218.
~Damon’s POV
I was burning inside.
Belinda’s face, her fake tears, her trembling voice, they were all still in my head.
"Damon, please," she had said, trying to reach for .
I had felt disgust roll through . Her hands... filthy. I couldn’t let them touch . I hated her lies. I hated her denial.
"I said, don’t touch !" I had roared, jerking back, my chest tight with fury.
She had flinched, her tears running down her face like broken glass. She had kept pleading, but all I could hear was the sa excuse, I didn’t order Dolph, I didn’t tell him to do it.
Lies. All lies.
My head pounded. My fists clenched. Rage boiled so hot in that I barely noticed anything else.
Then lightning cracked outside. My head snapped toward the windows. It was raining, no, pouring. The sky was breaking itself apart, thunder rolling like the growl of a beast.
And I smiled.
"The perfect weather," I muttered to myself.
Not for Belinda. Not for liars.
But for Lisa. And my child.
The sound of rain followed as I marched through the corridors. My boots slamd against the floor, echoing. I wanted her. I wanted her warmth, her quiet smile, the way her eyes always lted the ice inside .
When I reached her room, my chest fell.
Only one guard stood there. Just one.
My eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. "Where is she?"
The guard bowed instantly, sweat already forming on his forehead. "My Alpha, she... she went to the corridor."
My voice rose like thunder. "The corridor? In this storm? And you let her go?"
He trembled. "Forgive , Alpha. She was insistent. She only wanted fresh air..."
"Fresh air?" I barked. My rage flared hotter. "And you let her walk out? What if she slipped? What if she caught a cold? What if sothing happened?"
The guard dropped to his knees, head bowed low. "I’m sorry, Alpha. Please forgive . I couldn’t stop her."
"Fool!" I roared, my voice echoing. I wanted to kill him right there, but my chest burned with a greater need to get to Lisa.
I stord off, my cloak whipping behind , the storm’s roar guiding .
And then I saw her.
At the far end of the corridor, by the open arches that looked out onto the gardens, she stood.
Lisa.
The storm poured down outside, a curtain of silver. She was smiling, her eyes glowing with a kind of peace I hadn’t seen in so long. She stretched her leg out, letting her toes touch the water. Behind her, her maids and a couple of guards stood silently, watching her but not daring to stop her.
For a heartbeat, I froze.
Her beauty. Her calm. Her softness against the storm.
But then, anger struck again. I marched forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back sharply.
"What are you doing here?" My voice was low, full of fire.
She blinked up at , surprised. Then... she smiled. "I wasn’t in the rain," she said gently. "I just ca out to enjoy the fresh air... to hear the sound. It reminds of when I was young."
Her words struck . My grip loosened just slightly.
But I shook my head, my jaw tight. "That was when you were young, Lisa. You’re not a child anymore. You’re carrying my child now. You could catch a cold. You could...."
She tilted her head, her smile not fading. "I’ll be fine, Damon. It’s just rain. Don’t worry so much."
"Don’t worry?" I repeated, my voice dark. "Everything in this world can fall apart, Lisa. But not you. Not my child. Don’t ever say ’don’t worry’ to again."
Her lips curved into a playful grin. She lifted her fingers, caught a drop of rain, and flicked it at . The water landed on my face.
I froze.
Her giggle rang out. "See? It’s not dangerous."
A muscle jumped in my jaw. "You dare?" I growled.
Her laughter grew. "Yes. I dare. What will you do, Alpha? Punish for flicking rain?"
My chest shook. At first with rage. Then... sothing else. A laugh escaped , low, unwilling at first.
"You’re bold," I muttered, stepping closer.
"And you’re too serious," she teased, stepping back, her bare foot splashing in the puddle.
I reached for her wrist, pulling her back toward . "You shouldn’t play with ."
Her eyes shone. "Maybe I should."
The rain hit harder, cold against my skin, soaking into my clothes. And yet, for the first ti that day, the storm inside cald.
"Lisa," I said, softer this ti. "You’ll get sick."
She shook her head. "I used to play in the rain all the ti with my father. He’d chase , splash , and I’d laugh until my stomach hurt. It feels like... freedom."
"This isn’t freedom," I muttered, brushing my thumb against her wrist. "This is dangerous."
She flicked more water at , her giggle like music. "Then join . If you’re so worried, don’t just stand there. Co play."
I stared at her, my heart caught between fury and sothing I didn’t want to na.
Then I stepped fully into the rain. The water drenched instantly, running down my face, soaking my hair and clothes.
Her eyes widened. "Damon..."
"If you want to play," I murmured, pulling her close, "then play with ."
Her laugh bubbled out, free and bright. She splashed water at with her foot. "Catch then!"
And before I could answer, she ran into the storm.
For the first ti in years, I chased.
What followed was laughter and splashes, water flicked between us, thunder roaring but unable to silence her giggles. She spun, I caught her, she pushed back, I pulled her close again.
The rain poured harder, soaking us until my cloak clung to like a second skin, but I didn’t care. Her laughter cut through the storm, sharp and sweet, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Lisa lifted her hands high, letting the water fall into her palms, and then she turned, spinning like a child. Her hair whipped around her face, strands sticking to her cheeks. "You’re too slow, Damon!" she teased.
I narrowed my eyes, pretending to be offended. "Too slow?"
"Yes!" she laughed, splashing water at with her foot. "You can’t even catch ."
That was enough. I lunged forward, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her against . She squealed, half laughing, half breathless, trying to push back. "Let go!"
"Never," I growled, though my lips curved into a smile I couldn’t fight. "You asked for this."
She wriggled free with surprising strength, darted away a few steps, and turned back, water dripping from her chin. "See? I told you. Too slow."
I ran after her again, my boots splashing in the puddles, and caught her wrist. She laughed so hard her body shook, then pressed her wet hand against my face, saring rain into my eyes.
I pulled her close once more, not letting her slip away this ti. "Enough gas," I said, my voice rough but warm.
Her giggles softened as she looked up at , rain sliding down her cheeks like tears of joy. "Then don’t let go," she whispered.
And in that mont, I knew I wouldn’t.
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