CHAPTER 231: BETRAYAL OR JEALOUS?

Damon POV

She shot off the bed like I’d seared her soul.

One minute I had her under me, trembling with need—ours for the taking—and the next, she rolled away like I was poison.

She landed near the bathroom door like an electrified cat who’d just realized she’d almost given herself to the fucking enemy.

"You need cold water," she said stiffly, voice clipped. "It usually helps when a she-wolf is in heat."

And then she turned. Walked straight into the bathroom.

Left me.

Left me like I was nothing.

Like this unbearable storm ripping through me wasn’t her fucking fault. Like she hadn’t just ignited every raw nerve in my body and then slammed the door shut before I could burn with her.

Cold water?That’s it? That’s fucking it?

My fists clenched into the mattress, every muscle in my body quaking with a rage that was sharp, molten, and so far past reason it burned.

She just walked away. Like it was nothing.

Like I was nothing.

Like my gods-damned suffering — this raging, relentless inferno under my skin — didn’t even matter to her.

She abandoned me with a dismissive remedy.

And both my beasts howled.

My wolf growled, savage and betrayed. My vampire hissed with possessive fury.

And that’s when I heard it.

That voice. Low. Cold. Curling through my skull like mist through a crypt.

"She doesn’t love us."

"She’d rather let us suffer in heat than give herself to us."

It wasn’t the vampire. It wasn’t the wolf.

No. This was older. Deeper. Sinister and certain.

The voice crawled through my skull like oil and ice, slow and lethal. It wasn’t loud. Didn’t need to be. Every word pulsed with a heavy, ancient gravity — the kind that made the air seem thicker.

Hades.

The bastard had finally spoken.

Not just lingering like a dormant shadow anymore — not a whisper in the back of my mind — but a full-blown presence. A part of me like the wolf. Like the vampire. But darker. Older. More... but still incomplete.

And fuck, he was powerful

.

My eyes burned. I could feel it — my pupils shifting, the black bleeding into the whites like smoke, curling at the edges of my vision. My skin tingled, my spine straightened.

Power licked through me like fire and frost all at once.

And yet... the heat didn’t lessen.

Not even close.

The third beast that had slumbered beneath my skin for far too long had finally stirred—and his voice was like liquid midnight. I didn’t know if he lived in my bones or my blood, but I knew one thing the second he spoke:

He wasn’t going to be quiet again.

And fuck... he was right.

My mate—the woman fate carved for me—turned her back and left me straining, starving, suffering.

She knew what I was going through. She could smell it, sense it in the way my body trembled with need. And still she left.

As if she didn’t belong to me.

My jaw clenched so hard I swore my molars cracked. The muscles in my shoulders coiled, twitching like I was seconds away from tearing through something—anything.

"She’s ours," Hades murmured again, almost reverent this time.

"She just hasn’t realized she can’t run forever."

My wolf growled agreement.

My vampire hissed with bitter, hungry fury.

I could feel it—my eyes darkening again, vision tinged in red, black creeping around the edges like shadowfire. My skin buzzed, alive with power. With rage. With want.

And yet, the heat... the unbearable, bone-deep ache? It didn’t go away.

If anything, her leaving—choosing cold water over me—just made it worse.

Worse, because my body screamed that she was the cure. My instincts knew what had to be done: mark her, take her, claim her. Erase any space that dared exist between us.

But she had walked away.

And somehow, that hurt more than the heat.

I pressed my palms against the bedpost, knuckles whitening. My breath was ragged. I could still smell her. Still feel her.

"She’s resisting us," Hades whispered again, this time with something darker in his tone. A promise. A threat.

"But not for long."

I didn’t trust the grin curling at the corners of my lips. It was too sharp. Too cruel. Too his.

She was ours.

And she’d learn—one way or another—that you don’t walk away from the devil’s favorite.

I stood, slow and trembling, barely holding myself upright as the surge of power rippled through my bones. My hands trembled with the need to punch something. Fuck something. Burn something.

My skin still ached for her. Her scent still clung to the sheets, my tongue, my soul.

I turned toward the bathroom, my fangs elongating as my hands flexed at my sides, still stained with the heat of her almost-touch.

The door was still closed.

But something told me it wouldn’t be for long.

Elena POV

Fuck.

I almost did it.

Almost gave myself to him.

And gods, I wanted to. My wolf was pacing inside me, baring her teeth, growling and whining all at once—desperate to ease the ache of her mate. His scent was still in the air, thick and intoxicating, laced with heat and something more. Something ancient and dark and devastating.

But instead of easing him the fun, fast way... here I was.

Filling a goddamn bathtub with cold water like I wasn’t two seconds away from throwing myself back onto that bed and letting him fuck the madness out of me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

A wolf in heat is unheard of. He wasn’t supposed to experience it. That was a female wolf thing, not a wolf thing. But here we were. Damon, whatever-the-hell he was now, was throwing off pheromones like a wildfire and my body had no defenses left.

My thighs were clenched. My breath was uneven.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

And that made me hate him even more.

Because it wasn’t just the heat. It wasn’t just instinct.

It was the memory.

Those witches.

Half-naked. Dripping fake submission and lust, crawling all over him like he was some fucking sex god they were summoned to worship.

And him?

He let them.

I saw it. I smelled it.

The scent of their desire still clung to him like perfume—sweet and heavy and not mine.

That bitch had her hand wrapped around his cock.

His fucking cock.

My fucking cock.

And the other one?

Kissing his chest like she’d earned the right.

My claws itched to come out.

I wanted to slice the stroker’s hand off—rip it from her bony wrist and stuff it down her throat.

And the one who kissed him?

She could choke on her own lips after I tore them off.

And still... still...

My traitor of a wolf wanted to go to him.

Wanted to lay down, arch her back, bare her throat.

As if we didn’t see him let someone else pleasure him. As if that didn’t mean everything and nothing all at once.

He didn’t fuck them, no.

But would he have?

If I hadn’t walked in when I did, would he have let them take him?

That thought makes bile rise in my throat. Makes my stomach twist with something worse than jealousy.

Betrayal.

Because no matter how ancient or cursed or demon-kissed he is now, he’s mine.

And I don’t share.

Ever.

The water is full now, steam rising. It’s hot. Not cold.

Oops.

I yank the tap, growling under my breath as I switch it to cold and start again.

Stupid.

Stupid.

I grip the porcelain rim until my knuckles go white. Try to breathe.

But all I can think about is the way he looked at me before I ran.

Ravenous. Wild. Starved.

Like I was prey.

Like I was salvation.

And I hated how my body responded—how my legs parted slightly just from his stare. How my nipples tightened. How my mouth actually watered when he growled.

I slam my palm against the counter and lean forward, catching my reflection in the mirror.

Eyes too wide. Cheeks flushed. Pupils dilated.

A woman fighting herself.

"Get it together," I whisper.

But I already know the truth.

I’m furious.

I’m aching.

I’m possessive.

And I’m dangerously close to forgiving him just to feel his mouth on my skin again.

Because my wolf doesn’t give a damn about pride.

She just wants her mate.

And I’m not sure how long I can keep telling her no.