Chapter 5: No escape, he's not even human!

The door to the conference room hadn't even finished clicking shut before I felt the air grow thin. Lucien didn't move from the head of the table. He didn't have to.

The glowing image on the projector screen was enough to pin me to my chair.

"Miss Vale," he said, the syllables of my name sounding like a judgment. "Or should I call you 'Handsome's' little hitchhiker?"

"I... I can explain, Sir," I stammered, my voice sounding thin and pathetic even to my own ears. "It was a mistake. A moment of... temporary insanity. I had no idea who you were."

"Clearly." He stood up, his tall frame casting a long, jagged shadow across the mahogany table. "Because no one with an ounce of sanity uses a Blackthorne as a prop for a breakup."

His gleaming, cold grey eyes made me tremble, and each word was a deliberate low growl, "My mother has already informed the entire board that I’ve found my future wife. Do you have any idea what that does to my merger schedule?"

I couldn't speak and braced myself for the worst... but it never came.

I managed to survive the rest of the workday in a state of catatonic shock, ducking my head every time a co-worker looked my way. I was convinced every whisper was about me. Every glance from Lucy felt like a blade.

By the time the sun dipped below the sky, the office was nearly empty. Most people had scurried home, but I stayed. I couldn't leave. Not like this.

I had a plan—a desperate, grovelling plan. I would go to his office, I would apologize until my throat was raw, and I would beg him not to fire me.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like a descent into the underworld. When the doors opened, the hallway was dark, barely brightened only by the faint glow of the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I approached his office door. It was cracked open...a lapse in security that should have been my first warning sign.

I didn't hear a keyboard clicking. I didn't hear a phone ringing. Instead, there was a sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. A low, rhythmic, and terrifying vibration.

A growl that didn't sound human.

"Mr. Blackthorne?" I whispered, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I inched closer, sticking my head through the gap. The room was in shadows, but I could make out a silhouette slumped behind the massive desk.

I took a deep breath and started blabbing out my memorized speech, my words tumbling out in a panicked rush.

"Sir, I’m so sorry about last night. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll work overtime, I’ll take a pay cut, I’ll even tell your mother that I’m a paid actress and that we aren't—"

Grrr...

The sound was louder now. It was wet. Predatory even.

Before I could take another breath, the silhouette moved. It didn't just stand up like a man; it lunged at me.

I felt the air rush past me a split second before I was slammed onto the cold surface of his office desk. My head snapped back, the impact disorienting me completely.

I gasped and looked up, and my scream died in my throat.

The man pinning me down wasn't the polished CEO from the meeting. His face was distorted, his skin flushed with a dark, unnatural heat. His eyes, once dark and calculating, were now glowing with a terrifying, golden light.

But it was his mouth that made my soul leave my body.

His teeth were lengthening. They were fangs, glistening with saliva as he snarled just inches from my neck.

"Sir? Lucien?" I choked out, my hands trembling as I tried to push against his chest. It felt like pushing against solid granite!

He didn't seem to hear me. He was lost in a fog of raw, animalistic rage. He looked like a beast struggling to keep a human mask from shattering.

"Lucien! Please!" I cried in terror.

Something in the sound of his name seemed to spark a flicker of clarity in those golden eyes. He winced, his grip loosening just enough for me to roll off the desk.

I hit the floor hard, scrambling backwards on my hands and knees.

In my panic, I didn't head for the door. He was standing right in front of it, his body heaving as he fought for control. Instead, I crawled deeper into the office, backing myself into a corner like a cornered rabbit.

He started to move toward me, his steps heavy and uneven. My mind raced through every horror movie I’d ever seen.

"This is it," I thought. I’m going to be the first person in history to be eaten by their boss.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pulled my knees to my chest, and did the only thing I could think of. I started to pray.

But the words that came out weren't a standard "Our Father." They were a desperate, spiteful plea born of pure terror.

"God, please," I whimpered into the dark. "Let my meat be sour. Let my blood be bitter. May my head not roll like a ball on the streets tonight..."

The heavy footsteps stopped.

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing. Then, a sound I didn't expect...a dry, gravelly chuckle.

"What... what kind of nonsense is that?"

I opened one eye. The golden glow was fading, though his eyes were still unnervingly bright. He was crouching a few feet away, watching me with a look of genuine disbelief.

"Since you're going to eat me anyway," I snapped, my voice cracking with a mix of fear and lingering defiance, "I have to make sure you don't enjoy a single second of it. I’m praying for your food to be bitter. I hope I give you the worst indigestion of your life."

Lucien, the man, the wolf, the nightmare or whatever I could call him, stared at me for a long beat.

The tension in the room shifted. It didn't disappear completely, but it changed from a threat of death to something else. Something heavy and suffocatingly intimate.

"I won't tell anyone," I whispered, my back pressed against the cold wall. "I swear. Just... let me go."

He didn't move away. Instead, he approached slowly, closing the distance until he was towering over me.

He crouched down, his large, warm hand reaching out to tilt my chin upward.

I shivered at his touch. It felt like the car ride all over again, that electric shock that made my skin hum with a strange, uncanny desire.

"Ariana," he said, his voice a low, vibrating purr that made my toes curl. "Such a fuzzy, strange little rabbit. You really think I’d let you out of my sight after this?"

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"You didn't just kiss a man last night. You claimed a King. And a King never lets go of what's his."