The encounter in the hallway left me deeply unsettled. Damien had seen too much. He’d seen the raw, unguarded parts of me, and the knowledge that he possessed that emotional ammunition was terrifying. I expected him to use it, to mock me or press his advantage.
Instead, he disappeared again.
For two days, the manor was silent. I was left alone with my thoughts, my fear, and the ghost of his presence in the bathroom mirror. The shame of my body’s reaction to him was a constant, burning heat in my cheeks. I was his prisoner, his captive. I had no right to feel that… that jolt of awareness. It felt like a betrayal of myself.
On the evening of the second day, Edgar appeared at my door. “Mr. Blackwood requests your presence for dinner, Miss. In the formal dining room.”
My heart did a nervous flutter. This was different. Not a summons to his office or a cold command at the breakfast table. This felt… deliberate.
I found him waiting, not at the head of the impossibly long table, but at a much smaller, round table set for two near the warmth of a crackling fireplace. The scene was surprisingly intimate, softened by the flickering candlelight that made his golden eyes gleam like a predator’s.
I sat down, my spine rigid. I was determined not to show any weakness.
Edgar served the meal in silence. The moment he placed the plate in front of me, I froze. It was Coq au Vin, a rich, complex dish my mother used to make for special occasions. It was my absolute favorite. And next to it, a small bowl of roasted asparagus with lemon zest, exactly the way I liked it. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was a message.
I looked up at Damien, my confusion warring with my suspicion. “How did you know?”
“I know everything about you, Claire,” he said, his voice a low, matter-of-fact rumble. “I know you’re a screenwriter who’s sold two scripts but is still waiting for one to be produced. I know your favorite flower is the stargazer lily. I know you’re allergic to penicillin. And I know that for five years, you settled for a boy who never once bothered to learn your favorite meal.”
Each word was a carefully aimed dart, striking with pinpoint accuracy. The last one hit the hardest, a direct, brutal comparison to Julian’s careless neglect. He was showing me, without saying it, what real attention felt like. What real power could provide. It was a calculated move, a reminder of who was in control, and it was devastatingly effective.
We ate in a tense silence. The food was exquisite, a bittersweet taste of a life I no longer had. After the plates were cleared, Damien rose and gestured for me to follow him into the adjoining study. It was a deeply masculine room, all dark leather and the scent of old books and whiskey.
He walked to the tall windows overlooking the sprawling estate grounds, his hands clasped behind his back. The moonlight cast his profile in sharp relief, making him look even more like a creature from another world.
"You are safer here than you have ever been," he said without looking at me. "In this house, in my territory, no one can touch you. The walls are warded. The grounds are patrolled. My pack knows you are under my protection."
"Why?" I asked, the question bursting out before I could stop it. "Why go to all this trouble for… for someone like me? I'm nothing to you."
He turned then, his golden eyes capturing mine with an intensity that stole my breath. "You underestimate yourself, Claire. And you underestimate what I'm willing to do to keep what's mine."
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was fear or something far more dangerous.
He took a step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back, my body colliding with the edge of his desk. He didn't stop. He kept advancing until he was close—too close—his hands coming down on either side of me, caging me in.
"I will protect you," he said, his voice dropping to a low, hypnotic growl that seemed to vibrate through my entire body. "From my world, from your past, from any threat that dares to come near you. Do you understand?"
I could only nod, my voice stolen by the heat radiating from his body, by the intoxicating scent of him—wild and earthy and utterly male.
His gaze dropped to my lips, and my breath caught. The air between us crackled with a sudden, thick tension. He was leaning in. Closer. I could feel the intention in the air, thick and suffocating. My heart was a frantic, wild drum against my ribs.
Then, without meaning to, I turned my head away. It was a tiny, involuntary movement—a reflexive avoidance—but in the charged, suffocating silence, it felt like a rejection.
He went absolutely still. For a long, torturous moment, neither of us moved. I could still feel the heat of him, the proximity of his body to mine. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled back.
The warmth was gone, replaced by a sudden, almost painful chill. When he spoke again, his voice was once more cool and controlled, though I thought I detected a rough edge to it. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be… demanding."
I seized the opportunity to escape, my legs shaky as I moved toward the door. But before I could leave, I turned back. I had to ask. I had to know.
"I want to see my grandfather."
His golden eyes narrowed. “I am aware.”
“You saw how much it meant to me,” I pressed on, emboldened by a surge of desperation. “He’s old, he’s alone. Please. I need to see him, in person.”
He regarded me for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. “Favors are not given freely in my world, Claire. They are earned. Everything has a price.”
“What price?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He took a step towards me, his gaze intense, pinning me in place.
“You want the freedom to step back into your old world, even for an hour?” he said, his voice a low, dangerous challenge. “Then show me your value. Show me what makes a human special enough for me, the Alpha of the Blackwood pack, to break the ancient laws for.”