Damien had never lost control before.
Twenty-eight years of carefully maintained restraint, of keeping his vampire nature locked down, of never letting anyone close enough to see what he really was.
But with her—this beautiful stranger whose name tasted like heaven on his tongue—control was a distant memory.
She responded to his kiss with equal desperation, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer even as he pressed her back against the wall beside the door.
He knew he should slow down. Should be gentle, careful, controlled.
But she wasn't fragile. She was fire in his arms, matching his intensity with her own.
His hands found the zipper of her dress, and he forced himself to pause, to pull back enough to look into her eyes.
"Last chance," he said, his voice barely recognizable. "Tell me to stop and I will."
Even if it killed him. Even if it took every ounce of willpower he possessed.
She held his gaze, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips swollen from his kisses.
"I don't want you to stop," she said clearly. "I want this. I want you."
Something inside him snapped.
He captured her mouth again as his hands made quick work of her zipper. The dress pooled at her feet, and he pulled back just enough to look at her.
Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful.
And for tonight, she was his.
His jacket hit the floor. His shirt followed. Her hands explored his chest with wonder and desire, and he groaned when her fingers traced the lines of his muscles.
"You're perfect," she breathed, and he almost laughed.
Perfect. If only she knew what he really was. The monster hiding beneath human skin.
But she didn't need to know. Couldn't know.
Tonight, he could pretend to be normal. Human. Worthy of someone like her.
He lifted her easily—too easily, his vampire strength making her weight negligible—and carried her to the bed.
She looked up at him with trust and desire in her eyes, and something in his chest cracked open.
"Are you sure?" he asked one more time, giving her every opportunity to change her mind.
She reached up and pulled him down to her. "I've never been more sure of anything."
Aria had imagined her first time a hundred different ways over the years.
Sweet and romantic with candlelight and rose petals. Awkward and fumbling in the back of someone's car. Nervous and uncertain with a boyfriend she'd dated for months.
Never like this.
Never with a beautiful stranger whose eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Never with intensity that made her feel like she was burning alive from the inside out. Never with the absolute certainty that this moment was going to change everything.
His hands were everywhere—gentle but possessive, learning every curve of her body like he was memorizing her. His mouth followed, pressing kisses to her neck, her collarbone, lower.
She gasped, arched, clutched at his shoulders for something to hold onto as pleasure built inside her with dizzying speed.
"Beautiful," he murmured against her skin. "So damn beautiful."
When he finally positioned himself above her, his eyes met hers with an intensity that stole her breath.
"This might hurt," he said quietly. "Tell me if you need me to stop."
She nodded, unable to form words, and then he was moving, slowly, carefully—
The pain was sharp and brief, followed immediately by a fullness that made her gasp. He froze, his entire body tense above her.
"Breathe," he whispered. "Just breathe."
She did, and gradually the discomfort faded, replaced by something else. Something warm and electric and right.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Okay," she managed. "You can... you can move."
He did, slowly at first, giving her body time to adjust. But as she began to move with him, as pleasure started to build again, his control seemed to slip.
His movements became faster, deeper, more desperate. One hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her hip almost hard enough to bruise.
She didn't care. Didn't want gentleness. Wanted exactly this—raw and real and overwhelming.
"Look at me," he commanded roughly, and her eyes flew open to meet his.
They were glowing. Actually glowing ice-blue in the darkness.
She should have been afraid. Should have questioned what she was seeing.
Instead, she found it beautiful.
"Don't stop," she gasped, meeting his rhythm. "Please don't stop."
He groaned, his pace becoming almost inhuman, and she felt herself climbing toward something she'd never experienced, something just out of reach—
Then she was falling, breaking apart, crying out as pleasure crashed through her in waves so intense she forgot her own name.
He followed moments later with a sound that was half-groan, half-growl, his body going rigid before collapsing beside her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, both struggling to breathe, to process what had just happened.
Then he pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her with unexpected tenderness.
"Sleep," he murmured into her hair. "I've got you."
And despite everything—the strangeness of the situation, the fact that she didn't even know his name, the desperate reason that had brought her here—she felt safe.
For the first time in a year, wrapped in a stranger's arms, Aria felt completely safe.
Her eyes drifted closed.
Tomorrow would bring reality, consequences, explanations.
But tonight, she let herself have this one perfect moment of peace.