right behind it.
I could smell and feel it. Their hearts beat too fast, their lips parted too easily, and their legs pressed a little too close together. Their eyes also dropped to my neck, my chest, and my lips. Some tried to look away, but their gazes returned every time.
Of course they did.
I was a hybrid.
I had never met anyone who could look at me without wanting something—my body, my power, my bite, or my danger. I was the one no one could say no to.
Not even Anna.
Especially not Anna.
A few girls walked closer, and they shouldn’t have, but they did. Fear trembled in their bodies, but that hybrid desire pulled them forward.
It was the desire of getting fucked by me.
And that was the best part—when they feared me but still wanted me.
Especially when they wanted me...
One girl brushed her fingers along my arm, pretending to adjust the flowers on a nearby vase. Her hand lingered too long. Another walked past me slowly, letting her hip brush my thigh before turning her head and winking.
The third girl looked up through her thick eyelashes, lips parted, voice whispering, “Good evening, Lord Damon…” but the sound melted into something closer to an invitation than a greeting.
I smirked.
My power always had this effect.
I moved through the hall, and they followed with their eyes. Their whispers rose softly—too low for human ears, but never for mine.
I could hear everyone's voice even though they sounded muffled or low. It was a gift of being an hybrid. We could hear almost everything from afar and near.
“Do you think he’d look at me tonight?”
“He’s dangerous… but Damn, imagine him above you…”
“He must feel so good… I mean, you can't spell Damon without Damn.”
“I would do anything if he just touched me once…”
“His scent… I can’t breathe…”
Their voices were trembling even while full of desire. Fear wrapped around their lust like a ribbon, and yet, they were hungry for me.
One servant—bolder than the rest—stepped closer until her body nearly touched mine. Her hand slid across my chest very slowly, as if she had to force herself not to shake.
She licked her lips, and whispered to the girl beside her. “I heard he makes you forget your own name…”
Her friend let out a shaky breath. “I heard he doesn’t stop until you can’t walk.”
A low, amused sound slipped out of me.
I didn’t care if they wanted me because of who I was or what I was. I didn’t care if it was excitement, lust, or fear that drove them closer. They wanted me.
My ego swelled with the thought.
But none of them caught my interest.
Not tonight.
Because I saw her.
A small, trembling girl pressed near the corner, trapped between the wall and three other servant girls. She held a tray tight against her chest as if it were the only thing protecting her. Her hands shook so badly the cups rattled.
The three girls towered over her, their eyes sharp and cruel were obviously bullying her and she looked so sad and hurt.
“Look at her hands,” one of the bullies sneered, flicking the edge of the tray. “Why are you shaking? Are you scared someone will notice you’re useless?”
“Maybe she’s scared Lord Damon will see her,” another added, glancing back down the hall where I stood. “She thinks she deserves his attention.” She laughed loudly and shoved the trembling girl’s shoulder.
“She should stay out of sight,” the third one hissed, grabbing the girl’s arm hard enough to make her flinch. “Someone like her shouldn’t even be allowed near him. She’s too boring.”
The bullied girl squeezed her eyes shut, whispering, “P-please… stop…”
The first girl slapped the tray. “Or what? You’ll cry? Go ahead and cry bitch!”
They shoved her again, hard.
The tray nearly fell from her hands.
Her breath caught in her throat.
And all three bullies kept attacking her, unaware that I was watching.
But the trembling girl… even through her fear, she felt me. Her thighs pressed together. Her breath trembled. She tried to keep her head down, but her eyes lifted—just once—finding mine.
Her heart reacted instantly.
It sped up.
Then sped faster.
Then raced.
Fear and desire—blended perfectly.
The sound of my footsteps hit the floor like warning drums. The three bullies turned at once, and their smiles vanished as soon as they saw me.
One of them actually stopped breathing for a second and the trembling girl remained frozen—barely—but she didn’t run.
I stopped in front of them.
“Leave the girl alone!”
The effect was immediate.
They screamed quietly under their breath and stumbled. They even tripped over each other as they began running through the hall.
One whispered, “H-he heard us—”
Another cried, “Don’t look back, don’t look back—”
They fled down the hall, their footsteps echoing wildly until they disappeared completely.
There was silence.
The bullied girl still clutched the tray like her life depended on it. Her eyes lifted to mine, wide and terrified.
“T-thank you, Alpha…” she whispered, though she wasn’t even sure what she was thanking me for.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
I took her wrist gently—but firmly enough to remind her she had no choice—and pulled her with me.
We stepped into my ruined room.
She gasped, her eyes sweeping over the destruction—feathers everywhere, shattered wood, torn fabric, cracked walls. She swallowed hard but didn’t attempt to run.
I liked that.
She set the tray down and began cleaning without a word. Her movements were careful, as if she feared making the room worse. She picked up broken pieces, gathered feathers into piles, and folded anything still whole. She wiped surfaces with trembling hands.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching every movement.
She bent often—too often—and each time her waist curved in a way that tightened something low inside me. When she stretched up to reach the top shelf, her shirt rode up slightly, revealing a slim line of her ass that made heat slide through my veins.
Her whisper-soft apologies made me more horny each time she bumped against me or came close to my feet.
“Sorry…”
“Forgive me, Lord Damon…”
“I didn’t mean to…”
The sound of her voice made my smirk deepen.
When she knelt to pick up the last of the feathers, her breath grew shaky. She knew I was watching her. She knew I wasn’t just letting her clean. She knew I was enjoying everything and wanted more.
She felt it.
When she finally finished, she took a small step back. Her eyes moved to the door as if hoping to slip out unnoticed.
No.
Not yet.
I reached forward and caught her wrist again—lighter this time, almost gentle. Her breath stopped.
Then I pulled her onto my lap.
Her body landed against mine with a soft gasp, and her heart thumpedd so loudly I felt it through her chest.
My hands settled on her hips, steadying her. She looked at me like I was the center of her world—and the edge of her death.
I brushed a finger along her jaw, slow enough that she shivered, and lifted her chin gently until her eyes met mine. Her pulse throbbed at her throat, almost begging me to feel it.
My voice dropped, vibrating through the space between us.
“I want to fuck you, Clara.”
Her entire body froze.
Her breath broke in her chest—not from fear alone, but from shock at the words… and from the realization that I knew her name. I hadn’t asked, and she had never told me. Yet I called her name with so much confidence.
Her lips parted, trembling. “H-How do you—”
She couldn’t finish.
Then, barely audible, she whispered, “I… I’m still a virgin…”
The air shifted.
Heat rolled through me so sharply it made my jaw tighten. Her innocence wasn’t weakness. It was temptation. It was power handed to me willingly, and was the kind of surrender only a few had ever offered.
Slowly—very slowly—a dark smirk curved the corner of my mouth.
“Perfect!”
Her eyes widened with shock.