Ch. 216..220: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 216-220

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 216

his bitch.”

I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowing with every second that passed, until I saw her standing there in the doorway like a fucking storm.

Camilla.

Of course.

Her hair was wild. Her eyeliner smudged. Her skin pale and sweaty, her pupils so wide they looked like ink had spilled across her eyes.

Her mouth was curled into a twisted little smile, but her hands were shaking, and she had that look-the one I’d seen before. Too many times.

“Camilla,” I said slowly, my voice low and sharp. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer at first.

She laughed.

Not a normal laugh.

It was brittle. The kind of sound you hear when something is unraveling at the seams and trying to pretend it’s fine. “Who gave you the right to come here?” I asked again, stepping in front of Lyra now, not to cover her, but to confront the disrespect. “Huh? Who the fuck told you you could walk into my house without knocking, without being invited?”

Camilla just tilted her head and giggled again.

Then she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a small bag of white powder, and without hesitation, she opened it, sniffed hard, and threw her head back.

Her entire body jerked like it was trying to snap itself into reality. She smacked the side of her own head like she was trying to beat the high into her bloodstream.

Oh damn she’s back to taking drugs.

Behind me, I felt Lyra flinch.

Camilla stared at me with wide, glassy eyes.

“You fucking bastard,” she spat, stumbling forward now, her voice cracking at the edges. “You were going to fuck her, weren’t you? You were about to have your mouth all over her before I walked in.”

She took another step.

“Damon,” she screamed suddenly, her voice raw and broken. “Why can’t you fucking love me?”

Her hand flew to her face again. She sniffed, loud and messy, and rubbed her palm over her nose like it would erase the shame bleeding out of her.

“I gave you everything,” she yelled. “I fucking did a boob job for you, Damon. You told me you liked them bigger, and I did it. I bled. I got cut open. I laid on that table and let them carve me just so you’d want me again. And you haven’t even touched me!”

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t even blink.

I looked at her like a stranger.

Because that’s what she was now.

She wasn’t my past.

She wasn’t my lover.

She wasn’t anything.

Not anymore.

But she wasn’t done.

Camilla never knew when to stop. Not when she was sober, and especially not when she was coked up and drowning in her own delusions.

She stood there in the middle of my office, swaying slightly, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed, her lips twitching like she couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry or throw herself on the floor and beg.

And then she did it again.

She reached into that same coat pocket, pulled out another small hit of powder, and snorted it like oxygen. She shook her head like she was trying to knock sense into herself, but it only made her voice louder, sloppier, more desperate.

“What does this bitch have that I don’t, huh?!” she screamed, voice cracking as her eyes locked on Lyra like she was trying to burn a hole through her.

I didn’t answer.

My hand was still on Lyra’s breast.

She was still trembling.

And I could feel her heart racing under my palm like a bird caught in a fist.

“She’s fucking stupid and fat, Damon!” Camilla shouted, spit flying from her mouth as her mascara smeared lower across her face. “You’re going to throw me away for some tight bitch who doesn’t even know what the fuck she’s doing?!”

Her voice cracked again.

But she didn’t stop.

“I’ll tighten my pussy if that’s what you want,” she snapped, eyes wide, teeth clenched. “I’ll go get fucking stitches if that’s what turns you on. I’ll make it brand new. Just for you. Damon, please—please, I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I need it. I need you to fuck me. Right now. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll crawl. I’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want to me. Just don’t leave me for her.”

Her hand reached for her shirt, fingers fumbling at the buttons as she stumbled another step closer. She popped one open. Then another. Her tits were out now.

“I’ll show you,” she whispered. “I’ll show you I can be better. I can be whatever you want. I’ll lose weight. I’ll grow my hair out. I’ll bleach it if that’s what you like. You want someone quiet? I’ll be silent. You want a whore? I’ll spread my legs right fucking now.”

She reached down to her waistband, tugging at her pants like she was about to strip in the middle of the room, in front of both of us.

“I’ll let you slap me,” she begged. “Choke me. Fuck me anywhere. Any time. You can come in my mouth and leave. I won’t even ask for anything back. Just-please. Please don’t act like I’m not good enough. I can be her, Damon. I can be better than her.”

“Stop this nonsense Camilla!”

 

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 217

Okay folks. Camilla has officially gone cray cray.

Like, I’ve seen some wild shit in my life. Girls fighting in the bathroom over lip gloss. Two boys pissing in the same urinal like they were holding hands spiritually.

A girl in my class once pretended to faint during a test just to get out of answering a math question. But this? This right here? This was next-level. Like, I’m talking full-blown N*****x series, season finale drama with extra cocaine and desperation sprinkled on top.

