Transmigrated: The Lycan King's Pet
Chapter 38 Her Smell

Chapter 38: Chapter 38 Her Smell

The drizzling rain whispered a soft lullaby into my ears, with the darkening over the camp, the rippling waters reflecting its distorted form. The warmth was chilling cold, my frame shivering between his arms. However, the warmth radiating from Damon’s body made my cheeks burn.

My chest heaved heavily against his chest, my years of struggling had been nothing but futile. I was so mad at him, even if I refused to admit it.

When I raised my head to meet his gaze, the mist from the rain made it difficult to see clearly, but his sharp jaws and pointed nose stood out, his wet black raven hair slightly curled at the ends, with water dripping from it. Droplets of water streamed down his face like pearls. His long lashes were wet, highlighting their dark color, his eyes narrowed at me, as if he was also in awe.

I swallowed as I nervously blinked at him. ’Isn’t this the exact moment where love blooms?’ the thought flashed through my head.

I shook my head in denial. There was nothing that was going to bloom between us. All I wanted to do was get my freedom back. I hadn’t thought about that lately because I was momentarily carried away by the care I had received.

But looking back now, I realized I didn’t belong there. This was not me; I wasn’t the type to sit down and be fed like a dog. I also shouldn’t be carried away by the handsomeness of this man. He wasn’t for me and never will be.

"Let go of me, Master," my voice rang out, weak and tired.

His eyes darted around my face as if he was searching for something in it. He raised his hand, his thumb brushing against my cheeks. Shivers ran down my spine at his featherlike touch. My body felt like it had always known him, like it was meant to be touched by him.

"Ember..." he trailed off, his brows knitted in confusion.

My heart skittered in my chest hearing his hoarse voice call my name. ’What is wrong with you, Ember? Get your head straight.’

As if I was struck by lightning, I jumped out from his embrace. I moved back away from him, my legs weakened from the sensation of his touch. I tried to blink away the cloudiness that was blurring my senses. My arms wrapped around my body, as if to shield myself from the cold. However, it was to fill the emptiness I felt after leaving his presence.

"You should stay away from me. You don’t like being touched," I muttered under my breath, knowing fully well that he could hear me.

A deep resentful growl was what answered me next. I flinched from the malicious aura it carried. I turned around to walk away, since I believed that was the end of our conversation. However, my steps halted when the metallic smell of blood hit my nostrils. Although it was faint, its smell lingered in the air.

I turned in the direction of the source, and that was when I saw Damon standing in the same spot that I had left him earlier. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened, but that wasn’t what had me in surprise. It was the blood that was dripping from his palm, dripping along with the drizzle of the rain.

Unconsciously, my feet moved towards him, but I halted when I realized what I was about to do. ’It is none of my business if he is having a break, and he is old enough to take care of himself,’ I thought to myself before walking away from his presence.

’I need to leave this place as soon as possible.’

...

(Third POV)

Damon stood in the rain with his chest heaving heavily, like he was having a battle with himself.

"Liar, you promised you’d stay away from her. Now tell me, why are you always around her and won’t stop touching her?" Beowulf pounced at him, making his head feel like it was being torn apart.

Damon hissed in pain and annoyance. "Don’t you want to know the reason why we are able to touch her without the feeling of ripping her throat off?" he yelled at his wolf.

"Speak for yourself, I feel like shredding her into pieces," Beowulf snapped back at him.

"Liar," Damon growled. "You would have shredded her to pieces the very first day she touched us, and you would have ripped her apart every single time I touched her. You are feeling what I’m feeling too, but you don’t want to admit it because you believe you’re failing her."

Beowulf growled more angrily, but he didn’t utter a word.

"You know I’m right, so stop getting mad at me, White. I’ll never love her. I only want to know why I’m able to tolerate her." Damon’s voice was more like a plea now.

Beowulf huffed at him, and Damon imagined the wolf crossing its arms across his chest, with his hind legs tapping against the ground.

"Don’t you dare humanize me," Beowulf barked at him.

"Fine."

Damon sighed before unclenching his fist. The rain washed away the remaining traces of blood, revealing his already healed palm.

His eyes narrowed in the direction where Ember had disappeared into. He had thought earlier that she would run to him after smelling his blood, but to his surprise, she was able to walk away from him.

"Interesting," he muttered, before striding slowly in the rain, heading back to the main camp. But his steps came to a halt, his gaze narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" Damon asked, his voice monotone.

"Is that how you talk to your Beta? Can’t you show me some love?" Alaric said teasingly before walking beside him.

Receiving no answer from Damon, he continued. "So, have you found out why you were able to touch her without going berserk?" in the same teasing tone.

This time, he was able to get Damon’s attention, although it was just a glance.

"Not really, but there is something strange about her."

"What?"

"Her smell, it keeps changing every day." Damon’s eyes narrowed, an unreadable glint flickering through them.

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