CHAPTER TWO

Elara’s POV

"Coming home with me."

The words echoed in the cold night air, hanging between us like a promise or a threat. 

Before I could process what he meant, before I could even ask if he planned to kill me or eat me, the world tilted.

Damon Blackwood scooped me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing more than a feather.

"Put me down!" I gasped, instinctively pressing my hands against his chest.

Beneath the expensive fabric of his suit, I could feel muscles as hard as granite. He was warm. Incredibly, impossibly warm.

"Stop squirming," he rumbled, not looking down at me. 

He strode through the uneven forest terrain with terrifying ease, not stumbling once in the dark.

 "You’re bleeding, you’re freezing, and you’re in shock. If I put you down, you’ll collapse."

I wanted to argue, but he was right. My adrenaline was fading, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

 My knee throbbed where I had skinned it, and my feet were numb blocks of ice.

We emerged from the tree line onto a private asphalt road where a sleek, black car was waiting. 

It wasn't just a car; it was a beast. A matte-black SUV that looked like a tank disguised as a luxury vehicle.

Damon opened the back door with one hand and deposited me gently onto the leather seats. 

The interior smelled like dark chocolate, pine, and raw, masculine power. It was intoxicating. 

For a second, my wolf stirred, wanting to curl up in the scent.

No, I scolded myself. He is a stranger. An Alpha. Dangerous.

Damon slid into the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, a low growl that vibrated through the floorboards.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice small. I pulled my arms around myself, trying to hide the tears in my cheap silver dress.

"My estate," he said simply, guiding the massive car onto the main road.

"I can't go with you," I whispered, panic rising in my throat. "I’m a rogue now. If I cross into another Alpha’s territory without permission, they’ll kill me."

Damon’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. In the dim light of the dashboard, his red irises seemed to glow.

"Let them try," he said darkly.

We drove in silence for twenty minutes. I watched the world blur past the tinted windows. 

We were climbing higher, winding up the mountain roads that overlooked the city of Obsidian. 

This was a wealthy district. The place where the Pack Alphas and the human billionaires lived.

We turned onto a private driveway, passing through massive wrought-iron gates that were at least twenty feet high. They swung open automatically as we approached.

My jaw dropped.

The house wasn't a house. It was a fortress of glass and steel, perched on the edge of the cliff like a bird of prey.

 It was modern, sharp, and terrified me. It looked like the kind of place where villains lived in movies.

Damon parked the car in front of the massive double doors. 

He killed the engine and turned to look at me.

"We’re here."

I didn't move. I couldn't. I looked down at my muddy feet, my torn dress, and my blood-stained hands. 

I was a stain on this pristine world.

"I... I can't go in there," I stammered. "I’ll dirty the floors."

Damon let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl. He got out of the car, walked around to my side, and yanked the door open.

"Elara," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Get out of the car."

I shook my head, shrinking back into the leather. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone I saw you. I’ll just find a barn or a cave"

"A cave?"

Before I could blink, he leaned in, unbuckled my seatbelt, and hauled me out into his arms again.

"You are not sleeping in a cave," he snarled, kicking the car door shut behind him. "You are my guest. And you will be treated as such."

He carried me up the stone steps.

 The front doors unlocked with a biometric scan of his eyes. We stepped inside, and the warmth hit me instantly.

The foyer was bigger than the entire servant’s quarters back at Silver Moon. The floors were black marble, polished to a mirror shine.

 A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting prisms of light everywhere.

"This way," Damon muttered, walking past the grand staircase and toward a private elevator.

"Where are we going?" I squeaked. "The dungeon?"

Damon looked down at me, his expression unreadable. "The Master Suite."

My heart stopped.

The Master Suite? His bedroom?

Panic exploded in my chest. I knew what Alphas did to rogue she-wolves they found in the woods. 

They used them. They broke them.

"No!" I started struggling, kicking my legs. 

"Put me down! I’m not that kind of girl! Please!"

Damon tightened his grip, but he didn't hurt me.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The doors slid shut, trapping us in a small, mirrored box.

"Elara, stop," he commanded. The Alpha tone in his voice forced my body to freeze. "I am not going to touch you. Not like that."

"Then why are you taking me to your room?" I whispered, tears leaking from my eyes.

"Because," he said, looking straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight. "It’s the only room in the house with a medical bay. And you look like you’ve been dragged through hell."

The elevator dinged. The doors opened directly into a massive bedroom. 

One entire wall was made of glass, overlooking the glittering city lights below. 

In the center of the room was a bed the size of a small island, covered in black silk sheets.

Damon didn't take me to the bed. He carried me straight into the bathroom.

It was a spa. White stone, gold fixtures, and a bathtub big enough for four people. He set me down on the vanity counter. 

The marble was cold against my bare legs.

"Stay," he ordered.

He turned and twisted the gold taps on the tub. Steam began to rise immediately. He poured something from a glass bottle into the water lavender and chamomile.

I sat there, shivering, hugging my knees. I watched him. He looked so out of place this massive, lethal predator leaning over a bathtub, testing the water temperature with his hand.

He turned back to me. His eyes raked over my body, lingering on the dried blood on my knee and the mud caked on my arms.

He stepped closer, reaching for the zipper of my dress.

I flinched so hard I nearly fell off the counter. "What are you doing?"

Damon froze. His hand hovered inches from my shoulder. He saw the terror in my eyes the reflex of a girl who had been hit too many times.

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his hand. The red glow in his eyes softened, fading into a deep, endless crimson.

"I need to clean your wounds, Elara," he said softly. "The dress has to go."

"I... I can do it myself," I whispered, clutching the fabric to my chest.

"Your hands are shaking," he pointed out. "You can barely hold yourself up."

He took a step closer, invading my space. His scent wrapped around me, making my head spin. 

He placed one hand on the counter on either side of my hips, trapping me. He leaned down until his face was level with mine.

"I am not Liam," he whispered, the name sounding like poison on his tongue. "I don't hurt what is mine."

My breath hitched. "I’m not yours."

Damon’s lips quirked up in a dark, possessive smirk.

"Keep telling yourself that, Little Wolf."

He reached behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting him to rip the dress. Instead, I felt his warm fingers brush against my spine as he gently lowered the zipper.

"Step into the water," he m

urmured near my ear. "Wash the past off. When you come out... your new life begins."