Mira's POV
The apartment was quiet, almost painfully so.
Too quiet.
After hours of emails, calls, and urgent proposals from the Ross empire, Mira sank into the leather sofa in the living room. The city lights stretched out below her, indifferent to the storm coiling in her chest.
She rubbed her temples.
It wasn't exhaustion that had her trembling slightly—it was the memory of him.
Damion Hale.
Even in brief glimpses, his presence had an almost physical weight. A pull she couldn't ignore.
She swore she could still feel the heat of his gaze lingering, like smoke curling around her skin.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
He's closer than you think.
She threw it across the sofa.
Stop it. Stop playing games.
Her heart raced anyway.
And then… she felt it.
The air shifted.
A presence that was too still.
Too close.
Too him.
Her breath caught.
"Not possible," she whispered.
A step.
Another.
She froze.
"Good evening, Mira."
The voice came from the corner of the room, low and smooth, like velvet sliding across steel.
Her pulse spiked, and suddenly the apartment felt smaller. The walls pressed in. The shadows lengthened.
Damion Hale was standing there.
Not in a crowd. Not on some crowded street. Not at a public summit.
Here. In her apartment.
Her chest tightened. "You… How—"
"I didn't want to wait," he said calmly, stepping closer, though not close enough to touch. Not yet.
She wanted to tell him to leave.
She wanted to call her brothers.
She wanted to scream.
And yet… she didn't.
Because the way he looked at her made her body betray her mind.
Damion's POV
She hadn't moved.
Not a twitch. Not a flinch.
Perfect.
His gaze swept over her, slow, deliberate, cataloging her, memorizing her.
He wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch her shoulder, her arm, her face.
But restraint was necessary. For now.
Her pulse, subtle but there, betrayed her.
Heat pooled along the lines of her body.
The way she held herself—so defiant, yet unconsciously inviting—made centuries-old instincts snap awake.
He stepped closer, careful, controlled.
"Alone?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, voice trembling slightly despite herself.
"Good."
He didn't explain why it was good. She didn't need him to.
Because even as her rational mind screamed that he shouldn't be here, her body whispered the truth she didn't want to admit: she wanted him here.
Mira — Close Proximity
He was only a foot away now.
The faint scent of his cologne—or was it something more primal, darker?—hit her like a physical wave.
Her stomach twisted. Her chest heaved.
She hated herself for responding so strongly.
"What do you want, Damion?" she asked, forcing the words out in a sharp, brittle tone.
"To see you," he said simply, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, knowing curve.
"You're… dangerous," she said, half-stern, half-whisper.
He tilted his head, dark eyes glinting. "You've said that before."
"Yes. And you are."
He smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly, the kind of smile that made her knees weak and her thoughts scatter.
"I enjoy danger," he murmured. "Especially when it's… interesting."
She inhaled sharply. The words, the tone, the nearness—all of it set fire to something inside her she didn't want to name.
Damion — Observation & Obsession
He could see every micro-expression.
Every tightening of her jaw, every flicker of hesitation, every bite of her lip.
Every pulse of excitement that she didn't want him to notice.
And he noticed all of it.
And he liked all of it.
Magnus had no idea what he was getting into.
No idea.
Damion didn't like to share.
And Mira… she was his now, even if she didn't know it.
Even if she fought it.
He stepped even closer—still not touching, but enough that the warmth of him brushed her skin.
The heat of him made her gasp silently.
"I shouldn't be here," he said, low, almost a warning.
"Yet I am," he added, almost a promise.
Mira — Conflicted Desire
Her body responded before her mind did.
Heat pooled, her stomach twisted, a fluttering she couldn't ignore.
Her rational side screamed, he's dangerous, leave, run, call someone.
Her heart whispered, stay, just a moment longer, feel this.
She swallowed, her throat dry. "Why are you here?"
"Because you fascinate me," he said simply.
His gaze locked on hers.
"You. Your mind. Your defiance. You refuse to be controlled. And that… is rare."
Heat, raw and dangerous, shot through her chest.
"I… I don't know what to say," she admitted, voice faltering.
He smiled faintly. Not a charming smile. Not a flirtatious one.
A predatory, knowing smile that made every nerve in her body stand at attention.
"You'll find words," he murmured. "Eventually."
Stalker Hint
A shadow flickered outside her apartment window.
A camera lens, perhaps.
Or just a trick of the city lights.
She didn't notice it, focused entirely on him.
But Damion did.
And he tensed slightly, nostrils flaring with the scent of someone else—watching, waiting, encroaching.
"Not tonight," he muttered under his breath, almost imperceptibly.
Closing Beat — The Dangerous Pull
The night stretched on.
Neither of them moved closer, and yet the space between them hummed with tension so thick it could have been sliced with a knife.
Mira's pulse thundered.
Her thoughts twisted.
Her body ached with the dangerous curiosity she couldn't shake.
Damion's gaze burned into her.
Controlled. Patient.
Yet impossibly close to breaking.
And in that small, intimate space, the unspoken words—the desire, the obsession, the slow-burn fire—settled between them like smoke.
Neither could deny it.
Neither could stop it.
And far below, Magnus lingered, watching the edges of the city from somewhere else, curiosity piqued, irritation brewing.