Hope Is Not Optional — Manuel Flores 94
941 Sleep with me
941 Sleep with me
Selene
I slapped both my hands against my face, the sharp sting blooming across my cheeks as my palms made contact. It wasn’t hard enough to truly hurt, but it was enough to make my eyes water as I shook my head again and again, trying to deny what was right in front of me.
This had to be a dream. A strange dream that made absolutely no sense. Not only had I been dreaming about this man in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge, but now my mind had gone so far as to imagine him appearing here, saving me like some ridiculous hero.
If this was a dream, then that was the strangest part of all.
Why him? Why Alpha Damien of all people? The man who had killed me in every lifetime. The man whose name alone made entire packs fall silent in fear. A man who didn’t care about anyone beyond his own territory. He should have been the last man I would ever dream about. The very last.
And yet.
I slowly lowered my hands and looked at the man standing in front of me, my breath catching despite myself. He was breathtaking in the most dangerous way possible. His posture was relaxed, almost indifferent, but there was nothing calm about the way his presence pressed down on everything around him. His hair was a mess, dark strands falling out of place as if he had dragged his fingers through it too many times and hadn’t bothered to fix it afterward.
His sharp crimson eyes were fixed on me, the way a predator looks at prey it has already decided belongs to it. Those same cold, merciless eyes that had stared at me right before my death in every life.
My eyes widened and I shook my head again, more violently this time.
No. No, this wasn’t a dream.
I could feel the sting on my cheeks. I could feel the air around me. And I had just watched him shove Adrian away like he weighed nothing more than a piece of scrap wood.
He was real.
I lifted a hand to my head, fingers digging into my hair as my thoughts spiraled.
What the hell was going on? Why was someone like him here, inside the palace, in the middle of the Mooncrest territory? And worse, why would he intervene? Why would he help me? Nothing about Damjen made sense in this situation, and that terrified me more than if he had simply attacked.
A groan pulled my attention away, and I turned my head to look at Adrian. He was sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from his head as he struggled to open his eyes, his face twisted in pain. The sight should have made me rush to him, but I didn’t. All I felt was indifference.
Nearby, I heard hurried voices.
“Did you feel that?” one of the guards whispered. “That pressure… that threatening aura?”
“Yes,” another answered, his voice trembling. “I’ve never felt anything like it. My hands won’t stop shaking. It’s coming from the garden. Do you think there’s something there?”
“I don’t know,” the first guard said. “But we should check it out.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
I looked back at Damien, my breathing uneven. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t reacted to the voices or the commotion. He stood there as if none of it mattered, as if the entire palace could descend upon him and it would make no difference at all.
I cared. I cared very much because I knew the rumors were true.
I had never understood why he spared me in my nine lives, or why he let me go after I saw his face in that cave. Alpha Damien was not merciful. Mercy was not a word anyone would ever use to describe him.
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He never let witnesses live. In all my past lives, anyone who went to war against his pack never returned. And he never hid his face on the battlefield because he never intended to leave survivors behind. Seeing his face was a death sentence.
And now, people were coming.
His eyes alone were enough to give him away. That crimson gaze and that suffocating aura were unmistakable. If the guards saw him, they would know exactly who he was, and once that happened, the Mooncrest pack would not survive the night.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
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