Big Baby Damon
Big Baby Damon
~Lyra~
I know you’re probably wondering why Damon wasn’t fast enough. Why he didn’t grab me, shield me, kill her before she even got close. And trust me, I get it. You’re pissed. You’re screaming at the ceiling right now like.
“How the hell did the big bad Alpha just stand there while his girl got ambushed by a coke–dusted ex with a death wish?” I get it. I really do.
But you need to breathe and sit your ass down because I’m telling you now–don’t be mad at Damon. Please don’t. If you were in that room, if you had felt what I felt, if you had watched everything go down the way it did, you’d understand.
The thing here is that it happened so f*****g fast. Too fast.
I didn’t even see it coming. One second I was laughing, full–on throwing verbal knives at Camilla like the little cocky Omega I am, still dripping, still panting, still high on the way Damon had been holding my breast.
My p***y was literally still pulsing from the sound of his voice in my ear. And then the next second–boom. My whole world cracked in half.
That b***h slammed something into my nose, and my body betrayed me. I gasped. I inhaled. I didn’t even mean to, but the powder went up fast and fierce, and everything went blurry, hot, and loud in my head.
So no, I won’t blame Damon. I won’t hate him for not stopping it. I won’t accuse him of freezing. Because you
know what he did?
The second he realized what happened? He turned into death. Straight–up destruction. And he made sure she
never took another breath again.
Well yippee that b***h is dead. A moment of silence for her y’all. May her soul rest in chaos not peace. lol.
Now back to my story, So if you’re mad at him, let it go. I’m not. I’m alive. I’m fine. I’m awake now.
We were back in the house. Not beside a corpse. But in Damon’s room. His bed. Our space. I felt his presence before I even opened my eyes. His arms. His warmth. His voice.
“Lyra,” he whispered.
My lips parted slowly. My throat burned. My body felt like it had been dragged through fire and ice and then
dunked in fog, but I found the strength.
“Damon,” I whispered.
His hand was on my cheek instantly. Gentle, Rough and Warm. All the things he always is. I opened my eyes
and met his, and I swear, I saw the entire f*****g universe collapse and rebuild in his gaze.
“Hi, kitten,” he breathed, like the sound of
“Hi, baby.”
y voice had just pulled him back from the edge of hell.
He was staring at me like he couldn’t believe I was really awake. Like he was afraid to blink in case! disappeared again.
“How do you feel?” he asked as he reached to cup my face.
Big Baby Damen
“I am so sorry I didn’t react faster than I should have. I am very sorry, baby. I should have seen it. I should w moved. I should’ve…”
“Stop,” I said softly, my fingers brushing his lips.
He froze.
“You did what needed to be done,” I told him. “You didn’t just react. You ended it. You made sure she never got the chance to do it again. You didn’t hesitate. You saved me. That’s what matters.”
His throat bobbed like he was trying not to choke on emotion. I’d never seen Damon this wrecked. Right now, he wasn’t the big bad Alpha. He was just a man. A man who almost lost his girl.
“You were so still,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Your body went limp. You weren’t breathing right. I thought I lost you. I swear to God, Lyra, I almost lost my f*****g mind.”
I pressed my hand to his chest.
“You didn’t,” I said. “You didn’t lose me.”
“I’m fine,” I whispered as I tried to sit up, even though my head was spinning and my limbs felt like they’d been replaced with wet noodles.
My whole body felt like it had been tossed in a blender and then microwaved, but I was determined. I had to
see him. I had to touch him. Damon was holding me like I was made of glass, but I could feel the tension in
him. Like he wasn’t just scared–I mean, yeah, scared–but also… ashamed?
I reached out and cupped his face with my hand, my palm barely steady enough to not shake as I slid my
thumb across his cheekbone. His skin was warm. His stubble was rough against my fingers. His eyes were
so dark they looked almost black in the dim light of the room.
And then I noticed something.
His lashes were wet.
My brows furrowed and I tilted my head, squinting up at him as I blinked slowly through the fuzz still
clouding my vision.
མ་བ་དམ་ལག་དང་མ་ཤ་ནས་དངགས་
“Were you crying?” I asked softly, staring right into his face like I was trying to catch him in the act of being
human.
And then–poof.
He stood up so fast I almost fell back into the bed.
