CHAPTER FIVE
DAMIEN POV
Night always tells the truth.
In the day, people hide behind routines, uniforms, and empty laughter.
At night, everything falls away.
Secrets breathe louder.
Desires stretch their limbs like restless animals.
And tonight, my hunger is wide awake.
It curls under my ribs like smoke, stirring restlessly as I slide into my car.
"Not tonight," I mutter. "Calm down."
It ignores me.
It only whispers the name it's been repeating since she walked out of that bar.
Ashley.
I press the back of my head against the seat and close my eyes.
"This is insane," I tell myself.
My hunger disagrees.
---
The dashboard lights flash softly, throwing a dim gold glow across my hands when my phone buzzes.
Leon – CFO:
Please tell me you weren't serious about buying CrownWave.
I call him.
He declines.
I call again.
He declines.
I call a third time.
He answers, panting. "Sir—sir—I was in the restroom—"
"Leon," I cut in, "buy the company."
He pauses. "As in… buy… CrownWave? Now?"
"Yes."
"As in fully? Completely? The whole thing?"
"Yes."
He mumbles something like a prayer. "Sir, that company is too small for your portfolio. It makes no financial sense. No strategic—"
"Leon. Don't make me repeat myself."
He freezes. "Understood."
I hear frantic typing, shouting at assistants, someone waking a lawyer out of sleep.
"I'll get in touch with their chairman tonight," he says. "We'll start immediately."
"Good."
"And if he refuses?" Leon asks.
"Everyone says no until they are offered the thing they're most afraid to lose."
He swallows hard. "Right. I… I'll figure that out."
"Make it happen."
"Yes, sir."
I hang up.
---
Outside my window, the city glows with neon signs and streetlamps.
Distant laughter.
A passing shuttle bus.
Music thumping from somewhere behind the club.
Normal noise.
My mind is far from normal.
I pull Ashley's file up on my phone again.
Her résumé.
Her degree—first class.
Her new position.
Hired by CrownWave Communications.
Starts tomorrow.
I zoom in on her picture.
She doesn't pose.
She doesn't try too hard.
She doesn't look like she's trying to impress anyone.
She looks… real.
And real is rare.
My hunger responds immediately, twisting deep inside me.
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
Jay.
Again.
He stands outside, looking cold and terrified.
I roll down the window.
"What."
He swallows. "Boss… you've been sitting here a long time."
"I noticed."
"You're… okay?"
"Define okay."
He flinches. "You look… tense."
"Is that a problem?"
"No! No, sir." He forces a tight smile. "Just… unusual."
"Say what you want to say."
He hesitates—but only a fool disobeys me twice.
"It's about that girl from the bar," he blurts.
I give him a slow, quiet stare.
He backs up instantly. "I'm shutting up now."
"You should."
"I'm—going." He edges away. "Very far."
He disappears into the dark.
The city is quiet where I park—just a few passing cars and the hum of streetlights. Across the road, two young men stumble out of the club laughing, one leaning heavily on the other.
"Bro, you're too drunk," the taller one says.
"Relax," the shorter one slurs. "I'm fine."
They pause near my car, too distracted to notice me.
Too alive with reckless confidence.
My hunger perks up.
It whispers something I don't want to hear yet.
But the craving spikes anyway.
Feeding.
I haven't fed tonight.
I've been too distracted by Ashley, but hunger is hunger—and an incubus can only restrain so long before instincts demand something.
The taller guy tries to unlock his car, but he drops his keys.
"Damn it—"
I open my door quietly.
"Need help?" I ask.
They both turn.
The drunk one grins. "Man, you look expensive."
I smile slightly. "And you look lost."
The taller one frowns. "We're good. We just need to get home."
"Are you?" I take one step forward.
My aura slips out before I bother to stop it—
a subtle ripple of energy, invisible but potent.
Their shoulders loosen.
Their expressions soften.
Their breathing slows.
Humans.
Always so easy.
"Hey…" the drunk one murmurs, eyes narrowing as he studies me. "You're… really good looking."
"That's helpful," I say dryly.
He laughs—too quickly, too easily.
I let a small pulse of influence slip out.
Just enough to tilt him toward desire.
Not too much.
Not the full force—not what I gave Ashley by mistake.
"What's your name?" I ask him.
"Daniel," he replies instantly, stepping closer.
The taller one watches, confused. "Dan, what are you doing?"
Daniel looks at me like he's seeing something beautiful—something worth stepping into fire for.
My hunger stretches.
