Damien

"Blood & Roses" The moment Emilia walked into the ballroom, she felt his gaze like a brand against her skin. Damian stood in the shadows, his sharp suit impossibly perfect. She knew what he was—what he had done. And yet, when he extended his hand, she took it. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. “I know,” she whispered back, daring to brush her fingertips against his. “You’re different,” he confessed, eyes dark with something unreadable. “You make me… want.” The dance was slow, a careful game of predator and prey. . Who was chasing whom? Emilia smiled, pressing closer. The blade at her thigh was cold against her skin, a silent promise. If he wanted her heart, he would have to lose his first. Damian led Emilia out onto the terrace, the moon casting silver light across their entwined figures. The scent of roses—decayed, desperate—curled in the air between them.