Page 4 of Redeeming His Omega Mate

Garrick didn’t get to complete that sentence. What followed was the sharp, sickening crack of bone breaking, followed by Garrick’s pained yell. His goons immediately rushed to attack Damian, but he was faster. With a fluid motion, Damian deflected the first shifter’s attack and knocked him hard into the wall. Then he turned his attention to the second shifter, delivering a brutal kick to his groin and a blow that sent him crashing after his comrade.

Garrick, visibly enraged whilst nursing a broken arm, charged towards Damian, but Damian grabbed his injured arm and twisted it, making Garrick drop to his knees as he cried out in agony.

“If I ever see you or your men harassing her or any other person,” his voice was a low growl, carrying a promise with the threat, “your arm won’t be the only thing I break.”

He released Garrick’s arm, letting him crumple to the ground. His eyes shifted toward me, who had been watching the scene unfold in front of me with a mixture of satisfaction from hearing their screams and awe at the swift power Damian displayed. He stretched his hand to me. “Let’s go.”

Instead of taking his hand or even showing any gratitude for his sudden appearance, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Alpha’s son?”

What kind of twisted game was the Moon Goddess playing by making the Alpha’s son my mate?

In the weeks that followed, I never heard from Garrick and his goons. Although I saw him once on the street, he surprisingly made no attempt to approach me. I managed to scrape together the money I owed him, plus a little extra as interest, and paid him back. But Garrick was the least of my problems during that time.

After learning that Damian was the Alpha’s son and the heir, no less, I tried to keep my distance and ignore everything that I felt at our first meeting. It should have been easy. It should have been possible to forget about him. But Damian made sure it wasn’t.

Every single day, he showed up at the bar. And he wasn’t just there to get drinks. Sure, he ordered a glass or two and always left a ridiculously generous tip, but that wasn’t why he came. He would sit in the back of the bar, watching me as I worked. I couldn’t figure out if he was just bored or determined, but it drove me crazy. He would always be the last person to leave the bar, and he would sometimes offer to walk me to my home. Every time, I would refuse. But no matter how many times I turned him down or how hard I tried to act like his presence didn’t affect me, I couldn’t stop the flutter of nerves—or something more—whenever I felt his eyes on me.

The worst part was how my wolf reacted to him. Every time he stepped into the bar, her restlessness flared up, pacing inside me like a wild thing trapped in a cage, desperate to be free. She wanted me to close the distance, to go to him, to accept the bond between us. Her urges were maddening, a constant pull that I fought with every bit of control I had.

One day, I decided it was time to tell Damian Stone off. Yes, he was attractive in more ways than I cared to admit. And yes, I might enjoy knowing that he came by the bar every day just to watch me. Maybe I enjoyed it a little too much. But unfortunately, the truth was simple: we lived in two completely different worlds, and it simply wouldn’t work.

The day I resolved to set Damian straight, he didn’t show up at thebar at his usual time. At first, I was relieved. Then, slowly, a wave of disappointment crept in—a feeling so ridiculous it almost made me laugh. How ironic to miss someone you were planning to chase away. Every time the bell over the door jingled, I found myself glancing up, my heart jumping in anticipation, only to deflate when it wasn’t him. By mid-afternoon, frustration mingled with something I refused to name, and by the end of the day, I’d all but resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing Damian today.

The bar emptied out as closing time approached, leaving me with my thoughts and a bitter sense of annoyance I couldn’t shake. The last customer left without leaving a tip, and I began cleaning up, dragging chairs, and wiping tables, trying to convince myself I didn’t care if he showed up or not.

As I wiped down the tables and flipped the chairs onto them, the jingle of the doorbell startled me. I straightened, ready to tell whoever it was that the bar was closed, but the words caught in my throat when I saw him.

Damian stood in the doorway, rainwater streaming down his face, his clothes clinging to his body. He looked like he’d walked straight through a storm to get here, and from the state of him, he probably had. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine, and I froze, unable to look away. He was soaked to the bone, his wet hair framing his face and his gray T-shirt clinging to every inch of his lean, muscular frame.

“Damian…” I whispered, his name barely audible over the storm raging outside. Slowly, Damian began walking toward me. His expression was complicated, a mix of sadness, anger, and relief. When he stopped just a few inches away, his eyes softened, and the tension in his face melted away.

Then, gently, he raised his hand and cupped my chin.

I felt my breath hitch as his cold, damp touch met my skin. I hadn’t realized how much I craved his touch until now. Without thinking, I nuzzled into his palm.

“I had a bad day,” he spoke softly, though there was a raw edge to his voice, like recalling the reason his day went badly reignited by the anger he had been feeling.

Damian’s finger brushed lightly against my chin, his cold touchsending a shiver down my spine. “I thought I understood the world I lived in, but I was wrong,” he continued, this time, his tone dripping with frustration. “Furious as I was, all I could think about was you.”

“You,” he continued. “Being near you…it calms me. Watching you go about your day is the highlight of mine. Since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I don’t know what it is, but I’m drawn to you in ways I can’t explain.”

My heart raced at his confession, and heat rose in my cheeks. I felt the same, too. I made no solid attempt to stop him when he moved closer, covering the only space between us.

My mouth opened, and the words that came out were, “Damian…we shouldn’t…”

I averted my gaze, trying to find my resolve amid the turmoil, but he gently cupped my cheek, tilting my face back to meet his eyes

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. But if you feel it, too, Tala…if you feel even a fraction of what I feel, then don’t push me away.”

Once again, I opened my mouth to speak, but this time, no words came out. The words caught in my throat, words that even if I said, I knew would have zero conviction. Damian’s hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. Tilting my head up slightly, his eyes searched mine for permission. And I knew my gaze gave him all the answers he needed.

His lips found mine, and the world around me disappeared. I melted into his arms, my fingers instinctively gripping the damp fabric of his shirt. Damian growled into my mouth as the kiss deepened, his grip shifting to my waist, pulling me impossibly close. His tongue teased mine, slow yet demanding, and he sighed, as if a long hunger was finally satisfied.

I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care about the voice screaming in my head to stop. All I cared about was the way he made me feel—alive, seen, and wanted.

Damian stayed with me at the bar until the rain stopped. This time, when he offered to walk me home, I said yes without a second thought. When we reached my house, I couldn’t just let him head back across town soaked to the bone, so I invited him in to dry off.

“Here,” I murmured, handing him a clean folded towel.

---