Chapter 241: Angry eyes

Damian radiated an aura so overwhelmingly dominant that I instinctively retreated a step. Though it was entirely pointless; if he decided to do anything to me within this apartment, I could never outrun him. He would catch me in a heartbeat.

Looking at him now, I honestly couldn’t fathom how such a cruel, ruthless man could ever appeal to anyone. Earlier today at the university, I had watched other she-wolves shamelessly casting lingering glances his way. But his expression right now was entirely different from how he looked in the morning.

Amidst the campus crowd, his face had seemed relatively neutral, but here and now, towering over me, his downward gaze crushed me beneath the weight of an unbearable, suffocating pressure.

"That outfit suits you," the young man rasped out with a dark chuckle, extending a hand toward me and brushing his fingertips lightly against the delicate lace of the apron.

"You promised to let me speak with my parents," I said, ignoring his provocation to focus entirely on what mattered most to me. I could dwell on Damian’s sick, warped imagination later.

"Straight to business, are we? Since I promised, I’ll keep my word." With a grin that looked more like a predatory snarl, Damian pulled out his phone, hit call, and tilted the screen toward me. I tried to catch a glimpse of the display, but there was nothing to see—the caller ID was completely hidden.

"Hello?" At the sound of my mother’s trembling voice, my knees buckled and a spasm gripped my throat.

"Mom?" I choked out, clutching the edges of my dress with damp palms as my fingers turned instantly ice-cold.

"Amelie!? My girl, how are you? Are they hurting you?!" Mom chattered anxiously into the receiver, her voice breaking into tears.

I was already about to open my mouth to blurt out the entire truth, but snapped it shut immediately. What could I possibly tell her? Should I tell her what this ruthless Alpha demanded of me? I would only make things worse, because she had a weak heart, and medical help wouldn’t reach her wherever that scumbag was holding them. There surely wasn’t even a doctor nearby.

"No, Mom, they aren’t hurting me..." Lowering my head, I inhaled sharply through my nose until my lungs burned with a stinging heat.

I hadn’t expected such an acute physical reaction from myself. Barely holding back a sob full of utter despair, I bit down on my lip until I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

"Mom, h-how are you holding up? Are they keeping you in decent conditions? Are they feeding you?" I rasped, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Don’t worry about us, sweetie, they promised to let us go soon and—"

Damian ended the call. My heart plummeted, fueled by a fierce, sudden impulse to claw at his arm, snatch the phone away, and call my mother back.

"Enough. You heard your parents and verified they’re alive. Now," the young Alpha leaned in, hooking a finger under my chin and yanking it upward to force my gaze straight into his dark eyes. "Now put away the groceries and cook something to eat."

"You didn’t let me finish..." I hissed right into his face, feeling a dark, tempestuous wave of fury surge from the depths of my soul.

"Such angry little eyes you have, little bird." Releasing my face, he stepped back a couple of paces and sank onto a chair. "There was never any deal made about how long you’d get to talk to them, after all."

Gritting my teeth until they ached, I walked over to the countertop. Surveying the provisions he had bought, I made a firm, petty resolution: Damian Rainn was going to eat plain rice with plain chicken breast tonight, and absolutely nothing else.

Silently leaving only the necessary grain and meat, I packed everything else away into the refrigerator. I never would have imagined that anyone could trigger my emotions so effortlessly.

I always tried to keep a tight rein on myself, knowing that if I let myself spiral, I could behave rather erratically. Back in my childhood, I had suffered from uncontrollable bouts of aggression during which I struggled to keep my volatile impulses in check—though no one ever knew the real reasons behind them.

My parents were naturally calm individuals. Despite the fact that my father was a werewolf, I never once saw him argue with anyone or openly display his anger. My mother, too, always smoothed over conflicts. As a child, however, I had lashed out and struck people if they touched me without permission.

My most horrifying memory stemmed from my school years. I had bitten our P.E. teacher’s arm when he grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him because I had zoned out and failed to do squats with the rest of the class. They had barely managed to pry me away from his forearm, and he required stitches afterward.

That entire day, I sat outside the office doors for hours while the principal chewed out my mother and father, giving them an ultimatum: either they took me to a specialist or transferred me to homeschooling.

That was how my online counseling sessions with Robert began. He was a good man who helped me get rid of the school psychologist and taught me how to suppress my temper. Yet right now, all of his lessons were utterly useless. I wanted to tear Damian apart with my bare hands so badly that my palms itched with a feral, predatory urge.

But I couldn’t. He was infinitely stronger than me in every possible way. He held my parents captive, and when it came down to it, I still wanted to stay alive.

While boiling the saltless grain and frying the bland chicken, I kept catching Damian’s heavy, brooding gaze fixed on me. He sat as if nothing were out of the ordinary, lazily typing something on his phone, yet his intense focus felt like a physical touch crawling across my skin.

When everything was ready, I covered the pan with a lid. Checking the time, I decided I was done for the day and needed to study, but Damian suddenly walked up to the stove. Lifting the lid, he sniffed the contents.

"Get the dishes out, we’re eating," he tossed out without turning around.

"I’m not hungry," I stated, heading toward the kitchen exit. Besides, not a single bite would go down my throat in his presence, even though I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day.

"I wasn’t asking. If you don’t understand requests, then I’m ordering you," the shift in his cold, commanding tone told me he was starting to get angry.