Chapter 3

Damian's POV

"Mr. Blackthorn, how do you feel standing here as the youngest billionaire CEO to win this award tonight?"

The reporter's question came fast, sharp, like a blade meant to cut right through me. Flashbulbs popped across the stage, bright enough to blind a weaker man. But I kept my face calm, my shoulders straight, my posture unshaken.

I leaned closer to the microphone. My voice was deep, smooth, controlled. "I don't feel, I achieve. Wealth is not about emotions, it's about power. And power belongs to those willing to take it."

The hall fell silent for a beat. Then the applause came. It was loud, thunderous, waves crashing against me. Cameras clicked, people cheered, and I stood still, cold and steady, as though I had only confirmed what they already knew, Damian Blackthorn was untouchable.

They placed the award in my hands, a crystal plaque, heavy and shining. I raised it once, not in joy but in dominance. The light bounced off it, scattering across the hall, and every single eye in the room locked on me. That was how I liked it: control, attention, fear.

When I stepped down, whispers followed like shadows. Men wanted to shake my hand. Women wanted to be noticed by me, but only one woman decided she would not leave tonight without trying.

She appeared as if the moment had been planned. Tall, elegant, in a black silk dress that clung to her body like it was made for her alone. Diamonds dangled from her ears, glinting under the chandeliers. Her red lips curved into a smile that was not shy, not polite, but a straight invitation.

She moved into my path with precision. "Congratulations, Mr. Blackthorn, I have been dying to meet the man behind Blackthorn Enterprises."

I studied her the way I study every person quickly, sharply. Wealthy, polished, used to winning, used to taking. The type who had never been told no.

"Dying already?" I smirked. "Then let's not waste time."

Her laugh was soft but practiced, echoing above the clink of champagne glasses. "Straight to the point, I like that."

The night stretched on, endless speeches and shallow conversations. I left before it ended. My driver brought the car to the side entrance, far from the noise of the main doors. She followed me easily, her heels tapping against the pavement, her presence bold, certain.

Inside the car, her perfume filled the space. Sweet, thick, expensive but it clung too heavy in my throat. She leaned closer, her fingers brushing my wrist like she thought she could claim me with a single touch.

"So," she whispered, "where are we celebrating, Damian?"

"Hotel." I didn't look at her when I said it. My eyes stayed fixed on the city lights rushing past the window.

Her hand slid onto my thigh, slow and sure. "Perfect."

The hotel was five stars, the kind of place where every hallway smelled of roses and every staff member bowed twice before leaving. I opened the door to the suite, let her step inside, and watched as she crossed straight to the minibar as though she already owned the room.

"Whiskey?" she asked, pulling down a glass.

"Straight." My tie was loose around my neck, but my eyes stayed sharp on her.

She poured, handed me the drink, her fingers lingering on mine like she wanted me to notice. "Men like you are rare. Powerful. Dangerous." Her lips curved again. "I like danger."

I drank, slow and deliberate. The whiskey burned my throat, but the fire that spread inside me wasn't from the alcohol. It was something else. Something darker.

My wolf.

He had been restless since the stage, clawing under my skin, pressing against my ribs like he wanted out. Maybe it was the crowd, maybe it was the flash of lights, maybe it was her perfume too sweet, too false, suffocating me with every breath.

My chest tightened, my pulse hammered in my ears. My vision blurred, my eyes burning with the glow I fought to bury for years.

The glass cracked in my hand.

Her laugh cut short. "Damian?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

I dropped the broken glass into the trash, my voice sharp. "Stay here."

"What? Where are you going?"

"Out."

I didn't wait for her reply. The tie hit the couch, my steps fast, the door shutting behind me before she could follow.

Heat climbed through my veins, my wolf pushing harder, angrier. I needed air, I needed darkness. If I kept him locked inside, he would tear me apart.

The hotel backed onto thick woods. I moved quickly, long strides carrying me through the lot, past the last golden lamps, until the trees swallowed me whole.

The wolf roared inside me, shaking the cage I had built with years of iron control. My muscles pulled, my skin rippled, my bones ached as if they were breaking and reforming all at once.

My jaw clenched, I gritted my teeth, pain lanced through me, sharp and merciless. My spine stretched, my shoulders cracked, claws tore from my fingers, pushing against flesh that could no longer contain them.

I bit back a growl, but the sound still ripped from my throat, deep and animal. My eyes burned brighter, glowing gold in the darkness. My body trembled, caught between two shapes, neither man nor wolf but something cursed in between.

