Chapter 149 149
He dragged in a sharp breath and stepped back as though distance alone could undo what had just happened. His hands fell limply to his sides.
Jacqueline swayed on unsteady legs, barely catching herself. She blinked up at him, slow and dazed, her chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm. Her lips were swollen and flushed, her cheeks burning, her wide eyes locked onto his face.
She had no idea what she was supposed to say. Or do.
Then she saw it.
Guilt. Shame.
The sight of it twisted her stomach painfully. He raked a hand through his hair, fingers shoving it back as fury flickered across his features anger not at her, but at himself. Before she could force even a single word past her trembling lips, he turned away from her and strode back inside.
The rain, which moments ago she hadn’t even felt, suddenly turned icy against her skin. It soaked through her clothes, slid down her face, mingled with the heat still lingering there. She shuddered harder, standing frozen where he’d left her.
Her shaking hand lifted to her mouth.
He had kissed her.
And she had kissed him back.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, so loud it nearly drowned out the storm. A faint, disbelieving smile curved her lips. She had never imagined her first kiss would feel like that so consuming, so breathtaking. And with him. The very man she had been hopelessly, helplessly drawn to.
She had guarded that one thing carefully. Even when everything else had been taken from her, even when life had stripped her bare, this had remained hers untouched, precious, saved for someone who would matter.
But the memory of his face those haunted, regret-filled eyes struck her like a blow.
He regretted it.
The smile vanished as quickly as it had come.
Her chest tightened painfully as she tried to steady her breathing. Her legs still trembled beneath her as she wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her gaze to the ground. A tear slipped free, sliding down her cheek, disappearing into the rain as though it had never existed at all.
—
Damien stalked straight to his room, nearly slipping in his haste. Soaked and seething, he barely managed to get inside before slamming the door shut behind him. A curse fell from his lips.
He locked the door immediately.
His breathing was ragged, uneven. His heart pounded so violently against his ribs it felt deafening in the silence of the room.
He felt cold.
What the hell had he done?
His thoughts spiraled out of control. He could still feel the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her body pressed against his. He couldn’t comprehend how he had let it happen.
How could he feel that way about someone who wasn’t his mate? Someone who wasn’t Gabrielle?
“Fuck.”
The word tore from him.
How could he betray Gabrielle like that?
It didn’t matter that she wasn’t here. It didn’t matter what distance lay between them. She was still his mate.
And what made it worse, far worse was the truth clawing at him.
He had wanted it.
He had wanted to kiss Jacqueline.
He hated admitting it, but the attraction had been there for a long time now. Jacqueline the small burst of sunlight who pretended her pain didn’t exist. The girl who smiled like nothing in the world could break her.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” he growled, dragging his hands through his hair, gripping hard as though he could punish himself.
He wasn’t supposed to lose control like that. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything like this for anyone but Gabrielle.
He paced the room, restless and furious with himself. His wolf raged beneath his skin, demanding release, demanding her.
Damn his wolf for wanting Jacqueline as fiercely as he did.
And what must she be thinking now? He had kissed her and she had responded. She hadn’t pulled away. She hadn’t hesitated.
The girl was unraveling him.
He needed to stay away from her. If he valued his sanity, if he valued any shred of control, he had to put distance between them.
And yet
Not once did he regret the kiss itself.
That was the worst part.
He had loved it. Every second of it.
And that truth only deepened the guilt festering inside him.
His body reacted to Jacqueline in ways it never should. Wild. Immediate. Uncontrollable.
He had to rein in the beast inside him. She wasn’t his. She could never be his. He couldn’t allow himself to get close to any woman.
His logical mind tried to impose order on the chaos. It was simple attraction, nothing more. He was young. She was young and beautiful. Opposite sexes, close proximity. A natural response. Heat of the moment. A sinful spark of lust that was all.
It had to be.
He could not allow himself to think of her any other way.
—
The next morning, Damien looked like hell.
He hadn’t slept a single minute. Irritation clung to him like a second skin. He avoided Jacqueline with practiced ease staying inside his room as long as he could. The moment he heard her footsteps on the stairs, he stepped out, informed Mathieu curtly that he had work to attend to, and left the house without another word, heading straight toward the packhouse.
Dominique took one look at him and snorted. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing,” Damien snapped, the word edged with a vicious growl.
Dominique’s eyes narrowed. “You look like shit.”
Damien shot him a glare sharp enough to cut, but remained silent.
“The Black Blade pack has allied with the Dark Mist pack,” Dominique said, venom thick in his tone.
Damien straightened instantly, fists clenching against the table.
The Black Blade pack had been systematically attacking neighboring packs, swallowing territory piece by piece. Their Alpha, Henri, was a sadistic monster who craved power above all else. Innocent blood meant nothing to him. Most of the northern packs had already fallen.
The only significant forces standing in his path were the Ancient Blood pack led by Alpha Dominique and Alpha Damien and the Dark Mist pack.
Alpha Draken of Dark Mist was infamous for his brutality in battle. A merciless force. A one-man army.
If Black Blade and Dark Mist had truly joined forces, then war was inevitable.
And it would be devastating.
—
Damien didn’t return home until late that night, deliberately choosing an hour when he was certain everyone would be asleep.
He stepped inside quietly, removed his boots, placing them beneath the bench, then shrugged off his jacket as he made his way to his room.
He shut the door and tossed the jacket onto the bed. Just as he reached to pull off his shirt, a soft knock sounded.
His brows drew together.
Then her scent reached him.
Floral. Light. Unmistakable.
“Fuck.”
After last night, she would want answers. And he had no idea what he was supposed to say.
His jaw tightened as he crossed the room and yanked the door open.
Her hand was raised mid-knock, frozen in the air. Her eyes lifted, colliding instantly with his dark green gaze.
“Look,” he muttered, irritation hardening his features, “about last night… it was a mistake.”