Chapter 2
1830 Words
The air seemed to get even colder as the rogue snarled, breath rancid with the scent of old blood. It had been feeding.
Damien whirled, ignoring the searing pain in his back. His blood burned, the rogue’s venom latching onto his cells, trying to take hold.
It wouldn’t.
It never could.
Pure untainted vampire blood ran through Damien's veins because his kind were given birth to and not turned.
Those alien genes had given the Breed great strengths and invisibility. And with the invulnerability came others who sought after it, other beastly creatures that hunted vampires, fed on them under the full moon and made themselves abominations. They became neither werewolves nor vampires, but mindless rogues who would kill without caution.
This broke the rule of their existence and put the order at risk. As a male who enjoyed his pleasures, Damien wasn't sure what he preferred more: a warm, juicy female vein under his mouth, or the feel of titanium-edged steel in his hand as he sliced into his enemies and dispatched them to dust in the street.
The rogue wolves were once ordinary shifters—until they fed on vampire blood. The taint of it corrupted them, twisted them into something unnatural—neither werewolf nor vampire, but a mutation of both, a mistake that could never be undone.
And now this f*****g mongrel had dared to touch him.
Damien’s fangs gleamed in the dim light, golden eyes narrowing with deadly intent.
The rogue lunged again—but Damien was faster.
He dodged left, pivoting sharply, his muscles moving with inhuman speed as he struck. His blade flashed—titanium-edged, forged for one purpose.
The rogue barely had time to snarl before Damien’s dagger sliced clean through its throat.
It hit the ground in a heap, body twitching. Damien pressed a boot against its heaving chest, watching as the light in its yellow eyes flickered, then faded to nothing.
Ash.
The rogue crumbled beneath his foot, disintegrating into dust.
Damien exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his own blood already stitching the torn flesh closed.
Then—the scent hit him again.
Fainter now, almost gone.
It had been here, somewhere so close—
And then, just like that, it had disappeared.
His pulse pounded, his jaw clenched. “What the f**k is this, and why is it affecting me like this?” he muttered.
Damien didn’t know who she was.
Didn’t know what she was.
But one thing was certain.
He was going to find her.
And when he did—
He wasn’t sure if he was going to devour the creature.
Or claim her.
~~~
Amelia had no idea why she walked past Eclipse that night.
She wasn’t looking for anything. It had just been a restless impulse, a need to stretch her legs and breathe in the city air.
Boston was still new, still strange. The streets had their own rhythm, a pulse different from what she was used to in Portland. Even late at night, the city was alive—cars rushing past, laughter spilling from bars, neon signs flickering in the darkness.
Then she saw the club.
Eclipse.
The name glowed in elegant, dark lettering above the entrance, and the bass from inside thrummed in her chest. The people waiting in line were sleek, fashionable, exuding a kind of energy that made her feel like an outsider just for looking.
She had no reason to stop.
And yet, something in her wanted to.
Her feet slowed. Her pulse kicked up. A strange sensation curled in her stomach—like something was pulling at her, luring her closer.
It didn’t make sense.
With a small shake of her head, she forced herself to keep walking.
She cut through the alley beside the club, taking the shortcut home. It was empty, the sounds of the city muffled here, distant. The scent of damp pavement and cigarette smoke lingered in the air.
And underneath it, something else.
Something she couldn't name.
A whisper of a scent that made the hairs on her arms rise, made her stomach tighten with something almost like... anticipation.
She didn’t look back.
Didn’t stop until she was inside her apartment, locking the door behind her.
Even then, she couldn't shake the feeling, that strong feeling of unease.
The next week, Amelia arrived at her job appointment with a flutter of nerves in her chest.
She had spent weeks researching this place, dreaming about what it would be like to work here.
She had just completed her training few months out of the University and applied to a few companies on a whim, just to try her luck and all five of them had accepted her to work for them and with good pay too.
She remembered how she grinned brightly as she opened the email to a particular company she's been eyeing months before she even graduated. CENTURIES HOLDING COMPANY. It was the company of her dreams, she was ready to show them what she was capable of. She scanned through the email with ecstasy but when her eyes rolled down to the position she was being offered and the pay she screamed and gaped at the screen like a fish out of water.
She had accepted almost immediately. Her parents were over the moon in glee, it was a bitter sweet celebration because she had to be in Boston in a week.
It was the first week in November and Boston was beginning to get quite cold and she hadn't prepared for that kind of weather, what she prepared for on the other hand was the apartment she'll be staying in. It was a cozy little apartment but when she was alone in it after the caretaker had showed her in a week ago, it seemed awfully large.