I don't touch him.
I don't need to.
I reach out and lightly place my fingers under his chin.
Heat surges through him.
His breath catches.
Desire floods his eyes—raw, unfiltered, pulled straight from the core of him.
His friend jerks forward. "Whoa—Dan—"
I flick a bit of aura in his direction.
He freezes mid-step, mind turning heavy, hazy, obedient.
"Don't worry," I say. "He'll be fine."
Daniel shivers.
His pupils blow wide.
His pulse races visibly at his throat.
The hunger inside me sharpens.
I lean close—not touching, just letting him feel my breath near his ear.
"Relax," I murmur.
And just like that—
His will melts.
The moment he surrenders, energy pours into me—
a warm, electric rush spreading through my veins, filling every nerve ending with fire.
His desire.
His longing.
His fantasies.
His secrets.
Feeding is not sex.
Not the physical kind.
It's the soul leaning forward.
It's permission.
It's surrender.
It's hunger meeting hunger.
Daniel swallows hard, gripping my shirt lightly as if grounding himself.
"You're…" he breathes, voice trembling. "You're unreal."
"Thank you," I say.
I pull away before he collapses.
He stumbles backward into his friend's arms.
Both blink like waking from a trance.
"What—?" the taller one mutters.
Daniel wipes his mouth, dazed. "What just… happened?"
"Nothing you'll remember clearly," I say.
But I will.
The energy settles inside me—warm, powerful, grounding.
The hunger quiets.
Not satisfied.
But restrained.
I return to my car.
They watch me in confusion as I pull out of the parking spot and drive away.
---
By the time I reach my building, the feeding has steadied my mind—but not my focus.
I shower.
Change into black sweats.
Sit in the dark, staring at the city.
Ashley.
The name refuses to fade.
Her eyes.
Her voice.
Her refusal.
I almost laugh.
Countless people want me.
Beg for me.
Lose themselves in my presence.
But the only one I'm thinking about is the one who walked away.
My phone buzzes again.
Leon.
"Sir," he says breathlessly, "the acquisition is agreed. Their chairman is preparing to sign."
"Good. When."
"By morning."
"Send the organizational chart."
"Right away."
I hang up and study the document.
Ashley Dean.
PR and Branding.
Entry-level.
Assistant.
Invisible.
Not for long.
I tap the screen.
"Tomorrow," I whisper, "I will be the first face you see in that company."
The hunger inside me purrs.
Bring her close.
"Oh, I will," I reply softly.
I finish a glass of water, set it down, and look at the city again.
Everything is in motion.
Everyone is working.
Everything bends when I push it.
Including her workplace.
Including her future.
She has no idea that when she wakes up tomorrow…
Her new boss already decided she belongs in his orbit.
And once she steps into CrownWave, she won't be able to walk out as easily as she did tonight.
Not anymore.
Not after this.
"Sleep well, Ashley," I whisper to the window.
"Your world changes tomorrow."
ASHLEY POV
The dream pulls me in without permission.
One moment I'm lying in bed staring at the ceiling fan, and the next I'm standing barefoot on a field of glowing mist.
Again.
I sigh loudly. "Seriously?"
The sky above me is an endless wash of gold and peach, like a permanent sunrise. No sun, no moon — just soft light glowing from everywhere. The air is warm, almost sweet, brushing against my skin like silk.
I look down.
White dress. Bare feet. Hair loose.
Same as always.
"I don't even own this dress," I grumble.
The air hums gently, like the world is breathing.
"Hello?" I call out. "Anyone? God? Angel? Disembodied dream therapist?"
Silence.
Then —
A ripple of light.
The air shifts.
And his voice comes through again, deep and warm:
Little star…
I rub my forehead. "Oh, we're doing this again."
The light pulses softly.
"Okay, fine," I say. "Let's talk. Who are you? Why do you keep dragging me here? And why am I always glowing like a walking LED lamp?"
No reply.
Just another wave of warm light.
Then the voice again:
Remember…
I throw my hands up. "Remember WHAT? I can't remember something I don't know!"
The golden glow brightens, forcing me to shield my eyes.
The voice softens:
Wake up…
"No— don't you dare cut the—"
The dream snaps apart like glass.
---
I jerk awake with a loud gasp.
My bedroom ceiling stares back at me — plain, white, cracked. No glowing sky, no golden mist, no mysterious light-being calling me a star.
I sit up and press a hand to my chest.
The warmth from the dream lingers faintly beneath my skin.
