Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Violet’s POV:

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I held the phone to my ear, listening to the silence stretching between us like a taut wire ready to snap. On

the other end, Celeste said nothing, but I could hear her breathing, soft and uncertain, the kind of

hesitation that came from someone who’d dialed a number without quite knowing what to say once the call

connected.

I could picture her so clearly–standing somewhere with morning light filtering through a window, her

phone pressed to her ear, wondering if she should ask where he’d been last night or if that would make her

seem possessive, calculating how to sound concerned without sounding jealous.

This was the same kind of silence I’d lived through countless times in our previous life, dialing Daemon’s

number in the dead of night and hearing nothing but the mechanical click of him sending me straight to

voicemail.

Beside me, Daemon’s eyelashes fluttered, and a low, rough sound emerged from his throat. “Awake?” His

voice was thick with sleep, carrying that gravelly quality that morning always brought, and the single word

seemed to vibrate through the quiet room.

My entire body went rigid. I jabbed the end call button so fast I nearly dropped the phone, my heart

suddenly hammering in my chest. “Yeah, I’m up,” I said, throwing off the covers with perhaps too much

force and grabbing the first clothes I could reach. “Gonna take a shower.”

I didn’t wait for his response, just fled to the bathroom with my bundle of clothes clutched against my chest

like armor.

The bathroom filled with steam as I turned the shower to its highest setting, and I stood there for a long

moment before stepping under the spray, staring at my reflection in the rapidly fogging mirror.

I turned slightly, examining the landscape of marks that covered my skin.

“Is he still holding back with her?” Because these marks didn’t look like someone who’d been holding back

at all. They looked like someone who’d lost control completely, like he’d been starving for something and

had finally been given permission to feast.

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Chapter 72

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I thought about the way he touched Celeste in public–careful, respectful, his hands never straying too far from appropriate zones, always conscious of propriety and her comfort. And then I looked at the evidence written across my own skin and wondered what it meant that he’d never shown me that kind of consideration, that from the very beginning he’d touched me like he had the right to leave marks.

I finally stepped into the shower, letting the hot water sluice over me and wash away the questions I couldn’t answer. By the time I emerged, wrapped in a thick bathrobe with my hair dripping down my back,

the bedroom was empty. Daemon had vanished.

“Saw Celeste’s missed calls,” I said to the empty room, tying the bathrobe more tightly around myself. “Back

to his precious white lotus.”

“She finally showed jealousy,” I continued, speaking my thoughts aloud as I moved to the closet. “That’s all

he ever wanted.”

It was funny, really, how quickly the brief strangeness of him staying the night had evaporated. For a few

moments this morning, I’d let myself wonder if something had shifted, if the fact that he’d actually

remained in the bed until morning meant something. But no. It had just been exhaustion, and the moment

reality had reasserted itself in the form of Celeste’s name on his phone screen, he’d remembered where he

actually wanted to be.

Mara appeared in the hallway as I reached the ground floor, her expression apologetic. “Luna, you have a

visitor. Ruby Morrison is here to see you.”

My step faltered for just a fraction of a second before I smoothed my expression into polite interest. My

mind raced through possibilities as I nodded to Mara.

Ruby stood near one of the large windows in the sitting room, her posture uncertain and her hands

clutching a cloth shopping bag. “Luna,” she began immediately, her voice carrying genuine distress. “I hope

I’m not intruding. I know I should have called first, but I wanted to speak with you in person about what

happened at the mines. I know you were hurt because of my brother Wade. I’ve been sick with worry.”

I let surprise flicker across my face, carefully measured. “Ruby, you have nothing to apologize for. You

weren’t even there.”

“But you were injured,” she insisted, lifting the shopping bag with both hands like an offering. “I brought

you some things from our farm. The vegetables are organic, we grow everything ourselves, and I made the

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Chapter 72

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jam just last week. It’s not much, but it’s from our land.”

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