“Show me your value.”
The words echoed in my head for the rest of the night, a taunting, impossible challenge. What value could I, a mere human, possibly have in his world of ancient laws and supernatural power? I was a writer. My only skill was weaving words into stories, creating worlds on a page. It felt laughably inadequate.
He was testing me. He wanted to see if I would break, if I would beg. Part of me, the terrified, pragmatic part, wanted to do just that. To plead for his mercy.
But another part of me, a stubborn, fiery spark that had been rekindled by Julian’s betrayal, refused to be cowed. Damien Blackwood had seen my weakness, he had seen my fear. Now, I would show him my strength. I would play his game, by my own rules.
The next evening, I found him in the study again, reviewing a stack of documents. I stood in the doorway for a moment, my heart already racing, watching the way the lamplight cast shadows across his sharp features. He looked every inch the predator—focused, dangerous, untouchable.
I walked in without knocking. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, so loud I was certain he could hear it, but I forced my steps to remain deliberate, calm, controlled. He looked up at the sound, his golden eyes narrowing slightly at my intrusion, a question forming in their depths.
I didn't give him time to voice it. I didn't say a word. I walked straight to his massive oak desk, my pulse thundering in my ears, and placed my hands on the smooth, cool wood. The solid surface anchored me as I leaned forward, invading his space with an audacity I didn't know I possessed.
He went very still, watching me with the focused intensity of a predator tracking prey. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. I could see the moment understanding dawned—a flash of surprise, quickly followed by something far more dangerous.
I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips to his.
It wasn't a soft, hesitant kiss. It was a declaration of war. It was desperate and defiant all at once, fueled by days of tension and fear and a need to prove something—to him, to myself. This is my value, it said. I am not just a victim you rescued. I am a woman. And you, the powerful Alpha, are not immune to me.
For one frozen heartbeat, he was perfectly still, a statue carved from granite. His lips were warm and firm beneath mine, but unmoving. I thought he would push me away, reject my pathetic attempt at seduction.
Then, like a dam breaking, he moved.
His hand came up, fingers threading through my hair with a possessiveness that stole my breath, and he deepened the kiss. He didn't just accept my offering—he claimed it, took control with an effortless, breathtaking authority that made my earlier boldness seem like a child's game. His mouth slanted over mine, demanding entry, and when I gasped in shock, his tongue swept in, tasting, exploring, conquering.
The hand in my hair tightened, tilting my head to the exact angle he wanted, and his other hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb pressing against my racing pulse. I was trapped between his hands and the desk, completely at his mercy, and God help me, I didn't want to escape.
The kiss was overwhelming, intoxicating, and utterly terrifying. He kissed like he did everything else—with absolute confidence and control, demanding a response I was powerless to refuse. My hands, which had been braced on the desk, reached for him, fisting in the fabric of his shirt, needing something to anchor me before I drowned.
He made a low sound in his throat—satisfaction or approval, I couldn't tell—and kissed me harder, deeper, until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.
Just as my knees were about to give out, just as black spots were dancing at the edges of my vision, he pulled back. The loss of his mouth on mine felt like a physical ache. I stood there, swaying slightly, my lips swollen and tingling, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
He watched me with those predatory golden eyes, and a slow, devastating smile touched his lips.
“A bold move,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble. “Very well, Claire. You’ve shown me… potential.”
Two days later, he was a man of his word.
A sleek black car, driven by a silent, imposing man who might have been a bodyguard, took me to a quiet, upscale cafe in the city. My grandfather was already there, sitting at a small table by the window, looking frail but happy.
Damien was with me. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored grey suit, his powerful aura toned down to a quiet, confident charisma. He greeted my grandfather with a firm handshake and a respectful nod.
“Thank you for bringing her, Damien,” my grandfather said, his eyes twinkling. “I was worried.”
“She’s safe with me, sir,” Damien replied, his voice smooth as silk. And in that moment, in the warm, normal light of the cafe, it was easy to believe him. He ordered us all coffee and then, with a tact I wouldn’t have thought him capable of, he excused himself to make a business call, leaving me alone with my grandfather.
“He seems like a good man,” Grandpa said, once Damien was out of earshot. “Much more stable than that younger brother of his.”
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. We talked for an hour, about his garden, about my writing, about everything and nothing. It was so wonderfully, painfully normal. It was everything I had lost.
As we were saying goodbye, the grief I had been holding back finally overwhelmed me. I thought of my parents, of how much they would have loved to see him like this, and a tear slipped down my cheek. I tried to hide it, but my grandfather saw.
“Oh, my dear girl,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “It’ll be alright.”
I clung to him, the tears now coming freely. “I miss them, Grandpa.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Damien standing there, his face strangely devoid of its usual coldness. He passed me a clean, folded handkerchief from his breast pocket. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, a solid, silent presence, until I had cried myself out. His comfort was as unnerving as his command, a silent act of grace that I didn’t know how to process.
The ride back to the manor was silent. But it was a different kind of silence. Less tense, more thoughtful.
That evening, the fragile peace was shattered. I was in my room when I heard a familiar, hated ringtone. A new phone, identical to the last one, sat on my nightstand. Julian’s name glowed on the screen. I answered, my voice dripping with ice. "What."
"Don't hang up!" he said, his voice a strange mix of pleading and demanding. "Claire, I've been a mess. I was wrong. Okay? I was an idiot. Just… let me come see you. We can talk, we can fix this."
"There's nothing to fix, Julian," I said, my voice flat and cold. "There is no 'us' anymore."
"Don't say that!" he snapped, his temper flaring. "It was one stupid mistake! You're just going to throw away five years over nothing? Where are you? Are you at your grandfather's? I'll come right now."
Just then, my bedroom door opened. Damien stood there, a towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet, droplets of water glistening on the hard planes of his chest. He had just come from the shower. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering from my face to the phone in my hand. He said nothing, but he began to walk slowly into the room.
Julian was still talking, his voice growing more insistent. "Claire? Are you listening to me? I said I'm coming to get you—"
Damien stopped beside my bed and leaned down, his voice a low, intimate murmur meant only for me, but loud enough for the phone to pick up. "Is he bothering you?"
Julian's tirade cut off abruptly. There was a beat of pure, stunned silence from the other end of the line. Then, his voice exploded, no longer pleading, but filled with raw, snarling fury. "Who the hell was that? Claire?! Who are you with?!"
Damien’s lip curled in a humorless smile. He took the phone from my unresisting fingers, his eyes never leaving mine.
He raised it to his mouth, his voice a low, deadly purr that vibrated with absolute power.
“Who I am,” he said, “you’ll find out soon enough. And, Julian? Stay away from her. This is your only warning.”