Chapter 3
3
CAT
T he world seemed to pause, the air pulsing around us as if time itself was holding its breath. The notion of home—of my world—hung between us, tangible yet fraught with uncertainty. Could his words be trusted? As doubt clouded my thoughts, the fragrant breeze of the garden now felt like a cold draft.
Seeking stability, I returned to the stone bench, its surface cool and solid beneath me. I sat and took several deep, measured breaths to steady my nerves. “I don’t trust you,” I finally whispered, the words barely audible over the rustling leaves.
“Do you have any other options?” he countered, his tone sharp. “I can prevent you from ever returning. Instead, I’m giving you a chance. If you work with me.”
I frowned, my gaze dropping to my slipper-clad feet. His proposal didn't sit right with me; it seemed too convenient, too simple. “Let me get this straight… I marry you, and then you send me home through the portal right after? I don’t see how that arrangement could possibly be beneficial for you. I’m not that easily fooled, Damien.” Not to mention the fact that unbeknownst to him, my return depended on a thunderstorm to open the portal in the river.
He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Well… it wouldn’t be right after we were married. Once my father frees me from exile and allows me to leave Elaria, you can go as well.”
I scoffed, the sound harsh in the quiet garden. “So this is all contingent on whether the emperor agrees to follow through on his promise to release you? I could marry you and he could just decide to lock me up on your island with you. Have you met your father? The man has more than a few loose screws, Damien.” I grimaced and shook my head.
Damien hovered over me for a moment before leaning down to box me in on the bench, his hands pressing against the stone on either side of my hips. “And here I thought you were a gambling woman,” he murmured, his face mere inches from mine. His breath was warm against my skin, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in my bones. “What’s wrong, Cat? Are you afraid?”
I rolled my eyes, though I didn’t break his gaze. “Yes, Damien, I am. You think I’m afraid to admit it? Well, I’m not. I’d rather not die in foreign lands.”
His expression softened and he moved closer, his proximity overwhelming. “I won’t let you die,” he whispered, his lips hovering near mine, the heat of his breath mingling with the cooler air. “I’ll protect you, Cat.”
“It’s you I need protection from,” I whispered back, my voice trembling slightly. When his hand drifted up to caress my cheek I flinched, unable to help the instinctive reaction to his touch.
“Maybe so…” he conceded softly, his eyes searching mine. “But I won’t let anything happen to you. That much I can promise you, Cat. If I fail, may I die by a thousand cuts,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against my lips.
My breath hitched and I gripped the edges of the bench, the rough stone biting into my palms. I was motionless, torn between pulling away and drawing nearer to the strange, unwanted thrill his closeness elicited. My heart fiercely pounded, a wild drumbeat echoing through the quiet garden.
How could I harbor such deep resentment and yet be moved by his proximity? It was a paradox I wasn’t ready to unravel, a tangle of emotions I wasn't prepared to dissect just yet. Probably because if I did, I’d end up with a wicked migraine and a case of Stockholm syndrome.
The conflicting feelings left me frozen under his touch, caught in a moment I neither fully understood nor could escape.
Damien's kiss lingered briefly, a ghostly touch that left a trail of confusion in its wake. He pulled back slightly, searching my face for any sign of reciprocation. I remained still, caught in the tumult of my racing heart and the clamor of conflicting emotions. Every instinct screamed for me to push him away, to erect barriers as impenetrable as the walls of his volcanic fortress, yet part of me was inexplicably drawn to the danger he represented.
I was officially deranged. I had to be, because seriously? The man literally pulled me out of the river and stopped me from going home. He kept me captive in this weird-ass world and now he wanted me to marry him? And stranger than that, I was actually contemplating it?
Jesus Christ.
I must have lost my ever-loving mind.
The silence that enveloped us was broken only by distant bird calls and the whisper of the wind through the leaves, a natural symphony that seemed at odds with the intensity of our confrontation. The floral sweetness of nearby blossoms mingled with the acrid tang of my fear and the musky hint of his proximity.
“You’re a terrible kisser,” I mumbled with a roll of my eyes.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s a first. I’ve been accused of many things, but not that. Maybe I should try again.” He leaned toward me again, but I stopped him with a finger against his lips.
“That’s unnecessary.” But before I could push him away, he pulled my hand from his mouth, gripped the back of my head, and pulled me toward him again.