You know, honestly, I always thought stuff like this only happened in movies. Like, the kind of scene where the ex-girlfriend shows up wearing smeared eyeliner and trauma and begs the rich older man to pick her while the new girl stands in the corner looking all innocent and untouched.

But no. Nope. This was real life. This was me, standing half-dressed, nipple still out, body still shaking from the way Damon had just been whispering into my skin-and there she was.

Camilla.

Fully naked now.

Like, full-on titties out, no shame, coochie one sneeze away from saying hello kind of naked.

And I just stood there. Watching. Blinking. Trying to process the absolute chaos of the moment while Damon didn’t move a muscle behind me. His hand was still on my tit. Still cupping me like I was sacred. Still holding me like Camilla wasn’t even breathing the same air.

And I’ll be real with you.

The doctor did a really good job on her boobs.

Like, no lie. I was standing there watching this grown woman sob and spiral and beg for sex, and I still had the mental capacity to think, Damn. Those are symmetrical. Not jiggly in a weird way. No side dents. Just two full, bouncy, silicone- packed offerings right there in the room.

But still.

What the actual fuck.

She was pacing in circles, muttering to herself, sniffling like she was trying to inhale the walls, crying and swearing and throwing out words like slap me, choke me, fuck me anywhere while her hands kept twitching like she wanted to touch herself or stab someone-I honestly wasn’t sure which.

I was still riding the high of him saying I’m going to suck your tits until you cry, and now there was a drugged-up ex standing ten feet away shaking her fake tits at him and begging to be used like a doormat.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

Scream?

Run?

Clap?

“I’ll do anything,” Camilla sobbed, her voice all shaky and dripping in shame now. “I’ll get on all fours. I’ll let you call me whatever you want. You want a cum rag? I’ll fucking be one.”

“I’ll let you fuck me anywhere,” she sobbed, stepping closer, body still trembling and glossy with sweat. “In your office. In the hallway. In the damn garden. I’ll let you slap me. Spit on me. Call me nothing. I’ll let her watch. I’ll let her laugh. I’ll let you ruin me as long as you don’t pick her. Don’t choose her, Damon.”

I blinked again.

I felt his cock hardening against my thigh.

I felt my pussy clench so hard I nearly cried.

Then I glanced up at Damon.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even twitch.

His jaw was tight. His chest wasn’t rising like it should’ve been. He looked like a wolf about to snap someone’s neck just for breathing wrong. And the only thing he touched was me.

Me.

The one who was standing here watching this naked, coke-dusted woman beg for what I already had.

But honestly I’ve had enough. Okay. That’s it. I can’t take this anymore. I really tried. I stood there. I kept my mouth shut. I watched. I let her have her little dramatic monologue, tits out and dignity in the toilet, but I am at my limit.

Because this bitch?

This actual naked, powder-sniffing, breakdown-having, tit-jiggling, pussy-offering woman just looked me dead in the eye and told Damon she’d let him spit on her and fuck her in front of me like that was supposed to scare me.

No, ma’am.

I don’t scare easy.

I moan when he growls, cry when he bites, and cum when he calls me his. You think your tits are going to make him blink when his hand is still squeezing mine?

I laughed.

Like actually laughed.

Out loud.

Not a little snort or a fake, petty giggle. No. I laughed like I had just witnessed the most insane scene of my life and my only defense mechanism was losing my shit entirely. I could feel it bubbling up in my chest like champagne fizz and madness, and I just let it rip.

“Oh my God,” I said, breathless from laughing, one hand covering my mouth while the other clutched Damon’s shirt for balance. “You’re serious. You’re actually serious. This isn’t a prank or a bet or a hidden camera show. You really just said all of that out loud. Like, on purpose. With full chest.”

Camilla twitched.

Literally twitched like she wanted to lunge at me but forgot she was naked, high, and emotionally collapsed.

“No, no, go ahead,” I said, stepping forward just slightly, still in Damon’s arms but no longer hiding behind him. “You’ve already offered him your stitched-up pussy and your spit-filled mouth. You might as well throw in your credit score while you’re at it. Or a kidney. Want to carve his name into your tit next? Because honey-newsflash-he’s not touching you. At all. Not now. Not ever.”

Her eyes widened.

Her lips trembled.

Good.

Because I wasn’t done.

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 218

Because I wasn’t done.

“You wanna know what I have that you don’t?” I asked, tilting my head like I was about to give her skincare advice. “I have his hands on my body. I have his scent on my skin. I have his voice in my ear when he calls me his kitten and tells me to open wider. I have the bruises on my hips from the last time he knotted me so deep I sobbed into the pillow and begged him not to stop.”

I could feel Damon breathing behind me.

And still?

