The slap
1209 Words
ELODIE’S POV
I knew he was testing me, he didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. Damon had a way of shifting the air in a room when he entered a silent assertion of dominance. But now, there was something else beneath it.
Expectation. He closed the door behind him slowly, watching me as if I were a problem he intended to solve. I didn’t rise from the chair near the window, I didn’t look away either.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said with a scoff “ I didn’t even think that was possible when we share the same room and its not like you can escape me away”
“You told me to behave as though nothing happened.”
His jaw flexed.
“That is not the same as pretending I don’t exist.”
I folded my hands in my lap to keep them from trembling.
“You are my Alpha,” I said evenly. “I acknowledge your existence.”
His eyes darkened at the formal tone.
“That is not what I meant.”
I knew. The bond stirred faintly restless, confused by the distance I was forcing. He stepped closer.
“You have been quiet,” he continued. “Composed. Detached.”
“You prefer it that way.”
“I did not say that.”
“No,” I replied softly. “You implied it.”
He stopped a breath away from me. The pull between us was still there sharp and undeniable. It would always be there. But I was learning that instinct did not require obedience. His hand lifted slowly, fingers hovering near my jaw. A silent question, silent challenge. My heart pounded. Everything in me wanted to lean into his touch.
To surrender again, to believe him. Instead, I stepped back. The smallest movement. But deliberate.
“I meant what I said,” I told him quietly. “Do not touch me unless you choose me.”
Something in him shifted.
“You presume I do not choose you.”
“You chose her.”
The words hung between us like a blade, his expression hardened.
“You are alive and under my protection because of my decisions.”
“I did not ask for your protection.”
“You would have it regardless.”
“That is not the same as wanting me.”
Silence. Tension. His breathing changed deeper now.
“You think denying me gives you control,” he said lowly.
“No,” I answered, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. “It gives me dignity.”
That did it, his composure cracked.
“You speak of dignity as if you were not on your knees for me two nights ago.”
The cruelty of it struck like a slap. My face burned not from shame, but from anger.
“And you speak of control as if you weren’t the one who joined me on the floor,” I replied.
His nostrils flared.
“You forget your place.”
“No,” I whispered. “You’re afraid I’ve found it.”
For a split second, I saw something dangerous in his eyes.
Not lust, not control.
Rage.
The kind that came from losing something he thought he owned. He stepped into me suddenly, gripping my shoulders. The bond surged violently at the contact.
“Do not mistake my restraint for weakness,” he warned.
“And do not mistake my silence for submission,” I shot back.
We stood like that breath mingling, power clashing.
Then he released me abruptly.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Have your distance.”
He turned sharply and stormed toward the door. The force with which it slammed behind him shook the walls. And for a moment I almost collapsed. Standing my ground felt powerful. It also felt like cutting off air. I had barely steadied myself when the door opened again. But this time, it wasn’t Damon.
Nyra stepped inside, Graceful,composed and furious. She closed the door quietly behind her. The guards didn’t stop her. Of course they didn’t. Her eyes swept over the room the folded blankets, the lingering tension in the air. Then they settled on me.
“So,” she said softly. “You’re the distraction.”
I didn’t respond, she took a few slow steps closer.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” she continued. “The way he’s been unsettled. The way he avoids me. The way his scent shifts when he leaves this wing?”
My pulse quickened.
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” I said calmly.
Her lips curved slightly.
“You’ve always been quiet. Invisible. I suppose that makes it easier to slip into places you don’t belong.”
The insult barely registered.
“You’re mistaken.”
“Am I?” she asked sharply. “You’ve been in his chambers since the ceremony.”
I held her gaze.
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe nothing has happened?”
I could have denied it, I could have lied. Instead, something reckless rose in my chest.
“You should ask him,” I said.
Her eyes flashed.
“I am asking you.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
“You stand beside him publicly,” I said. “But you don’t feel it, do you?”
“Feel what?”
“The pull.”
The word changed the air instantly.
Nyra stilled.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
I swallowed, then I said it.
“He is my mate.”
The silence that followed was deadly. Nyra’s face went pale for a fraction of a second before fury replaced it.
“You delusional little—”
“It snapped the moment our eyes met,” I continued, unable to stop myself now. “You were standing right there.”
Her hand moved before I saw it. The slap cracked across my face, sharp and stunning. My head snapped to the side. The sting bloomed instantly.
“You will not speak such lies,” she hissed.
I slowly turned back to face her, my cheek burned. But I did not look away and I did not back down.
“Look at him,” I said quietly. “Watch how he behaves. Watch who he watches.”
Her breathing was uneven now.
“You think this makes you powerful?” she demanded.
“No,” I replied softly. “I think it means you’re living on borrowed time.”
The words were barely out before she grabbed my chin hard.
“You are nothing,” she spat. “And if I find proof that you’ve touched what is mine, I will make sure you regret it.”
She shoved me back and turned toward the door.
Before leaving, she paused.
“If you value your life,” she said without looking at me, “you will stay silent.”
Then she was gone, the door shut. And for the first time since the ceremony I smiled faintly. Because Nyra might have rank. She might have public favor. She might even have Damon’s name. But she didn’t have the bond. And sooner or later, that would matter.
- Writer
