Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 113

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Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 113

“If Celeste knew you slept with me, what would she think?”

For a moment–just a brief, flickering moment–his eyes cleared, as if he was genuinely considering my

words. But then that darkness descended again, deeper than before, and he leaned in once more.

My psychological gamble had failed.

His lips found mine again, softer this time but no less demanding, and I realized with sinking dread that

nothing I said would stop what was about to happen. He was past the point of reason, past the point of

caring about tomorrow’s regrets.

The night stretched on endlessly. Daemon’s need seemed insatiable, his touch alternating between rough possession and unexpected gentleness that confused me more than anything else. My body ached from

yesterday’s exertion at the rink, my head still tender from the concussion, and exhaustion dragged at my

consciousness like an undertow.

“Let me sleep,” I finally whispered, my voice hoarse and barely audible. “Please, Daemon. I just got out of

the hospital.”

The reminder made him go rigid. His movements stopped abruptly, and for several long seconds he simply held himself still, breathing hard against my shoulder. Then, slowly, he shifted behind me, pulling me back

against his chest and wrapping his arms around my waist.

In my half–conscious state, I felt his lips brush against my bare shoulder–a kiss so different from everything that had come before, tender and laden with unspoken apologies and something that felt dangerously close to genuine affection.

Despite knowing how wrong this all was, I let myself sink into sleep in his arms, the mate bond humming contentedly as Ember settled with a pleased rumble in my consciousness.

When I woke the next morning, I was alone.

The space beside me was cold, long abandoned. Only the faint scent of cedar and leather lingered on the sheets, evidence that last night hadn’t been some fever dream conjured by my injured brain.

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Chapter 113

My phone showed a reminder for my follow–up appointment at the hospital. Right. I’d almost forgotten in

the chaos of everything else.

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The hospital was busy with its usual controlled chaos. I checked in and waited, scrolling mindlessly through

my phone.

“Violet Goldcrest?”

I looked up to find Evan standing in the doorway, his expression professionally neutral, white coat crisp and

perfect.

The examination room felt sterile and safe. Evan reviewed my chart with clinical precision, asking questions

about my symptoms, checking my reflexes, examining the fading bruises with gentle, impersonal touches.

“You need an abdominal CT scan,” he said finally, his voice flat and professional. “Follow the nurse to

radiology.”

As I stood to remove my coat, the high collar shifted, exposing my neck. I saw the exact moment Evan’s

gaze landed on the marks there–vivid evidence of last night’s passion. His movements stopped completely,

his jaw tightening as his eyes fixed on my throat with an intensity that made me freeze.

When I returned to the examination room, Evan was waiting with results and a prescription, his face carved

from ice.

“Your scans show increased intracranial pressure,” he said, his voice clipped and professional but edged with something harder. “You’ve been drinking. You haven’t been resting. The injury is worse than when you were

discharged.”

After reviewing the prescription and care instructions with mechanical precision, Evan suddenly pulled down his surgical mask, revealing the full force of his expression–cold, hard, disappointed.

“Those marks on your neck–did Beck do that?”

The question caught me completely off guard. “What? No! Beck would never-”

“Then it was Daemon.”

It wasn’t a question. His jaw clenched, something painful and angry flashing through his eyes before he

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Chapter 113

locked it down behind his professional mask.

I couldn’t find words to defend myself because what defense was there?

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“Rest. Hydration. No alcohol, no strenuous activity, no stress.” He rattled off instructions while pulling out

his prescription pad, his movements sharp and controlled. “And for God’s sake, Violet, take care of yourself.

Because clearly no one else is going to.”

He handed me the prescriptions without meeting my eyes, then turned and walked out of the examination

room.

I made it home in a daze, Evan’s words and disappointed expression circling in my head.

My phone rang just as I collapsed onto the sofa–my father’s number flashing on the screen.

“Dad,” I answered, forcing brightness into my voice that I didn’t feel.

“Sweetheart!” His voice was warm and excited. “Your mother and I were just talking. We haven’t seen you

and Daemon in so long. When are you two coming home for dinner?”

My stomach dropped. In everything that had happened, I’d completely forgotten about bringing Daemon to

meet my parents. The request they’d made days ago.

“Oh, I-”

“Can you both come tomorrow?” Dad asked. “Your mother is so looking forward to it.”

“I’ll ask him,” I heard myself say. “Let me check his schedule and get back to you.”

After we hung up, I sat holding my phone, staring at Daemon’s contact information. My thumb hovered over

the call button for several long minutes before I finally pressed it.

The phone rang three times before he answered. Background noise filtered through–male voices in

conversation, the clink of glasses, restaurant ambiance.

“What?”

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

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Chapter 113

“I have to go to Ironridge.”

Of course he did. Of course he was busy.

“Okay,” I said softly. “I just wondered. It’s nothing important.”

A male voice called his name in the background, pulling his attention away. I heard him respond to

someone else, heard the sound of movement.

Then the line went dead.

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I must have dozed off on the sofa, exhaustion from the past few days finally catching up with me. I woke to the sensation of familiar arms sliding beneath me, lifting me with practiced ease. My eyes remained heavy, consciousness floating somewhere between sleep and waking as I was carried up the stairs.

Daemon’s scent surrounded me–cedar and leather and something uniquely him. Half–asleep, I murmured

his name, a question in the drowsy sound.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “Go back to sleep.”

I felt him lay me down on the bed, felt the mattress dip as he stretched out beside me, pulling me back

against his chest.

For a moment, it felt like we were a normal couple–husband coming home late, gathering his wife into his arms, the comfortable intimacy of years together. The mate bond hummed contentedly between us, Ember

purring in my consciousness at his proximity.

Morning came too soon. I woke still wrapped in Daemon’s embrace, his body a line of heat against my back.

Daemon was still asleep, his breathing deep and even.

I carefully extracted myself from his hold, inch by inch, trying not to wake him. When I finally managed to slip free, I grabbed his coat from where he’d dropped it, bringing it to my nose. The scent of expensive whiskey was overwhelming, mixed with cigar smoke and cologne.

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ร

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My phone buzzed on the nightstand–Dad calling again. My heart sank. I’d promised to check with Daemon

about dinner, and now I’d have to-

“Dad,” I answered, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Daemon. “About dinner tonight, Daemon and I

might not be able to-”

The phone was suddenly plucked from my hand. I spun around to find Daemon sitting up, hair disheveled,

eyes bloodshot but alert. He brought my phone to his ear before I could react.

“Dad,” he said, his voice rough but clear. “We’ll be there for lunch. See you soon.”

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