MIRA
Damion didn't grab me.
He didn't drag me.
He didn't even touch me beyond the light grip on my elbow, but somehow his presence made the world feel like it had narrowed into a tunnel with only one direction: wherever he decided we were going.
I should have been terrified.
Maybe I was.
But not of him.
Not right now.
It was the man in the parking lot.
It was the message on my phone.
He's watching you.
Run.
I didn't run then.
I stood frozen like someone had poured ice through my veins and locked me in place.
But now, following Damion into the building again, I felt heat return to my limbs — not comfort, but something sharper. Something that made me feel alive even in fear's shadow.
The hallway was empty.
Too empty.
Damion stopped just inside the door, letting it shut behind us with a soft, ominous click.
I turned toward him.
His face was shadowed, unreadable except for the fury simmering behind his eyes. Not loud fury. Not explosive. But the quiet, deadly kind.
"Damion—"
He lifted a hand.
Silence.
Not a command.
Not forceful.
Just… purposeful.
"Sit," he said quietly, gesturing toward a chair near the wall.
"I'm not a child," I snapped, voice sharper than I intended.
One corner of his mouth twitched — not amusement exactly, but something like it. "If I wanted to treat you like a child, Mira, trust me… you'd know."
Heat flared unexpectedly in my chest.
I should not react to that.
I absolutely should not react to that.
But the way he said it… the low certainty… the undertone… my body betrayed me before my brain could get a grip.
I sat.
Damion paced once, twice, then stopped directly in front of me.
His intensity filled the room.
Filled the air.
Filled my lungs.
"What did you feel when you saw that man?" he asked.
"Afraid," I whispered. "But also confused. Because… he didn't move. He didn't speak. He just watched me."
Damion nodded slowly, jaw tightening.
"And the message?" he asked. "What did it make you think?"
"That someone knows more than I do. About me. About him. About… this."
I gestured weakly between us, unsure what "this" even meant.
His eyes dropped to my hand.
Then rose again to my face.
"Mira… does it frighten you being near me?"
I inhaled like he'd yanked the breath out of me.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He was waiting.
"I don't know," I finally said, the truth spilling out before I could dress it in something safer. "It feels like you're too much. Too close. Too intense. And I don't know what to do with that."
His jaw flexed once.
"Good," he said quietly.
Good?
How the hell was that good?
Before I could ask, he crouched down so we were eye level, his face closer than it had ever been without touching me.
"You should feel something," he murmured. "Fear. Heat. Confusion. Desire. I don't care what it is. I just need you to stop pretending you feel nothing."
I stopped breathing.
Because — damn him — he was right.
I did feel something.
Too many things.
All tangled and dangerous.
I opened my mouth to speak—
I didn't get the chance.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Damion's gaze snapped to the side, and in one swift movement he stood, stepping between me and the sound before the fear in my chest even reached my throat.
"Stay behind me," he murmured.
Oh God.
The footsteps grew louder.
My heart crawled up into my mouth.
Then—
"Damion?"
A voice.
Familiar.
Annoyingly familiar.
Magnus.
Damion's spine stiffened, irritation slicing through the tension like a clean cut. Then he exhaled, the edge of danger withdrawing — not vanishing, just settling lower.
He turned slightly, still blocking me with his body without thinking.
Magnus slowed when he saw us, his brows pulling together.
"Why do you look like you're about to murder someone?" Magnus asked, tone deceptively light.
Damion didn't turn fully toward him.
"Because I might."
Magnus frowned, his gaze flicking to me. "Mira? Are you alright?"
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I meant it.
Damion didn't like that.
His voice dropped. "She's fine."
Magnus raised a brow. "I wasn't asking you."
The air shifted.
Hard.
Damion moved slightly, positioning himself even more firmly between us, like Magnus being concerned about me was somehow a threat.
"Magnus," Damion said, voice low, "now is not the time."
"Actually," Magnus countered, crossing his arms, "it seems exactly like the time."
Damion turned fully now — slow, deliberate.
"If you're here to pick a fight," Damion warned softly, "choose a different night. I'm not in the mood to go easy on you."
They stared at each other — two different storms.
One cold and analytical.
One hot and dangerous.
I swallowed.
"Damion," I whispered.
He responded instantly, his head tilting just enough to acknowledge me.