"This is so weird," I whisper.
I grab my phone.
4:43 a.m.
Too early to sleep again.
Too late to pretend it didn't happen.
I push my blanket aside and drag myself into the bathroom. Cold water on my face helps, but not by much.
In the mirror, my eyes look a little wild.
"Great," I tell my reflection. "Perfect mental state for your first day at work."
Today, I start at CrownWave Communications.
A normal job.
A normal life.
A normal me.
Assuming my subconscious stops giving me heavenly hallucinations.
I brush my hair, throw on moisturizer, concealer, mascara — just enough to look awake — then open my closet.
Button-up blouse.
Black pencil skirt.
Simple flats.
Done.
Professional enough.
I grab my bag, check for my wallet, notebook, pen, breath mints, and my lucky silver bracelet.
Time to go.
---
The morning air outside is cool. My street is quiet except for a neighbor jogging with his dog and someone scraping frost off their windshield.
The Uber I booked pulls up.
"Morning," the driver greets.
I smile, climbing in. "Morning."
It's a twenty-minute ride to CrownWave. The city is waking up — cafés turning on their lights, commuters grabbing coffee, school buses pulling out, office buildings glowing against the early dawn.
I press my forehead lightly to the window and watch the city slide by.
Normal.
Safe.
Real.
Nothing like the dreams.
"You starting a new job?" the driver asks, glancing at me through the mirror.
"Is it that obvious?" I ask.
He laughs. "You look like someone trying not to panic."
I chuckle. "That accurate?"
"Very."
He drops me in front of a mid-sized glass building with a polished sign:
CROWN WAVE COMMUNICATIONS
Five floors. Modern. Clean. Very corporate.
I breathe deeply.
"You got this," I whisper to myself.
Inside the lobby, everything smells like fresh coffee and air conditioning.
The receptionist looks up with a warm smile. "Good morning! How can I help you?"
"I'm Ashley Dean," I say. "New hire. PR department."
"Oh! Welcome! HR will be right with you. Please have a seat."
I sit on a sleek grey couch and try not to look like I'm vibrating internally.
A man in a suit walks past talking into a headset.
Two interns rush by holding clipboards.
Someone complains about a deadline.
Office life.
Normal.
My chest warms again briefly.
Not normal.
I press the spot gently.
"Stop glowing," I whisper.
"First day nerves?" a woman asks kindly.
I look up. She's in her late thirties, holding a tablet and smiling in that HR-trained gentle way.
"Yes," I admit.
She laughs. "I'm Claire. HR manager. Come with me."
She leads me through a hallway with framed campaign posters and award plaques.
"You impressed our Creative Director," she says casually. "Your portfolio stood out."
My heart jumps. "Really?"
"Yes. You have talent."
That… does not feel real.
We reach the PR and Branding section — open office floor, modern desks, soft chatter, huge windows overlooking the city.
"Here's your desk," Claire says.
It's simple, clean, and perfect.
"This is mine?" I ask, half-whisper.
"It's yours," she confirms. "Welcome to CrownWave."
She leaves to get paperwork.
I sit down slowly, placing my bag beside the chair.
I touch the desk surface lightly.
"Please don't reject me," I whisper.
A voice behind me laughs. "Talking to furniture? That's bold. I like it."
I turn.
A girl around my age stands there — straight blonde hair, sharp eyeliner, stylish blouse, and the kind of confidence that comes naturally.
"I'm Harper," she says, extending a hand. "Graphic designer. I sit behind you."
"Ashley," I say, shaking her hand. "New girl. Obviously."
"Relax," she says. "Everyone survives their first week. Mostly."
I blink. "Mostly?"
"Kidding," she grins. "You seem fun. And nervous. But fun."
I laugh.
She leans closer conspiratorially. "Okay first tip: the coffee machine hates everyone, so don't take it personally."
"I'll try," I promise.
"Also," she adds, "our department head is nice but chaotic. You'll understand later."
I nod, trying to absorb everything.
"Welcome to the madness," she says, giving a mock-salute.
She walks away.
I settle into my chair again.
My chest warms faintly — not painfully, not brightly — just like a quiet whisper.
Like something is shifting around me.
But for now…
I'm here.
At my new job.
Trying to be normal.
And somewhere far away — someone else is planning something I don't even know about yet.
But I don't feel it.
Not yet.
I only feel the strange warmth in my chest…
And the strange sense that today is the beginning of something big.
Something I'm not ready for.
Something that feels like destiny breathing against my neck.