All Chapters of Fated to my Alpha nemesis : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

DAMON’S POVMorning arrives quietly.There is no thunder like the storm had brought.Just light.Soft gold spills through the cabin windows in fractured beams, slipping between the thin gaps in the threadbare curtains and stretching lazily across the floorboards.The rain has finally stopped. Though traces of it still linger everywhere. Humidity clings faintly to the air. The forest outside smells damp and clean, carrying that sharp earthy scent that only comes after heavy storms.For a while, I stay completely still.Listening.The cabin creaks softly around us as wind brushes through the trees outside.Somewhere in the distance, water drips steadily from soaked branches.And beneath all of it—Michaela breathes quietly in my arms.At some point during the night, we shifted again.The careful distance she had tried to maintain before sleep no longer exists.Her back now rests against my chest, one arm of mine wrapped securely around her waist beneath the blankets.Like my body had re

“What are you doing?” I gasp as Damon’s hand slips beneath my shirt. His palm skims slowly across my stomach, fingertips brushing the underside of my breast just enough to send heat flashing through me. “What you asked for,” Damon says against my ear, voice dark and rough around the edges. “You wanted to see what happens when I stop controlling myself, remember?” “I didn’t mean—” The words break apart before I can finish them. Because I don’t entirely know what I meant. A quiet sound leaves him. Not laughter. Something lower. More dangerous. “Then you really shouldn’t have said that,” Damon murmurs, voice rough. “I was barely holding on before. Now Ruin thinks you meant it.” The name shifts something in the air between us. My breath catches. “Ruin?” His hand stills for half a second. Not gentle. Controlled. Like the name had stirred something dangerous beneath his skin. “My wolf,” he says, his mouth brushing the side of my neck like he can’t quite help h

DAMON’S POV We continue our trek through the woods in silence. An hour passes. Then another. Then another. There’s no exact way to measure how long we’ve been moving, but from the position of the sun overhead, I know we’re well past noon now. I keep close track of our direction as we move through the forest, making sure this detour doesn’t leave us hopelessly lost somewhere in the middle of nowhere three days from now. Behind me, Michaela follows carefully through the uneven terrain. Trying to hide the strain in her breathing. Trying to hide the way her ankle keeps slowing her down. Trying to hide the fact that her stomach has been audibly protesting starvation for the last five minutes. “We should rest,” I say finally, stopping and turning toward her. Michaela doesn’t argue. Doesn’t complain that resting means spending even more time trapped out here with me. She just lowers herself carefully against the base of a tree and takes a long drink from the water

DAMON'S POV For a second, I think I'm having one of those dreams again. Those dreams that had started so long ago and refused to leave me alone even after I had convinced myself I hated her. Completely. Dreams where she was mine. Where she let me do all sorts of unspeakable things to her. I blink once. Twice. Shake my head slightly like that will somehow fix whatever the hell is happening to me. But she is still there. Still standing waist-deep in the water looking like every bad decision I have ever tried not to make. Some of the firewood slips from my arms and hits the ground with a dull crack. I barely hear it. Barely feel it. My entire body has already locked onto her. She looks up immediately. Water slides slowly down her shoulders as she turns toward me. And goddess help me, that somehow makes everything infinitely worse. Wet curls cling to her skin. Tiny droplets trail down the graceful curve of her throat before disappearing lower. Across he

MICHAELA’S POV “Why don't you just braid it?” My head jerks up so fast, surprised at hearing him speak for the first time in a long stretch of silence. After he'd gotten the fire going and roasted the nuts, we had just sat eating in silence. Neither of us willing to break it. “Huh?” I ask, pushing one of my many stubborn curls out of my face. Damon gestures vaguely towards my hair. “Your hair. I've watched you fuss with it for the last twenty minutes. Why don't you just braid it?” “Oh,” I say, picking at a strand of hair and staring at it like I hadn't known it existed until now. I'm quiet for a moment. Then: “Unlike most females,” I say slowly, almost embarrassed, “I have no clue how to braid my hair.” “Why?” he asks, genuinely curious. “It would have easily solved the problem of pushing it back every other second.” I pause for a moment, thoughtful. “Well… I really hadn't been interested in learning. I was far too taken by combat, the arts of healing and medi