Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Charlotte

Damon’s car pulls up to the nightclub, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “What are we doing here?”

He doesn’t answer as he pulls around back and into a parking spot that is meant for the owner. My forehead wrinkles as I try to process what is happening. I am so lost in my thoughts that I don’t see him standing outside of my door, waiting for me to get out.

“Do you own this place?” I finally reason it out.

n this

He chuckles loudly. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

He tosses my bag over his shoulder and heads into the nightclub, not waiting to see if I am following him. I look up at the massive building, and the thump of the bass inside filters out of the open door. Anger and confusion bubble beneath my

skin.

Fucking Leah. She must have known he owned the place. She was setting me up. Tala chuckles in my mind, but I am pissed.

“Are you going to stand out here all night?” Damon calls out to me. “Or have you forgotten you are being hunted?”

I had forgotten. I hurry to join him at the back entrance, and the door slams behind me, causing me to jump.

“Why are we here?” I ask again.

Damon leads me through a series of hallways and up a flight of stairs. “The constant stench of rogues will drown out her scent. Making it hard for you to be tracked.

“Oh,” I whisper.

I don’t know why I thought Damon would take me to his home, but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. With each step we take, the music from the club below gets quieter, and the tension between Damon and me continues to grow.

He pauses at the top of the stairs. “This is my apartment. It isn’t much.”

I laugh awkwardly. “You obviously haven’t seen my childhood home. It is a literal shack.”

Damon cocks his head to the side before pushing the door open.

Damon’s apartment is nothing like I expected.

I thought it would be all neon lights and stained floors, maybe a mattress on the ground with some patio furniture for a kitchen table. Instead, the space above the nightclub is immaculate.

A black leather couch sits in the middle of the space with a steel and glass coffee table in front. There is a TV on the opposite wall, but that isn’t what shocks me the most. Shelves line the wall behind the couch, and it is full of books. They are neatly arranged in alphabetical order by author’s last name. In the center of the shelves is a single framed photograph. Two boys, one with blonde, messy hair, and the other with dark hair, are standing in front of the Southpaw Pack house. Their arms are around each other, and they have matching grins. Jake and Damon didn’t always hate each other.

I tear my eyes away from the photograph. There is a story there, but I don’t want to push my luck. The whole place smells like cedar and cinnamon. There is a singular narrow hallway that I am sure leads to a bedroom, and I find myself inching further into the apartment.

“You live here?” I ask.

He arches a brow, tossing his keys onto the counter. “Where else would I? I own the place. It is easy to run them when I live

YED

above them.”

I blink. “Them? You own more than one?”

FR

55 vouchers

“Just a few.” His lips twitch with pride and he smiles, flashing me is straight, white teeth. “These clubs keep my rogues fed and my territory clean.”

“Your territory,” I breathe out.

“Yes, Little Wolf,” he grins. “I am the Rogue Alpha.”

I swallow hard, letting my eyes roam around the room. I’tug my hoodie tight around me. I look just as out of place here as I did in the Southpaw Pack house. “You are very… tidy.”

He steps closer, stopping just a foot away. “Surprised?”

Ignoring his proximity, I step back. “A little.”

He steps forward again. This time our bodies are almost touching. He lifts a hand, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingertips linger at my jaw. “What else about me surprises you?”

Heat pools in my stomach. I hate that he can do this to me, how he can illicit a response with just a tiny touch. He pushes buttons I didn’t know I had.

“I don’t think about you.” I try to sound confident, but the way my voice falters when I look at his mouth gives me away.

“You don’t?” The pad of his thumb strokes along my jaw, creating goosebumps in it’s wake. “The why are you still here?”

“As opposed to where?” I scoff. “I had no choice but to come here.”

His hand remains on my jaw. “I mean, why are you still here within my reach?”

I should step back, but I don’t. Stupidly, I let him tilt my chin up. My pulse thuds against his touch, and his scent rolls over me, making me want to betray everything in my mind. I fumble for something to say. Say something, I curse myself.

“You don’t even know what you’re playing with,” I whisper.

His mouth curves. “Then show me.”

He leans in, and his breath fans across my lips. The bass from the club filters up through the floorboards. But here, I this room. It is only us.

His lips brush mine. Not a kiss yet, but a promise. My breath hitches. He waits. His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck. His palm is warm against my skin.

I rise onto my toes, drawn to him like a tide, and this time, his mouth meets mine.

The kiss is deep, hungry, and it steals the breath from my lungs. Damon tastes as good as he smells, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, deliberate stroke. His other hand grips my hip, pulling me flush against him. My fingers knot in his shirt, feeling the muscle shift under his skin.

For a heartbeat, the world narrows to the two of us.

Then a voice cuts through the air.

“Little Cricket,”

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