Chapter 4 The Wolf and the Cage

The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing shadows across the stone walls like they were alive. I didn't move. Not at first. My legs were curled beneath me, heavy and trembling under thick velvet sheets. My head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pulse that made me nauseous, and my mouth was dry like I'd swallowed dust. But none of that was what had my heart hammering. It was him.

Damian Thorne stood by the fire like he belonged to it. Like it bent to him, obeyed him. His suit jacket was gone, sleeves rolled to the elbows, but he still looked every inch the predator I remembered-cool, calm, coiled in control. His eyes met mine. Gold. Impossible. Unreal. And yet I couldn't look away.

"Where the hell am I?" I managed, voice scratchy, sharp.

"You're safe," he said again, as if the words meant anything coming from the man who had me taken.

"I didn't ask if I was safe," I snapped. "I asked where."

His head tilted. Slowly. Curiously. "Somewhere no one can hurt you."

"Oh, you mean like you did?" That got a reaction. A flicker of something in his expression. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. But it was gone too quickly to be sure.

"You were in danger," he said. "I didn't have time to explain."

I pushed back the covers, swinging my legs over the edge. The floor was cool stone beneath my bare feet. I didn't remember losing my shoes, but apparently being kidnapped didn't come with a courtesy checklist.

"You drugged me," I said, standing slowly. "You broke into Layla's apartment. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Layla is fine," he replied, his voice calm.

"I'm supposed to believe you?" I laughed, bitter. "The man who fired me for daring to have a spine and then sends goons to drag me into your creepy mountain fortress?"

His eyes flashed. "You challenged me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is your ego that fragile, Mr. Thorne?"

"No," he said, voice low. "But my instincts are not." The room fell silent. I crossed my arms, needing some kind of barrier between me and the storm building in his eyes.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He took a step forward. Just one. But it felt like a shift in gravity. "I want to explain," he said. "And I need you to listen." I didn't answer. So he continued. "You are not here because I'm angry. You're here because the moment you walked into that boardroom, something inside me snapped. Something old. Something... primal."

I stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "What are you even talking about?"

He came closer. "My world," he said carefully, "is not the same as yours. The company. The board. The public face - they're just masks. Beneath them is something far older. Something hidden."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Let me guess. You're a secret cult leader. Maybe a vampire?"

"Close," he said.

I blinked. He held my gaze. "I'm a shifter."

Laughter bubbled up my throat. It was sharp, and incredulous. "You're a what?"

"A werewolf," he said. "Not metaphorically. Not romantically. Literally. I shift."

I took a step back. "You're insane. I never knew the almighty Damian Thorne had some nuts loosed."

"I'm telling you the truth," he said calmly. "And whether you want to believe it or not, it doesn't change what you are to me."

My mouth went dry. "No," I whispered. "Don't."

"You're my mate," he said.

I didn't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. Mate? Like an animal? Like I was some prize he'd sniffed out and claimed? I shook my head, furious and afraid. "I'm not a thing you can own, Thorne."

"No," he agreed quietly. "But you're something I need."

I hated the way my body reacted to his words. How the heat in his voice did something to my chest. How the air between us felt suddenly too thick to breathe.

"Let me go," I said. It wasn't a plea. It was a warning.

"I can't," he said. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because now that the bond has awakened, others will come for you."

I frowned. "Others?"

"My world isn't just mine. There are packs. Factions. Rivalries. If they find out I've bonded to a human..."

"I'm not bonded to anything, mostly not to you. I don't even know what you're talking about" I interrupted, my voice rising in frustration.

"Your scent has changed," he said softly. "Your energy. You feel it, don't you?"

I didn't answer. Not that I'd admit it, but there had been something since that boardroom. A pull. Some kind of heat beneath my skin. A tension that wouldn't go away. But that wasn't proof. That wasn't real.

"I don't care what you say," I whispered. "You kidnapped me. You drugged me. Whatever explanation you're about to give, it's not enough."

He nodded. "You're right," he said. "You deserve more. And I will earn it. Your stubborness wouldn't solve anything at this point."

I didn't trust him. I didn't understand him. But when he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him... I didn't run. I just stood there, trying to decide what scared me more. The man who claimed me, or the part of me that didn't want to leave.

As I stood there, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. It was as if I had finally found something I had been searching for, something that had been missing from my life for a long time.

But that was crazy. I didn't know this man... I mean I do... but not personally. I didn't know what he wanted from me. And I certainly didn't trust him.