Alpha's Dark Desires Chapter 233: Helping Mate

Damon POV:

She stilled.

That stubborn fire in her eyes flickered. Her wolf was clawing at the inside of her skin just as hard as mine. I could see it—feel it. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks flushed.

I buried my face in her neck, trembling.

"Your scent," I muttered brokenly. "It calms the storm. Just... fuck, Elena, I can’t hold this back much longer."

Her hands pressed against my chest, hard. "You still reek of those dumb bitches."

There it was.

Her fury.

Sharp. Wild. Unforgiving.

I pulled back enough to see her face. Her eyes were gleaming gold now, her wolf at the surface. She was pissed, and she had every right to be.

"I saw you," she whispered. Her voice was a blade.

I froze.

"I saw you with those witches."

I didn’t respond.

"I saw one of them touching you."

I said nothing. What could I say? She had seen it. Seen on my knees—broken, desperate, letting three witches touch , stroke , crawl onto like parasites.

"I didn’t want them," I said, my voice low. "I didn’t choose that."

"You didn’t stop them," she hissed. "You didn’t push them off."

"I was barely in control."

She shoved my chest again, water sloshing. "And yet you could pull in, couldn’t you? You could touch . But not push them away."

I pulled back slightly, eyes locking onto hers. "I didn’t want that. I didn’t—"

"But you didn’t stop it," she bit out. Her voice cracked. "You let them touch you. You were going to let them—"

"No." I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at . "I wasn’t... I didn’t even know what I was anymore. I was barely conscious, Elena."

"And I’m supposed to just forget that? Pretend it didn’t fucking happen?"

"No," I said quietly. "You’re supposed to understand that even if the gods crawl through my bones, you’re still the only one I want."

"When they walked in—when they offered—I was weak. But I didn’t want them. I don’t want anyone else."

Silence.

Dripping water.

Ragged breaths.

She stared at like she was deciding whether to kill or kiss . Probably both.

"You’re lucky I didn’t rip their throats out," she finally muttered, looking away.

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips despite myself. "You still might."

She glanced back at . "Don’t tempt ."

Her eyes dropped to my mouth. Mine dropped to hers.

And for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"I didn’t an to hurt you," I said.

Her eyes softened just a little.

She shuddered in my arms.

"I need you," I said. "And not just for this heat. For everything. For ."

Another beat of silence. Then her hand slid up to rest against my jaw.

"I’m still mad at you."

"I deserve that."

"And I’m still going to kill those witches."

"Fair."

She sighed, sagging against slightly.

And for the first ti all day, the fire inside dulled—slightly. Her body against mine, her scent, her voice... it was like pouring water on the coals instead of gasoline.

She pulled back just enough to look in the eye. "Let’s get this heat under control, first. Then we’ll talk."

I nodded. "Deal."

Elena POV

This counts as nothing.That was the lie I clung to like a life raft as I sat half-soaked in the now-warm bathwater, pinned against his chest. My heart was beating far too fast, too loud. I could feel every inch of him—every trembling muscle, every ragged breath, the hard line of him pressed against my thigh.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I’m just easing his heat," I whispered under my breath, more to myself than him. "That’s all this is."

His hand was still splayed against the small of my back, not possessive—no. Desperate. Like I was the only thing tethering him to control. Maybe I was. His skin burned, even in the water. It was a rolling, pulsing energy coming off him in waves. His jaw clenched tight, head thrown back, breath shallow and sharp.

He was suffering.

And my wolf? She was pacing. Whining. Begging to help our mate.

I shifted slightly, and his arms tightened around .

"Elena," he rasped, eyes fluttering open, dark and glassy with restraint. "Don’t... move. I’m barely holding it together."

His voice—gods, it wrecked . Hoarse and deep and soaked with need.

I should’ve gotten out. I should’ve left before this spiraled.

But instead, I leaned in closer.

"Just... tell what helps," I murmured, and to my horror, my fingers moved before I could second-guess them—brushing over his chest. His breath hitched, and his hips jerked ever so slightly beneath the water.

Fuck.

This doesn’t an anything.

I kept repeating it in my head like a prayer, like a spell. Maybe if I said it enough, I’d believe it. Maybe if I said it loud enough, it would drown out the ache twisting in my chest—or the one lower, the one throbbing in ti with his breath.

My fingers traced down his chest, still damp and flushed with heat, my palm smoothing over the taut lines of his abdon. I wasn’t sure if it was sweat or the water from the bath that clung to his skin, but gods, he felt like fire.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just watched .

Like I was the only thing anchoring him, the only thing keeping him from coming apart entirely.

"This doesn’t an anything," I whispered again, though my voice shook. "I’m just helping you. That’s all."

My hand slid lower. And he shuddered.

His eyes locked on mine—wild, dark, but sothing deeper there too. Sothing pleading. Like he was drowning in sothing between pain and reverence.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, voice hoarse. "If you don’t want to..."

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t let go.

I leaned in, brushing my lips just barely over the edge of his jaw. He inhaled sharply, chest rising under like he was trying to stay still, like the smallest touch might shatter him.

"Let ," I murmured, softer now. "Just... let help."

His hands clenched the edge of the tub, like he was anchoring himself in the porcelain to keep from grabbing , devouring . His fangs peeked beneath his lips, jaw locked so tight I thought he might snap.

I moved carefully, crawling into his lap, straddling him without fully sitting down. The water sloshed around us, lukewarm now, but the heat between our bodies was unbearable.

He made a sound—guttural, helpless, unlike anything I’d ever heard from him. Then he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his entire body trembling against . I moved slowly, my hand slipping down between us beneath the water, easing him with soft, slow strokes, deliberately gentle. His lips parted against my skin, a shiver racing through him like lightning.

I told myself I didn’t care. That I didn’t feel the way he shuddered beneath . That I wasn’t lting from the way he whispered my na like it was holy.

My other hand tangled in his hair. My lips brushed his temple. His arms stayed locked around , shaking slightly, as if I was the only thing grounding him.

It wasn’t claiming.

It wasn’t love.

It was nothing.

Nothing but heat.

But gods, the way his mouth grazed my collarbone, the way his hands gripped my hips like I was slipping through his fingers—I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.