The single word, "Mine," rang out in the abrupt, heavy silence of the street. It was a word that should have been absurd, a claim so antique and proprietary it was of another time. And yet, it rang in Elena's ears like a deep, vibrating chord that ran through her very marrow. Her terror was still a cold knot in her stomach, but beneath it, something stirred—something ancient and dormant, a spark of recognition in the midst of her soul that terrified her more than the man himself. He took another step, his golden eyes holding her, and the thin air between them was charged with an impossible power.
And just as he lifted a hand, not to reach out and grab her but as if to caress her cheek, the darkness was ripped apart by a blinding flash of red and blue. The strobing lights bathed the buildings in bright, rhythmic flashes, and the far-off wail of a siren grew louder and louder. A police cruiser, on its slow evening patrol, had made the turn.
The transformation in the man before her was immediate and complete. The raw, predatory intensity was gone from his eyes, replaced with a cool, impassive calm. The feral tension in his shoulders eased, and he became what he seemed: an obscenely rich man in a tailored suit, on a city street. He cocked his head to one side, observing the oncoming car with an expression of mild irritation, as though it were an ordinary insect flying too close.
The cruiser rolled to a stop alongside them, its window whining open. A mustachioed officer with tired eyes leaned in. "Everything all right here?" he asked, his eye darting from Damien's tailored suit to Elena's faded waitress uniform, to the motionless, gigantic truck. The suspicion in his eyes was easy to read.
"Very well, Officer," Damien replied, his own voice now a sophisticated, elegant baritone, free of the throaty growl of his earlier days. It was the voice of boardrooms and of old money, the voice you followed. "I was taking Ms. Carter home. She'd worked a long shift."
The officer's face clenched. That this man had heard her name sent a new shock of fear through Elena. How had he heard her name?
"Ma'am?" the officer said, having all his attention now on Elena. "Are you okay? Do you know this man?"
This was her time. Her freedom. She just needed to shake her head. She just needed to say no. A word would summon the entire weight of human society's laws to come crashing down on this impossible condition. She could be safe. She parted her lips to speak, to scream, to do something. But the words would not emerge. Looking at the golden-eyed stranger, a fierce, inexplicable desire bloomed inside her—a wild, protective desire that made no sense. Do not betray him. Do not expose him. The thought wasn't even hers; it seemed to come from that same deep, secret place that had recognized his claim. It was a desire as overwhelming as the desire to breathe. To her own deep surprise, she found herself giving a tiny, jerky nod.
"I. I'm okay, Officer," she stuttered, her own voice strange to her own ears. "He was. giving me a ride."
The cop stared at them for what felt like an eternity, his hand resting near his gun. But Damien's serenity was impenetrable, his cash an effective shield. Finally the cop relaxed, the struggle draining out of him. "Alright. Just keep out of trouble now." He gave Damien one last wary look and his window came back to life and the cruiser continued on along the street, its lights receding into the darkness.
The silence that fell was more oppressive than ever. The instant of immediate peril was over, but the real peril remained, standing before her. Damien's eyes returned to her, and she saw a glimmer of something new in his golden eyes—surprise, and a wicked glint of gratification. He had witnessed her decision. He knew that she had saved him when she could have damned him.
He did not step forward to take her. Rather, he shifted strategy, the predator attempting a more subtle enticement. He held out his hand, palm open, an invitation, not an order.
"Elena," he said, her name a soothing caress in his deep voice. "I'll drive you home. It is not safe out here." She looked at his open hand, and then at his face. The decision remained hers, but the alternatives were changed. He was no longer a monster in the shadows; he was a riddle. And her own response to him was the most frightening puzzle of all. She was at the edge of two worlds and had to choose in which one she was most fearful of falling.