Chapter Four – The First Bite
1059 Words
The rooftop was a battlefield. Not of steel and blood, but of restraint.
Damian stood inches from Selene, the wolf in him straining like a beast on a chain. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, golden eyes glowing in the dark. Selene mirrored him, trembling with hunger, her fangs pressing sharp against her lower lip.
They shouldn’t be here.
He was Alpha, heir to centuries of wolf blood. She was High Court, sworn enemy, predator of a different breed. Their clans would sooner burn the city than allow what was pulsing between them.
But the night didn’t care. The hunger didn’t care.
Selene moved first.
A flash of satin and shadow, and she slammed Damian back against the stone wall of the rooftop garden, her palms braced against his chest. The growl that ripped from him was half threat, half desire, his hands closing hard around her waist.
“You’re insane,” he rasped, but he didn’t push her away.
Her lips brushed the curve of his jaw, slow, taunting. “So are you.”
His wolf roared inside him, claws digging at his ribs. He could smell her hunger, taste it, the sharp tang of need as her fangs grazed his skin. One wrong move and this would end in blood and ruin.
But when her mouth trailed lower, toward his throat, Damian tilted his head back.
An invitation.
Selene froze for half a heartbeat, her control shattering. She had fed thousands of times, killed hundreds more. Never once had she hesitated. But this… this was different.
“Damian,” she whispered, her voice breaking like glass.
He gripped her hair, forcing her face closer. His words were a growl against her ear. “Do it.”
Her fangs sank into him.
The world shattered.
Heat surged through her mouth, flooding her veins like fire and moonlight. His blood was nothing like human—richer, wilder, laced with power that made her body quake. Every pull was intoxicating, every swallow a sin she didn’t want to stop committing.
Damian’s growl turned to a ragged groan, his hands crushing her waist as his wolf howled. Pain and pleasure tangled, his instincts screaming to tear her apart even as his body pressed closer. Her lips were hot against his throat, her body trembling against his, and every pulse of blood that left him seemed to bind them tighter.
Selene gasped against his skin, her fangs slick with his life, her entire being burning with the taste of him. “Gods…” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re—”
Her words dissolved into another hungry pull.
Damian slammed her harder against the wall, his mouth finding hers with feral heat. The kiss was brutal, blood still between them, their hunger spilling into something darker, hotter. Their teeth clashed, lips bruising, tongues tangling with the taste of iron and fire.
He should have hated her. She should have destroyed him. Instead, they devoured each other.
When they broke apart, both panting, Selene’s eyes glowed crimson, Damian’s gold. Predator and predator, yet neither moved to finish the kill.
Selene’s fingers traced the wound on his throat, now already closing with supernatural speed. “You let me.”
His jaw clenched, his breath ragged. “I wanted you to.”
“You’re a fool,” she whispered.
“Maybe,” Damian growled, pulling her closer again, “but so are you.”
She laughed, low and broken, even as she pressed against him. “This changes everything.”
“No,” Damian said, though his voice was rough, betraying the lie. “It changes nothing.”
But even as the words left his mouth, they both knew the truth.
Something had shifted. Something neither of them could undo.
⸻
Later, when Selene finally left the rooftop, she staggered into the shadows like a woman reborn and ruined all at once. Her body thrummed with his blood, her lips still swollen from his kiss. She should have felt triumphant, victorious, stronger than she had in a century.
Instead, she felt… bound.
Because Damian Blackthorn’s blood wasn’t just in her veins now.
He was under her skin.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. The High Court, demanding her report, demanding progress.
She stared out over the city, chest rising and falling, fangs aching still from the bite.
“Progress,” she murmured bitterly, the taste of him still hot on her tongue.
If they only knew how much progress she had made.
⸻
Damian didn’t sleep that night either.
He sat in his office, shirt abandoned, staring at the faint mark on his throat in the glass reflection. It was nearly gone, healed by the wolf inside him. But he could still feel it—the phantom echo of her mouth, her fangs, her kiss.
Marcus stormed in without knocking, face thunderous.
“You reek of her,” he spat.
Damian didn’t deny it.
“Tell me you didn’t—” Marcus’s voice broke off, disbelief warring with rage. “Damian. She fed on you.”
“She did,” Damian said calmly.
Marcus’s fists clenched. “That’s a bond. Do you even understand what you’ve done? A vampire’s bite isn’t just blood—it ties you. Marks you. You’ve invited her into you.”
“I know,” Damian said, his voice steady, though his chest still burned with the truth of it.
Marcus stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “She’ll use it. She’ll use you. And when the Court finds out—”
“Then let them,” Damian growled, his wolf flashing hot through his eyes. “Because if she belongs to them, she belongs to me now too.”
Marcus’s face paled. “Alpha… this isn’t war anymore. This is suicide.”
Damian turned back to the glass, watching the faint scar fade from his throat.
“Maybe,” he murmured. “Or maybe it’s the only way to win.”
⸻
Across the city, Selene sank into her bed, staring at the ceiling with wide, sleepless eyes. Her body still hummed with the memory of him, her blood singing like a dangerous new song.
She had bitten him. She had crossed the line she swore she never would.
And gods help her… she wanted more.
- Writer