Damien’s lips crashed onto mine in a punishing kiss that left me absolutely breathless, trapping my arms between our chests so I couldn’t even push him away if I wanted to, which, oddly enough, I didn’t. Our mouths molded together as if they’d done this many times before, and I melted in his arms. If he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have collapsed on weak knees. I hated that more than anything.
When he finally pulled away I gasped, my eyes wide in shock. “Am I still terrible?” he asked teasingly.
I gulped but didn’t answer.
For fuck’s sake. Just kill me now.
“I mean… I guess you’re okay,” I mumbled and looked away, not meeting his gaze. My face heated and I just wanted to dig myself a hole and hide. I peered over at him. “I’d give it an A for effort.”
Damien’s gaze held mine, his eyes reflecting a turmoil that matched my own. “Cat,” he began, his voice low, “I know this isn’t simple or straightforward. But I’m not the villain you think I am. I’m trapped by circumstances much larger than either of us.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “You speak of circumstances,” I countered, my voice steadier than I felt, “but choices are what define us, Damien. You chose to use me as a means to an end. Can you blame me for doubting your intentions now?”
He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of regret. “I made choices under duress, yes. But believe me when I say that my intentions towards you have changed.” His hand reached out, hesitating inches from the twin flame tattoo on my arm before he seemed to think better of it and let it drop. “I want to protect you, not just for my sake but for yours as well. We are linked by this mark, whether we wished for it or not. It binds us in ways we are only beginning to understand.”
As Damien’s words hung in the air, thick with implication, I shifted my gaze to the horizon where the sky seamlessly blended into the canopy of lush trees bordering the Ryder residence. The faint smell of earth and foliage intermingled with the subtle perfume of blooming flowers. The atmosphere, usually so comforting and vibrant, now felt oppressive, charged with the tension of our conversation.
“And if I refuse? What then, Damien? Will you still force me to stay?” I asked, my voice steady but underlined with growing unease.
“Yes,” he replied after a weighty pause, his tone resolute yet tinged with regret. “I have no other choice. But I ask you to consider what staying might mean—not just for me, but for you as well. This world, as strange and dangerous as it is, holds answers to questions we both share.”
I scoffed, a sharp, disbelieving sound that sliced through the soft hum of the garden around us. “What questions could I possibly have about a world I don’t belong in?” I challenged, pushing away from him and creating a physical distance to match the emotional one growing between us.
Damien straightened, his tall figure throwing a long shadow on the patterned stone path. He looked down at me with an expression that mixed frustration with undeniable curiosity. “Haven’t you ever wondered why that mark came to you in a dream right before you came here? And how you were able to switch places with none other than Lady Arya, your own doppelg?nger? Aren’t you curious, Cat?”
“No,” I lied, folding my arms defensively even as my heart pounded a rapid tempo, betraying my outward display of disinterest.
He snorted, clearly not convinced. “Very well. I guess I’m the only one who wonders what other forces are at play here.”
I gave a noncommittal shrug, my gaze drifting away from his searching eyes to the surrounding garden. The sun slowly crept toward its zenith, evidenced by the crisp breeze that rustled the leaves and created a whisper that seemed to carry secrets of its own. Birds chirped their morning songs, and the scent of damp earth rose more strongly as the air warmed. The grit of the sandy path beneath my shoes grounded me.
“I guess you are,” I retorted, trying to mask my inner turmoil with an indifferent facade. My eyes scanned the garden, taking in the vibrant flowers and the intricate designs of the hedge mazes, anything to avoid looking directly at him and confronting the complex emotions he stirred. Because I’d be damned if I admitted anything to him.
I remained seated on the cold stone bench, my posture stiff, every sense heightened and attuned to the environment and the man standing persistently before me. When will this bastard leave, already? I wanted to lock myself in my room and wallow. If only Elaria had Wi-Fi, I’d be binge watching Grey’s Anatomy . Because no one’s life was worse than Meredith Grey and everyone else on that show.
Damien’s figure blocked the soft light of the sun, his long shadow falling across the pebbled path leading to the garden. He watched me with an intensity that felt as palpable as the dew on the grass.
“Come have breakfast with me,” he suggested, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, yet tinged with an edge, a firmness that suggested it was less of an invitation and more of a directive.
I looked up at him, my gaze guarded. “I’m not hungry.” I hoped he would take the hint and leave me alone, but Damien was not one to give up easily, especially not today.
As I stood to leave, my stomach decided to grumble so loudly, I’m sure it could have been heard in the Southern District. I’d never wanted to stab myself more than in that moment. My body betrayed me in the worst way possible. Traitor .
