Chapter 21

Damian’s POV  

I had fought packs of rogue werewolves, had led my pack through bloodshed fighting those wolves.

Faced death countless times without so much as a flicker of fear and yet, here I was, standing in front of my closet like an idiot, staring at the clothes within them as if they held the answers to the universe.  

I was nervous.

I hated that I was nervous.

This was ridiculous.  

I had no reason to be nervous. It was just dinner. 

Just Arielle.  

I exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through my hair and ruffling it even more, the problem was, nothing about Arielle was just anything. She was a storm and wildfire all combined, unpredictable and almost impossible to ignore.  

And the worst part?  

I knew that I  had been the fool to push her away, thinking it was the right thing to do but I still thought it was the right thing to do and I was worried about truly staying away from her for the rest of my life. 

It had never happened to me before. Not once in my life had I ever found myself standing in front of a mirror, questioning what to wear, of all things. I was behaving like a fool, and I knew it.

Pathetic! 

I gritted my teeth and pulled a simple black button-up from the hanger, and tugged it on rolling the sleeves up to my elbows to expose my arms and I paired it with some dark slacks, it wasn’t anything special, but somehow, I still spent too much time adjusting the damn shirt in the mirror before I realized what I was doing.  

Get it together, Damian.  

I huffed at myself, giving myself one last hard stare before I left my room and made my way to hers.  

By the time I knocked, my heartbeat had settled into a slower rhythm and I was firmly in control of myself again, I would go to dinner mame the barest amount of small talk and then leave. 

Or so I thought. I knocked on the door and  the moment she opened the it looking up at me with those piercing eyes and a knowing smirk, I felt it slip again.  

“Well, well,” she drawled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Look at you, Alpha. You clean up nicely.”  I rolled my eyes warily 

"Shut up.” She grinned.

“Oh? You don’t like compliments?”  she asked and I shrugged.

“I don’t like your compliments.”  

That was a lie like most of the things that came out today, the truth was I liked them too much. She stepped aside, letting me in, and I forced myself to move, to focus on something other than the way she smelled—like honey and something dangerously intoxicating I was almost certain it was strawberry.  

Like I had ordered some maids had set a  small table in her room had already been set with the food I had ordered, warm and inviting, but Arielle didn’t move to sit. Instead, she watched me studying me with such effort I was sure my face was going to wear off, she bent her head and kept smiling at odd times but she was enjoying how uncomfortable she was making me.  

Damn woman.  

“If you’re done staring, we can eat,” I said flatly. She pouted.

“No fun.” I ignored her and took a seat. After a second, she followed, reaching for the wine bottle before I could. She poured herself a glass, took a slow sip, then tilted her head.

“So, is this your idea of keeping me comfortable? 

Feeding your hostage so she doesn’t starve?” I clenched my jaw.

“You’re not my hostage–" I huffed and her brows shot up. 

"Oh? So I can leave?”  she drawled.

"–and you're the one who asked me to dinner”  I grumbled and she laughed.

"It's how you can't tell that I'm teasing you every time " she laughed and I sighed.

"You really have to stop that, it's a bad habit " she smirked. 

"But you like it " she grinned and I sighed not replying.

"That’s what I thought.”  she shot back as  I reached for my own glass and took a slow sip, trying not to react when she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied me again.  

It felt like each time she looked at me, she could see me, I hated that I didn't know how much she could see or how much she knew.  

“So,” she said after a moment, twirling her fork between her fingers. 

"Are we going to sit here in silence, or are you actually going to talk to me?” I exhaled through my nose, setting my glass down. 

“What do you want to talk about?”  She shrugged, 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so wound up? You’ve been acting strange ever since you came back.” I nodded and she frowned.

"I can't be that bad " she hissed and I laughed.

"You're not that bad, maybe just a tad annoying.” Her smirk widened. 

“Interesting.”  I should have known better than to let anything show. She wad definitely goof at reading me, maybe it was the mating bond or she was just that good.

I picked up my knife and cut into the steak in front of me, forcing my focus elsewhere. 

“Eat your food, Arielle.”  She sighed dramatically but obeyed, cutting into her own meal. For a while, silence settled between us, but unlike before, it wasn’t thick with tension.  

It was… oddly comfortable.  

I hated that, too mostly because I shouldn’t want to be comfortable with her. I shouldn’t want anything from her. Yet, I found myself stealing glances at her and , watching the way she ate, the way her lips curled slightly as she enjoyed the meal. It would be god-damned painful when I finally had to let her go. 

But what's the point of ignoring it? My subconscious questioned and I found myself wanting to say something, to break the silence in a way that didn’t feel forced.  

So, before I could stop myself, I spoke.  

“I never wanted this.” Arielle paused, mid-bite, before slowly setting her fork down.  

I didn’t look at her.  

Didn’t want to see whatever was in her expression as I continued.  

“I never wanted to hurt you,” I said quietly. 

“I thought I was protecting you.”  

More silence.  Then—  

“By rejecting me?” I swallowed.

"Yes.” She let out a humorless laugh. 

" Well, you did a fantastic job of that.” my jaw clenched.

“Arielle—”  

“No,” she cut me off, her voice suddenly sharp. 

“You don’t get to sit here and act like you regret it now, Damian. You made your choice. You pushed me away. And now? Now you have me locked up in your damn estate like some prisoner, refusing to tell me why.”  

Her breathing was unsteady now, her hands clenched into fists over the table.  I knew she had every right to be angry.  

Definitely every right to hate me but I couldn’t give her the truth not yet and not when the truth may make her hate me even more than she did now.

"Now that you've poured out your heart and pretended to apologize, I have one more question for you"she mumbled and I swallowed unable to say no to her but knowing I was likely unable to tell her the truth depending on what she asked.

"Would you do it again" she asked, I didn't say a word back, because I would be lying if I said no. She scoffed, shaking her head. 

“You know what? Forget it. This was a mistake.” She shoved back from the table, standing abruptly and I  grabbed her wrist before I could think better of it.  

“Arielle.” She froze and for a second, neither of us moved her pulse was erratic beneath my fingertips, matching my own she turned, meeting my gaze, and everything inside me tightened.  

She was so damn beautiful, even now with her eyes full of anger, unshed tears and her lips pressed into a thin line, as she kept trying not to let herself break.  

I wanted to touch her, like a stupid fool I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her everything.  

But I couldn’t and I definitely shouldn't, so instead, I released her, forcing my hands to my sides.  

“Stay,” I said, keeping my voice low.

"Please. I know I don't deserve it but while you're here until we sort this out, just be with me " I said softly and her breath hitched. I saw the conflict in her eyes, the inner battle that she was fighting with herself,  to stay or to go.

"You sure know how to persuade a girl.” she mumbled looking into my eyes come finally—she sat back down.  

She didn’t look at me and didn’t say anything.  

But she stayed.  

And for now, that was enough.