Chapter 115 115
Aurélie POV
He catches my gaze my own slow, deliberate appraisal of him and understands it instantly. An arrogant smirk curves his mouth, dark and knowing. But it doesn’t last.
His expression hardens into a scowl as his attention shifts past me, zeroing in on the cluster of men gathered around Maurice. My hearing sharpens without conscious effort, and I catch every word of their conversation.
“Fuck… shame I brought my Luna,” one of them mutters. “I’d be all over that otherwise.”
Disgust coils in my stomach not just for the disrespect toward me, but for the blatant disregard for his mate.
“Well, I’m not mated,” another alpha says with a laugh. “By the end of the night, I’ll be tapping that in the bathroom.”
My jaw tightens.
Did men truly speak like this? As if I would ever acknowledge them, let alone entertain such filth.
“You don’t stand a chance,” the first alpha scoffs. “Oh yeah?” the unmated one challenges. “Wanna bet?”
“How much?”
“Two thousand”
The sentence dies abruptly.
Damien’s hand clamps around his throat, fingers iron-tight, slamming him back against the wall with brutal efficiency.
Gasps ripple through the room.
“How much?” Damien snarls, his voice low and feral as he lifts the alpha effortlessly off his feet. “How much would you say?”
He’s pure wrath now red, violent, kingly fury unleashed. Every eye in the room is on him, on the trembling man pinned beneath his grip.
“Woah Damien.” Maurice rushes forward, alarm flashing across his face. “What’s going on?”
“Do you always speak about women like that?” Damien growls into the alpha’s face.
The man has gone pale, realization dawning far too late.
“No, Alpha King.”
“No?” Damien taunts softly, dangerously, loosening and tightening his grip just enough to remind him how helpless he is like a mouse trapped beneath a wolf’s paw.
“Easy, Damien,” Maurice says, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“This fucker was insulting Aurélie,” Damien snaps. “Next time, choose your company better.”
“What did he say?” Maurice turns on the alpha, anger igniting in his own stance.
This was spiraling too fast.
This was not how I wanted to be introduced into Alpha society.
“I’m sure the Alpha understands that his… playful remarks were deeply disrespectful,” I say calmly, stepping closer. “And that he’ll be more mindful in the future.”
Damien’s grip is still tight around the man’s throat.
I reach up and place my hand against Damien’s face the only skin I can reach. Heat floods beneath my palm, tingles erupting instantly. He’s burning, rage vibrating through him.
“Let’s not make a scene,” I murmur gently. “Tonight is about the Saint Wolf pack.”
For a moment, I don’t think it will work.
Then slowly Damien loosens his hold.
“The night is over for you,” he growls at the alpha, who nods frantically before bolting from the room.
Maurice lets out a short chuckle, but I can’t find the humor in it. Damien’s breathing is still uneven, his anger barely restrained beneath the surface.
The touch to his face worked.
So I do something I never thought I would.
I glance down and see his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, knuckles white with barely contained frustration.
I reach for one.
At first, his fingers resist but then they begin to uncurl beneath my touch, just enough for me to slide my hand into his. I give it a gentle squeeze.
Grounding him.
Steadying him.
And feeling the quiet, electric acknowledgment in return.