Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 205: Daring To Hope

Damon – POV

I hadn’t slept.

Not because I couldn’t. Not because I was incapable. But because I knew if I so much as stepped back into that room... if I laid beside her with all that heat still lingering between us, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.

And I refuse to take what’s mine like a thief in the night.

She may hate me. Fight me. Reject me. But one way or another, she’ll come to accept this bond. Beg for it. Not because I force it—but because she chooses it.

Until then... I wait. I plan. I conquer.

I sat behind the heavy desk in what was now my strategy room, a thick map of the vampire kingdoms stretched before me, smudged with ink markings and blood-red lines. The Vampire King sat comfortably in his throne now—but not for long. Once I sever his arrogant little head from his shoulders and scatter his royal blood to the wind, the rest will fall in line.

They always do.

They follow strength. Power. Fear.

And I am all three.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as her scent drifted faintly down the hall. Lavender. Honey. Heat. It clawed at me like a craving I couldn’t satisfy. I could feel her stirring through the mate bond. Awake.

I told myself to ignore it. Focus. Stick to the plan. Kill the royals. Take the throne. Command the rest of the vampire legions. Burn down the packs that resist. Unite them all under one law—mine.

But then I felt it.

A presence. Soft but deliberate. Moving toward me.

The door creaked open behind me.

I didn’t turn.

"Elena," I said flatly. "What are you doing up so early in the morning."

"I couldn’t sleep."

I heard her bare feet softly pad into the room. She was still in her dark night gown—crumpled slightly from sleep, her hair a tangle of rebellion. But her expression...

It was different.

Calm.

Too calm.

No defiance. No glare. No biting sarcasm ready to lunge for my throat.

She stood with her hands behind her back like some guilty schoolgirl.

And that’s when I knew.

Something was wrong.

I turned slowly in the chair, meeting her eyes.

"You’re awfully composed this morning," I said, voice low. "Did the wolf finally convince you to surrender?"

Her lips parted, and for a second, something flashed across her face. Not fear. Not submission.

Strategy. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"No," she said. "But I realized... there’s no point fighting what I can’t escape. So maybe..." She took a cautious step forward. "Maybe I should understand it instead."

I stared at her.

She was lying.

Not very well. Her heartbeat hadn’t spiked, but her fingers were twitching behind her back.

"What changed?" I asked, folding my hands on the desk.

Her brows drew slightly together. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been clawing your way away from me since the moment you saw me. Now you’re strolling into my war room like a curious kitten." I leaned forward, slowly. "What. Changed."

"I don’t want to be your prisoner."

"You’re not."

She blinked.

I stood.

"You’re my mate," I said darkly. "I may cage kingdoms. Break bones. Shatter thrones. But you? You were born to stand beside me. Not under me."

She flinched. Barely. But I saw it.

"And yet," I murmured, stepping around the desk toward her, "you look at me like I’m some mad dog you’re trying to tame."

I stopped inches from her.

Her breath hitched.

There it was again—that flicker of pain. That ghost of longing she tried to bury.

"You’re trying something," I said, gaze narrowing. "You think if you play nice, I’ll what? Open up? Let you in?"

Her throat bobbed.

I tilted her chin up with two fingers, eyes scanning hers. Searching.

"You’re digging for Kane. For Dean."

Her eyes widened, just slightly.

"Pathetic," I spat, and let her go.

She stumbled back half a step.

"They’re dead, Elena. What’s left of them is me—reforged in fire, steel, and blood. You want them back?" I bared my fangs. "Then go find their ashes and weep over them."

"I’m not trying to change you," she snapped suddenly, voice trembling.

"Liar," I snarled.

Her jaw clenched. "I just want to survive this."

I took a slow, deliberate step toward her again. "Then don’t insult me with your little act. I’ve seen your true fire. You may think you can fake your way through this—earn my trust and dig your claws in—but I will always see you coming."

"You don’t trust me?"

I chuckled.

It was a dark, low sound that had her wolf shivering under my dominance.

"I don’t trust anyone. But I don’t need to trust you, little mate. I just need you to submit."

"Never."

My smile widened, cruel and sharp. "Then we’re right back where we started."

We stood there, both breathing hard, the air thick with tension.

I stepped away, finally turning back to my war map.

"Play your games, Elena. But know this—if you push too far, try anything stupid, I’ll break more than just your spirit."

She didn’t respond.

After a long silence, I heard her leave.

And still... her scent lingered.

Faintly sweet. Maddening.

I stared at the map.

Kane and Dean... buried inside me. Did she really believe she could resurrect their pathetic morality? Their weakness?

Fools.

She doesn’t realize yet—every day she stays, every second she breathes in my presence, she’s losing the war she thinks she’s fighting.

Because eventually... she won’t want them back.

Eventually... she’ll want me.

******

Midday sun filtered through the high windows of the estate, but there was no warmth in me. Only shadows, only silence, only strategy.

