Waves of pain and peaks of pleasure crashed over me, each breath a battle to survive in Damian's relentless grip. The hours dragged deep into the night, and though my body screamed with exhaustion—muscles aching from every wound—he remained, his heavy breathing hot against my skin, his hands marking my waist with bruises like permanent claims. The New York city lights twinkled faintly beyond the penthouse windows, but to me, their sparkle had dimmed, veiled now by the heavy curtain of exhaustion that I desperately tried to fight. Every time I shut my eyes, Damian's touch dragged me back into awareness—his fingers skimming my skin, lightly scratching, as though branding me his territory.
"Are you tired, Nova?" he whispered, lips close to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I barely nodded, my voice lost in the dryness that had taken over my throat after hours of cries. Slowly, Damian pulled back, his eyes still hungry, but now something strange flickered within—a softness? Or perhaps a hidden ferocity? "Sleep now, little one. Tomorrow is a big day." The softness in his voice was almost deceiving, and suspicion crept into my weary mind.
As I gazed into his eyes, something changed—their brown depths widened, colors shifting suddenly to a glaring yellow as if a switch had been flipped. For a moment, I saw not a man, but a creature, an alpha from a werewolf tale. Fear stiffened me; my breath hitched. "Damian... your eyes..." I whispered, but he quickly averted his gaze, hiding whatever beast lurked inside. Without a word, he rose, muscles gleaming under the moonlight—powerful yet terrifying—and headed for the door. "Go to sleep, Nova. It's just fatigue," he said before closing the door behind him.
Left alone on the bed, my body still warm under his lingering touch but my heart cold with doubt, I questioned what I'd seen. Was it real, or only exhaustion's cruel hallucination? There was something wrong about Damian—his strength, the eyes, the low growl. I felt compelled to follow, to discover where he'd gone. My legs trembled weakly from pain; moving was impossible. Sleep dragged me reluctantly into its embrace. "Tomorrow... I'll find out," I told myself before closing my eyes. My dreams tangled with packs of wolves, yellow eyes, and Damian's shifting face. I screamed silently; the night was over for me.
Morning light spilled through the windows, and the city's bustle drifted up from the streets—horns, voices, distant life always continuing. Glancing at the clock: 9 a.m. My body throbbed everywhere—bruises, bite marks, finger imprints decorating me like grotesque trophies. Slowly, I rose, feeling like an old woman, and pulled on a silk robe hanging in the room—a shield curving around my naked skin.
In the marble-cold bathroom, I searched my reflection—pale face, dark circles under swollen eyes, lips chapped and bruised. "Is this me?" I wondered aloud, turning on the shower. Hot water drummed against my skin, trying to wash away the pain and Damian's mark. Lavender-scented body wash tried to erase his touch, but the scars stayed. Tears mingled with the cascading water as I stood drenched, whispering silently, "Devil... I need the devil." But where was my phone? Lillian must have taken it.
Dressed and dry, I chose simple black attire from the women's closet—a size that fit, as if prepared by Damian himself—and dried my hair. Questions swirled inside: Where was Damian? What were those eyes last night? And the big meeting at the company awaited.
The scent of coffee, bacon, and eggs greeted me as I stepped into the kitchen. Damian sat at the dining table in a perfect suit, reading the newspaper like a flawless businessman. "Good morning, wife," he said with a smile as if the previous night had never happened.
I froze, eyes searching his for any sign of the monstrous change. His gaze was normal, brown, calm. Had I imagined it all? "Breakfast is ready. Your first meeting at the company is today," he added. I nodded cautiously and sat down but then spotted a figure beside him.
A young man with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, the devilish smile—that face struck me cold. The Devil. My boyfriend.
"Devil?" I whispered, trembling.
He looked surprised too, shock spreading across his face. "Nova? What are you doing here?"
Damian lowered his newspaper and smiled a cold, unreadable smile. "Oh, you two know each other? Perfect. Nova, meet my son, Devil Blackwood."
His words hit like a bomb. Son? Devil was Damian's son? My knees buckled, the room spinning. I gripped the table to steady myself.
"What... what are you saying?" I stammered, voice breaking.
Damian spoke nonchalantly, "Yes, Devil is my son. He's in college at NYU—just like you. And now, he's your stepson."
Devil's shocked face spilled his coffee as he coughed, anger and confusion flashing. "Dad? What? This... Nova? Your wife?"
His voice cracked with disbelief. He stood abruptly, chair scraping the floor. "What's going on? Nova, you're married to him? To Damian?"
I couldn't respond, words caught in my throat. A storm raged inside—Devil was my boyfriend, my confidant, my secret lover, and now... my stepchild?
Damian chuckled darkly, enjoying the chaos. "Sit down, son. Nova is family now. From today, she's your mother."
Devil recoiled in pain. "Mother? No... no way!" he shouted and fled the room.
I collapsed, clutching my head. Damian's hand rested on my shoulder. "Don't worry, he'll adjust. But you... need to learn, Nova. These are family secrets," he warned, a shadow of mystery in his voice.
My mind reeled—what did Devil know? What about Lilian? Why me? What would happen to our forbidden love?
Damian poured coffee. "Eat, wife. Today I will introduce you at the company. But remember—family comes first."
I stared at my plate, appetite gone. Outside, I could hear Devil's voice, angry and crashing things—was this all a plan or mere coincidence? The mystery deepened, and I was trapped in its heart.
Damian's words filled the room again, casual but heavy, "Devil is emotional, not like me. I protected him, but now it's time he faces reality."
I asked trembling, "What reality? Your son is at NYU, and you... why me?"
He smiled, sharp and predatory. "Because you are special, Nova. Your energy, your blood—they called to me."
Blood? I touched my neck where the mark still burned faintly. "What are you, Damian?" I whispered, afraid.
Drawing close, his hands framed my face. "Patience, little one. All in time. But first, eat."
I forced down bites, fear threading through every swallow.
Devil returned, glare sharp as daggers. "Dad, what joke is this? Nova is my friend. Why did you do this?"
Damian's stare pierced, "Friend? I know, son. But now she's mine. Adjust."
Devil's eyes flicked to me, pain and disbelief raw. "Nova, tell me... is this true?"
I nodded, voice soft, "It was forced, Devil. But now... I don't know."
He slammed the door, leaving silence.
Damian lit a cigarette. "He'll come around. But you... start training. At the company and... at home."
His words held double meaning. Outside, New York's relentless pulse carried on, but I was caged. Would Devil be my ally or my captor? The suspense suffocated me every second.