*Nyla*
I didn't imagine it.
His eyes—they flickered gold, like something ancient and wild had stirred behind them. My breath caught in my throat.
"What... was that?" I whispered, frozen in place.
Damon looked away sharply, jaw tight. "Nothing."
"No. Don't do that." I took a step forward, ignoring the pounding of my heart. "Your eyes just changed. You said they could *smell* me. What does that mean?"
He exhaled slowly, like he was fighting with himself. "You don't belong here. You don't even know who you are."
The words felt like a slap. "Then tell me. Why are you always around me? Warning me, watching me—what are you?"
For a second, I swore he was going to answer. But then he stiffened, every muscle alert. "Go back to the house, Nyla. Now."
A growl rumbled in the distance. My body reacted before my brain did—I turned and ran, heart hammering, not daring to look back.
—
Back in my room, I locked the door and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath. What the hell had just happened?
Was he a shapeshifter? A werewolf?
No. That wasn't real. That was movie stuff. Right?
But then... why did it feel like my dreams, my instincts—were pulling me toward something not human?
I looked down and realized my hands were trembling. Not from fear. From *recognition*.
And I hated that part of me liked how his voice sounded when he said my name.
*Damon*
I watched her run. I could still smell the fear on her, but underneath it—something else. Something familiar.
She's not ready.
But it was too late. Her scent had already stirred the rogues. They'd come for her if I didn't act fast.
She had no idea what she carried in her blood.
And the truth was... neither did I.
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