Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 49: The Beast’s Mark (1)

Charlotte woke up the next morning feeling sore in places she didn’t even know could ache.

Blinking against the soft morning light, she pushed the blanket aside and let out a sigh of relief

Damon must have taken care of her after she’d passed out—she didn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone cleaning herself up. Yet, her skin felt fresh, and the sheets beneath her were clean.

Then, something else caught her attention.

What was she wearing?

She definitely hadn’t brought a change of clothes, yet here she was, dressed in an oversized white shirt that practically swallowed her whole. The sleeves hung past her fingertips, and the fabric draped loosely over her body, brushing against her bare thighs.

Instinctively, she lowered her head, pressing her nose to the fabric.

Damon.

His scent clung to the shirt—musky, with that hint of cedarwood she’d come to associate with his pheromone. Her stomach flipped as warmth crept up her neck. He must have dressed her in this after she’d fallen asleep.

God.

The realization hit her all at once. She was completely wrapped in him. His scent, his touch, his everything.

And the worst part?

She kind of liked it.

In other words, it was as if Damon wanted to make sure that his pheromones lingered on her body, even after he had cleaned her up.

Charlotte pressed her warm cheeks with both hands, trying to shake off the thought. Ever since he had confessed his feelings, he had been acting like a possessive alpha—not in an overbearing way, but in a quiet, unwavering way that made her feel undeniably his.

But at least his possessiveness wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t about control. It was just ... Damon. A silent reminder that she belonged to him.

A faint noise from the kitchen caught her attention—the sound of someone turning on the stove.

Her brows furrowed. Did Damon call one of his housemaids to the cabin?

That didn’t make sense. This cabin was quite far from the main road, and it would have been much easier for them to go out and grab food instead of calling a maid all the way here.

Charlotte sighed. He was Damon after all. If he wanted it, then he would get it.

With a slow stretch, she slid out of bed, wincing slightly as she pressed a hand against her sore hips.

Damn alpha.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, then padded toward the kitchen.

But instead of a housemaid, she found Damon standing in front of the stove, sleeves rolled up, a pan sizzling in front of him.

Her lips parted in surprise. "Damon?" she called softly. "What are you doing?"

Damon turned slightly, flashing her a small, warm smile. "I’m making breakfast. I picked up some groceries before picking you up yesterday, but it’s nothing fancy."

Groceries? Before picking her up from the Night Show Studio?

Charlotte blinked. So he had planned this all along.

Taking her out to dinner had just been a formality, he’d always intended to bring her here afterward.

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head with a fond smile. Sneaky. She never imagined Damon would resort to tricks like using rogue werewolves as an excuse just to steal a night alone with her in this cabin.

Then again ... she wasn’t exactly complaining.

Charlotte stepped closer, slipping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her cheek against his back. "You planned this whole thing, didn’t you?"

Not only had he brought spare clothes and stocked the kitchen, but now that she actually looked around, she realized something else—the cabin was too clean. For a place he supposedly rarely used, it looked suspiciously well-prepared.

She narrowed her eyes. "You really were plotting to kidnap me last night, weren’t you?"

Damon chuckled, his voice sound deep and unapologetic. "Can you blame me? The house is too crowded, and you’re always so damn professional whenever you see me at the office."

He smiled as he placed the sausages on the plate. "But for the record, I only planned to spend the night talking with you. I never expected you to seduce me."

Charlotte let out a small laugh, her fingers playfully tightening around him. "You didn’t seem to resist very hard."

Damon turned off the stove, then spun around, wrapping his arms around her. His gray eyes gleamed with amusement. "That’s because it was you tempting me." He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a murmur. "If it had been anyone else, I would’ve thrown them out before they even had the chance to try."

Charlotte giggled, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "Sweet talker."

Damon kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment before smirking. "Alright, princess, help me set the table."

She immediately did as he said. Even though he had only cooked something simple—sausages, eggs, and ham—the effort he put into making sure she wouldn’t go hungry warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t expected.

That warmth made it easier for her to eat a little more than usual. There was still food left on her plate, but at least it was better than eating nothing at all.

Damon didn’t comment on it. He didn’t pressure her, didn’t make a big deal out of it. He simply cleaned up their dishes, then leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, and murmured, "You did well."

Charlotte froze.

She wasn’t used to this.

Praise ... just for eating?

A strange tightness formed in her chest, something warm, something unfamiliar. She swallowed, gripping the edge of the table as if that could steady her. This man ...

She smiled and gave a small nod. "I’ll try to do better next time."

Damon didn’t push for more. He just smiled, ruffling her hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

After breakfast, Charlotte decided to take another bath. But the second she stepped in front of the mirror, she nearly screamed.

Damon ... that beast!

Her entire body was covered in bite marks—her neck, shoulders, collarbone ... even between her thighs!

Wasn’t this a little excessive?!