He didn’t let go.

“I didn’t need to beg,” I said, softer now, slower, like I was explaining something to a child who couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the situation. “I didn’t need to cry or plead or sniff a fucking drug off my palm like it was my only hope. He wanted me. Just like this. Crying. Needy. In heat and dripping for him. And he hasn’t looked away once.’

Camilla’s mouth opened.

But nothing came out.

Because what could she possibly say?

She was standing there naked, shaking, drugged, sobbing, tits bouncing, offering to be slut while I stood there wet and claimed. And she couldn’t compete.

Not even a little bit.

“Now take every fucking dignity you have left and leave!”

“You fucking whore!!”

That was the last thing she screamed before everything exploded into something that felt like a nightmare someone forgot to wake me from.

One second, Camilla was across the room, still naked, still sweaty, still shaking like a Halloween decoration that had been left out in the rain.

She was standing there like a rejected p**n star with no self-control and a pocket full of powdered decisions. I didn’t even flinch when she screamed it. I was already holding Damon’s shirt, already smirking like I had won, because I had.

But then?

She moved.

And it happened too fast.

One second she was crying and sniffling, and the next she was rushing me with her hand out and this tiny little bag clutched between her fingers.

I didn’t even see it clearly until it was too late. I thought she was going to slap me or scream in my face or maybe try to pull my hair like we were in some sad girl-fight outside a club, but no. Oh no. What she did?

She shoved the powder into my nose.

She slammed it against my face so hard I stumbled back with a gasp that I couldn’t control.

And the moment that bag hit my nostril, I inhaled it. I didn’t mean to. My body just reacted. I gasped. I breathed in. And whatever the fuck she pushed into me-it hit my brain like fire.

It was like something sliced into my skull from the inside. Like all the light in the room exploded behind my eyes.

My vision went white, then black, then spinning. I couldn’t feel my fingers. My mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t speak.

My lungs were trying to pull air in, but nothing felt right. My entire face felt like it was vibrating and my heart started pounding like it was trying to escape.

My knees buckled.

My head tilted back.

And I heard it.

“Camilla..”

That was the last thing I said.

My brain was short-circuiting. My limbs were buzzing. My chest was hot. I couldn’t focus on anything but the heat crawling up my neck and the sharp, metallic taste that filled my mouth.

And then Damon moved.

So fast.

Too fast.

I didn’t even see him leave me.

I didn’t even see the moment he shifted. I just felt it in the air.

And then I heard the sound.

Crack.

It was awful.

It was loud.

It sounded like bones snapping in half.

I couldn’t even scream.

My eyes were half-open, and I saw her-Camilla-on the floor, still naked, still twitching, then not twitching at all.

Her legs were twisted the wrong way. Her body was bent in angles that didn’t make sense. Her arms were limp. Her chest wasn’t moving. And her eyes?

Her eyes were open.

They were looking right at me.

But she wasn’t blinking.

She wasn’t breathing.

She wasn’t screaming anymore.

She wasn’t anything.

I wanted to step back.

I wanted to say something.

I wanted to scream or cry or throw up or ask Damon what just happened or even try to reach for him, but my body wasn’t

listening to me anymore. My vision was shaking. My ears were ringing. My chest was tight. My legs gave out and the floor tilted and I couldn’t keep up with it anymore.

Everything went quiet.

And then?

Black.

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – Chapter 219

~Lyra~

I know you’re probably wondering why Damon wasn’t fast enough. Why he didn’t grab me, shield me, kill her before she even got close. And trust me, I get it. You’re pissed. You’re screaming at the ceiling right now like.

“How the hell did the big bad Alpha just stand there while his girl got ambushed by a coke-dusted ex with a death wish?” I get it. I really do.

But you need to breathe and sit your ass down because I’m telling you now-don’t be mad at Damon. Please don’t. If you were in that room, if you had felt what I felt, if you had watched everything go down the way it did, you’d understand.

The thing here is that it happened so fucking fast. Too fast.

I didn’t even see it coming. One second I was laughing, full-on throwing verbal knives at Camilla like the little cocky Omega I am, still dripping, still panting, still high on the way Damon had been holding my breast.

My pussy was literally still pulsing from the sound of his voice in my ear. And then the next second-boom. My whole world cracked in half.

That bitch slammed something into my nose, and my body betrayed me. I gasped. I inhaled. I didn’t even mean to, but the powder went up fast and fierce, and everything went blurry, hot, and loud in my head.

So no, I won’t blame Damon. I won’t hate him for not stopping it. I won’t accuse him of freezing. Because you know what he did?

The second he realized what happened? He turned into death. Straight-up destruction. And he made sure she never took another breath again.

