Chapter 8 – Unwanted Attention

The next morning, I woke up feeling less like death and more like a slightly overheated potato.

The fever had broken overnight, but I still felt drained. My body ached, and my mind… well, that was a complete disaster.

I barely survived last night’s humiliation.

Damien Blackwood. In my house. In my room. Sitting on my bed like he belonged there.

And the worst part?

He acted like he did.

As if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if him touching my face and murmuring to me like we were something more was completely acceptable.

I groaned into my pillow.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I knew my parents weren’t going to drop it.

And I was right.

I dragged myself downstairs, still feeling half-dead, but at least I was mobile.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, the room fell silent.

Mom was stirring her coffee, watching me carefully.

Dad had his newspaper in his hands, but he wasn’t reading it. He was waiting.

And Noah?

Oh, Noah looked way too excited.

I sighed, pulling out a chair. “Okay. Get it over with.”

Mom arched an eyebrow. “Get what over with?”

I glared. “The lecture. The interrogation. The ‘who is this boy and why was he in your room’ speech.”

Dad folded his newspaper and leaned forward. “Who is this boy, and why was he in your room?”

Called it.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Dad—”

“You can’t blame us for asking, Aurora,” Mom said, giving me the mom stare. “This was completely unexpected. You never bring home friends, let alone…” She trailed off, hesitating.

Noah finished for her. “A six-foot-tall golden-eyed hottie with major possessive energy?”

I kicked him under the table.

“OW! Rude!”

Mom sighed. “Aurora, we’re just concerned. He didn’t seem… like a normal friend.”

Dad scowled. “He didn’t seem like a friend at all.”

I grabbed my toast and took the biggest bite possible to avoid answering.

Mom didn’t fall for it. “Is he your boyfriend?”

I choked.

COUGHED.

Nearly DIED.

Noah burst into laughter. “Wow. That reaction was LOUD.”

Dad narrowed his eyes. “Well? Is he?”

I wheezed. “NO. No, no, no. Absolutely not. He’s—he’s—”

I paused.

What was Damien?

Because friend didn’t feel right.

But boyfriend?

Hell. No.

Mom sighed, exchanging a glance with Dad. “Then why did he look at you like you belonged to him?”

I froze.

My heart skipped a beat.

Had she noticed?

Had she seen the way his gaze burned into me like I was something he refused to let go of?

The air grew heavy.

I forced a laugh. “Mom, you’re overthinking this.”

Dad still looked suspicious. “I don’t like him.”

Of course, he didn’t.

Neither did I.

I ignored the way my stomach twisted at the lie.

“Well, good thing it’s not your problem,” I muttered, standing up and grabbing my bag. “I’m going back to school today.”

Mom sighed. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?”

“Yep. Good as new.”

Lie. I felt like a wreck, but I needed to get out of here.

Before they asked me more questions I didn’t have answers for.

The school hallway felt different.

It was too loud. Too quiet.

People were staring.

I pulled my hoodie closer around me, walking faster toward my locker.

I knew why they were staring.

Yesterday.

Damien had practically staked his claim on me in front of the entire school.

And, apparently, word had spread.

I didn’t need to hear the whispers to know what they were saying.

“She’s the one Damien Blackwood is after?”

“What’s so special about her?”

“I heard they were in her house together.”

“She’s probably just a plaything. He’ll get bored.”

My stomach twisted.

I wasn’t his plaything.

I wasn’t anything.

I sighed, grabbing my books from my locker and slamming it shut.

And that’s when I saw him.

Damien.

Standing down the hall, arms crossed, golden eyes locked onto me.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

For a moment, I forgot how to move.

The hallway was full of people, but he wasn’t looking at them.

Just me.

I turned quickly and walked the other way.

I thought I had escaped.

I was wrong.

Because the second I stepped outside after school, he was waiting.

Leaning against his black motorcycle, looking ridiculously untouchable.

The sight of him stole my breath.

The way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the way his strong arms flexed under his leather jacket, the way his golden gaze zeroed in on me—

Damn it.

I ignored him and walked straight past.

I didn’t make it far.

A strong hand grabbed my wrist.

I gasped, spinning around, but he had already pulled me close.

His scent hit me all at once.

Warm, musky, dangerously intoxicating.

“You ignored me.”

His voice was low, rough, accusing.

I swallowed hard, trying to pull away. “I was busy.”

His grip tightened.

Not painful. But firm. Unyielding.

“You’re lying.” His golden eyes darkened. “You’re running.”

I glared. “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.”

His smirk was lazy. Dangerous. “Then why is your heart racing?”

Oh. My. God.

I yanked my wrist away, stepping back. “Stay away from me, Damien.”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t.”

“Try.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me cold.

“Run all you want, little one.”

My stomach tightened.

“But you’re mine.”

I felt his words deep in my bones.

And the worst part?

A part of me didn’t want to run at all.

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