Damien’s chuckle, both mirthful and chilling, halted me. “Cat, I didn’t realize I was asking. I promise that where I plan to take you, the food is far better than what you’ve had so far in Elaria. Besides, it’s just breakfast. Indulge me.”
“I’d rather slit my wrists,” I deadpanned, the irritation clear in my voice. When I turned away, Damien’s grip tightened on my arm. His touch was firm but not painful, effectively stopping me in my tracks.
“Cat,” he growled, his voice low and laced with frustration. “Please don’t test my patience. I’m just asking to share a meal, and you’re obviously hungry. There are other things we must discuss. Other vampire-related matters,” he urgently whispered.
The mention of vampires deflated my resolve. I had forgotten about the obligations that awaited me later that day. Today was the third Sunday of the month, and I was due to deliver another painting to the vampires tonight. The realization that I might still be entangled in these matters by nightfall weighed heavily on me.
“Fine,” I gritted between clenched teeth. “Breakfast. But after that, I want to be brought straight home and left alone. I don’t want to see you.” Because the good Lord only knew what would happen if we kept spending time together. I honestly didn’t even want to think about it.
He snorted dismissively. “We’ll see about that.”
A short carriage ride later, we arrived in front of Shuyan restaurant. The building appeared plain—a utilitarian, functional structure, but its size was imposing. It spanned two floors with ornate balconies adorning the second level, hinting at a grandeur that likely came to life under the evening lights. A line was already forming at the entrance, a testament to its popularity among the locals.
“It looks like it’ll be a while,” I murmured as we alighted from the carriage, nodding toward the crowd.
“It will be for them,” Damien agreed, his voice faintly softening. “But I always have a private room reserved on the third Sunday of every month when I’m on the mainland. Come on.” He took my hand and led me toward the restaurant.
As we approached, the rich aroma of spices wafted from the open windows, mingling with the morning air. Lively chatter and clinking dishes resonated from inside, inviting yet overwhelming in its intensity.
The entrance of Shuyan restaurant was framed by traditional wooden arches, intricately carved and polished to a gleaming shine. Burgundy velvet ropes cordoned off the line, and the buzz of anticipation from the waiting patrons filled the space. Damien led me past the queue, straight to the front where a host stood, greeting guests with practiced politeness.
The host recognized Damien and nodded, then removed the rope and allowed us inside. Damien didn’t need an escort as he knew which room to go to.
The interior was a blend of rustic charm and elegant decor. The walls were adorned with delicate tapestries and paintings that captured scenes of Elarian landscapes and historical moments. A trio of musicians played soft music that soothed the senses and added to the serene ambiance.
Our private room was upstairs, a secluded area that offered a view of the bustling street below through double doors that opened onto a small balcony. The space was furnished with a polished wooden table, cushioned chairs, and fine silverware place settings staged in anticipation of our meal.
As we settled in, the subtle scents of jasmine tea and fresh pastries filled the room. Buttery beams of sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, radiating a warm glow I felt deep in my bones.
Damien pulled out my chair with a flourish that felt oddly out of character, highlighting a side of him I wasn't accustomed to seeing. I hesitantly took a seat and picked up the faint scent of lemon polish used on the wooden frame. He then moved gracefully to the opposite side of the table and sat with an air of formality.
As he poured the tea, steam rose in gentle swirls, carrying with it the delicate aroma of bergamot and spices. I absently stirred the liquid, the clinking of the spoon against the cup filling the awkward silence between us. Despite the inviting smell, I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it—I still hadn’t developed a taste for tea.
“Talk,” I demanded sharply, breaking the calm. “You wanted me here to discuss the vampire issue, so let’s get it over with.”
Damien’s expression tightened momentarily. He took a measured sip of his tea, perhaps to gather his thoughts. After a brief pause, he set down his cup with a soft clink against the saucer. “My uncle infiltrated their compound. We know where the noblemen meet to watch the fight through the painting. You were right.”
“I knew it,” I grumbled, a mix of vindication and frustration threading my voice. “So what’s the plan, Superman?” I added, a half-hearted attempt at lightening the mood with a pop culture reference I knew would sail over his head.
As expected, Damien furrowed his brows, puzzled by the unfamiliar reference. “We’re going to burn it down,” he stated plainly, bringing the conversation back to the grim reality of our plan.
“The compound?” I clarified.