Well yippee that bitch is dead. A moment of silence for her y’all. May her soul rest in chaos not peace. lol.

Now back to my story, So if you’re mad at him, let it go. I’m not. I’m alive. I’m fine. I’m awake now.

We were back in the house. Not beside a corpse. But in Damon’s room. His bed. Our space. I felt his presence before I even opened my eyes. His arms. His warmth. His voice.

“Lyra,” he whispered.

My lips parted slowly. My throat burned. My body felt like it had been dragged through fire and ice and then dunked in fog, but I found the strength.

“Damon,” I whispered.

His hand was on my cheek instantly. Gentle, Rough and Warm. All the things he always is. I opened my eyes and met his, and I swear, I saw the entire fucking universe collapse and rebuild in his gaze.

“Hi, kitten,” he breathed, like the sound of my voice had just pulled him back from the edge of hell.

“Hi, baby.”

He was staring at me like he couldn’t believe I was really awake. Like he was afraid to blink in case I disappeared again. “How do you feel?” he asked as he reached to cup my face.

“I am so sorry I didn’t react faster than I should have. I am very sorry, baby. I should have seen it. I should’ve moved. I should’ve…”

“Stop,” I said softly, my fingers brushing his lips.

He froze.

“You did what needed to be done,” I told him. “You didn’t just react. You ended it. You made sure she never got the chance to do it again. You didn’t hesitate. You saved me. That’s what matters.”

His throat bobbed like he was trying not to choke on emotion. I’d never seen Damon this wrecked. Right now, he wasn’t the big bad Alpha. He was just a man. A man who almost lost his girl.

“You were so still,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Your body went limp. You weren’t breathing right. I thought I lost you. I swear to God, Lyra, I almost lost my fucking mind.”

I pressed my hand to his chest.

“You didn’t,” I said. “You didn’t lose me.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered as I tried to sit up, even though my head was spinning and my limbs felt like they’d been replaced with wet noodles.

My whole body felt like it had been tossed in a blender and then microwaved, but I was determined. I had to see him. I had to touch him. Damon was holding me like I was made of glass, but I could feel the tension in him. Like he wasn’t just scared-I mean, yeah, scared-but also… ashamed?

I reached out and cupped his face with my hand, my palm barely steady enough to not shake as I slid my thumb across his cheekbone. His skin was warm. His stubble was rough against my fingers. His eyes were so dark they looked almost black in the dim light of the room.

And then I noticed something.

His lashes were wet.

My brows furrowed and I tilted my head, squinting up at him as I blinked slowly through the fuzz still clouding my vision. “Were you crying?” I asked softly, staring right into his face like I was trying to catch him in the act of being human. And then-poof.

He stood up so fast I almost fell back into the bed.

He cleared his throat in that obnoxiously masculine way, the kind of throat-clearing that said, I’m a man and I definitely wasn’t just showing any emotion like a human being because I am made of steel and rage and testosterone and unprocessed trauma.

“Impossible, kitten,” he said, suddenly pacing like the floor was going to catch fire if he didn’t walk across it fifty times.” How would a big bad Alpha like me cry? Hmm? I kill. I destroy. I burn kingdoms and bury secrets. I don’t do…” He waved a hand dramatically. “I do not do any such thing as crying.’

I stared at him.

Seriously?

“

He was really out here pulling the ‘big strong Alpha who doesn’t cry’ card like I didn’t just see the man holding me like I was the last breath in his lungs not even five minutes ago.

“Damon,” I called out, my voice sharp but small, hoping he’d just stop for a second and look at me. He didn’t.

He kept talking like he was reading his own edgy mafia romance cover.

“I have carved out throats with my claws. I have torn apart packs. I’ve silenced men with one look. Crying?” He let out a short, dismissive sound. “Please. I do not have tear ducts. I have shadows. I have darkness. I have-“

“Damon,” I said again, louder this time, interrupting his tragic little villain monologue before he started quoting poetry and brooding out the window like we were in some gothic werewolf novel with rain tapping on the glass.

Then he stopped.

“I was scared, kitten.”

Breed Me. Daddy Alpha – 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.

And that was all it took.

He walked to the bed slowly, not like the predator he usually was, but like a man who was still afraid he might break something if he moved too fast.

He climbed in beside me without a word, shifted until his head was resting right on my chest, and curled one arm around my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him against me, his head right above my heart.

“There,” I whispered, letting my fingers stroke through his hair. “Feel that? Still beating.”

He didn’t say anything.

His breathing was heavy. His body was tense.

I could feel all of it—the fear, the anger, the love he didn’t know how to name yet.

And because I’m me, and because being soft for too long makes me emotionally itchy, I rolled my eyes and smiled.

“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?”