That's it, open up

Damien's POV

I jerked awake.

My chest heaved, a thin film of sweat at my temples. Outside, the rain had stopped. Heavy curtains held back most of the morning light, and the room had gone so quiet I could hear the faint crackle of wood burning in the fireplace.

I pressed my fingers against my brow and tried to push away what still lingered behind my eyes.

This wasn't the first time I'd had this dream.

Before, the woman in it had always been just that — a blurred silhouette, nothing more. I could never make out her face, never catch what she was saying. Every time I moved toward her, she dissolved, leaving behind a hollow ache I had no name for.

But this time was different.

This time I saw her face.

It was Calla.

Absurd.

And yet the moment I closed my eyes, there she was — not at the cliff's edge, but exactly as she'd looked a few hours ago, standing in front of me wrapped in nothing but a towel.

I shoved myself upright and yanked at my collar, restless.

The room carried my scent, the way my territory always did. But underneath it ran something else — a cool, faint fragrance that didn't belong to me. My gaze moved to the sofa.

Calla was curled there, wearing my shirt. The fabric swallowed her, hanging loose off one shoulder, making her look even smaller than she was.

I crossed the room slowly and crouched at the sofa's edge.

A few strands of hair had fallen across her cheek. Her sleep didn't look restful.

I leaned in, trying to place that strange scent on her — and then her lips moved.

"No…"

Barely a sound. It almost dissolved into the pop and hiss of the fire.

I tilted my head closer.

"No what?"

She didn't answer. She only burrowed deeper into the blanket, her fingers curling tight around the fabric at her chest.

Then, muffled and half-formed, another sound.

"Alpha…"

I went still.

She was dreaming about me?

My hand rose on its own, reaching toward her unguarded face —

Then Calla flinched, as though she sensed something coming, and wrenched her head to the side. Her eyes flew open, her breathing ragged.

We stared at each other.

She startled badly. Her whole body locked up against the sofa cushions.

And in that same instant, I caught it — the drowsy haze still clouding her eyes, and the flush that was already climbing her cheeks.

"Alpha?"

She grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, pressing herself back into the corner of the sofa.

I didn't answer right away. I just watched her.

"Were you dreaming?"

She blinked.

"What?"

"I heard you talking."

The color in her face deepened.

"No, I wasn't — I just—"

She dropped her gaze and fumbled with the shirt, trying to straighten it. The more flustered she got, the worse it went; the collar slipped further off her shoulder.

I watched her, and my suspicion only grew heavier.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"I wasn't dreaming. Alpha, you misheard me."

"I sleepwalk sometimes. It was just noise — not talking in my sleep."

She answered too fast. She wouldn't look at me.

I could feel it clearly: she was lying.

Last night had already been strange enough. The scent on her — something no ordinary human carried. The word she'd let slip in her sleep. Neither of those things let me take her story at face value.

Maybe she already knew something.

Or maybe coming to the manor hadn't been accidental.

And the woman who kept appearing in my dreams…

I pushed that thought down before it could take shape, and brought my attention back to the person in front of me.

Right. I only wanted to know who she was. Where she'd come from.

That was all.

"Calla." I let my voice drop. "You should think carefully about whether there's anything you haven't told me."

Whatever calm she'd been holding onto seemed to slip. A wave of that cool scent drifted from her with each breath — sharper now than it had been last night.

I kept my eyes on her. My throat moved without my permission.

That fragrance carried something I couldn't explain. It cut through my senses and unsettled something underneath them — the restlessness I'd forced down hours ago rising again, and with it the possessive instinct I'd spent years learning to keep leashed.

"You've been calling out for your alpha."

I brought one knee up onto the arm of the sofa and leaned in, my shadow falling over her completely. I searched her eyes for something — an answer, a crack, anything.

"Tell me who you were dreaming about. Was it me? Or someone else in the manor?"

Calla's breath caught. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip.

"No one. Alpha, please — step back."

Her voice was quiet, but the fear underneath it was real.

I didn't move.

My gaze traveled past her flushed ear and settled on the side of her neck, where a faint mark from the night before still showed against her pale skin.

Something shifted in my chest — a feeling I didn't have a word for.

All I knew was that seeing that mark made me want no one else to see it.

I forced my eyes away. The scent didn't let me go.

Calla trembled as I closed the distance, and finally pressed both palms flat against my chest, trying to push me back.

The moment her hands touched me, my breath stopped.

On instinct, I caught both her wrists and pinned them above her head against the back of the sofa. My other hand settled on the curve of her waist and pulled her in against me.

Calla gasped, her chest rising sharply.

In the struggle, a button tore free from the shirt and skittered away into the gap beside the cushion.

"You're shaking, Calla."

I lowered my head, working to keep my eyes off the rise and fall of her chest.

"Tell me what you're afraid of."

She didn't answer. She pulled against my grip.

And then I saw it — the bright shine gathering in her eyes. The fear there was real, not performance, not deflection. She wasn't playing games with me.

I should let her go.

But that scent kept unraveling my focus. It made me want to find its source, to close the remaining distance, to understand what she was hiding and why every instinct I had was reacting to her this way.

I bent down until my face was almost against her neck.

Calla turned her head sharply away, her breathing completely undone.

"Alpha, don't—"

Her voice trembled. The hands braced against my chest pushed hard.

I stopped, my mouth hovering just short of hers, my gaze locked onto her eyes.

"Then tell me. What are you hiding?"

She shook her head, still fighting to pull free. Loose strands of hair swept across the back of my hand. That scent hit me again, and my breath came out slow and uneven.

I leaned in once more.

Three knocks landed on the door — unhurried, deliberate.

I froze.

Then a familiar voice, just outside.

"Damien? Are you in there?"