Chapter 6

Morning rolled in like a slow burn—soft golden light spilling through the massive windows, warming the silk sheets tangled around my legs. My body ached in the best way possible, a deep, satisfied soreness that had me sinking further into the mattress.

And the craziest part?

I didn’t regret a damn thing.

Not the way I let myself get lost in him. Not the way I let him take whatever he wanted, knowing full well I wanted it just as much.

A slow stretch had me brushing against something solid, warm—him.

Damien was still there, lying beside me like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did). One arm tucked behind his head, the other resting low on my hip, fingers just barely tracing circles against my skin like he wasn’t ready to stop touching me. His dark eyes were already on me, heavy-lidded, unreadable, like he’d been awake long enough to just watch.

"Morning," he murmured, voice all rough and slow, like he was still tasting last night.

I turned my head, pulse kicking up at the way he looked at me—like he knew exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

"Morning," I whispered back.

A smirk tugged at his lips, lazy, knowing. Like he could already hear the war going on in my head.

I wanted to play it cool, really, I did. But then he shifted, his fingers sliding just a little lower, like he was testing the waters.

"Regrets?" he asked, voice dipping into something teasing, dangerous.

I exhaled a laugh, shaking my head as I looked up at the ceiling.

"Not even a little."

.

Silence stretched between us, thick and loaded, the weight of last night still lingering in the air.

I wasn’t used to this.

Waking up next to someone. Feeling their warmth, their presence, knowing they weren’t just some fleeting moment but a contractually bound reality.

Damien was still watching me like he could hear my thoughts, like he knew exactly what was going through my head. His fingers trailed absently along my hip, lazy and possessive, like touching me was second nature now.

"This is weird, right?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Damien raised a brow, clearly amused. "Define 'weird.'"

I gestured vaguely between us. "This. Us. Waking up together like some… actual married couple."

He smirked. "We are married, Sofia."

I made a face. "Yeah, on paper."

His smirk deepened. "And in this bed."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I refused to let him see how flustered I was. Instead, I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. "You know what I mean. We signed a deal. This isn’t real real."

Damien hummed, like he was considering that. Then, without warning, he leaned in, brushing his lips just below my ear, his voice dropping to a murmur.

"Felt real to me."

A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to play it cool. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you married me."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Technically, you married me."

Damien chuckled, shifting onto his side so he was facing me again. "And yet, here you are, in my bed, in my arms, very much my wife."

I peeked at him through my fingers. "I could kill you in your sleep, you know."

His grin was all sharp edges. "You won’t."

I sighed dramatically. "No, but a girl can dream."

His fingers skimmed down my side, slow, deliberate. "You are dreaming if you think you can resist me."

I slapped his hand away, ignoring the way my heart betrayed me by actually skipping a beat. "If this is how marriage works, I want a refund."

Damien just smirked, far too pleased with himself. "Too late, sweetheart. No returns, no exchanges."

I hated how easy it was to fall into this—the push and pull, the teasing, the heat.

It was dangerous.

And yet, even as I told myself to keep my guard up, I couldn’t ignore the way his presence settled something inside me.

Then his phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the moment.

Damien barely glanced at the screen before answering. "What?"

A deep voice rumbled on the other end, too low for me to make out the words.

His entire body tensed.

"When?" he asked, his tone suddenly clipped, all traces of amusement gone.

Another pause. A longer one this time.

Damien’s grip tightened around the phone, his jaw ticking as his gaze flicked to me.

"Understood," he muttered, then hung up.

Something about the shift in his energy made my stomach twist.

I sat up slightly, pulling the sheets around me. "What was that?"

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He looked hesitant—like whatever he was about to say, he wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.

"It’s the full moon tonight," he said finally.

I frowned. "And?"

His eyes darkened.

"And there’s something you need to know before then."

Damien was still watching me, his expression unreadable. My heart was pounding for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.

"I’ll tell you," he said finally, "but before I do, I want to add something to our contract."

I blinked. "What?"

He sat up, reaching for a folder on the nightstand. Like he’d already had this planned. Like he knew this moment was coming.

"Damien—"

"I’m serious, Sofia." He flipped the folder open and pulled out a single sheet of paper. "Before I tell you anything, I need your agreement on this."

I frowned, sitting up, the sheets pooling around me. "I thought the contract was final."

"This is just an amendment," he said smoothly, handing me the paper. "A small addition."

I took it hesitantly, scanning the text. My pulse kicked up as my eyes landed on the newly added clause:

"Under no circumstances shall either party leave or abandon the marriage for the duration of one year, regardless of any circumstances that may arise."

My stomach twisted. "You’re kidding."

"Do I look like I’m joking?"

I glanced up at him, searching for any sign of amusement, but his expression was completely serious.

"You’re already stuck with me for a year," I said, raising a brow. "What’s the point of this?"

His jaw clenched slightly. "Let’s just say… things might get complicated. And I need to know you’re not going to run."

Something about the way he said it sent a strange shiver down my spine.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "You are so dramatic."

Damien didn’t respond. He just handed me a pen.

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to ask more questions, but in the end… I signed.

A deal was a deal.

He took the paper back, placed it in the folder, and set it aside like it was nothing. But the look in his eyes told me otherwise.

And then—finally—he spoke.

"Sofia," he said, voice calm, steady. "I’m a werewolf."

Silence.

I stared at him.

Then I snorted. "I know right? I never knew you were this funny." I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the headboard. "Okay, if you’re a werewolf, then I’m a vampire."

Damien didn’t laugh. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t even blink.

"Sofia," he said, voice dropping an octave. "I’m serious."

I frowned. "Wait, hold on, you actually believe this?"

Still, nothing.

"Okay," I said, still half-laughing, "this is hilarious. What, do you turn into a big bad wolf every full moon? Do you howl at the sky? Should I buy you a chew toy?"

"Sofia."

Something in his tone made the amusement die in my throat.

He exhaled slowly, then—without warning—his eyes changed.

Right in front of me, his pupils stretched, his irises bleeding from dark brown to a glowing, unnatural gold.

My breath hitched.

The room suddenly felt too small.

"D-Damien—"

And then, before I could even process it, his fingers twitched—and his nails lengthened into sharp, black claws.

My stomach dropped.

No. No.

My entire body locked up as I watched, helpless, as the man in front of me—the one I had just spent the night tangled up with—shifted into something not human.

My pulse roared in my ears.

My voice barely worked.

"A were…" My throat was dry. I swallowed. "A were…w-wolf…?"