The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 250: Chapter 250 Do you still have feelings for Vanessa?

I stood there, my hand still resting against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm.

"My wrist," I said quietly. "He grabbed my wrist when I tried to leave."

That was it. That was the only place Ethan had touched me.

But Damian’s expression darkened anyway.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, tracing a path from my cheek downward. When his fingers reached my waist, they tightened—hard enough that I let out a small gasp.

It wasn’t quite pain, but it wasn’t gentle either.

"Here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Or here?"

I looked up at him, confused by the sudden intensity in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, and beneath the surface of that controlled exterior, I could see genuine anger.

"Are you... mad at me?" I whispered.

"I’m angry," he corrected, his breath hot against my skin as he leaned closer. "But not at you."

He moved nearer still, until his lips were barely an inch from mine, his voice dropping to something rough and raw.

"I’m jealous. Furiously jealous. And right now, it’s eating me alive."

"But that was all him," I protested weakly. "It was one-sided. You don’t need to be upset about someone like him. He’s nothing compared to you—"

My words trailed off as Damian closed the remaining distance between us, his lips hovering just at the corner of my mouth.

"Nothing compared to me?" he repeated. "In what way?"

My breath caught. Even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, he was devastatingly handsome. But right now, he looked different from his usual composed self—there was something primal in his presence, something that made my pulse race for entirely different reasons.

Like a predator who’d been toying with his prey and had finally decided to strike.

"In every way," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "He couldn’t compare to a single hair on your head."

"Tell me more."

His hand began to move again, sliding up from my waist with torturous slowness. His lips brushed against my cheek, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to hear you say you only love me."

Heat flooded my face. Did he really expect me to say something so direct?

"Tell me," he commanded softly, his breath warm against my ear. "Now."

"I... I only love you."

The words came out shy and hesitant, and I felt my cheeks burning.

"Say my name."

"Damian..."

"Not that one."

I knew what he wanted. "Alpha."

"No." His voice was barely a growl now. "What am I to you?"

Oh god.

"My... my sweetheart," I whispered.

I’d never called him that before—not like this, not with such intimacy lacing the word. It came out soft and breathy, almost embarrassingly so.