You Make Me Weak
1625 Words
Thalia’s POV
“Whose Damien?” I blurted out.
Natalie froze, her eyes snapping up to meet mine. “Where did you hear that name?” she asked, genuine concern etched across her face.
I hesitated, completely unsure if I should tell her about what had happened between Dion and me the night before. Deciding it was too risky, I lied, claiming I’d just heard him mutter the name in passing. She wasn’t all too convinced, but she didn’t press on.
I desperately wished I had Natalie’s ability to mind her own business. But I didn't. Ever since that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how miserable he looked while calling out for that person. A part of me pitied him; another part felt he deserved the karma. But a larger, more hidden part of me felt jealousy. And I absolutely hated myself for it.
On several occasions, our parts would cross, but he didn’t mention anything about last night. In fact, he was moving and working around his pack as if nothing had happened. So, I decided to let it go too. No one I asked had any meaningful information about the name, and that was after they reacted so strangely that I finally stopped asking.
How badly did this Damien guy traumatize everyone?
It was a full moon tonight, and everyone had already started preparations for the usual full moon tradition where every pack member would dance around a bonfire till the sun came up. It was something we did back in Blackfang Pack, and I wasn’t expecting rogue packs to also partake in this tradition.
From my spot on the grass, I watched Dion give out orders and even help around. When he wasn’t being a d**k to me or crying like a child, he was very helpful and nice.
“If you keep staring at him like that people are going to think that he stole from you or something.” Natalie appeared behind me.
“It would have been better if I even had a reason to hate him.” I sighed as I dropped the logs of wood into the iron drum we were set to use for the full moon night.
Turning to walk back for another pile, my clumsy foot caught on a root, and I fell. “Damn it…” I winced, pushing myself up as sharp wooden splinters pierced my palms.
It was no secret that I was wolfless. In fact, it spread like wildfire the night I got here. And since my secret had been exposed, everyone in the pack, well, except Dion, had been treating me like an egg, even the young pups. So, the exact moment I hit the ground, a dozen pack members abandoned their tasks and rushed over to help me up.
“I’m fine...” I tried to reassure the crowd, but my protests fell on deaf ears.
“Grab the first aid kit from the toolshed, quickly!” one of the women ordered, her eyes wide with worry.
“No, really, I'm okay—”
From nowhere, I felt myself being lifted off the ground by really strong hands. “Move.” Dion’s voice spoke from above me.
I glared up at his sharp jawline. “I don't need to be carried. It’s a splinter,” I snapped, my brow furrowing. “Can you stop overreacting?”
“You do not have a wolf, Thalia. Your healing isn’t immediate. It needs to be treated before it gets infected.”
Dion left every single thing he was doing just to have my palm treated. These are the types of things he does that make me want to bash his head against a wall. One minute he’s caring and protective, and the other he’s ignoring my entire existence.
xxx
The night had begun with a blast. The music was loud enough to be heard at the borders of the pack territory. Even the guards had left their duties to join in on the festivities.
And as usual, Dion had gone back to his hating-me mode. It was driving me insane. I wanted to keep my boundary after that night, but he was making me so angry to the point that I wanted to confront him.
I gulped down a cup of strong whiskey, coughing as the liquid burned my throat, then I lifted my eyes to see him moving away from the fire, slipping back into the main house toward his private chambers.
Without thinking, I gulped down another glass of whiskey and followed behind him. The alcohol made me stagger, but I didn't lose focus. I was going to corner him and ask why he hates me. Maybe I'll even ask who Damien was.
By the time I stumbled into his chambers, he was slumped back in his chair, completely wiped out. He looked up to stare at me and frowned. “I’m in no mood for your shenanigans, Thalia.”
“Who’s Damien?” I slurred, cutting straight to the chase. Alcohol made me bold, stripping away my usual hesitation.
I watched as his shoulders visibly stiffened. He looked away at first, and I was sure he was going to leave me unanswered before his voice invaded my ears.
“Damien was my first love. My first mate.”
On hearing the word ‘mate ’, I drunkenly grabbed a chair and sank into it.
“We were inseparable,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. “In love and happy. But everything changed when our pack was attacked one night. Everyone was running to safety, trying to protect themselves…”
I could feel my heart already aching for his sake. He must have lost him in the ambush. How devastating.
“I just stood there. Useless. Weak,” he muttered, staring blankly into his glass. “I wasn’t the powerful Alpha I am now. I was just a weak Alpha in love.” He took a sip from his drink. I could tell he was drunk, but at least he was sane enough to be aware of his surroundings.
“Damien wanted to stay alive. I get that. I really do.” His voice cracked on the final word, a fragile sound that made me shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“We were cornered, hiding under a destroyed shed,” he continued, his gaze drifting back to the past. “The leader of the attackers made an announcement saying whoever could fish me out would be spared and given power beyond their wildest dreams.”
He paused, clearing his throat with a harsh cough.
“I wasn’t even worried. I trusted Damien with my life. Or, at least, I thought I did. I still remember the exact look on his face. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out, whispering that he had found a better hiding spot.”
I held my breath, not ready for the next words about to leave his mouth.
“The moment we stepped out of the hiding spot, I was ambushed. Damien had sold me out for his own safety. I didn’t know how to feel; I watched as he stood behind the commander like they had known each other for years.”
He shook his head, eyes glossy. For someone as tough as him, he sure does express his feelings easily.
“He abandoned me. He stood there and watched as they slaughtered every single member of my pack. If I had just known… if I had seen the signs sooner… maybe, just maybe, my pack members—”
“No.” I cut him off before he could finish that statement. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn't kill them. You couldn’t have known that he would have done something like that to you.”
Has he really carried this burden all by himself for so long?
He shook his head in disagreement. “No, no, don’t try to make me feel better. It was all my fault.”
“No, it wasn't—”
“I WAS THEIR ALPHA, FOR f**k’S SAKE!” He slammed his hands down and surged to his feet, screaming the words directly into my face. “IT WAS MY RESPONSIBILITY TO KEEP THEM SAFE!” His chest heaved as he glared down at me. “But I let love make me blind. I let it make me weak.”
Whether it was the whiskey or the fact that I felt sorry for him, I didn’t flinch or get scared. I watched as his lips quivered before pulling into a tight, pained line.
“I swore to myself I would never let anyone distract me again,” he whispered, “I was doing fine. I was keeping to my word until I caught your scent.”
“My scent?” I breathed.
“Yes!” he choked out. “There’s something about it that makes everything else disappear. Every single agonizing memory, every bit of pain, it all vanishes the moment you get close.”
I wanted to speak, to ask how that was a bad thing, but words failed me. As he rambled on and on about how he hated the fact that I was making him look weak all over again, I moved.
I stood right in front of him, and before he could decipher what I was doing, I kissed him.
He gasped against my mouth, taken aback by my lips on his. His hands automatically moved to my waist, his muscles tensing as if he were about to push me away.
But when a soft moan escaped my throat, vibrating against his lips, his grip tightened, bruisingly possessive, as he yanked me against his chest and kissed me back.
- Writer