"Let it go," I said. "Please."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he breathed out, slow, controlled.
And—
Not for Magnus.
Not for reason.
Not for logic.
He stepped back for me.
Magnus's eyes flicked between us, confusion and irritation dancing together.
"What's going on?" Magnus demanded.
Before I could think of a lie, Damion answered.
"She was followed."
Magnus's expression transformed — shock first, then anger, then something frighteningly protective.
"What do you mean followed?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Damion said.
"No," Magnus said sharply. "She needs to tell me. Not you."
Damion's temper spiked like a visible flame.
But Magnus wasn't backing down.
"Mira," Magnus said, voice gentler, "what happened?"
Damion turned his head, waiting.
I inhaled shakily.
"I… someone sent me a message. Told me not to go home. Said I was being watched. And then I saw a man in the parking lot…"
Magnus's face darkened.
"Why the hell didn't you call someone?" he asked.
"I didn't even have time."
Damion spoke before Magnus could continue.
"She's not leaving with you."
Magnus stared at him. "I didn't say she was."
"You were thinking it."
"You can't decide that for her."
Damion didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Mira," he said quietly, "tell him."
Tell him what?
That I was scared?
That I didn't want to be alone?
That Damion made me feel protected in a way that terrified me too?
I shook my head — not at him, not at Magnus, but at myself.
"I'm staying," I said softly.
Magnus blinked. "With him?"
"Yes."
Damion didn't react.
Not outwardly.
But something satisfied glinted in his eyes — not possessive exactly, but something territorial.
Magnus opened his mouth, closed it, then muttered something under his breath and walked away, clearly furious but unwilling to drag me into it.
The second he was gone, Damion turned back to me.
"You made the right choice."
"Don't start," I murmured.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Close enough that the warmth of him wrapped around me again, even though he wasn't touching me.
"I'm not gloating, Mira."
"Then what are you doing?"
He leaned in.
"Protecting what's mine."
I froze.
Not because of the word —
But because of the way he said it.
Rough.
Low.
Like the admission was dragged straight out of his chest.
"I'm not yours," I whispered, voice shaking in ways I didn't want him to hear.
He smiled.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Hot.
"Not yet."
My pulse stuttered.
His hand lifted — not to touch me, but to hover near my jaw, his fingers tracing the air like he could feel my skin without contact.
"But you will say my name again," he murmured, voice like velvet dipped in fire. "And you will feel it. Here…"
His fingertips came closer — barely not touching my throat.
"And here…"
Near my collarbone.
"And especially here…"
His hand hovered near my waist.
My breath trembled out of me.
"Damion," I whispered.
He inhaled like the sound fed something starving inside him.
"Good," he said softly. "Say it again."
"Damion…"
A low sound left him — almost a growl.
"You don't even realize what you're doing to me."
He stepped closer, our bodies a breath apart.
"Mira," he whispered. "Look at me."
I did.
And something in his eyes…
Something unguarded and raw…
Something real…
Pulled a truth out of me I wasn't ready to admit.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"Of me?" he asked.
I swallowed.
"No. Of what you make me feel."
He closed his eyes for one slow moment.
Then opened them.
And all the softness vanished, replaced by a darkness that drew me forward instead of pushing me away.
"Then don't run from it," he whispered. "Come closer."
I did.
God help me, I did.
His breath brushed my cheek.
His presence wrapped around me.
His hands hovered, still not touching, but the space between us felt like a held breath ready to break.
"Mira…"
"Damion…"
He leaned in.
And then—
A crash echoed down the hallway.
We both jerked our heads toward the sound.
Damion's entire body shifted into threat-mode.
He grabbed my hand — the first real touch since earlier — and pulled me behind him.
The footsteps were heavy.
Rushed.
Wrong.
My stomach twisted.
Damion whispered one word.
"Stay."
Then he stepped forward.
I didn't stay.
I followed.
We reached the corner of the hallway, and—
A shadow moved fast.
Too fast.
A figure dashed out the exit door, disappearing into the night.
Damion sprinted after him, but the door slammed shut just before he reached it.
He yanked it open.
Gone.
I reached him, breath shaky. "Who was that?"
He didn't answer.
He turned toward me.
His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them.
"Mira," he said, voice low and deadly calm, "you're not going home tonight."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Where am I going then?"
His answer was immediate.
"With me."