Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Violet’s POV:

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It was the second time since our mating ceremony that Daemon and I had shared a bed, and the silence between us was heavy enough to suffocate. I lay on the very edge of the mattress, my back turned to him, staring into the darkness while memories of our wedding night clawed at the edges of my mind. He hadn’t touched me then, either.

Outside, the weather was turning. A low rumble of thunder vibrated through the floorboards, followed almost instantly by a crack of lightning that illuminated the room in a stark, ghostly white.

The sound was a trigger, a violent key turning a lock I thought I had welded shut. In an instant, I wasn’t in the Blackwood Manor master suite. I was back in the mud, kneeling in the rain, my chest ripped open as the Alpha bond was severed in my past life. The phantom pain of rejection–the kind that shreds a wolf’s soul from the inside out–hit me with the force of a physical blow. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. My teeth began to chatter violently, and a tremor started in my core, radiating outward until my limbs were jerking uncontrollably beneath the silk duvet.

The movement was too violent to hide. The mattress shook with my spasms, disrupting the stillness Daemon had been maintaining.

“Stop moving,” Daemon growled from the darkness, his voice thick with irritation.

I tried to clamp my jaw shut, but another peel of thunder shook the house. A whimper escaped my throat. I curled into a tight ball, my nails digging into my palms, gasping for air as the phantom suffocation of the rejection ceremony overwhelmed me.

There was a pause. The hostility in the room shifted, replaced by a heavy, confused silence. Daemon didn’t move for two seconds. Then, with a curse, he threw the covers back.

“For Goddess’s sake, Violet.”

He ripped the spare pillow and the heavy duvet off the bed. I heard the soft thud of bedding hitting the plush carpet, followed by the rustle of him settling down on the floor.

*****

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Chapter 14

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By the time sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, the floor was empty. Daemon had left before I opened my eyes, leaving behind only a crumpled blanket as evidence of his nightly retreat.

I descended the grand staircase with practiced grace, entering the living room where Victoria was already critiquing the floral arrangements.

“Good morning, Mother,” I said, my voice light and warm. I held out a small, velvet–wrapped box. “I noticed you were rubbing your temples last night. I brought this for you–it’s a concentrated herbal extraction from the southern apothecaries, specifically designed to soothe the nerves of high–ranking wolves. It does wonders for tension headaches.”

Victoria looked at the box, then at me, her sharp features softening just a fraction. She accepted the gift, opening it to smell the rich, earthy aroma.

“Thoughtful,” she admitted, dabbing a drop on her wrist. “You’ve developed better taste, Violet. At least someone in this house pays attention to details.”

I smiled demurely. This wasn’t about affection. It was about setting a benchmark. I needed to be so impeccable, so culturally refined and attentive, that when Celeste eventually entered the picture with her clumsy commoner ways and ignorance of high–society werewolf etiquette, the contrast would be unbearable.

Breakfast was a battlefield of a different sort. The dining table was laden with enough food to feed a small pack, yet the appetite of the Blackwood family seemed nonexistent. Dominic Blackwood sat at the head of the table, cutting his steak with surgical precision.

“Five years,” Dominic said abruptly, not looking up from his plate. “The council is asking questions, Daemon. The pack needs stability, and stability means an heir.”

Daemon, sipping his black coffee, didn’t flinch. “We are young. There is time.”

“There is no time when you are the Alpha,” Victoria interjected, setting down her fork. Her gaze drilled into her son, clinical and unsparing. “Violet is clearly healthy, which leads me to wonder about your contribution

to this problem.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened. “Mother.”

“Don’t ‘Mother‘ me,” she snapped. “You drink like a sailor, you stay out until dawn, and God knows what kind

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of filth you’re picking up from those women you entertain. Have you considered that your lifestyle has degraded your sperm quality? An Alpha who cannot sire a pup is a weak link, Daemon.”

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