Chapter 270 First

As I slipped my fingers into his hand, I froze. He didn’t let go of my palm; instead, he subtly shifted his grip so our fingers locked tightly together.

The contact sent a jolt straight through me—a scorching burn so intense that electric static instantly swept across my skin, leaving a pulsing, tingling trail in its wake. It felt as though I had grabbed a live wire, utterly stripped of any ability to let go. My hidden feelings surged to the surface, my awareness completely and utterly consumed by him down to the very last drop.

It made me terribly nervous, shattering the fragile equilibrium I had worked so hard to achieve.

What strained my nerves even further was that as we walked, eyes followed us constantly. Or rather, as I quickly realized, everyone’s gaze was fixed exclusively on Damian—appraising, lingering, filled with unvarnished interest. Only afterward would they cast a fleeting glance at me, looking down with blatant disdain at the plain, weak stray he was dragging behind him.

That exact whisper—calling me a worthless little mongrel—caught my heightened hearing from a pair of female shifters stepping out of a coffee shop we passed. Mortified, I wished the ground would swallow me whole. But then, Damian’s thumb gently slid over my knuckles in a slow, soothing stroke, and the entire rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

We stood before a vibrant movie poster for quite a while, unable to choose. Neither of us knew the other’s tastes. Ultimately, after a brief exchange, we settled on a film about an inventor-traveler who journeyed across different lands, trading knowledge and building mechanisms to make life easier for humankind.

The movie might have been interesting, were it not for one glaring exception. Damian had booked a private viewing room where, aside from the two of us, there wasn’t a single soul. And instead of the narrow, cramped seats I was accustomed to, this screening room was furnished with plush, wide leather sofas.

Stepping inside, I tried to sit on the adjacent, empty sofa, desperate to keep at least some semblance of distance between us. But Damian caught me by the waist, his strong grip pulling me back toward him so that I sat right beside him—on the very same sofa.

For the first half of the film, I pressed myself tight into the far corner, doing everything in my power not to brush against his arm or leg. Damian, by contrast, looked completely at ease, lounging back carelessly against the cushions. After some time, the door clicked open silently, and a server brought us popcorn, fresh coffee, and a few small treats, arranging them neatly on the glass coffee table nearby.

I was utterly unaccustomed to such luxury. My childhood cinema back in the fringe district had been one giant, dilapidated screening hall. Anyone who didn’t manage to grab a seat usually squeezed onto the filthy steps in the aisles or simply leaned against the walls. A jagged black crack ran straight across the screen, hopelessly ruining the view, while crowds of rowdy wolves constantly made noise, rustled wrappers, laughed loudly, and unabashedly filmed with flashlights—a thoroughly miserable experience.

Here, however, Damian’s thick, intoxicating scent grew heavier with every passing minute, slowly clouding my senses. My tense body involuntarily began to relax—so completely that, losing control, my head dropped heavily against his shoulder. I froze, completely at a loss for what to do or whether I should pull back.

Beside me, his muscular frame instantly turned to stone. He went dead silent, his breathing catching, before his hand slowly moved to claim mine where it lay helplessly between us, his fingers once again lacing tightly through mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart slammed so violently against my ribs that the pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the dialogue of the characters on the giant screen. The rushing of my blood eclipsed everything.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on the plot, it was impossible. My breathing faltered completely, devolving into soft, ragged hitches.

"Amelie..." Damian growled low in his chest.

My eyes snapped open, looking up at him in startled fear, only to sink helplessly into the pitch-black darkness swirling at the depths of his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yes..." I squeaked pathetically.

Watching him lean in, sinking lower and lower until the tip of his nose was virtually brushing against mine, my insides twisted into tight knots of sheer panic.

"I think... something interesting is starting on the screen..." Blurted out in a rush, I jerked my face frantically away from him. I instantly scrambled back toward the far edge of the sofa, greeted by the deep, vibrating rumble of his chest-laugh.

Damn it. This was unbearable. I was never going into such tight, enclosed spaces with him again. I desperately needed air—right now, or I was going to suffocate under the weight of his alpha scent.

"I’m going to step out for a minute... I need to..." I babbled frantically, panic rising in my throat. "I’ll be right back".

Yet the moment I tried to push myself up, Damian’s scorching palm clamped firmly around my wrist. With a sudden, decisive yank, he pulled me back, completely throwing me off balance. Unable to catch my footing, I tumbled forward with a quiet gasp, landing directly across his broad thighs.

My head ended up pressed flush against his rock-hard chest. Instantly, his powerful arms locked around my waist, trapping me over him as securely as a steel snare. We were so impossibly close that the steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat vibrated right against my frayed nerves.

"Easy there, little coward. I’m not hitting on you," he rumbled in a soothing, huskily laced purr, holding me fast against his body. "We’re just watching a movie. As friends".

"Are you sure this is how friends act?" I asked dubiously, swallowing hard as I tilted my head back to catch a glimpse of his face in the dim lighting of the theater.

"Not a clue. I don’t have female friends," his lips twitched into a smirk. "You’re my first".