The word hung heavily in the air between them.
"Siren!"
Elara felt her throat constrict. Her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The term was familiar. A creature from myths. A monster that lured sailors to their deaths with enchanting songs. But it could not possibly apply to her. She was just different. Dangerous, yes, but not some mythical being.
"You have the wrong person," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I am just a singer."
Damon Blackwood's golden eyes seemed to glow brighter in the darkness of the alley. "A singer who can silence an Alpha werewolf with her voice?" He took another step forward, his movement fluid and controlled. "That is not human."
The casual confirmation of what she had suspected. That this man was indeed not human but something else entirely sent a fresh wave of panic through Elara. Werewolf? The word echoed in her mind alongside his accusation. Siren? Two impossible creatures facing each other in a rain drenched alley.
"Stay away from me!" she said, backing away. This time she deliberately kept her power leashed, not wanting to confirm his suspicions further.
Something shifted in Damon's expression. A softening around the eyes, though his posture remained alert. "I am not here to hurt you," he said, his deep voice cutting through the rainfall. "But we need to talk. What you are. It could explain why Viktor's scouts are in town. Why they are searching for a female target. You could be in danger."
"The only person threatening me right now is you," Elara countered, continuing to edge away. Her mind raced through escape routes, calculating her chances of outrunning whatever supernatural speed a werewolf might possess.
Damon seemed to sense her intention to flee. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, keeping them visible and open. "If I wanted to harm you, I would have done so already." His voice dropped lower, almost gentle. "Your power affected me in a way that should be impossible. That makes you either a remarkable threat or an invaluable ally. Either way, I need to understand."
The pendant at Elara's throat pulsed with warmth again, and she felt a strange, unbidden response to his words. Not trust exactly, but a pull, as if some part of her recognized something in him beyond the predator.
She had spent her entire life running from people who discovered her ability. Running had kept her alive. And yet,
"How do you know what I am when I do not?" The question slipped out before she could stop it, vulnerability bleeding into her tone.
A look of genuine surprise crossed Damon's features. "You truly do not know," he said, more statement than question. He ran a hand through his rain slicked hair, seeming suddenly less intimidating despite his imposing height and the lingering gold in his eyes. "There are stories, ancient lore passed down through pack generations. Sirens were thought extinct, hunted centuries ago for their power over supernatural beings."
Lightning flashed overhead, briefly illuminating the alley in harsh white light. In that instant, Elara caught a glimpse of something beyond the controlled power in Damon's face. A flash of wonder, perhaps even awe.
The thunder that followed seemed to break whatever fragile connection had formed between them. Elara's survival instincts reasserted themselves. This man knew what she was, or thought he did. And that made him dangerous, regardless of his intentions. She had to get away.
"I need to go," she said firmly, clutching her guitar case closer to her chest like a shield.
Damon frowned. "At least let me escort you home safely. There are others looking for you who will not be as respectful of your choices."
"I have managed on my own for twenty six years," Elara said, backing toward the street. "I do not need a werewolf's protection, or whatever it is you are."
Something that might have been hurt flashed across his face, quickly masked by a return to cool composure. "Take my card, at least," he said, reaching slowly into his inner jacket pocket. "If you change your mind, or if you notice anyone else watching you,"
Elara hesitated, then extended her hand to take the business card he offered. As their fingers briefly touched, a jolt of heat shot up her arm. From Damon's sharp intake of breath, he had felt it too.
Their eyes locked again, and for one breathless moment. The rain and the night and the danger all seemed to fade away. There was only Amber meeting Violet. Predator meeting mystery. Power recognizing power.
Then Elara broke the contact, snatching the card and turning abruptly to hurry toward the street. Her heart racing with a complex mixture of fear and something far more confusing.
Damon watched her go, fighting every instinct in his body that demanded he follow. His wolf was restless beneath his skin, alternating between wanting to pursue and wanting to submit. A contradiction that had never occurred in his decade as Alpha.
"Sir?" Reed's voice came from the shadows of a nearby doorway. "Should I follow her?"
"No," Damon said firmly, though it cost him to give the order. "We will not hunt her. She is not prey."
Reed stepped into view, his expression guarded. "If she is what you suspect, Viktor will not show the same restraint."
"I know." Damon continued to stare in the direction Elara had disappeared, rain streaming down his face. "But forcing her compliance will only confirm her worst fears."
"And what is that?"
Damon turned to face his security chief, his expression troubled. "That those who discover what she is will try to control or use her." He glanced down at his hand, still tingling from the brief contact with hers. "She has been running for a long time. I saw it in her eyes."
Reed nodded slowly. "So what is the plan?"
"I need to consult with Marlowe. If my suspicions are correct, the implications are," Damon trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Dangerous?" Reed supplied.
"Extraordinary," Damon corrected, his mind still filled with the memory of her voice washing over him. Silencing his wolf with a power that should not exist in the modern world.
As they walked back toward the pub, Damon's enhanced senses caught a glint of something on the wet pavement. He crouched down, finding a silver pendant on a broken chain. It must have fallen from Elara's neck during her hasty retreat.
His breath caught as he lifted it, the spiral pattern achingly familiar. The metal was unnaturally warm despite the cold rain. And as he turned it over in his palm, he noticed strange markings etched into the back. Symbols he had seen only once before, in the oldest texts kept by his pack's elder.
"Sir?" Reed questioned, noting Damon's sudden stillness.
Damon rose slowly, closing his fist around the pendant. "Change of plans. We need to get back to pack territory immediately."
"What is it?"
Damon's expression was grave. His eyes once again flickered between human amber and wolf gold as he stared at the pendant in his palm.
"Proof," he said quietly. "And a key."