CHAPTER 223: STUBBORN MATE

Damon’s POV –

My vengeful little Luna managed to avoid me the entire fucking day.

It was impressive, really. Annoying as hell, but impressive.

Every time I turned a corner—she turned the opposite one. I’d be in the war room, barking orders about council redistribution, and she’d show up for five seconds, take one look at me, and vanish like smoke. Once, I caught her eyes locking on mine across the training grounds. Her jaw clenched. Then she spun on her heel and stormed off like I was the plague.

I’d planned an empire today.

Redesigned the whole framework for supernatural governance. Built a fucking hierarchy from ash and blood and command.

And yet?

She was the only part of my world I couldn’t seem to conquer.

I finally returned to our shared bedroom. Exhausted. Drained. Frustrated.

And she wasn’t there.

Not even a faint trace of her scent lingering in the air. The sheets were smooth. No ruffled clothes. No signs she’d even bothered to come in since morning. Which meant I wasn’t just being ignored—I was being banished.

Perfect.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and dragged a hand through my hair, jaw tight enough to crack bone. I should’ve fucked her. Should’ve thrown her down, taken her, marked her, unlocked whatever god was buried inside me and dealt with the rebellion later.

Instead?

I played the fucking gentleman.

And now I was paying for it like a fool. Denied. Slapped. Rejected.

And haunted by her scent every damn second.

She didn’t understand the stakes. The vampires were beginning to stir—restless and unruly in their cold marble tombs.

I needed everything at my disposal.

Full power.

Full control.

No weak links.

The witches were already breathing down my neck, pressing me to awaken the full force of Hades inside me. Promising loyalty, blood oaths, divine right—as long as I unlocked the monster within.

I could feel him.

Pacing.

Laughing.

Scratching at my ribs with claws of fire.

But I couldn’t unleash him until the seal broke.

And what stood between me and full awakening?

Elena.

My mate.

The one woman fate had tied to my ascension. The key to everything. The trigger to divine wrath and eternal dominance.

I needed to find her.

Claim her.

Break through that thick, infuriating wall of hers and remind her exactly who the fuck she belonged to.

Kill three birds with one stone:

Fuck my mate.

Awaken the god buried inside me.

Cement absolute loyalty from the witches.

And then?

Bring the vampire kingdom to its knees.

I stood, rolled my shoulders, and let the darkness hum beneath my skin. Sparks of power, ancient and furious, rippled just beneath the surface. My control was wearing thin, my temper frayed at the edges.

And yet, a sick thrill coiled in my gut.

Time to find my stubborn little queen.

Because she could run, she could pout, she could rage all she wanted...

But she was mine.

And tonight, she’d remember exactly what that meant.

*******

The soft thudding of fists on leather echoed down the hall before I even reached the training room. The scent told me she was here—sweaty, focused, angry.

My vengeful mate, still too furious to come home, and apparently taking it out on a punching bag like it had personally wronged her.

I stepped into the doorway and leaned my shoulder against the frame.

There she was.

Elena.

Wrapped in a tight sports bra and second-skin tights, combat boots planted firm on the mat as she delivered a roundhouse kick that made the chain holding the bag rattle. Her hair was pulled back, but a few loose strands clung to her neck, damp with sweat. Her movements were raw, angry—like she was using each punch to chase away my memory.

Too bad I was already lodged in every inch of her being.

"Nice form," I drawled lazily. "A little reckless though. Want a partner?"

She froze, mid-punch, and turned toward me with a glare hot enough to melt iron.

"I don’t train with tyrants," she bit out and turned back to the bag.

"Fair," I said, stepping further in. "Then how about a deal? You land a hit on me, just one, and I’ll let you keep sparring with Luca."

Her head snapped back to me so fast I almost grinned.

And gods help me, I noticed the way her eyes lit up. Like I’d handed her a key to freedom.

And I hated it.

Did she like him that much?

What did he have that I didn’t?

"What, don’t like the terms?" I pushed, my voice smoother now. Low and sharp, like a dagger’s edge.

She rolled her eyes. "I get to talk to whoever I want, Damon. You don’t get to decide that."

"I agreed, didn’t I?" I said casually, stepping onto the mat. "This is just training. No strings. Just prove yourself."

Except I wasn’t about to lose. I could cheat. Hell, I would cheat. Vampiric speed, wolf senses—whatever it took. She didn’t have to know.

She squared up, fists raised. Her jaw was clenched tight. There was fire in her eyes, but I’d seen that fire burn for me once. Now? It was aimed squarely at me.

The first few punches were testing, light. Weak. They barely made me shift my weight. I didn’t even need to access my vampire side yet.

But then...

She came in harder. Faster. She was no amateur. Her movements lacked polish, sure, but she was a daughter of an Alpha—muscle memory kicked in. Her footwork was quick, her stamina impressive. Still, her strikes didn’t carry the weight of proper training. Either she’d slacked off, or no one had taught her well enough.

Either way, she wasn’t a challenge.

Not yet.

But she could be.

And that thought stirred something in me deeper than just lust.

Because no matter how many guards I put on her, how many threats I neutralized before they reached her door, I wasn’t arrogant enough to think there wouldn’t be attempts. Enemies would come—rebels, vampires, even witches still loyal to old bloodlines. She had to be ready.

I wanted her lethal. Unbreakable.

Not just my queen in title—but in blood and war, too.

She attempted a spinning kick. Sloppy. Wild.

I saw it coming three seconds early.

Her foot missed, her balance faltered—and she pitched forward with a surprised yelp.

I didn’t think, just moved.

Vampiric reflexes took over. I flashed to her side, catching her before she hit the mat. My arms wrapped around her waist just in time.

But she twisted. Still angry. Still stubborn. Determined to fight me even while falling.

In her scramble to wrench herself free, she knocked us both off-kilter.

We crashed down onto the mat together.

Hard.

She grunted under me, and I cursed, catching my weight with both hands just in time to keep from crushing her beneath me.

We were a tangle of limbs, breathless and heated, her thighs pinned under mine, my chest pressing against hers, forearms bracketing her head. And then—

Fuck.

She felt it.

The very obvious, very hard part of me pressing against her thigh.

Don’t judge me. I’d just spent two hours dodging her hits, watching her move like a goddess of vengeance, sweat clinging to every perfect curve, chest heaving with every breath. Her tits bounced in that tight sports bra with each jab, her round ass flexing in those tights every time she twisted.

Yes, I’d been watching.

Shamelessly.

She’s mine.

And that’s precisely why I didn’t want anyone else near her. Especially Luca.

Her eyes widened beneath me, but she didn’t look away.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t fight.

I leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

"You lose, little mate."

Her breath hitched.

And I didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.