Chapter 3: Signed in Blood
471 Words
The pen felt heavier than it should have.
Aria stared at the marriage contract spread across Damian’s desk. Gold embossed paper. Lawyer language she couldn’t pronounce. And at the bottom, a line waiting for her signature in red ink.
“Sign it,” Damian said. He wasn’t asking.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, back to her. Tailored black suit, shoulders broad enough to block the moonlight. The city glowed behind him, but all she could hear was the low growl vibrating in his chest.
“I don’t even know you,” she whispered. Her fingers trembled around the pen. “This is insane. Marriages aren’t contracts you force”
He turned then. Slow. Like a predator deciding if prey was worth chasing.
Damian Ashford wasn’t human. Not fully. The way his eyes flashed silver when he was angry proved that.
“Insane?” His voice dropped. “Your father sold my company’s debt to my enemies to save his own skin. Mine is the only name keeping you out of a cage, Aria. This marriage isn’t a choice. It’s protection.”
Protection. Right. The same man who’d dragged her into this glass tower 3 hours ago after the boardroom ambush.
Aria’s eyes flicked to the door. Too far. To the windows. 40 floors up. To him. Standing between her and everything.
“I’d rather take my chances,” she said, but the words came out smaller than she wanted.
Damian crossed the room in two steps. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. The air went cold when his wolf surfaced.
“Then take them,” he murmured, leaning close enough that she could see the faint scar cutting through his left brow. “But know this, little human. The moment my name leaves your lips as my wife, no one touches you again. Not your father’s debt collectors. Not the Council. Not even me… unless you beg for it.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and the red ink pen warmed like it recognized his scent.
Outside, wolves howled. Somewhere far below. Or maybe inside his chest.
Aria looked at the contract. Then at Damian’s silver eyes.
Her hand shook as she signed.
The second the ink dried, something ancient snapped into place. A claim. A bond. A chain she didn’t understand yet.
Damian’s jaw tightened. He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.
“Mate,” he said, so quiet she almost missed it. Not a word. A vow.
He took the contract, rolled it, and tucked it inside his jacket, right over his heart.
“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Ashford,” he said. “The honeymoon starts now.”
And then he lifted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
The elevator doors slid shut behind them.
To be continued...
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