I dug my claws into the dirt, sucking in sharp breaths, trying to hold onto myself. If I let the shift take me fully, someone would hear, someone would know.

The woods were quiet, but then a twig snapped. My head snapped up, vision sharp, hearing tuned to the smallest sound.

She was there, the woman she had followed. Her heels were gone, her dress dragging against the grass, her hair loose from its perfect shape. Her eyes widened when she saw me, her painted lips trembling.

"Damian?" Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.

I didn't move, my chest rose and fell, each breath rough. My claws gleamed in the moonlight, teeth sharp against my lips.

She stepped closer. "Oh my God..." Her face turned pale. "You....you are not human!"

The scream tore from her throat, high and sharp, echoing through the trees.

My wolf snapped, before she could turn, before the sound carried too far, I moved, fast, deadly. My hand slashed across her throat, claws tearing deep.

Her blood sprayed hot against the night air. Her eyes froze wide, locked in horror, before her body dropped lifeless onto the earth.

I stood over her, chest heaving, half man, half beast. My claws dripped red. My breath came heavy, the copper tang of blood filling my lungs.

The wolf inside me settled, satisfied by the kill. This was what he wanted: blood, silence, dominance.

But then, I heard another sound, it was not the echo of her fall. Not the cry of a bird, it was a gasp.

I spun, my eyes glowing gold, claws still wet, and froze when I saw the figure standing at the edge of the trees.

Someone else had seen.

Chapter 4

Ivy's POV

"Miss, do you even know how to carry a tray properly?"

The woman's voice was sharp enough to cut through the glittering music in the ballroom. My cheeks burned instantly, but I lowered my head, forcing a polite smile.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I will be more careful."

She scoffed and waved me off like I was dirt under her heels. "You better, people like you should at least learn to do your jobs properly."

I nodded, swallowing down the sting of humiliation. The tray in my hand felt heavier than it was, my wrist was already aching from hours of holding it. I moved quickly, weaving past gowns that brushed the marble floor and polished shoes that probably cost more than my rent for a year.

The chandeliers above shone like a thousand stars, but to me they only mocked my situation. They belonged to a world so far from mine. I wasn't a guest, I wasn't anything here. I was just a shadow, a servant, running until my lungs burned.

In the corner, the staff table waited with bottles of champagne and wine. I set down my nearly empty tray, exhaled, and refilled it carefully. My hands shook, but I forced myself to keep steady. If I broke one glass, it would come out of my pay.

I whispered under my breath, "A few more hours, Ivy. You can make it."

By the time I turned back toward the crowd, the music had picked up again. Laughter spilled across the room, loud and carefree, so different from the pounding of my heart. I slipped between the guests, offering glasses with a tired but polite smile. Some ignored me, others muttered thanks without looking me in the eye.

I was invisible.

"Hey, sweetheart."

The voice came from a man slouched against a column, his tie loose, his shirt half unbuttoned. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks blotched red from alcohol. I froze, trying to smile.

"Yes, sir?"

He reached out, brushing his fingers along my wrist as he plucked a glass from the tray. His touch made my skin crawl.

"Pretty little thing like you," he slurred, swallowing half the champagne in one gulp. "Why are you running around like a servant? Come, sit with me. I will show you how a real man treats a woman."

I pulled my wrist back gently. "I'm working, sir."

He chuckled, the sound grating and loud. "Working? Carrying drinks doesn't work. You are just a tray girl. Be grateful I'm even talking to you."

I clenched my teeth, bowing my head slightly. "Please excuse me, I need to serve the other guests."

But his hand shot out again, gripping my arm. His fingers dug into my skin, and I gasped quietly.

"Don't be shy," he said, pulling me closer.

"Girls like you should know their place, do you know how many would beg for a chance like this? A chance to catch the eye of a man like me?"

My throat went dry, people were watching now. Some smirked, others whispered. Not one of them moved to stop him.

"Let me go," I said softly.

He leaned closer, his breath was thick with whiskey. "Say thank you first, thank you for even noticing you, waitress. Or should I call you servant?"

Laughter rippled around us. My ears rang, my face burned with shame.

"I said let me go." This time my voice cracked.

He sneered. "Ungrateful little bitch." With one sharp move, he tipped his half-full glass onto me. Cold liquid splashed across my uniform, dripping down my chest and soaking into my apron.

