Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 220

That’s what he said, and the way it came out of his mouth made me freeze. Not because I didn’t believe it, but because I had never, in my wildest, most dramatic little eighteen-year-old imagination, thought I’d hear that tone from him.

Damon always spoke like thunder. Like sin wrapped in control. Like nothing in the world could shake him. But right then? His voice didn’t sound like Damon, the Alpha. It sounded like Damon, the man who almost lost something he didn’t know how to live without.

“I know this is so unlike me, okay,” he continued, and I swear he was pacing again, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with all the weight pressing down on his chest. “But I was a bit scared. You-and our baby…” His voice caught for a second, and it made my heart skip, because he said it. He said our baby. “…you could’ve been gone. And I couldn’t stop it.”

I just stared at him. I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t even blink. I was trying to hold onto every word.

“I know you know me as the man who’s never cried,” he said, and now his eyes were shifting around like he couldn’t bear to look directly at me.

“I know. I know how I look. How I act. I’ve trained myself to be stone. I’ve built myself into something ruthless. I kill. I destroy. I silence. I do not break. I do not feel. I do not cry.”

He paused like he was fighting with himself now. Like even speaking this much truth was physically painful.

“But I tried so fucking hard to control it,” he muttered. “I really did. I tried to stay cold. I told myself you’d be fine. I told myself to stay still, stay sharp, wait for you to breathe again. But you didn’t. Not right away. And my body-my wolf-he just

“}

He trailed off, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon through every emotion known to man. And honestly, I couldn’t help it.

I smiled.

Not because I thought it was funny. Not because I was brushing it off. But because seeing Damon, the man who’s choked people with one hand and ripped throats out with the other, stand there looking like a sad little mountain of muscle and guilt, confessing that he cried over me?

It made my chest warm in the most ridiculous, tender, possessive way.

So I stretched out my hand, still weak and slightly trembling, and said, “Come here.”

His eyes finally met mine.

“You’re such a big baby,” I whispered down at him, and when he still didn’t move, I added, “You know that, right?”

Nothing.

No reply.

Just silence and warmth and the weight of everything that almost happened pressing down between us.

So I did what I do best.

I cracked a joke.

“Wanna continue from where we stopped?”