“And the fighting ring,” he added. “We’re pretty sure their money is also stored at the estate, so with one strategically placed blaze, we would destroy it all.”
“And no one will get hurt?” I asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. The gravity of the proposal made me pause. I needed to be sure of the consequences.
He shook his head, his expression confident. “No one will get hurt.”
I slowly nodded as I evaluated the full scope of the plan. “A new painting is due tonight. I guess this will be the last bit of money I’ll be able to collect with Arya’s paintings.”
“It’s best this way, Cat. You don’t want to be involved in this,” he reasoned, his voice softening, attempting to reassure me, perhaps, or to convince himself.
“Unfortunately I’m already involved.” I sighed and leaned back against the cushioned seat, then grabbed a pastry and stuffed it in my mouth in a very unladylike manner. The flaky crust of the pastry scattered crumbs across the pristine tablecloth as I chewed it aggressively, my frustration manifesting in my lack of dining decorum.
Damien watched with a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes despite the seriousness of our earlier conversation. “Cat, even when you’re trying to be difficult, you manage to make it seem charming,” he commented, his voice carrying a light, teasing tone. He picked up a pastry and mimicked my actions with a deliberate casualness that somehow seemed perfectly polished.
I rolled my eyes, not buying into his attempt to lighten the mood. “Charming? You have a strange definition of charm, Damien.”
He chuckled and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he regarded me with a playful smirk. “Perhaps, but it’s one of the many mysteries you seem to enjoy unraveling about me.”
I paused with the pastry halfway to my mouth, caught off guard by his flirtatious demeanor. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, dude. Unraveling you isn’t at the top of my list.”
“Ah, but I’m on the list,” Damien quipped, not missing a beat. “That’s a start.”
The air between us filled with tension and inexplicable ease that seemed to seep in with every playful exchange. I took another bite of my pastry, this time more slowly, allowing myself to actually taste the sweet, buttery flavor.
Damien watched me, his gaze lingering a moment too long on my lips, which gave the simple act of eating a strangely intimate quality.
I licked my lips and cleared my throat. “So when are you going to burn it all down?” I asked, shifting in my seat and brushing away the pastry flakes that clung to my lips.
“Before next Saturday,” Damien responded, his tone business-like as he contemplated the logistics. “I’m working out a plan with my uncle.”
Feeling a sudden surge of determination, I leaned forward and brushed the rest of the crumbs from my face. “I want in,” I declared, meeting his gaze squarely.
“What?” One eyebrow arched in surprise.
“You heard me,” I insisted. “I want to help.”
Damien chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep from his chest. “Cat, my uncle and I are dragons. We breathe fire. This is an easy job for us. Why would we possibly need your help?” He slowly shook his head. “No, we’ll work better and faster without you.”
I smirked as an idea sparked in my mind. “What if we pull a heist?”
“A what?” His frown deepened, confusion evident on his face.
“A robbery, a theft, a stick-up,” I elaborated, enjoying the challenge of pitching the concept in as many ways as possible. “Let’s steal their money and then burn it all to the ground.”
Damien’s eyes widened as he processed my proposal, his gaze evaluating me anew, as if he’d seen a side of me he hadn’t anticipated. “That’s positively… criminal,” he finally said, the words laden with disapproval and a hint of intrigue.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “That coin is criminal. Finders keepers. You’re a prince without any royal benefits, which I’m sure means you’re short on cash. What better way to fund your needs?”
His expression hardened, the muscles in his jaw working as if grinding down his frustration. “There are things you do not know, Cat. That coin… is not for me to take.”
“Then whose is it?” I pressed, my curiosity piqued.
“Crown Prince Thorne,” he tersely replied, his voice low.
One eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Your older brother?”
He nodded. “I’ve been investigating the vampires for him. If I steal the coin, I have to give it to him. I can’t keep it.”
I sighed heavily and leaned back in my chair, the cool wood pressing against my spine. Frustration bubbled up and I nearly shouted, “Gosh, you’re so righteous when you want to be! Why can’t you be like that with me and let me go home to my world?”
“They are two very different situations, Cat, and you know it,” he growled. “We can save the coin from the fire if you want, but you can’t keep it.”
I sighed. I wasn’t money hungry, but if I was going to be stuck in this world, I might as well find a way to make it worth my while. I’d already discovered a hoard of cash Arya had made off her forged paintings, but I wanted more . I couldn’t spend all her money while I was here. God, was I going to have to get a job? It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but I could only imagine what Lord Zacharia would have to say about his youngest daughter entering the workforce. He probably wouldn’t allow such a travesty to occur, if for no other reason than to save face.
