Chapter 5Damien
Chapter
Five
DAMIEN
T he clearing is still, save for the shuffling of the prey inside their cages. My eyes scan the rows of them, lingering on Selene. I know exactly where she is—could pick her out from a mile away. There's no way Adrian, Ronan, or Lucien haven’t felt it too, the subtle thrumming of her power in the air, but whether they’ve pinpointed it to her yet, I can’t say. Not yet.
I fold my arms, watching the various expressions of the women trapped inside their cages. Some of them are terrified, clinging to the bars, eyes wide and darting around as if they’ve just realized this isn’t the game they thought it was. Others look like they think they’re at some elaborate Halloween amusement park ride, unaware of the danger that’s about to unfold.
But Selene—she’s different. She’s not panicking, nor is she dismissing this as a joke. She’s watching, her eyes sharp and calculating, as though she’s starting to piece together exactly what’s at stake. Her body is tense, coiled, but there’s no panic. Only awareness.
That awareness makes me nervous. I can feel her pull, that undeniable magnetism unlike anything I’ve felt before. Her power hums in the air like a live wire, and I know that once these cages are opened, it won’t be long before the others sense it, too. Even in the frenzy of the Hunt, they’ll find her.
What are you, Selene? I think to myself.
She can’t be human. I know that much. Not with the way her magic sings to me, like a signature etched into the air. It’s similar to how I recognize the magical signatures of the other warlocks—distinct, alive, and undeniable. But hers is different. Stronger. More... dangerous.
It can’t be... I push the thought away, but it gnaws at me. Witches have been extinct for centuries, hunted by warlocks for the power of their souls. Unlike humans, a witch’s soul isn’t just consumed; it provides a warlock with protection and power for life. Every warlock knows that. And yet... Selene’s power signature feels similar. Too similar.
If she’s a witch... if the others realize it... She won’t survive this .
My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp, invasive pressure in my mind—the Order. Their presence is unmistakable, a voice that cuts through everything. It’s time, Damien. Begin the Hunt.
I grind my teeth, pushing their command from my mind. It’s always like this—imposing, ever-present, but I have no choice but to obey. I step forward, forcing myself to remain composed.
At exactly midnight, I begin the ritual, muttering the words under my breath. The phrase we’ve always used for centuries: “Nothing is as it seems.” It echoes from my lips, and the others join in, the words hanging in the air like a curse.
The moment the phrase is complete, a deep gong reverberates through the clearing, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath us. The cages shimmer for a brief moment, the magic holding them dissolving into the air until the bars are gone.
The women inside hesitate, some looking around in confusion, others laughing nervously. They don’t understand what’s about to happen. Not yet.
Except Selene.
I watch as she immediately reaches for one of her friends, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward the opposite direction of where the warlocks stand. Smart. She’s running away from us, away from the danger. But as she runs, I wince inwardly. I wish she hadn’t done that. Staying in the crowd would have kept her somewhat shielded. Among the chaos, it would have been harder to pinpoint the exact source of the power emanating from her.
But now, separated, her signature will become clearer, easier for the others to sense.
Her friend, oblivious to the danger, laughs, clearly thinking it’s all part of the show. “Selene, slow down!” she teases, trying to pull her back toward the center of the clearing. I can see the panic flickering across Selene’s face, the internal struggle written plainly in her eyes. Does she leave her friend to save herself, or do they both fall into danger?
“Let the games begin,” Ronan mutters beside me, his voice a low growl. His eyes are locked on the prey, and without another word, he bolts forward, moving faster than the others.
Ronan has never been one for patience. He’s always preferred the thrill of the chase, and tonight is no different. “I’m not letting the lesser warlocks have their first choice,” he says under his breath as he rushes toward the nearest woman.
She’s one of the easy ones. There are always easy ones in the Hunt—those who are too caught up in the fantasy to realize what’s happening until it’s too late. She sees Ronan approaching, his powerful figure cutting through the crowd, and she smiles back at him, clearly thinking he’s part of the act. She’s unaware of the danger that lurks behind that skull mask, of the magic that radiates off him in waves.
Ronan’s never been one to waste time with the easy prey. In one swift motion, Ronan tackles her to the ground. He pins her wrists above her head, holding her firmly in place. The woman squirms beneath him. Perhaps she thinks this is mere role play. Better that way. Better for her mind after tonight.
"Stop struggling," Ronan growls, his voice low and commanding. "You know you can't escape me."
The woman whimpers, but there's a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She arches her back, pressing her breasts against his chest.
Ronan tears at her clothing impatiently, buttons flying everywhere as he exposes her flesh. He grabs her roughly, squeezing and kneading her soft mounds.
The woman moans, her body responding eagerly to Ronan's aggressive touches. He flips her over onto her stomach, yanking her hips up to meet his thrusts.
With a brutal force, he drives himself inside her, stretching her walls to their limits. The woman cries out, overwhelmed by the sudden intrusion. But she quickly adjusts, meeting his strokes with her own desperate movements.
Ronan pounds into her relentlessly, his pace merciless. Sweat drips down his face, muscles straining with each powerful thrust. The woman's cries escalate, her pleasure mixed with pain as he claims her thoroughly .
Their bodies slam together, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the air. Ronan's grip on her hips tightens, almost bruising, as he chases his climax.
Finally, with a guttural roar, he buries himself deep. She climaxes with him and I can see it, the faint glimmer of her soul.
Humankind has called us many names over the centuries—incubi, demons, spirits of the night. But they’re all the same. We are warlocks, creatures bound to the ancient art of soul harvesting. And there’s a reason for how we do it, for why we claim souls at the height of ecstasy. It’s in those moments—when the body is overwhelmed by pleasure—that humans are free, unshackled from the moral chains they love to bury themselves under. In those seconds, they’re vulnerable, open to us in ways they would never be otherwise. It’s then that their souls are easiest to take, slipping through their grasp as they lose themselves to the sensation. They don’t even realize what they’ve lost until it’s too late.
Ronan gets up, his clothing rematerializing around him and I can sense that his power has increased. The woman lays there, still in the throws of her climax. Other warlocks descend on her. There's no longer a soul to claim, that power is now with Ronan. But, some lesser warlocks are scavengers, happy to rut into a human body for the sensation, unconcerned with their power or status in our realm.
My attention is drawn elsewhere, back to Selene, as she struggles to get her friend to understand the gravity of the situation.
Her power tugs at me, that familiar pull I felt earlier, but stronger now, more potent. She’s drawing it in, even if she doesn’t realize it. But soon... soon the others will feel it too. I can’t afford to intervene, not now, not in front of the others. I’m the facilitator. I have to play my part.
But I can’t shake the feeling that, for her, this Hunt will be unlike any other.
Selene, still torn between her instincts and loyalty to her friend, hesitates just long enough for the rest of the warlocks to begin their chase.
I watch her closely, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever happens next, one thing is certain: Selene is in far more danger than she realizes.
And if the others catch her... her fate will be sealed.