He cleared his throat in that obnoxiously masculine way, the kind of throat–clearing that said, I’m a man and I definitely wasn’t just showing any emotion like a human being because I am made of steel and rage and testosterone and unprocessed trauma.
walk across it “Impossible, kitten,” he said, suddenly pacing like the floor was going to catch fire if he did fifty times. “How would a big bad Alpha like me cry? Hmm? I kill. I destroy. I burn kingdomsbury secrets.
I don’t do…” He waved a hand dramatically. “I do not do any such thing as crying.”
I stared at him.
Seriously?
He was really out here pulling the ‘big strong Alpha who doesn’t cry‘ card like I didn’t just see the man holding
Big Baby Damon
me like I was the last breath in his lungs not even five minutes ago.
“Damon,” I called out, my voice sharp but small, hoping he’d just stop for a second and look at me. He didn’t.
He kept talking like he was reading his own edgy mafia romance cover.
“I have carved out throats with my claws. I have torn apart packs. I’ve silenced men with one look. Crying?” He let out a short, dismissive sound. “Please. I do not have tear ducts. I have shadows. I have darkness. I
have-”
“Damon,” I said again, louder this time, interrupting his tragic little villain monologue before he started quoting poetry and brooding out the window like we were in some gothic werewolf novel with rain tapping on the glass.
Then he stopped.
“I was scared, kitten.”
That’s what he said, and the way it came out of his mouth made me freeze. Not because I didn’t believe it, but because I had never, in my wildest, most dramatic little eighteen–year–old imagination, thought I’d hear that tone from him.
Damon always spoke like thunder. Like sin wrapped in control. Like nothing in the world could shake him. But
right then? His voice didn’t sound like Damon, the Alpha. It sounded like Damon, the man who almost lost
something he didn’t know how to live without.
“I know this is so unlike me, okay,” he continued, and I swear he was pacing again, his hands flexing at his
sides like he didn’t know what to do with all the weight pressing down on his chest. “But I was a bit scared.
You–and our baby…” His voice caught for a second, and it made my heart skip, because he said it. He said
our baby. “…you could’ve been gone. And I couldn’t stop it.”
I just stared at him. I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t even blink. I was trying to hold onto every word.
“I know you know me as the man who’s never cried,” he said, and now his eyes were shifting around like he
couldn’t bear to look directly at me.
“I know. I know how I look. How I act. I’ve trained myself to be stone. I’ve built myself into something ruthless.
I kill. I destroy. I silence. I do not break. I do not feel. I do not cry.”
He paused like he was fighting with himself now. Like even speaking this much truth was physically painful.
“But I tried so f*****g hard to control it,” he muttered. “I really did. I tried to stay cold. I told myself you’d be
fine. I told myself to stay still, stay sharp, wait for you to breathe again. But you didn’t. Not right away. And
my body–my wolf–he just…”
He trailed off, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon through every emotion known to man.
And honestly, I couldn’t help it.
I smiled.
Not because I thought it was funny. Not because I was brushing it off. But because seeing Damon, the an who’s choked people with one hand and ripped throats out with the other, stand there looking like a sad little mountain of muscle and guilt, confessing that he cried over me?
It made my chest warm in the most ridiculous, tender, possessive way.
< Big Baby Damon
So I stretched out my hand, still weak and slightly trembling, and said, “Come here.”
His eyes finally met mine.
And that was all it took.
He walked to the bed slowly, not like the predator he usually was, but like a man who was still afraid he might break something if he moved too fast.
He climbed in beside me without a word, shifted until his head was resting right on my chest, and curled one arm around my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him against me, his head right above my heart.
“There,” I whispered, letting my fingers stroke through his hair. “Feel that? Still beating.”
He didn’t say anything.
His breathing was heavy. His body was tense.
I could feel all of it–the fear, the anger, the love he didn’t know how to name yet.
And because I’m me, and because being soft for too long makes me emotionally itchy, I rolled my eyes and
smiled.
“You’re such a big baby,” I whispered down at him, and when he still didn’t move, I added, “You know that, right?”
Nothing.
No reply.
Just silence and warmth and the weight of everything that almost happened pressing down between us.
So I did what I do best.
I cracked a joke.
“Wanna continue from where we stopped?”
Royalty Writes
#Vote# Thank you all so much for your support. I really hope you have been enjoying this story so far. Kindly check my new book out. Tell my what you think. It’s free to read for now. Daddy Alpha, I’m Heat
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