She looked over the schedule she was sent to start with and she was almost overwhelmed. Amelia got out of her white Toyota Prius and sighed.
Standing in the sleek, glass-walled lobby, she felt both excitement and the crushing weight of don’t screw this up.
The receptionist greeted her with a warm smile, and within minutes, a woman with blonde hair and a confident stride approached her.
"Hi," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Sarah. Come with me, please."
Amelia shook her hand, falling into step beside her.
"First-day jitters?" Sarah asked knowingly.
Amelia let out a nervous chuckle. "Something like that."
Sarah gave her a reassuring smile, but her next words sent a small ripple of unease through Amelia’s chest.
"He’ll know if you’re nervous."
How? She wanted to ask.
Before she could ask, they reached a pair of large, imposing doors. Sarah turned to her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and smiled. "Good luck."
Then she pushed the doors open.
Amelia stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was the sheer size of the office. It was massive, with a breathtaking view of the city skyline framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. The furniture was dark, sleek, expensive. The air smelled like leather and something subtly spiced.
But it wasn’t the room that made her breath hitch.
It was the man sitting behind the desk.
She could barely make out his features at first, the light from the windows casting him in shadows. But the presence he exuded was unmistakable—powerful, commanding, utterly untouchable.
Sarah’s voice cut through the silence. "Sir, Miss Amelia."
Amelia swallowed, trying to gather herself.
She took a step forward but, got the next one wrong and before she could stop it, she tripped.
Her body lurched forward, colliding with the edge of a glass table between two meeting sofas. Papers flew from her hands, scattering across the polished floor.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
"s**t," she whispered, wincing as she scrambled to gather her documents.
"Oh my god!" Sarah gasped. "Are you okay?"
Amelia barely heard her.
Because when she looked up—
She met his eyes.
Amber-brown. Piercing. Burning.
Something in them made her breath catch, made the room feel suddenly smaller.
His jaw was clenched. His hands were curled into tight fists on the desk, as if he were forcing himself to stay seated.
Why?
Damien knew why.
The moment she stepped into the room, her scent hit him like a f*****g punch to the gut.
It was her.
The woman he'd beed searching for.
The one that had driven him to the edge, that had burrowed under his skin and refused to leave. And now she was standing in front of him—her presence curling around him like a trap, like a cruel joke from fate itself.
His fangs ached. His muscles coiled.
He wanted—
No. f**k no.
Damien forced his gaze away, fingers tightening against the desk as he struggled for control.
He couldn’t have her here. Couldn’t have her scent everywhere.
She recovered from the fall and got her documents together but his face was still filled with irritation.
Sarah ushered Amelia to the waiting room and brought her a coffee she couldn't drink.
His voice was sharp when he spoke. "Nathan."
The door opened almost instantly, as if the man had been waiting outside.
Nathan Calloway, Damien’s friend and the company’s managing director, strode inside, brows lifting slightly as he took in the scene.
His gaze flickered from Amelia in the waiting room and to Damien’s stiff posture.
And then he smirked.
"Rough first impression?" Nathan drawled.
Damien exhaled sharply, irritation flickering over his face. "I asked you for someone competent, Sarah."
Sarah stiffened beside him. "She is competent, sir. She just had a small accident—"
"If she were, she wouldn’t have tripped over the f*****g table." His voice was colder than before, a razor-sharp edge of finality in it.
Amelia felt her stomach drop.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she placed the coffee Sarah had given her onto the table. Her first day, and she was already about to be fired.
Nathan, however, was unfazed.
He plucked Amelia’s file from the desk, flipping through it lazily. "She’s well-qualified," he noted. "You’d be making a mistake if you turned her away."
Damien scoffed. "I don’t care."
Nathan leaned against the desk. "How about this—give her today. If she isn’t good, you can fire her."
Damien exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "That’s a waste of f*****g time."
"I’ll take full responsibility," Nathan countered smoothly.
Damien’s jaw ticked. Silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, he waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. One day."
Nathan smirked. "I’ll let her know."
As he and Sarah turned to leave, Damien clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose.
Her scent still lingered, curling through the air, wrapping around him like a f*****g noose.
His fangs throbbed. His instincts screamed.
And for the first time in centuries, Damien felt something disturbingly close to fear.
Because if one single day in her presence already felt like this—
What the hell was he supposed to do if she stayed?
- Writer
