Chapter 5: A Kiss of Death

Celia's heart pounded in her chest as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

She had barely caught her breath when the door to her chambers exploded inward.

A figure cloaked in shadows moved with lightning speed, and before she could react, the assailant lunged toward her.

She barely had time to register the attacker's features — a tall, lean man with piercing gray eyes — before her instincts kicked in.

The assassin's blade flashed through the air, aimed directly at her heart.

But Celia wasn't a helpless damsel.

Her entire life had been spent in the shadows, taught to survive at any cost.

Survival was in her blood.

In a blur of motion, she dodged the blade, her body reacting faster than her mind could process.

The assassin swung again, but Celia's arm shot out, catching his wrist with a bone-crushing grip.

He snarled, trying to wrench his arm free, but Celia twisted his wrist with enough force to make him howl in pain.

"What the hell?" the assassin growled, surprise flooding his voice.

His eyes narrowed at her, disbelief flashing across his face.

No one — not even a she-wolf — was supposed to fight back with such strength.

But Celia wasn't done.

She grabbed the side of his neck, locking her fingers like a vice.

With a sudden, brutal shove, she sent the assassin flying back into the wall.

He crumpled to the floor with a groan, disoriented but still alive.

She stood over him, panting with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, ready to finish him off.

But before she could strike again, a guttural growl echoed through the room.

The temperature dropped instantly as an all-too-familiar presence filled the space.

Damon's Fury

The assassin's eyes went wide in fear as Damon Blackwood stormed into the room.

He moved with terrifying grace, his golden eyes burning with raw fury.

In an instant, Damon was upon the assassin, his massive hands closing around the man's throat.

The assassin barely had time to react before Damon lifted him off the ground, his fingers digging into the man's flesh.

"Do you think you can come into my house, attack my mate, and live?"

Damon's voice was a low, dangerous growl, each word dripping with venom.

The assassin gasped for air, clawing at Damon's iron grip, but it was useless.

Damon's rage was like a storm, and the assassin was nothing more than a leaf in the wind.

With a sickening crunch, Damon's grip tightened, and the assassin's body went limp.

Damon dropped him to the ground like a ragdoll, his expression dark, his chest heaving with the aftereffects of his fury.

Celia stood frozen, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and awe.

Damon had torn through the assassin like he was nothing — like he was prey.

Her pulse still raced, and her body shook from the sudden rush of battle.

Her gaze moved from Damon to the assassin's lifeless body.

But instead of feeling relief, a deep sense of unease settled in her stomach.

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Damon didn't spare her another glance as he turned to the body on the floor.

His eyes were hard, his expression cold.

He didn't seem surprised by the attack, as though he had expected it.

Celia's breath was still heavy in her chest, and her fingers flexed involuntarily at her sides.

It had happened so quickly — one moment, she was fighting for her life, the next, Damon was there, wielding a deadly force that made her question what kind of monster he truly was.

"What was that?" Celia demanded, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound strong.

"Why was someone trying to kill me?"

Damon turned his gaze to her, his golden eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else — something she couldn't quite name.

"Because they know what you are."

His voice was rough, his words clipped.

Celia felt the air shift, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

"What am I?" she asked, her heart thudding in her chest.

Damon took a step toward her, his presence so overwhelming that she took a step back.

His gaze never wavered, and the intensity in his eyes made her throat tighten.

"You have no idea what you are, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Celia's mouth went dry, the fear clawing its way up her spine.

She wanted to fight back, to deny his words, but the raw intensity in his gaze left her speechless.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Damon reached out, his grip seizing her wrist with the force of a vice.

The moment his fingers closed around her skin, a jolt of heat rushed through her, making her breath catch.

It was the same pull she had been trying to ignore since the moment they met, but now it was stronger, more undeniable.

He dragged her toward him, his strength overwhelming as he towered over her.

The moment her body collided with his, a wave of warmth washed over her, despite the danger that hung thick in the air.

His lips were close, his breath mingling with hers.

Celia stiffened, trying to pull away, but Damon's grip tightened.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice a deadly promise.

"And there's no running from me, Celia."

***********************************************

Celia's pulse hammered in her ears, her mind racing to find some way out, but it was as if her body betrayed her.

The pull between them was undeniable, like two forces of nature colliding.

She hated it.

She hated how his touch made her skin burn, how his presence made her heart ache in ways she couldn't explain.

But before she could think of a response, Damon leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke in a voice that sent shivers down her spine.

"Your blood…" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

"It's worth more than a kingdom, Celia."

Her breath caught, her eyes widening in disbelief. What did that mean?

But before she could form another thought, Damon's lips captured hers in a brutal, possessive kiss.

It was a kiss that was both fiery and cold, a kiss that reached her core.

For a moment, she was paralyzed, the heat of his mouth on hers consuming her.

She wanted to push him away, to resist, but her body responded as though it had no control over itself.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.

When they finally broke apart, both of them gasping for air, Damon's eyes were glowing with something primal, something dangerous.

"You are mine, Celia," he repeated, his voice hoarse.

"And no one will ever take you from me."

Her heart raced in her chest as she tried to process his words, but all she could focus on was the sensation of his kiss lingering on her lips, his touch burning her skin.

She was in deeper than she realized.

Moments later, they broke away from the kiss.

Celia's voice was barely a whisper as she looked up at Damon.

"What does that mean? What do you want from me?"

Damon didn't answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze darkened, and the room seemed to grow colder.

"Everything," he murmured.

"I want everything, Celia."

And in that moment, Celia realized that whatever Damon Blackwood wanted, she would never be able to escape.