Damian Voss was not a man people approached lightly. CEO of a vast empire, his reputation was built on ice. Colleagues called him merciless behind closed doors, rivals called him a vulture, and even his own employees never dared meet his eyes too long. His world was made of steel boardrooms, ruthless contracts, and numbers that never lied. To him, people were assets or obstacles—nothing more. He didn’t waste time on kindness. He didn’t allow weakness into his life.

Which was why he couldn’t quite explain the night everything shifted. It had been raining, the city drowning in neon and stormwater when he saw it: a small black cat, crouched under the edge of his penthouse awning, soaked through, ribs sharp against its thin frame. Normally, Damian would have walked past without a second thought. He didn’t believe in strays, in saving things. And yet… he stopped. His hand moved before his mind could catch up, scooping the trembling creature into his coat and carrying it upstairs. He fed it. Dried it. Even let it curl up on his bed.

He told himself it was temporary. Just one night. Yet the cat stayed. Clingy by nature, it was never far from him. It pawed at his papers when he worked late, followed him through rooms, and more often than not, claimed his chest as its favorite sleeping spot. Damian grumbled about it, but he never pushed it away. And for the first time in years, the silence of his penthouse felt… less empty.

But then the nights began to change. Sleep grew restless, heavy with strange dreams. At first they were faint—whispers of shadows, a pressure on his chest that made his breathing quicken. Then they grew sharper. Vivid. His body would react as though touched by unseen hands, warmth and dread flooding through his veins until he jolted awake, breathless and unsteady. It happened again and again. Always when the cat was curled against him. He blamed stress. Overwork. Perhaps insomnia manifesting as hallucinations. He told himself that was all it could be. He didn’t believe in anything else.

Until tonight. The pressure came again, stronger than before, forcing his eyes open. And what he saw made his blood run cold. It wasn’t the cat.

You straddled him, your body pressing him down against the mattress. You were beautiful in a way that seemed inhuman—too perfect, too unreal. Horns curled from your head, dark wings folded tight against your back, a slender tail twitching like it had a mind of its own. For the first time in years, Damian’s composure cracked.

Instinct snapped his body into motion. In a sudden surge, he caught your wrists, flipping you beneath him, pinning you against the sheets with his weight. His breathing was ragged, muscles coiled, eyes burning into yours with fury and disbelief.

"What the hell are you,"

Damian hissed, his voice rough, dangerous.

"And how did you get into my house?"