Married To My Stepbrother Alpha

Chapter 10

The ride back to Blackwood Manor was dead silent. The warriors rode ahead, laughing and talking softly about the victory, their voices carrying through the trees, but around us, the air was heavy, thick with tension so sharp you could almost cut it with a knife. Damon rode just in front of me, his back straight and rigid, his hands gripping the reins so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t look back once. He didn’t speak a single word. But every line of his body radiated anger—hot, wild, and confused anger that I couldn’t begin to understand.

She is mine. No one touches what is mine.

His words echoed in my head, louder than the hooves pounding against the earth, louder than the wind rustling the leaves. He had said it to threaten the rogue, to claim me as property of his pack, of his family… hadn’t he? It wasn’t about me. It was about territory, about pride, about his family’s honor. I told myself that over and over, trying to push away the strange, dizzy flutter in my chest every time I remembered the way he had looked at me—wild, terrified, like the thought of anything happening to me was the worst thing in the world.

When we finally rode through the manor gates, the servants rushed out to greet us, bowing and cheering, happy to see their warriors safe and victorious. Marcus slowed his horse, calling out orders, praising his men, his face glowing with pride and relief. But Damon didn’t stop. He didn’t even acknowledge anyone. He kicked his horse into a faster trot, heading straight for the stables, and when I slowed down to follow him, he swung down from the saddle before the horse had even fully stopped, moving with sharp, jerky movements, furious and restless.

I climbed down slowly, my legs stiff and shaky, and before I could even take a step away, he was there.

He moved so fast I barely saw him coming. One second he was by the horse, the next he was right in front of me, crowding me back against the wooden wall of the stable, trapping me between his arms, his hands slamming against the wood on either side of my head. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, sweat and dirt smudged across his skin, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, his golden eyes blazing with a fire so bright it made my breath catch in my throat.

“Are you insane?”

His voice was low, rough, shaking with suppressed rage, every word forced out through clenched teeth. He leaned closer, his face inches from mine, his scent—woodsmoke, rain, and wild power—filling every breath I took.

“Are you completely stupid? I told you to stay hidden. I told you to stay safe. And what did you do? You stood there like a target, like a helpless little lamb waiting for the wolf to come and eat you! You could have died, Elara! Do you understand that? You could have been hurt, or taken, or killed… and for what? For pride? For a stupid, childish need to prove you belong?”

He shook his head, a short, sharp, bitter laugh escaping him, his eyes searching mine, wild and frustrated.

“I told you. I told you over and over… you are weak. You are helpless. You don’t belong in this world. And today… you proved every single thing I ever said right. You are nothing but a burden. Nothing but trouble. Nothing but a weight I have to carry around, cleaning up your messes, saving you from your own stupidity!”

He slammed his hand against the wood again, making me jump, his voice rising, raw and desperate.

“Why do you do this? Why do you keep pushing me? Why won’t you just listen? Why won’t you just… stay safe? Stay away from danger? Stay away from me?”

I stared up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs, tears stinging my eyes—not from fear, but from the overwhelming confusion and emotion pouring off him. He was angry, yes. Furious. But beneath all that rage, beneath all those cruel words… I heard it. I heard the fear. I heard the panic. I heard the desperate need to keep me safe, even if it killed him.

“I didn’t ask you to save me,” I whispered, my voice shaking, but clear. “I didn’t ask you to come. I didn’t ask you to care. You are the one who keeps showing up. You are the one who steps in. You are the one who calls me yours… even though you hate me.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and sharp.

Damon froze. His whole body went rigid, his golden eyes widening slightly, the rage in them fading just a little, replaced by something darker, deeper, something he fought so hard to hide. He stared down at me, his breath catching, his hands tightening against the wood beside my head until his knuckles turned white.

“I don’t care about you,” he hissed, but it sounded weak. It sounded like a lie he was telling himself more than me. “I don’t. I hate you. You are the worst thing that ever happened to me. You make me lose control. You make me crazy. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel, things I refuse to feel.”

He leaned closer still, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes closing for a heartbeat, his voice dropping to a rough, tortured whisper.

“I wish you had never come here. I wish you had never been born. I wish… I wish I could just look at you and feel nothing. But I can’t. Every time you are near… every time you smile… every time you are in danger… something inside me snaps. Something I can’t control. Something I hate with every part of me.”

He pulled back suddenly, as if touching me burned him, stepping away so fast he almost stumbled. He ran a hand through his messy hair, turning his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths.

“You are a curse, Elara Vance,” he said, his voice cold and distant now, walls slamming up between us again, fast and hard. “You are a mistake. And I will never… ever… let you mean anything to me. Do you understand? You are nothing. And I will spend every day making sure you know it.”

He turned back to face me, his expression hard, cold, and unreadable again, exactly like the mask he always wore. But his eyes… his golden eyes were still burning, still wild, still full of secrets he refused to share.

“Go back to the house,” he ordered sharply, nodding toward the manor. “Go clean yourself up. And stay out of my way. If you ever… ever… do something this stupid again… I won’t come. I won’t save you. I’ll let whatever happens… happen. And I won’t feel a single ounce of regret.”

He turned and walked away, fast and long-legged, disappearing into the shadows of the stables before I could say another word, leaving me standing there alone, breathless, confused, and my heart beating a rhythm I didn’t recognize.

I walked slowly back to the house, my mind spinning, replaying every word, every touch, every look. He hated me. He wanted me gone. He called me a curse… yet he had looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. He had saved me again. He had claimed me as his.

And as I stepped inside the quiet manor, I realized the terrifying, wonderful, dangerous truth:

Damon Blackwood didn’t just hate me.

He was fighting a war with himself… and I was the prize neither of us had asked for, but neither of us could let go of.

And somewhere deep down… I was starting to realize… I didn’t want him to let go either.