My breath caught. The name stabbed through me like a blade, dragging out memories I had tried to bury. My fingers curled into his chest, but I quickly pushed him back, putting space between us.
"I told you…" My voice wavered. "I'm not Ember."
His eyes flickered, shadowed with pain. "You don't remember everything. You don't know what we had…"
"Stop." I swiftly wiped the tears from my cheeks. "Remember, I'm your master."
Silence grew between us, our gaze lost in each other's depths.
This was the first time I had seen Damon cry, the first time he let himself be vulnerable before anyone. The once prideful and cold Alpha just cried on my shoulders.
My chest heaved heavily, and thoughts swirled in my head. 'Did the Princess truly commit those deeds? And if she did, why was it not written in the Fae's history books? Why were only her good works and the Werewolves' betrayal written? If he tells the truth, who would have omitted these important facts?'
