MIRA

The smell of blood hit me before I saw it.

Sharp. Metallic. Thick in the air like smoke.

It curled into my nostrils as I stepped outside the back door of the diner, cringing at the stench of trash and stale grease. Night had fallen hard and fast, cloaking the alley in shadows. The bulb above the door flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow on the dumpsters.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t my shift. Bryan was supposed to take out the trash tonight, but the bastard had slipped out again, probably flirting with one of the college girls in the front.

“Of course,” I muttered, hugging my jacket tighter as a cold breeze sliced through my thin uniform.

I walked toward the dumpster, dragging the heavy black trash bag behind me, when I heard it.

A low growl.

Not a dog’s. Something deeper. Thicker. It vibrated through the ground and rattled in my chest.

I froze.

The alley was quiet. Too quiet.

Then I saw him.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure crouched over a body near the far end of the alley. His shirt was torn, soaked in blood. His hands—no, claws—were slick with it. I couldn’t see the victim clearly, just a flash of pale limbs and the glint of something red pooling beneath them.

My throat tightened.

He didn’t see me yet.

Maybe if I backed away slowly, I could—

My shoe scraped the concrete.

His head snapped up.

Golden eyes burned in the darkness, glowing faintly like molten fire. For one heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Me, breathless and terrified. Him, motionless, like a beast on the edge of pouncing.

Then he stood.

Holy hell.

He was huge. At least 6’4”, with muscles that strained against the shredded remnants of his shirt. His jaw was sharp, stained with blood, and his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile—but wasn’t a snarl either.

Predator.

That was the only word that came to mind.

I stumbled back. “Stay away from me.”

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet soaked in whiskey and danger.

“I—I’ll call the cops,” I threatened, though my phone was still inside. “I saw what you did!”

His head tilted slightly, like I was amusing.

“I didn’t kill him,” he said.

“Then what the hell is that?” I pointed to the crumpled body behind him.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kept coming. Not fast. Not threatening.

Confident. Too confident.

“Stop,” I warned again, backing into the dumpster. The cold metal bit into my spine.

He stopped a foot away. I could see him clearly now.

His eyes—unnatural and golden—were fixed on me with something that made my skin heat and my stomach twist.

“I can smell it on you,” he murmured. “The shift. The pull. You’re close to awakening, aren’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He didn’t answer. He lifted his hand and brushed a bloodstained thumb across my cheek. I flinched—but didn’t pull away.

Because deep down, something inside me… responded. To him.

To the scent of pine and rain that clung to his skin.

To the strange electricity that sizzled in the air between us.

“You feel it too,” he whispered. “Don’t lie.”

My heart pounded. My body screamed to run. But my feet were frozen.

“What are you?” I whispered.

His eyes flared brighter. “Dangerous.”

Suddenly, he moved.

One second he was in front of me. The next, his hand was gripping the back of my neck, pulling me close. His mouth hovered beside my ear, his breath warm.

“You’re mine,” he said.

And then everything went black.

MIRA – LATER

I came to with a gasp, lungs filling like I’d been drowning.

Soft sheets cradled me. A fire crackled nearby. The scent of sandalwood and storm lingered in the air.

Where the hell…?

I sat up, blinking against the dim, golden light. The room was massive, with stone walls and heavy curtains. A fireplace blazed beside a tall leather armchair.

And in that chair sat him. The stranger. The beast.

Damon Blackwood.

He looked clean now. No blood. Just a black button-up shirt that clung to his chest like it was tailored for sin. His sleeves were rolled up, veins visible on his forearms, and his golden eyes were fixed on me like a lion watching a gazelle.

“What did you do to me?” I demanded.

“You fainted.”

“You drugged me.”

“I caught you,” he said simply. “You would’ve fallen and cracked your skull open if I hadn’t.”

I stared at him. “Where am I?”

“My home.”

“Let me go.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “I will. After we talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I do to you, Mira Gray.”

My blood froze. “How do you know my name?”

He stood, slow and graceful. “I’ve known your name for longer than you can imagine. Your scent called to me before I even saw you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Or maybe I’m the only one who knows what you really are.”

“I’m not—”

“Human?” he interrupted. “You think so. But your blood disagrees. You’re not just human, Mira. You’re something... rare. And if I’m right, you’re the key to saving my pack.”

I stood from the bed, backing toward the wall. “I want to leave. Now.”

He took one step closer, then stopped. “You can. But if you walk away now, the people you love will die. Starting with Bryan.”

I froze.

“How do you know him?”

His eyes darkened. “Because he's been watched too. And unlike me, not everyone wants you alive.”