Chapter 185: Chapter 185
Lyra
Damon laughed. Laughed. This soft, cocky, low chuckle that sent chills down my spine because I knew what was coming next.
"You want to hear sothing worse?" he asked, dragging
against him so hard I could feel his cock, hard and thick and pulsing behind his zipper. "She begs for the knot. She sobs for it. She cries, not because she’s scared, but because she needs it. She needs
to stretch her open and tie her to
like a good little Oga."
He grabbed my jaw and tilted it up, making
look at him while his thumb brushed over my lip. "Tell her, baby. Tell her what you say when I knot you. Tell her how many tis you beg to be filled."
"I—I say please," I stamred, my throat raw. "Please knot , please don’t stop, please put your pups in ..."
Damon growled and kissed . It was filthy. His tongue dominated mine, his teeth dragging over my bottom lip like he wanted to bruise it. My knees buckled. I lted into him, moaning into his mouth while Camilla sobbed behind us, broken and helpless.
He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, "You hear that, Camilla? She wants to carry my bloodline. She wants
to fill her every fucking night until her belly swells. She thanks
when I co in her."
I was gasping now, sweating, trembling, soaked. My nipples were hard, scraping my shirt, and my panties felt like they were going to disintegrate from how wet they were.
And just as Damon lowered one hand to unbutton my shorts—
The door slamd open.
A high-pitched, drunken giggle bounced off the walls.
"Oh my God—your dick is so fucking big," ca the loud, breathy voice of his daughter, giggling again as she stumbled in, one heel hanging off, her lipstick sared, her hand down the front of so guy’s pants as his tongue dragged across her neck. "You’re gonna rip
apart, fuck—I hope no one’s ho—"
Her eyes landed on us.
And everything went dead silent.
Tasha blinked.
Paused.
Stared.
There was my shirt rucked up, Damon’s hand gripping my hip, my lips red and puffy from his mouth, Camilla crying in the corner like she’d just watched her worst nightmare unravel.
And Damon?
He didn’t even flinch.
Tasha’s voice cracked. "What the fuck is going on here?"
Camilla let out a sob, wiping her face with shaking fingers.
"Mum," the girl said, voice turning breathless. "Why are you crying?"
And then she looked at Damon.
Her dad.
At .
At the space between us. At the ruined look in my eyes. At the flush in my face.
Her voice dropped into sothing wild and shaking. "Dad?" she croaked. "what the fuck is happening here!"
And Damon?
He didn’t let go of . He didn’t even blink. His hand squeezed my waist, his eyes sharp and dark, and his voice ca out like a knife sliding through silk.
"This," Damon said, his voice deep and deliberate, sharp enough to slice open skin. "This girl right here is my mate, Tasha."
Oh God.
His hand was still wrapped tight around my waist, fingers splayed possessively like he was gripping a prize he’d fought the world for. And his voice—fuck—his voice was calm, but it wasn’t gentle. It was brutal. Final. A verdict.
"You and your mother need to get that straight into your skull," he added, and I swear my stomach dropped and fluttered at the sa ti. "She’s not so toy. She’s not a fling. She’s mine. My Oga. The one the Moon gave . The one I fuck until she’s hoarse and shaking. The one I knot raw, over and over, until her pussy rembers my shape."
Tasha just stared at us. Frozen. Like she couldn’t process what was happening.
And Camilla—oh God, Camilla snapped.
She let out this wounded sob and stumbled toward her daughter, tears streaking down her cheeks like rain over glass.
"Baby," she choked, grabbing Tasha’s arms, "he’s been fucking her. He’s been fucking Lyra."
Tasha blinked, her eyes darting between her mother and , her mouth twitching like it couldn’t decide whether to drop open or scream.
"W-what?"
Camilla nodded like it physically hurt. "He’s been fucking her for weeks. In this house. On the couch. In the guest room. In his office. She screams for him. I heard her. I heard her moan his na like she was being possessed."
I wanted to speak. I really did. But my throat was tight, and my brain? Oh, fuck, my brain was spinning like I’d been thrown into a storm and all I could feel was Damon’s hand on . Holding . Claiming .
Camilla kept going, her voice ragged and soaked in heartbreak. "He calls her his Oga. He says she’s going to carry his pups. He wants to breed her, Tasha. Your father’s going to put a baby inside her"
Tasha’s eyes slamd into mine.
And for a second I thought she might throw up.
Her gaze swept down to my lips—still kiss-bruised and swollen—then to my hips, where Damon’s hand was still gripping
like a brand, like he’d rather burn alive than let go.
And then—
She looked at her dad.
At his shirt, rumpled. At the hunger still simring in his eyes.
And I saw it. I felt it. The mont her heart cracked in half.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
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