Mate's Vengeance: A Love Tale Between Bullets And Claws

Haunted By Allison's Ghost

Rebecca's Pov

"Careful with that glass, becca. It's older than your family tree and significantly more valuable."

Damian hasn't lifted his eyes from the newspaper, but the warning in his voice was sharp enough to cut. I continued to clean the flower vase with a steady hand, my face a mask of dull obedience. I didn't flinch. I didn't offer any apology. I simply set the glass down with a soft blink and moved to the next one.

The morning sun cascaded through the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse sharp and unforgiving. I was still thinking about the previous night. Was I able to get through Damian or not? He left without uttering a word. I was expecting him to roar at me this morning. But he was unusually quiet.

His golden eyes didn't roam the room, they were anchored to the steam rising from his coffee. Everytime I moved I noticed his jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. Was it anger or something else? I was still new to this seduction game.

I treaded carefully, while cleaning the vase. Any slight mistake I make, may anger him or worse. The silence in the room was finally broken by that usual busy, body clicking of Katherine's heels.

"It's too bright in here," Katherine complained, sliding into her seat with a dramatic sigh. She looked at Damian, waiting for a compliment that didn't come, then her eyes turned toward me.

The irritation on her face sharpened. She just didn't like me at all. Maybe she was probably jealous of my face? Or was it my body? I asked myself. I reached for the crystal bowl of raspberries, and then, with a flick of her manicured wrist, she accidentally sent it flying and smashing it to the ground.

The berries scattered across the white marble floor like drops of blood.

"Oops, I am so clumsy today," Katherine cooed, her eyes fixed on me as she kept chewing her gum. "Clean that up, Rebecca. And make sure you get the juice out of them. I don't want to see a single stain."

I didn't hesitate. I knelt. I gathered the crushed fruit with my bare hands, the red juice staining my fingers. Katherine watched me with a smirk, leaning over to whisper loud enough for Damian to hear.

"She's like a puppy, isn't she? Pathetic. I bet she's never seen a house this exotic before. Probably thinks she's in a palace."

I kept my head down, giggling on my insides. It was honestly so weird and funny I hadn't made any lethal move yet and Katherine was already feeling intimidated by me. Soon, I will be stealing the man she stole from me and I will slaughter them both in front of each other.

Later that afternoon, I was carrying a heavy crate of cleaning supplies through the service hallway. My knees bruised from Katherine's demands, and my back aced with the effort of surpressed rage.

"Hey, hey!" Slow down there, lady. You are going to fall.".

A large, warm hand reach out, steadying the crate. I looked up to see one of Damian's guard, Derek. He was tall and broad shouldered, but nothing I couldn't murder when the time comes. I accessed him by his looks, he must had felt he was way stronger than me, poor thing, I thought.

He had a jovial, crooked smile and eye that actually crinkled at the corners.

"I have got it," Derek said, easily taking the crate from my arms. Something about his audacity wanted to make me flip his back onto the hard floor with a brutal force that would definitely break his spine. But I needed to keep my Cinderella in distress act. "You look like you're about to pass out. Has boss been making you work that hard?"

"It's my duty, sir," I whispered, playing the shy maid.

"Sir? Duty?, what are you? 70 years old?, he chuckled. "I am Derek. And you're Rebecca, right?" He stepped beside me, his presence surprisingly light for a man of his size. He nudged my shoulder gently with his. "You should try smiling more, Becca. You have got a face that's too pretty to be carrying the weight of the world."

I felt a strange, fleeting wave of warmth. It had been years since someone had been so kind to me without being frightened by me or having an ulterior motive. My life with the Sterling family, more than half of my peers there feared me and the others, they envied me. "I will try Derek."

"There we go! That's better."

From the end of the long hallway, a dark shadwow emerged. Damian stood near the elevator, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't moving, he was watching me.

"Back to your post, Derek," Damian's voice carried down the hall like a whip crack.

Derek cleared his throat, and gave me a quick encouraging wink, and hurried away. He didn't look at Derek who passed. His eyes remained fixed on me, dark and unreadable.

I marched, to walk past him, but his voice stopped me.

"Wait."

He took few dangerous steps closer to me. "You remind me of someone," he said. The usual iron in his voice was gone, replaced by a hollow, haunting softness. "Someone I used to know a long time ago."

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. My hand trembled as I smoothed my apron. "Who, Sir?" I dared to ask.

Damian turned around. As if avoiding my own eyes, his broad shoulders which was usually high, mellowed down, a pure look of unadulterated grief.

"She's dead," he said simply. He looked back at me as if he were seeing right through me, searching for a ghost that wasn't there. "She was hit by a car ten years ago. Sometimes the way you move...the way you go quiet... it's like she's standing right in front of me."

He walked out of the hallway, I stood right there, my skin unable to hold the anger that boiled in my blood. How dare he try to act all innocent? I died before that accident, you killed me. I whispered to myself.

It was after midnight when the front door of the penthouse groaned open.

I was in the kitchen, finishing my final rounds when the heavy, uneven thud of footsteps echoed. I hurried to the living room and found Damian leaning against the wall. He was soberly drunk his eyes were clear enough to recognize me, but his body was failing him. He reeked of high end Bourbon.

"Mr Hale?" I asked, rushing to his side.

He didn't snap at me. He didn't tell me to vanish. He simply leaned his heavy weight into me, my arm draping over his shoulders. He was burning hot.

"Help me," he muttered, "Tell Allison, I am sorry."

I stood frozen, my fist tightening until my knuckles turned white. Could I really keep doing this? Why not kill him right here, at his most vulnerable state. I sighed heavily. And then led him through the dark penthouse toward his room. Every step was a struggle, Damian was far more heavier than I thought he would be, even with my warrior strength. He was pressing his body against mine, mumbling words I couldn't even understand.

We reached his bedroom, the massive bed in the centre of the room. I maneuvered him to the edge of the mattress, trying to ease him down.

Suddenly, Damian's hand shot out. His fingers wrapped around my wrist with the strength of a steel strap. Before I could gasp, he lunged.

He pulled me down. I let out a sharp cry at the mattress the air leaving my lungs. Before I could scramble away, Damian was over me.

He pinned my wrists to the pillows, his massive, heavy body pressing me deep into the sheets. He was a crushing weight, a small heat and muscle that trapped me. His face was inches from mine, his eyes dark, wild and searching.

"Allison, please..." he whispered, then he leaned forward, his lips approaching mine. I could feel his hot breath against my face as his lips closed in. What do I do now? I squinted my eyes tightly....