Gasps filled the air, some people chuckled, my body shook with the effort to hold back tears.

"You should smile," he continued, his voice cruel. "No one here cares about you. You are just here to carry drinks, that's all you will ever be."

The tray in my hands trembled, glasses rattling. My chest ached so badly I thought I would collapse right there on the marble floor.

My aunt's words echoed faintly in my head fighting for your dignity, Ivy. No one will hand it to you.

But I couldn't fight him. My arms were weak, my voice was small, and my body was trapped.

And then I heard a deep voice.

"Take your hand off her."

The words sliced through the ballroom like a blade. The voice was low, controlled and dangerous.

The man holding me froze. I did too, slowly, we both turned.

Damian Blackthorns was standing a few feet away, his tall frame showed through the crowd. His black suit fit him perfectly and his sharp jaw was set with pure rage. But it wasn't his suit or his wealth that made my knees weak, it was his eyes.

They weren't cold like on the screen I had seen earlier. They were burning, burning with a fury that made the air around him heavy. And those eyes were locked on me.

The drunken man scoffed. "And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

Damian's steps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing across the now silent hall. Guests parted for him without a word, some lowering their gazes, others watching wide-eyed.

"I said," Damian repeated, his voice low enough to vibrate in my bones, "take your hand off her, now."

The man's grip on me loosened, but he didn't let go completely. "Oh, I see," he slurred. "You want her too? Hah! You can pay for her later. Isn't that what girls like this are for? To be bought?"

My heart sank into my stomach. The humiliation was unbearable.

Damian's eyes darkened, and before I could even blink, he was there. One swift motion, faster than I could follow, and his hand closed around the drunk man's wrist.

The man shouted instantly. "Ahh! What the-"

Damian twisted the wrist backward with unrelenting force. The drunk man fell to his knees, screaming. The crowd gasped, some covering their mouths in shock, others frozen where they stood.

"You don't touch her," Damian growled, his voice a dangerous rumble. "You don't touch any woman. Do you understand me?"

"Let me go!" the man shrieked.

Damian's grip tightened. His jaw flexed, and in one final motion, there was a final loud crack.

The sound was sickening, echoing across the glittering hall. The man's scream tore through the silence.

My tray slipped from my hands, the glasses shattering on the marble floor. I didn't care, my whole body shook as I stared at Damian, at the fury in his eyes.

Chapter 5

Damian's POV

"Humans never fail to surprise me," Jason muttered beside me as we walked into the brightly lit hall. His voice was filled with mockery as his sharp eyes scanned the crowd.

"They dress themselves like kings and queens just for a single night, pretending life is perfect."

I gave him a side glance. "You shouldn't speak like that, not all humans are the same."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "You've gone soft, Damian. They drink, laugh too loud, and spend more than they can afford. They forget the world outside this golden hall is filled with people starving."

I said nothing, he wasn't wrong, but something in me hated how bitter he sounded. The gala was alive with chatter, music spilling from the grand piano, chandeliers glimmering over polished heads. Women in long gowns drifted across the marble floor, their perfume heavy in the air.

I adjusted my tie, my chest tightening. The moment I stepped inside, a strange tension gripped me. My wolf stirred restlessly within, his growl echoing in my mind.

"What is it?" Jason noticed my sudden stiffness.

I inhaled slowly and then I froze. It was sweet, intoxicating, warm like vanilla yet sharper, pulling me in with invisible threads. My body went rigid, my heart pounded against my ribs, each beat louder than the music.

"Damian?" Jason's tone sharpened. "What's wrong?"

"I... I smell her," I whispered, barely believing my own words.

Jason blinked. "Her? Don't tell me-"

"Yes." My eyes swept through the crowd with urgency. My wolf howled inside, recognition burning like fire through my veins. "My mate."

Jason's face hardened in disbelief. "Here? In this hall? Among humans?"

I ignored him, I had to find her. My gaze darted past the clusters of laughing men in tuxedos, past women sipping champagne delicately. Then, suddenly, I saw her

She was nothing like the others. No jewels, no designer gown. She wore a simple black and white uniform, her chestnut brown hair pulled back, a tray balanced carefully in her hands as she moved swiftly from one table to another. Her face was flushed with effort, her steps quick, almost invisible in the grand crowd.

My chest tightened painfully, a human. My mate was a human.

Jason followed my gaze and let out a low whistle. "No. This can't be, she is a server. Look at her clothes. Damian, this is impossible."