“Fine, we’ll give it to your brother.” I reached for another pastry and angrily stuffed it in my mouth.
“Want to meet him?”
“The crown prince?”
Damien nodded. “Since we’ll be working together, you might as well.”
Well, shit. It sure felt like I was burrowing deeper into this Elarian hole.
I scoffed and dropped the pastry I’d been aggressively munching. “I don’t know why you even ask. It’s not like I have much of a choice in matters.”
Damien’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “I see you’re catching on.”
His smug confidence grated on my nerves. I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table, letting the sharp glint in my eyes meet his. “You’re awfully high and mighty now, but newsflash, David — I knew he hated when I called him David—“I’ve fought wars. You’re not invincible, and I will kill you the first chance I get.”
Damien offered a menacing growl. “Is that a challenge?”
“No, that’s a promise,” I shot back, my voice low and razor-sharp.
He straightened in his chair, his obsidian eyes glinting with intrigue. “Careful, Cat. You might regret testing me.”
“Oh, I’ve been regretting this entire arrangement since day one.” I pushed back my chair and stood, pacing to the balcony doors. My gaze wandered to the street below where life moved on, blissfully unaware of the brewing storm in the room above.
“You know I can’t allow you to leave.” Damien’s voice was softer now, but I didn’t miss the underlying tension.
“Allow?” I spun on my heel to face him, my fists clenched. “Damien, you’re delusional if you honestly think you can keep me here forever. Eventually I will escape, whether you like it or not.”
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, towering over me even from across the room. “You can try, but as I’ve already told you, Cat, no matter where you go, I will find you.”
Something snapped inside me. Before I could think, my military training kicked in and I lunged for the table. My hand closed around a polished silver fork and I whipped it toward him with deadly precision.
Damien easily sidestepped and the fork embedded into the wooden doorframe behind him. His eyes narrowed, no longer amused. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”
I didn’t give him time to recover before I grabbed a knife from the table. Closing the distance between us in three swift strides, I slashed at him, the blade glinting in the sunlight. Damien caught my wrist mid-swing in an iron-like grip, but I twisted and used my body weight to break free and pivot for another attack.
He moved with supernatural speed, dodging my strikes with infuriating ease. I knew my efforts were pointless, but I still wanted to try. I had to try. “Impressive,” he murmured, his tone maddeningly calm. “For a human. But I’m not human, Cat.”
“I don’t care!” I growled, using the distraction to kick the chair toward him. It struck his shin and he stumbled—barely, but it was enough. I darted past him, snatched the teapot from the table, and heaved its scalding contents in his direction.
Damien roared when the hot liquid splashed his arm. His dragon reflexes kicked in and a flicker of scales appeared on his skin as he shook off the pain. “You’ll pay for that!” he snarled, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.
I didn’t wait for his retaliation. Grabbing a porcelain plate, I hurled it at his head, forcing him to duck. The moment he moved, I was on him again, plunging the blunt edge of the knife toward his ribs. He caught my arm and twisted it painfully, but I used the momentum to drive my knee into his stomach.
He released me with a pained grunt and I spun away, my chest heaving. My heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through my veins. “I told you I’d kill you, Damien, and I wasn’t lying. Even if I don’t have a chance in hell of succeeding, I’ll never stop trying!” I spat, circling him like a predator as I waited for an opening.
Damien straightened, his breathing steady despite the flurry of blows we’d exchanged. “You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that.” He flexed his hands and seemed to debate whether he should fully shift. “But this is pointless.”
I lunged again, aiming for his throat, but he anticipated the move. Lightning fast, he caught me mid-air and locked his arms around me like a vice. I struggled and clawed at him, but I was no match for his overwhelming strength.
“Enough!” he growled in my ear, his thunderous voice reverberating through my entire body. “You’re not leaving, Cat. Not yet. And you obviously can’t kill me… at least not today.”
Breathing heavily, I glared up at him, my muscles burning from the effort. “I’ll kill you, Damien. I swear I will.”
His gaze softened fractionally and his lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “You’ve got spirit. But if you want to survive here, you’re going to need more than that.”
Damien suddenly released me and I stumbled, catching myself against the table before I could fall. My fingers tightened around the edge, my mind already racing with plans for the next attack.
“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t a game, Cat. You’re in my world now.”