STRANGER IN A PENTHOUSE

Aria’s eyelids fluttered open, heavy and disoriented. The world swam into focus, a dizzying panorama of glass and steel. Where was she? It wasn’t the cramped, musty attic room she remembered… or rather, thought she remembered. Panic clawed at her throat. She didn’t remember anything.

The room was vast, a sleek penthouse that seemed to hang suspended in the air. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking, if terrifying, view of a city sprawled below. Sunlight streamed in, harsh and unfamiliar. Everything was sharp angles, polished surfaces, and a chilling lack of warmth.

She was lying in a bed that felt impossibly soft, buried under a cloud of silk sheets. The scent was clean, sterile almost, nothing like the earthy smells she associated with… with what? She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to grasp at a memory, a name, anything. But her mind was a blank slate, wiped clean.

Except for one word. Blackthorn. The name echoed in her head, a dark and ominous whisper. It felt significant, important, but she couldn’t place why.

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she groaned, clutching her head. "What... what happened?" she whispered, her voice raspy and weak.

A figure shifted in the periphery of her vision. A man. He was standing by the window, his back to her, a dark silhouette against the dazzling cityscape. He turned slowly, and Aria’s breath hitched.

He was… devastating. Sculpted cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes that seemed to absorb the light, rendering them an unnerving shade of black. He radiated power, an aura of controlled danger that made her instinctively recoil.

And yet… there was something familiar about him. A haunting echo of someone she felt she should know. The same dark hair, the same intense gaze… But this man was colder, harder, the angles of his face sharper, more predatory.

"You're awake," he said, his voice a low, smooth baritone that sent shivers down her spine.

"Where… where am I?" she asked, struggling to sit up. Her body ached, a dull throbbing pain that seemed to permeate every cell.

He moved toward her, his movements fluid and graceful, like a panther stalking its prey. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're safe," he said, though his voice lacked any genuine warmth.

Safe? In this sterile, alien place? With this intimidating stranger? Nothing about this felt safe.

"Who are you?" she pressed, her voice trembling slightly. "How did I get here? I… I don't remember anything."

He tilted his head, studying her with an unnerving intensity. "You don't remember?" he asked, his voice laced with something she couldn't quite decipher.

She shook her head, frustration building. "No. Just… Blackthorn. The name keeps repeating itself in my head."

A flicker of something crossed his face, a shadow that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Blackthorn," he repeated, his voice softer now, almost hypnotic. "Yes, you're with a Blackthorn."

She leaned into his touch, desperate for some kind of connection, some kind of answer. "Am I… do I belong here?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before snapping back to hers. "You belong with me," he said, his voice firm, resolute.

His words sent a confusing mix of emotions swirling within her. A strange sense of comfort mingled with a deep unease. Something about his claim felt… possessive.

"What am I to you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He smiled then, but it wasn't a kind smile. It was cold, sharp, and utterly devoid of warmth. It was the smile of a predator who had finally cornered its prey.

"That," he said, his voice dripping with a dangerous amusement, "is a complicated question." He paused, letting the silence stretch between them, thick with unspoken words. "Let's just say… you're mine now."

Aria’s heart pounded in her chest. His words were unsettling, possessive, and yet… there was a strange pull, an undeniable connection that she couldn't explain.

"What… what's your name?" she finally managed to ask, her voice trembling.

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth against the darkness of his eyes. "Call me Damien."

The world tilted. The room swam. The name hit her like a physical blow, a wave of cold dread washing over her. Damien… the name was somehow more terrifying than the amnesia, the sterile penthouse, the chilling stranger who claimed she belonged to him.

Darkness closed in, swallowing her whole.

When she finally woke up again, her head was pounding like she's on hard drugs. She sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through her body. Her gaze fell on a figure seated in a chair by the window, his face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Who are you?" she croaked, her voice hoarse.

The figure turned, "I'm Damien Blackthorn," he said, his voice low and smooth. "And you're in my penthouse… and right now I'm hoping you don't faint again."

Aria frowned, trying to remember. But there was nothing. Just a blank slate.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Damien hesitated before answering. "No, I found you unconscious on the side of the road with no ID. But don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Aria's heart raced as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. She didn't know who she was, where she was from, or how she had ended up here, she didn't even remember talking to Damien few hours ago. But there was something about Damien that made her uneasy.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

Damien stood up and walked over to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because I want to help you," he said, his voice softening. "And because I think you're my mate."

Aria's heart skipped a beat at the word "mate." She had heard that word before, but she couldn't remember where or when. She looked up at Damien, searching his face for any hint of deceit. But all she saw was a cold, hard determination.

"I don't believe you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Damien's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I just have a feeling."

Damien's face softened, and he reached out to touch her cheek. Aria flinched at his touch, but she couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her body. Her wolf stirred, recognizing him as her mate, but her mind was still wary.

"I know this is all confusing," Damien said, his voice soothing. "But I promise I'll take care of you. You're safe here with me."

Aria nodded, unable to find the words to respond. She didn't know who she was or where she belonged, but for some reason, she felt safe with Damien.

Then, his phone rang. The sharp, intrusive sound cut through the silence of the penthouse. Damien glanced down at the scr

een, his expression hardening.

The caller ID flashed a single, devastating word: Dominic.