Chapter 2 - Damon

She walked into the room and the world tilted.

Aria.

No. Not her. Couldn’t be.

But the scent hit me like a memory ripped from the earth—wild air and crushed lilacs, fire and old rain. The scent I’d buried with my mate. The one I swore I’d never feel again.

And yet here it was.

Here she was.

But younger. Softer. Unformed. The energy around her crackled faint and confused, like lightning beneath water. Not quite awakened, but close.

I stared, unmoving behind the desk, my fingers curling against the cold stone. My grip anchored me as my body screamed to move. To go to her. To claim.

No.

She was seventeen. Not yet. Not now.

My breath hissed through my teeth.

And then her eyes met mine—silver, like moonlight and mirrors. Too bright for her age. Too old.

She blinked like she’d been struck.

I’d seen that look before.

The first time my mate had seen me.

“I’m Damon Thorn,” I said, keeping my voice low and smooth. A lie of composure. “You must be Aria Moonstone.”

Her name was a taste in my mouth. Dangerous. Addictive.

“Have we… met before?” she asked.

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to tell her everything. That she was born of fire and moonlight, and I’d waited through lifetimes for her return. That her soul was etched against mine before she ever drew breath.

But I didn’t.

I lied.

“No.”

And I felt the betrayal rot inside me like old blood.

The rest of the interview was a blur covered in

Flashbacks from 14 years ago…. Memories I worked so hard to make vanish…..

_

Saturday. Her first day.

I should’ve kept my distance. Let someone else train her. Sent her home with a fake rejection letter and erased every record of her existence.

Instead, I watched her walk through my doors again—tight jeans, that too-thin gray hoodie hanging off one shoulder, auburn hair twisted up and falling loose like it didn’t care.

She was the storm that I had sealed away. The flame I’d buried under ash.

And she was here. In my space. Breathing my air.

“Morning, Aria,” I said, too softly.

She nodded, lips parted slightly, throat working as she swallowed. I could smell it—the shift beginning. The old bloodline waking. Her body heating from the inside out as something ancient and wild began to stir.

The room felt smaller. Tighter.

She sat across from me, clutching the pen like a lifeline, her hand trembling as she wrote. I watched everything—the way her fingers brushed the paper, the way her legs crossed and uncrossed. The little gasps in her breath she tried to hide.

She was trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t coming undone.

And I was pretending not to feel it…

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, knowing the answer. I watched the lie form on her tongue before she gave it.

She nodded, again.

The heat in her blood was rising. Her aura flickered and pulsed like embers caught in a breeze. It wouldn’t be long now. Her shift would begin—subtle at first. Then unmistakable.

And the worst part?

I could smell her desire too.

Subconscious. Unspoken.

But real.

By mid-afternoon, she was barely holding together.

Her hoodie was gone. A sheen of sweat clung to her collarbones. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen—like she’d bitten them to stay grounded.

I was losing my restraint. My Wolf, Phoenix wanted to jump through and hold her to make her feel better.

I moved closer, under the excuse of reviewing her notes. Leaned down behind her chair. Close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin. Close enough to smell the hint of citrus in her hair, the wild spice of her fear and need mingled.

Her pulse leapt.

She didn’t move.

I should’ve pulled away.

Instead, I let my hand brush her shoulder—barely a touch. Testing. Dangerous.

And the second I felt her skin, the jolt that ran through me nearly dropped me to my knees.

The bond. The tether. The fire. It was there.

Her body froze under my hand, but she didn’t flinch. She turned slightly, looked up at me—eyes wide, lips parted.

I saw it.

The want.

Naïve. Confused. But desperate.

My hand slid down her arm, slow and reverent. I could feel her pulse like a drum beneath my fingertips.

“Damon…” she breathed.

It undid me.

I moved without thinking—leaned down, my hand settling lightly on her waist. Her body fit against mine like it was made to.

The heat between us was unbearable. I could feel it radiating off her in waves. My control, so carefully crafted over decades, snapped one thread at a time.

I could kiss her.

Just one taste.

One second, and I would have her soul in my mouth.

But then she gasped—arched—and her eyes burned silver.

Raw, bright, pulsing magic flared from her core like an explosion barely contained.

She stumbled back, knocking the chair over in the process. Her chest heaved. Her skin glowed.

Her power—her birthright—was waking up.

She didn’t understand it yet. She didn’t even know what she was? She looked confused..

But I did. I knew…

I bit my tongue until I tasted iron. My wolf screamed to follow, to pull her back.

Instead, I said, “Training’s done for today.”

It came out rough. Fractured.

“Go home.”

She didn’t speak. She just ran.

And I stood there, alone in the echo of her presence, burning from the inside out.

What the hell was I thinking? I can’t lose control. I am an Alpha.

She was too young. Too fragile. Not ready.

Her hips were screaming for me to relieve them. To claim her as MINE!

And I’d almost claimed her.

Almost ruined everything.

Her scent has driven me to lose my mind!