Omega Bound Chapter 248

Damon

The sunlight through Ayla's kitchen window should have been golden and warm. Instead, it was harsh, revealing every flaw. I stood at the counter, fingers gripping the edge so hard his knuckles were white. I had been making coffee when I saw it.

The faintest scattering of dust along the edge of the black granite.

It was nothing. To anyone else, it would be nothing. But not to me.

Tiny particles, pale and uneven, clinging like a stain. The sight lodged in my chest like a stone. My breathing tightened.

It shouldn’t be there.

I moved before I thought, grabbing the microfiber cloth from the drawer and the spray bottle from under the sink. One swipe should have been enough. One swipe and it would be gone.

Clean.

Safe.

But as the cloth swept over the granite, the sunlight shifted, catching another angle, and there—on the other side of the counter—I saw more.

My breath caught in my throat. The coffee maker beeped, but I ignored it.

My vision narrowed, pulse hammering. I could feel the dust now, as if every speck was pressing into his skin.

The scent hit him next. Not just dust—stale, faintly metallic, old. It made the wolf inside him bristle, hackles lifting.

By the time I realized I was scrubbing, my hands were already moving in fast, tight motions, back and forth, again and again until the cloth was damp and the granite gleamed. But still… I knew it was there. The edges. The corners. The places the cloth couldn’t quite reach.

A shiver ran down his spine. I couldn’t leave it.

I yanked open the drawers, emptying their contents onto the floor. Cutlery clattered. Wooden spoons rolled under the table. Every surface had to be checked and wiped. It wasn’t enough to clean the counters. If there were dust here, there would be dust everywhere.

The living room was next.

I barely noticed the transition. One moment I'm on my knees in the kitchen, the next I am crawling along the hardwood floor in front of the sofa, peering into the hairline crack between the baseboard and the floorboards. The smell of dust was heavier here. His chest felt tight.

I pulled the sofa away from the wall, heart pounding. The legs screeched against the wood, but the sound barely registered. There it was—dust bunnies clinging to the wall, to the floor.

My throat closed. I stumbled backward, then lunged for the vacuum.

The sound of it roared in his ears, but not loud enough to drown out the steady pulse of my thoughts: Not clean. Not clean. Not clean.

Sweat dampened my shirt. My arms ached from scrubbing. My knees throbbed where they pressed into the floor, but still I worked. The vacuum hit the baseboard again and again, and still… it wasn’t enough.

The scent was still there. The feeling was still there, crawling over his skin like invisible ants.

A sound broke through the hum of the vacuum—Amani’s voice, calling from upstairs. “Damon? You okay?”

My head jerked toward the stairs, breath shallow. I could picture her walking into this chaos, seeing the piles of displaced objects. She wouldn’t understand. Not really. No one could understand how it felt—like the air itself was wrong, sharp, and dirty, like breathing would poison him unless he fixed it.

“I’m fine!” The words came too quickly. I swallowed hard, throat aching. “Just… cleaning.”

I heard her hesitate, then the faint sound of her footsteps retreating. Relief and guilt tangled in my chest. I didn’t want her to see me like this—didn’t want anyone to. Alpha wolves didn’t break down over dust.

Except… I wasn’t breaking down, was I?

I cleaned until my hands trembled and my head spun. I was on the floor in the hallway now, wiping at the tiny grooves between the tiles with a toothbrush. The scent of cleaning chemicals filled my nose, sharp enough to make my eyes water. But I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, the feeling would win. The thought would stay. The house wouldn’t be clean.

When he finally dropped the toothbrush, my vision was swimming. My hands were red and raw. My knees hurt. And still…

Still, I could see it.

Dust. Along the top edge of the bookshelf.

I was moving toward it before I knew what I was doing. The ladder from the garage, a fresh cloth, and more spray. My body was on autopilot, driven by the primal urge to erase every trace of imperfection.

Halfway through wiping the top shelf, I froze, chest heaving.

The wolf inside him was pacing, agitated.

Not enough.

Never enough.

It didn’t matter how much I cleaned, it would never be enough. The thought made his hands shake.I climbed down the ladder and stand before it, breathing hard and gripping it tightly, trying to get control of my emotions.

Amani’s voice again, softer now. “Damon… please. You’ve been at this all day.”

I turned my head slightly, meeting her eyes. The concern there hurt more than the raw skin on my hands.

“I can’t,” I rasped. “It’s,” I swallowed, but the words came anyway, ragged and low. “It’s still here. I can feel it. Smell it. It’s wrong. I can’t.” My voice broke.

She crossed the room slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. Which, in a way, she was.

Her hand touched my arm, warm against my cold, damp skin. “Breathe,” she whispered.

“I am,” I snapped, too harsh, but the pressure in my chest made it feel like I couldn’t.

Her thumb stroked my arm. “No, you’re fighting to breathe. Just… stop for a second.” Her hand was warm. Her scent was sweet, grounding. It cut through the chemical tang in my nose. My wolf stilled slightly, listening to her.

“Just one breath,” she coaxed. “With me.”

I obeyed. One slow inhale. The dust was still there. Another breath. My hands were still shaking. Another. The shaking eased slightly.

Tears blurred my vision before I realized they were coming. I leaned against her, shoulders shaking, the cloth slipping from my hand.

“I can’t stop,” I whispered.

“I know,” she murmured, holding me tighter. “But you don’t have to do it alone.” Amani’s arms around him were real. Her heartbeat was steady.

And for now, that was enough to keep him from picking the cloth back up.

"I haven't had one of those attacks in a while. Usually, I can stop. I'm sorry you had to see that." I am embarrassed my mate had to see me in a weakened state.

"Don't apologize, Damon. I understand, it's okay."

"Ayla probably thinks I am a freak."

"Ayla understands. I explained a little to her. She also sounded like she has experienced her share of anxiety. She's in her room, mind-linking with Thane. Ayla wants to help the wounded. He doesn't want her to leave. I heard growling and decided I would hide somewhere." I laugh as I bring my mate's hand to my mouth and place a kiss on top of it.

"None of us have vehicles here anyway. I doubt Cyrus returns mine in one piece. We're kind of stranded unless she wants to walk it, and that might get us all in deep shit with Thane."

"I was going to make her a cake, but if that will bother you, I won't," Amani says quietly. I feel a pang of guilt knowing that Amani has to tiptoe around this part of me, but that doesn't mean I can't do something about it.

"Can I help you?" I asked her back, rubbing my finger up and down her arm. Amani smiles softly and leans in, placing a kiss on my nose.

"I would like that very much."