Elara had never been this close to a man before—definitely not one who looked like sin in a suit and smelled like power. Damon kept one arm wrapped firmly around her waist as he guided them through the dark passageway. His pace was fast—too fast for someone who was supposedly uninjured.
Every few seconds, he would tighten his hold as if making sure she was still real.
The space was narrow, forcing their bodies to brush—making her embarrassingly aware of how solid he was. Heat radiated off him like he carried a furnace beneath that expensive fabric.
"The system said I'll die if you die," Elara said breathlessly, trying to focus on anything but the way her thighs tingled.
"I already understood that part," he replied coldly. "I'm more interested in why you're feeling everything I feel."
"How would I know?" she spat. "I woke up in a hospital, then—boom—I'm in a gunfight with Mr. Blackthorn Billionaire!"
He shot her a hard look. "Lower your voice."
"Oh, sorry," she snapped. "Wouldn't want to disturb the assassins!"
He stopped suddenly. She stumbled, smacking into his chest. His hand slid up her arm, steadying her. His eyes—dark, penetrating—held hers.
"Listen to me," he said quietly, dangerously.
"People who get close to me die. Violently. So if you truly want to survive—you stay. Right. Here."
Her breath hitched.
The bond throbbed in her chest.
Warning: Target's heart rate elevated
Emotional synchronization increasing…
Suddenly, a phantom sensation rolled through Elara's body—slow, molten, intimate. Heat. Desire. But not hers.
Damon's pupils dilated.
He felt it too.
Their breaths synced.
Their hearts tangled in rhythm.
He clenched his jaw and abruptly released her.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" she whispered, shaken.
"An inconvenient side effect," he said, eyes refusing to meet hers. "It won't happen again."
He pushed open a metal door at the end of the passage.
They stepped into a penthouse—glass walls overlooking the city, rain streaking down like shimmering curtains. Everything inside was sleek and cold—mirroring him.
Elara barely had time to take in the luxurious surroundings before Damon grabbed a remote and pressed a button. Steel shutters slammed over the windows with a harsh clang.
Security lockdown.
He turned, expression unreadable.
"Take off your shirt."
"What?!" she screamed.
"You're bleeding," Damon said flatly.
She looked down—shocked to see blood soaking the left side of her gown. But she felt no pain.
"I don't—"
He stepped forward, reaching out. She jerked back.
"Don't touch me."
Damon exhaled slowly, voice lowering. "If I lay a hand on you, the bond reacts. You felt it."
Elara's cheeks heated as flashes of the moment replayed.
"Then why did I get hurt?" she asked.
"My shoulder was grazed by a bullet," he said, removing his jacket.
"As long as we're bonded," he continued, "your body will mirror any damage done to mine."
"You mean every time you get shot," she whispered, horrified, "I will bleed?"
He met her gaze, eyes like stone.
"Yes."
Her knees wobbled.
He caught her elbow to steady her—then just as quickly let go.
The wound on his shoulder oozed blood. Elara didn't think—she grabbed the first aid kit on the counter and rushed to him.
"Sit."
His brow lifted at her sudden command—but he obeyed.
She pressed gauze to the wound. Damon sucked in a sharp breath. The bond tugged—she felt a sharp echo inside her shoulder.
"Sorry," she murmured.
"You shouldn't care," Damon said, voice low. "If you stay, you'll suffer."
"And if I leave, I'll die," she shot back. "Not a lot of options here."
Their faces were inches apart. Rain hammered the windows. The world felt reduced to this single moment—his breath whispering across her lips.
Warning: Emotional Overload
Attraction Surge Detected
Synchronizing…**
Elara gasped as warmth unfurled in her belly—not hers. His.
Damon's hand rose—stopped—hovered over her cheek without touching.
"If you feel what I feel," he murmured, voice dark silk, "then you know I want—"
A sharp bang cut him off.
The door.
They both stiffened.
A second bang—louder.
Something heavy slammed into the metal.
Damon stood, shielding her automatically.
"Elara," he said, tone lethal. "Get behind me."
Her pulse soared.
The shutters rattled as a digital lock beeped.
"Security breach," a robotic voice announced.
"All this security and they still break in?" Elara hissed.
Damon smirked grimly. "When someone outbids you on the black market, nothing is safe."
He grabbed her hand.
Her fingers fit perfectly into his.
The bond ignited like sparks racing under her skin.
She looked up—
And saw fear flicker across his face.
Before she could speak—
The door exploded inward.
Three armed men stormed in.
"Blackthorn!" shouted the lead attacker.
Elara screamed.
Damon shoved her behind a pillar—just as bullets ripped through the room.
Glass shattered. Sparks flew from destroyed electronics. Damon tackled one attacker, sending them both crashing into a table. Another aimed a gun directly at Elara—
She froze.
Her vision blurred—
Her breath vanished—
Her body refused to move.
Fatal Threat Detected
Bond Defense Mode Engaged
A pulse of energy burst from her chest—an invisible shockwave—
The gunman flew backward, smacking into a wall with a sickening crack.
Elara gasped.
"What was—"
An arm wrapped around her from behind—her kidnapper dragging her, gun pressed to her temple.
"Move and she dies!" the man roared.
Damon froze—eyes murderous.
Elara's heart pounded.
Damon's pulse echoed inside her.
Her fear flowed into him—
His fury surged into her.
Their connection burned.
Synchronizing Power Output…
Warning: System Overload
Elara's skin glowed gold—light cracking through her veins like something divine struggling to break free.
The attacker shouted in terror. "What the hell are you—"
Damon's voice was a death sentence:
"Let. Her. Go."
Elara felt his rage ignite inside her—
And then everything went white