Episode 12
1537 Words
They shut the door. They Locked me inside.
I ran to the door immediately, pounding my fists against the wood.
“Let me out! You can’t keep me here!.
"Somebody help me” I shouted thinking someone could save me but only silence and my ragged breathe filled the room.
I turned, my back pressed to the door, eyes darting across the space. The king-sized bed, the velvet curtains, the tall windows. It was luxurious. Too luxurious for a Ritualist.
And then, my breath caught.
The wallpaper. The carved dresser. Even the faint smell of cedar I smelled since I came in.
Recognition slammed into me.
I know this place I have been here before.
That night.
The night I had woken in a strange bed, wrapped in warmth I didn’t understand. The night I had fled, terrified but secretly safe.
This was the same house.
My knees nearly buckled as realization hit. This is his place.
My pulse thundered as I backed toward the far wall.
Just then the door clicked. And slowly, it opened.
And there he was. The stranger that made my knee wake with his gold eyes.
He didn’t enter so much as command the room. His tall frame filled the doorway, draped in a white suit that seemed to glow against the dim lights. His dark hair was slicked back, his gold eyes burning like wildfire in shadow.
A slow smile curved his lips, the kind that made my skin prickle.
“I told them to bring you to me,” he said softly, like velvet over steel.
My body went stiff. Every instinct screamed to run, but my feet betrayed me, I stayed rooted to the spot.
He stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him.
“Stay away from me,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
He kept walking, each step deliberate, filled with predatory move.
If I moved back. He moved forward.
I reached the wall, now I got nowhere left to go. My chest heaved as panic and something hotter, something forbidden, tangled inside me.
His hand came up, gentle but unyielding, fingers tilting my chin until I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
“Do you think a fake name could hide you from me?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Aria Morgan”
My mouth fell open. He knew. He knew my real name.
Shock froze me, but Damian didn’t wait. He closed the last inch between us, his breath hot against my lips, his eyes dark with hunger.
And when my lips parted in disbelief, he took it as an invitation to slide his tongue inside me.
His mouth crushed against mine, his tongue claiming me like fire devouring dry wood.
The world dissolved, leaving only the thunder of the storm outside, and the storm of him inside me.
The next morning, the first thing I felt was peace.
No dripping rain, no pounding thunder, only the faint hum of air conditioning and the softness of sheets far too smooth to belong to me.
My lashes fluttered open, and for a moment I forgot. Forgot the rain, the humiliation at my landlord’s, place. Ethan’s smirk and Lily’s cruel laughter. I still couldn't believe the ones I once trusted with everything in me, did me dirty.
Then memory rushed back. The SUV. The locked room. him and the kiss. My hands instinctively I touched my lips. I could still feel his smell and the way his tongue claimed my mouth like a stav lion. Heat rushed up my body but I forced myself stay calm. I reminded myself that I was still homeless and would have slept in the street if not for Damian.
I shot upright in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest as if they could shield me. The room was still the same.
Luxurious and overwhelming, but the bed was empty. My heart pounded at the realization. I was alone.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare toes sinking into the plush rug. That’s when I saw the problem.
My clothes from last night were still wet and dirty.
“No, no, no…” I whispered, running to the wardrobe. Inside hung perfectly pressed suits, dresses that weren’t mine, silk that gleamed under the light. Not a trace of my own soaked jeans or torn blouse.
On the armchair by the bed, neatly folded, was a single item. A crisp white shirt. I didn't need a soothsayer to inform me that it's was damian shirt.
I didn't have something else to wear, so I decided to wear this, but as I had it close to myself, his cedar smell intoxicated me.
"But what choice do I have?" I got to put on something, I can't go out naked.
I bit my lip, grabbed the shirt, and slipped it on. It swallowed me whole, the hem brushing my thighs.
The sleeves too long for my arms. His scent clung to the fabric. cedar, smoke, something untamed. It made me dizzy.
I buttoned it quickly, trying not to think about how the collar brushed my neck like his hand had done the night before.
“Just clothes. That’s all it is,” I muttered to myself. “Don’t read into it. Don’t.”
The faint clatter of pans drifted from downstairs. My brow furrowed. Pans?
I followed the sound, padding barefoot down the sweeping staircase.
The sight that met me at the bottom nearly knocked me back a step.
Damian. At the stove.
His white suit jacket hung on the back of a chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, golden eyes half-lidded in concentration as he flipped something in a pan. The smell of sizzling eggs and fresh herbs filled the air.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
"Was he cooking?" I asked myself despite seeing clearly that he was cooking.
My jaw dropped before I could stop myself. I shouted “holy crab”
The butler standing near the counter nearly dropped the glass he was polishing. His eyes widened, flicking from me to his master as if bracing from a storm.
Damian didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up.
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Heat rushed to my cheeks as realization dawned. I shouted. At him.
Silence thickened. My pulse thundered in my ears.
Finally, he turned his head slightly, golden eyes sliding lazily over me. His gaze paused, sharp, when he saw what I was wearing.
His shirt.
For one heartbeat, his eyes blazed brighter, molten gold that stripped me bare. My knees went weak, breath catching.
Then, just as quickly, the fire was gone. He turned back to the stove, his voice cool, bored.
“Sit. Eat.” he said in a deep voice that did something to my body.
I stammered, “I don't mean to”
“you are making noise,” he interrupted, flipping the pan with practiced ease. “I don’t like it.”
The butler’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say something but wisely stayed silent.
I clutched the hem of the oversized shirt, mortified.I wanted to explain why I wore his shirt. My voice came out small. “I didn’t have anything else to wear, so I”
“You found something,” Damian interrupted.
No emotion. No comment on how the shirt barely covered me, or how his voice practically growled every time his gaze brushed my legs.
I sat stiffly at the long dining table, the silence heavy between us.
Then my phone buzzed.
My hands trembled as I unlocked it. An unread email blinked at me.
From: BLACKTHORNE HOLDINGS.
My eyes widened. I clicked it open, heart racing.
"Congratulations, Miss Blake. You have been selected to join Blackthorne Holdings. Report to the HR department on Monday for orientation."
The scream ripped out of me before I could stop it.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”
My chair scraped back as I jumped to my feet, fist pumping the air. “I got it! I got the job!”
The butler actually choked on a cough, eyes snapping to me in disbelief. No one shouted in this house. No one.
And Damian, Damian kept cooking as if I hadn’t made a sound.
I froze mid-dance, realizing what I’d just done. My hands flew to my mouth. “Oh my God. I shouted again.”
The butler looked like he expected lightning to strike me where I stood.
But Damian only turned off the stove, plated the food, and carried it to the table. His movements were calm, smooth, too controlled.
He set the plate in front of me, then finally lifted his gaze.
The fire in his eyes was back, glowing brighter as they raked over the shirt draping my body.
I swallowed hard, throat dry.
“I” My voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to shout. I was just excited. I’ve been waiting for this, and..and”
Damian cut me off with a simple, cold command.
“Eat.” you need strength after yesterday night.
My face cut lite up in fire, how could he say something like that in front of everyone. Isn't that supposed to be private
- Writer
