Alpha Damon (Sienna) novel Chapter 285

Tatiana:

The mist curled at my feet like a pet waiting to be unleashed. It’s waited for my signal, but I refused to give it to it tonight, not when she was coming now, and I knew that I was going to need to be composed, that I was going to need her to be on my side.

It was restless tonight, thick, electric, breathing with me as I walked through the dense trees. The number of lives that it took, the power that radiated from it, the fear that I’ve had from it amazed me. It impressed me, and yet I knew that I had other things to take care of.

Every step I took was laced with quiet anticipation. I could feel her. Her energy. Her defiance. Her blood.

Delilah.

The girl who had called me mom. The girl who sparked a curiosity in me.

I didn’t need to speak her name aloud. The bond that connected us was older than any word, old as the life I gave and the pain I endured. I called for her in silence, and she answered, just as I knew she would.

She had no other option. Her body forced her to. She tried to control it. I must admit I did not expect her to be as strong, and yet I was impressed. She was not an easy target.

She stood in the clearing now, wild-eyed and flushed, her body bruised from battle, her hands curled into trembling fists. The mist between us parted like a curtain, revealing her fully, furious and alive.

“You,” she spat. “Stay the hell away from me. You have some guts bringing me here, you do realize that?”

My lips curved slowly. “Is that any way to greet your mother? As you may know, it was you who called me mom.”

“You don’t get to say that word,” she snapped. “You lost that right the second you chose power over blood. I said it to snap you out of whatever it was that you were doing to my sister, but it does not give you the right or the position to call yourself that name. I think that you don’t even know what it is to be a mother.”

The wind stirred violently, mist surging with it, but Delilah didn’t flinch. Not anymore. She was fire now. Hardened. She did not care about the mist. She was fighting it again and now she was doing it strongly. Stubborn. I liked it.

I stepped closer. “You’re strong. Fierce. I must admit I am impressed by you. When he told me about you being dead, I was upset I couldn’t get to know you. But when I saw you training… I saw how strong you were in his memory. I was curious about who you are. But you weren’t like this before. You’re not just fighting for survival now… you’re fighting for him. Ethan. It amazes me what a man can do to a woman.”

Delilah’s jaw clenched.

Ah. The name hit a nerve.

“You think you love him. You think that he has any power over you, that he’s going to love you back. But there is a funny story about these men. They do not love us. They love the power that comes with us. They couldn’t care less about who we were.” I murmured. “But what you feel is weakness dressed as purpose. I can show you what you really are without him. What you could be. I can teach you a path where you’re not going to need him or anyone at all, where he’s going to be nothing more than a faint memory. One that you’re not even going to keep in mind.”

I raised my hand. The mist pulsed. Wrapped around her ankles. Crept to her throat like a lover’s caress.

Delilah shivered, but she didn’t fall.

“Go back to whatever hell you crawled out of,” she said. “Rot there. And stay the hell away from me.”

Then she was gone.

Ripped from the clearing. Pulled from my reach. Back in that cursed den where I could no longer touch her. Back to where she was in control, away from me, where I could not reach her. Not yet anyway.

I stood in the ruins of what was once control. My breath ragged. My hands shaking. The mist hissed around me like a wounded animal. I coughed, my hands were filled with blood because of her, I was weakening again while the power that I was gaining just seemed to fade away and I listened as cries or breaths were taken. Those that were inside the bottle, those that were in my midst, in my control were awakened.

She had defied me.

She had hurt me.

And now, she would suffer.

“Oh, my daughter,” I whispered, stroking my stomach, where the next one grew strong. “You’ve just made this war personal.”