Damion's POV
The party didn't end when the music softened or when the guests began to leave.
It ended when she did.
I watched Mira Ross move through the crowd one last time, graceful even in exhaustion, her smile thinner now but still practiced. The cameras followed her like moths to flame, flashes popping as she stepped away with her brothers flanking her. Kia leaned close, saying something that made her laugh softly. Liam opened the car door for her like she was something precious.
She was.
The doors closed behind them.
And just like that, the room felt emptier.
Humans lingered, of course. They always did. Conversations dragged. Deals whispered. Glasses refilled. But the gravity had shifted. Whatever pulse the evening had possessed now faded into something dull and unremarkable.
I should have left.
Instead, I remained where I was, standing near the terrace doors, one hand wrapped loosely around a glass I had no intention of drinking from. My reflection stared back at me in the darkened glass—composed, controlled, indistinguishable from the man the world believed me to be.
A lie I wore well.
"You stayed longer than usual."
Magnus's voice slid in from behind me, familiar and unwelcome in the way only family could be.
I didn't turn. "You're late."
"I wanted to observe," he replied, coming to stand beside me. He leaned casually against the railing, eyes scanning the room through the glass. "This is quite the gathering. Humans do love pretending they're immortal."
"They bore you," I said flatly.
"They fascinate me," Magnus corrected. "Same difference."
Silence stretched between us, companionable at first. Magnus had always known when not to press. Tonight, however, curiosity radiated off him in waves sharp enough to cut.
"You've been distracted," he said finally.
"I've been busy."
"With her."
I stiffened—not visibly, not enough for anyone else to notice. But Magnus did. He always did.
He followed my gaze without asking, his eyes landing on the empty space Mira had occupied moments ago. His lips curved slowly.
"So that's her."
I exhaled through my nose. "Don't."
"Relax," he said lightly. "You didn't exactly hide it."
"I wasn't hiding anything."
Magnus laughed under his breath. "You've spent centuries perfecting indifference, Damion. Tonight you forgot to wear it."
I turned then, meeting his eyes. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" His gaze sharpened, thoughtful rather than amused now. "Mira Ross. I've heard the name before. Human royalty. Smart. Stubborn. Untouchable in all the ways that matter."
"She's irrelevant," I said.
Magnus raised a brow. "You don't lie well to me."
I said nothing.
The silence between us thickened, tension coiling low and dangerous. Magnus studied me with the same careful attention predators used when circling something new.
"She noticed you," he said quietly. "Not many humans do."
"She's perceptive."
"That makes her interesting."
"That makes her dangerous."
Magnus smiled. "Now you sound like me."
We stood there a moment longer, the city sprawling beneath us, unaware of the conversation unfolding above it—of the monsters discussing one woman like a chess piece they weren't supposed to want.
Then Magnus spoke again, his tone deliberately casual.
"Introduce us."
The words landed wrong. Too abrupt. Too close to something I didn't want acknowledged.
"No."
Magnus blinked once. "No?"
"She's not for you."
The amusement drained from his expression, replaced by something sharper. "That's a bold claim."
"It's a fact."
"You don't usually make decisions like this," he said slowly. "Especially not about humans."
"I do now."
Magnus studied me, really studied me, as if trying to see beneath the layers I'd spent centuries building. "You haven't even known her that long."
I turned back toward the glass doors, toward the place she'd been, where her presence still lingered faintly in the air.
"I know enough."
"That's not an explanation."
"You don't need one."
Magnus's jaw tightened. "You don't get to decide who I'm curious about."
"I do when it concerns her."
A beat.
Then Magnus laughed—but there was no humor in it. "So that's how it is."
"It's how it's always been."
"You're playing a dangerous game, brother."
I met his gaze again, unflinching. "I always do."
Magnus's voice dropped. "And when she bleeds?"
The word echoed louder than it should have.
I didn't answer.
Because some truths were better left buried.
Mira's POV
By the time I got home, my feet hurt, my head ached, and my patience was completely gone.
The gala had been a success—according to my parents. The press coverage was already exploding. Social media buzzed with pictures of gowns and smiles and power plays.
And yet, all I could think about was a man I'd spoken to for less than thirty minutes.
Damion King.
I kicked off my heels the moment my bedroom door closed behind me, letting my head fall back against the wood. The quiet wrapped around me like a sigh of relief.
"Get a grip," I muttered to myself.
He was just a man. A powerful one, sure. Intimidating, yes. But still human. Still subject to the same flaws and limitations as everyone else.
So why did he feel… different?
I crossed the room and collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as fragments of the conversation replayed in my mind. The way he listened. The way his gaze never wavered. The way it felt like he already knew things about me I hadn't said aloud.
Ridiculous.
I rolled onto my side, reaching for my phone.
No new messages.
Relief and disappointment tangled unpleasantly in my chest.
The stalker had been quiet since earlier that day. Too quiet. I hated how used to it I'd become, how the absence felt almost louder than the messages themselves.
I told myself Damion King had nothing to do with that unease. That my discomfort stemmed from exhaustion and overthinking.
Still, as I closed my eyes, one thought surfaced uninvited.
When Damion King looked at me…
…it felt like recognition.
And that scared me more than any anonymous text ever had.