She’d been quieter since morning. Less defiant. More... hopeful.

I could feel it in the way her presence shifted. Like she thought she was gaining ground.

But the fool hadn’t realized—

I was letting her.

Letting her think she could see something in me that wasn’t mine. That used to be mine, once—Kane. Dean. The weaker fragments. The men who were only ever half of what I am now.

She wanted comfort?

Let her choke on the illusion.

I timed it perfectly. Noon. She was pacing the upper hall, that flare dress swaying around her thighs like temptation and innocence. Her wolf, stirred with each of my steps, and I made sure she heard my approach.

But when I turned the corner, I was not Damon.

I let my face soften.

My shoulders ease.

I let that subtle shift take over—Kane’s presence. That stillness. That warm, calm protectiveness. I slowed my breath. Let a shadow of guilt creep into my gaze.

Her eyes widened instantly.

"Kane?" she whispered.

I didn’t respond. Just stepped closer, letting the silence hang.

She reached for me.

And I let her.

Her fingers brushed my chest, tentative and trembling. I could smell the emotion already—grief, hope, and that pathetic trace of desperate love.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered. Her voice cracked. "I didn’t listen. I—I opened the door. I let the darkness in. If I had just—if I had trusted you—"

I cupped her face gently.

She sobbed once.

And I leaned in.

Not rough. Not like me.

Like him.

Like Kane.

I kissed her.

Slowly at first, soft and devastating.

She melted into me.

Her fingers dug into my shirt, her lips parted, her body arching against mine as her wolf pushed her closer. Needy. Receptive. Mine.

I deepened the kiss.

She moaned.

Then next—slam—I had her pinned against the wall, her back pressed hard against it, my hand locking both her wrists above her head in one effortless grip.

Her breath caught.

Mate tingles flared through both of us like lightning.

My lips trailed down the side of her neck, not kissing—just teasing. Just threatening.

She trembled.

And I felt it.

Not fear.

Desire.

Her words turned into a gasp as I pressed my body against hers.

Hard.

My thigh wedged between her legs, grinding slowly, deliberately. Her dress bunched up over her hips, soft fabric folding under my grip. I didn’t even need to try—her body arched, lips parted, heartbeat pounding like war drums.

She stilled.

But only for a moment.

Because when I kissed her—

Really kissed her—

She broke.

Her lips crashed back into mine with the same desperation I’d seen in her eyes since the day I claimed her. She moaned into my mouth, fingers twitching under my grip, hips grinding back against my thigh like she couldn’t help herself.

The kiss grew filthy—hot, deep, wild.

Her tongue tangled with mine.

My free hand slipped down, dragging along the curve of her waist, gripping her thigh, hiking her leg up around my waist.

She whimpered.

I growled.

Her head fell back against the wall, exposing her throat, and I kissed down it, sucking, biting, marking her skin like I owned it. Because I did.

She gasped my name—or so I thought.

But then—

And the second it escaped her lips, breathless and broken, she whispered—

"Kane..."

For one terrifying, furious second, I said nothing. My lips were still on her neck. My hand still gripped her thigh.

But I was done.

I shoved her away from me.

She stumbled, dazed and flushed and panting, eyes wide with confusion and heat.

"Wh—what happened?" she asked, voice shaky.

My lips curled in a snarl. "You really are pathetic."

She blinked, stunned.

"You actually thought Kane was back." I laughed—darkly. "You fell for it. You were so desperate to feel something familiar, you let your legs fall open for a ghost."

"You stupid girl," I hissed.

The warmth was gone. The illusion, gone.

I stepped forward slowly, towering, fury in my eyes.

"You really believed that? That he was back? That your soft little apology and your sweet little kiss could bring Kane to the surface?"

Her lips trembled.

"You wanted him, didn’t you? So badly you fooled yourself." I sneered. "You’d take half a man over me?"

"That’s not—" she tried, voice breaking.

"You don’t get it. He’s gone. Dean’s gone. And all that’s left is me. Damon." I pointed to my chest. "The one who doesn’t give a damn about your tears or your guilt."

"But you—" she tried to step forward again.

I flashed before her in a blur of darkness, inches from her face, and snarled, "Don’t touch me."

She flinched, hurt flashing across her features, but I didn’t care.

"Do you have any idea how pathetic you looked? Clinging to a ghost like it could save you?" I growled. "I should make you suffer for it. I should show you exactly what I am so you never forget."

She opened her mouth—maybe to beg, maybe to fight—but I didn’t stay to hear.

In a rush of wind and speed, I vanished.

Gone.

Leaving her alone.

Shaking.

Confused.

Wounded.

Good.

Let her remember that the man she craves—the man she loved—is buried inside a monster she can’t escape.

And she’ll either learn to love the monster.

Or be destroyed by him.

Let her feel what it’s like to drown in something real.

Let her hate herself for wanting it.

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