Immortal Hunger

Damned Temptation

The phone chimed at midnight. Wet fog hissed against the cold window glass.

​Aleksandra stared at the glowing screen. Hunter Valerian.

​She should hang up. Swipe red. Bury her face under the pillows and pretend the world didn't exist. Instead, her thumb hit green. She pressed the receiver to her ear, her heart hammering against her ribs.

​„Aleksandra.“

​Low. Heavy. Cutting through the dark like a blade.

​„Mr. Valerian. It's past midnight.“

​„Don't keep standard hours, Alex. Neither do you.“ A slow, amused pause. „And we agreed on Hunter. I need to go over architectural adjustments before my team pulls permits. Tomorrow. Ten o'clock.

​She leaned her head back against the cold front door. „We agreed on Thursday. I'm in San Francisco, and the site—“

​„I’m in the city. The Napa villa is just a passion project, Alex. My primary operations are out of the Financial District.“

​„I have appointments at my firm—“

​„Cancel them.“ Not a raised voice, but a ruthless weight that stopped her breath. „My office, top floor of Valerian Tower. Ten sharp. Don't be late.“

​„Hunter, listen—“

​„I’m looking forward to seeing how you look in the light of day, Alex,“ he rasped, his warm breath burning against the speaker. „Get some sleep. You sound breathless.“

​Click. Line dead.

​Hot static rushed through her veins. Why hadn't she refused? Why did every word he spoke strip away her control, leaving her terrified not of him, but of her own traitorous body?

​She lifted her left hand. Streetlamp light caught the sharp, cruel edges of David’s ring. Guilt slammed her gut.

​Valerian Tower rose into the overcast San Francisco sky like a dark monolith.

​At 9:55 AM, Aleksandra stepped out of the high-speed elevator into the top-floor penthouse. Vast, minimalist, suffocatingly quiet. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooked the foggy bay. Polished obsidian floors. Amber lighting.

​Her heels clicked sharply against the stone. Inside her coat pocket, her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. A dull ache throbbed in her cheek beneath heavy foundation—a brutal, burning reminder of her mother’s hand from the night before.

​„Ms. Green?“ A poised assistant gestured toward double matte-black doors. „Mr. Valerian is waiting.“

​She swallowed hard, smoothed her cream blazer, and pushed the doors open.

​Hunter stood behind a massive desk of raw, dark timber. Crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal dark ink creeping past his cuffs. His dark eyes locked onto her instantly.

​„Aleksandra. You're prompt.“

​„I take contracts seriously, Mr. Valerian.“ She unzipped her leather portfolio, slamming her physical plans onto the timber. „I brought updated structural schematics for the east wing. There are spatial flow adjustments we need to address—“

​„Alex. Forget the formalities.“ A dry smirk.

​„Fine, Hunter.“ Her throat was dry dust.

​„Sit down.“

​„I prefer to stand.“

​He walked around the desk. Too close. The heavy scent of sandalwood, wet rain, and dark timber invaded her lungs. She leaned against the edge of the desk, pulling the blueprints up like a paper shield.

​„The vaulted arches,“ she rushed out, pointing at the blue lines. „If we reinforce the load-bearing stone here, we open up the floor plan to create the atmospheric depth you asked for...“

​„I don't just want atmospheric depth, Alex.“ His voice dropped into a low, velvet purr as he leaned down, his palm slamming flat onto the plan inches from her fingers. „I need the lower level completely redesigned. The east vaults need an intimate, secluded spa. Heavy stone, subterranean water pools, total sensory isolation.“

​„A private spa? That requires specialized drainage and subterranean moisture barriers—

​„I don't care about the engineering obstacles,“ he rasped, his gaze shifting from the paper straight to her face. „I want a space where people step in and lose track of time, safety, and control. Absolute privacy.“

​She trailed off. Mouth dry.

​Hunter wasn't looking at the blue lines. He was watching her. His dark eyes traced her jawline, lingering on the subtle swelling hidden beneath her makeup, before dropping to her hands pressed against the desk.

​Then, his gaze locked.

​The air in the room plummeted.

​On her left hand, the three-carat diamond flashed cold and blinding under the recessed lights.

​A lethal, terrifying flash of fury flickered in Hunter’s eyes—gone as fast as it appeared, swallowed back into an abyss of cold control.

​He reached out and caught her left wrist. Broad, heavy, inescapable grip.

​„What is this?“ he asked, his voice dropping into a deadly rumble.

​She tried to pull back. „It's an engagement ring, Hunter. David and I—

​„An engagement,“ he sneered. He dropped her wrist, stepping closer, trapping her against the edge of the desk. „You let him put a leash on you.“

​„It is not a leash!“ she snapped, cheeks flushing hot with rage. „It is my life! Built on stability, on family—“

​„Are you sure about your choice, Alex?“ He towered over her, his shadow blotting out the room. „Look me in the eye and tell me you love him.“

​„I don't have to prove my feelings to a client.“

​„You can't say it.“ His eyes narrowed. „Because you don't love him. You're settling for a safe, quiet grave because you've built a box and David holds the key.“

​„You know nothing about me!"

​„I know you're suffocating.“ His voice dropped to a hypnotic whisper. „You don't need a man who treats you like custom furniture to sit in his living room. You need someone who stokes your fire and lets you burn until you explode.“

​Aleksandra’s throat locked. The exact words she had screamed at her mother echoed back from his lips. Panic slammed her chest.

​„You're out of line!“ She shoved her palms hard against his chest. „Who the hell do you think you are?!“

​„Someone who actually dares to tell you the truth.“

​Before she could draw breath, Hunter yanked her flush against his body. Impact knocked the air out of her lungs. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest. Scorching heat burned through her clothes.

​She froze. Head whipped back, eyes wide and wild.

​Hunter leaned down, face inches from hers. His thumb caught her chin, tilting her up until his mouth hovered a fraction of a millimeter away. Warm breath brushed her lips. Sandalwood and rain.

​Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Her stomach flipped in a violent, desperate surge of desire. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs—not with fear, but with a terrifying, primal hunger.

​„If you're so sure about your choice, Alex...“ he whispered right against her lips, dark triumph thick in his tone. „...then why do you fit so perfectly into my arms? And why aren't you pulling away?“

​Reality crashed over her. He was right. She wasn't pulling away.

​„Let go of me!“ she choked out, shoving both hands against his shoulders with all her remaining strength.

​Hunter released her instantly, stepping back with calm, predatory grace.

​She stumbled backward, hand flying to her chest. Lips tingling. Body shaking uncontrollably.

​„Keep your distance, Mr. Valerian,“ she spat, voice trembling with fury and terror. „Do not ever lay a hand on me again.“

​She grabbed her portfolio, turned, and fled.

​Her heels clattered wildly against the stone corridor. She slammed her thumb against the elevator call button, breathing in ragged gasps. He knows I'm living a lie.

​The doors slid open. She threw herself inside, frantically pressing the ground floor button.

​As the heavy steel doors began to glide shut, she looked up.

​Hunter stood outside his office doors in the amber light. Tall, dark, unbothered. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

​And as the doors narrowed to a thin slit, Aleksandra watched his hand move.

​Dangled loosely between his fingers was a long ribbon of cream silk—the scarf she had left behind. Hunter raised his hand slowly, bringing the silk to his mouth and inhaling her scent right before the steel doors sealed shut with a heavy, final thud.