But it was not, I could feel it. My wolf clawed at my insides, desperate to run to her, to claim her, to shield her from every set of greedy eyes in the room.

"She is mine," I breathed, my throat thick.

Jason shook his head. "You are going to ruin everything if you-"

Before he could finish, a sudden disturbance cut through the air.

A drunken man in an ill-fitted tuxedo grabbed her arm harshly, making her stumble. The tray almost slipped from her, the man's voice boomed. "You should smile," his voice was cruel. "No one here cares about you. You are just here to carry drinks, that's all you will ever be."

Her face flinched, her lips parting in shame as every eye turned toward her. I felt fury coil inside me, It was white-hot and uncontrollable.

Jason cursed under his breath. "Damian, don't-"

But I was already moving.

I crossed the room in powerful strides, the crowd parting unconsciously as though they sensed something dangerous. My voice came out low, cold, deadly.

"Take your hand off her."

The both of them slowly turned towards me at the sound of my voice.

"And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" The man shot back, my wolf was already pacing wanting to be let out.

"I said," I repeated, my voice was low enough to deliberate "take your hand off her, now."

The man's grip on her loosened, but he didn't let go completely. "Oh, I see," he slurred. "You want her too? Hah! You can pay for her later. Isn't that what girls like this are for? To be bought?"

My glare silenced him instantly one look was enough. He staggered back, releasing her arm like it had burned him.

My eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, my hand closed around the drunk man's wrist.

The man shouted instantly. "Ahh! What the-"

I twisted the wrist backward with unrelenting force. The drunk man fell to his knees, screaming. The crowd gasped, some covering their mouths in shock, others frozen where they stood.

"You don't touch her," I growled, my voice was a dangerous rumble. "You don't touch any woman. Do you understand me?"

"Let me go!" the man shrieked.

My grip tightened, my jaw flexed, and in one final motion, there was a final loud crack.

The sound was sickening, echoing across the glittering hall. The man's scream tore through the silence. I pulled my hands off him and he ran away.

The tray slipped from her hands when I turned to look at her, the glasses shattering on the marble floor. She stumbled, almost falling, but I caught her. My hand closed around her small wrist, steadying her against me. For a moment, time stopped.

Her wide eyes met mine startlingly clear, filled with shock. And then it happened, the spark.

A jolt of raw electricity surged through me as our skin touched. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before, powerful and undeniable. My wolf roared in triumph inside me. She felt it too. I saw it in the way her body trembled, her lips parting in confusion.

For a heartbeat, the entire world narrowed to just us.

I pulled out my handkerchief, pressing it gently into her palm. Her dress had a splash of liquid down the side. "Here," I said softly, my voice was hoarse. "Wipe it off."

She blinked at me, stunned, her hand shaking as she accepted it. My fingers brushed hers again, and another wave of electricity shot through both of us. She gasped quietly.

I couldn't look away, I had faced battles, led wars, stood unshaken against enemies but standing here before this fragile human girl, I felt undone.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice lower, gentler than I thought possible.

She nodded quickly, her eyes dropping, her cheeks flushed. She couldn't even hold my gaze. That hurt more than it should have.

Behind me, Jason coughed pointedly, reminding me we were not alone. The room was still staring, whispers rising in waves. But I didn't care, my eyes remained on her, my mate.

She looked like she wanted to vanish into the ground. I wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear, not while I breathed.

But then, suddenly, she pulled away.

"I...I need to go," she whispered breathlessly, her voice breaking.

Before I could react, she turned and ran.

"Ivy!" I heard someone from the serving staff call her name, but I was already moving after her.

I shoved through the crowd, ignoring the stares, my pulse hammering in my ears. She was fast, weaving between tables, slipping past startled guests. My wolf urged me forward, desperate, frantic.

"She is scared," Jason's voice rang from behind, but distant. "Damian, wait!"

I didn't wait, I pushed through the heavy doors into the night air, scanning the marble steps outside. But she was gone.

The street beyond was empty, only the faint sound of a car engine somewhere far away. My chest heaved, frustration and panic colliding inside me.

How could I lose her so quickly? My mate, My other half.

Jason caught up, his breath was steady. He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Damian, she is a human. Do you understand what this means?"

I didn't answer, my hands curled into fists, my wolf clawing inside me with restless fury.

She was mine, human or not, and I wasn't going to let her slip away.