He was a beastment and she was his mate.
That was practically the summary of what her boss said to her.
Amara stared at the wall like it might give her an answer if she waited long enough. The room was too quiet, except for the clock's ticking. Her thoughts refused to stay still. They kept looping back to his words, every single one of them.
There isn't only humankind. There are beastmen too.
Amara had laughed at first. A small, nervous laugh that died the moment she met his eyes. How couldn't she? It was like something you'd read in the wrong kind of book after midnight. Yet the way he'd looked at her had left no room for jokes.
He'd told her about The Mighty, the old god who once blessed humankind with the essence of mighty creatures, to guard nature, to balance life and chaos. It sounded like a legend carved in stone somewhere far away. But Darien had said it as though he'd lived it, as though he was a part of it.
"I'm not human," he'd confessed quietly. "I'm a beastman. Dragon race, one of the oldest."
She remembered that moment exactly. Her fingers tightening around her knees, her heartbeat beating so loud she could hear it in her ears.
Her mind had screamed no.
Her logic had begged, please, don't believe this joke.
But her memory had thrown back every impossible thing she'd seen since the night she kissed him.
And so, despite every instinct to deny it, she'd believed him.
She hated that she did.
As if he understood how easily her world was crumbling apart, he had continued, gently. "Each beastman," he'd said, "is destined to meet their true mate. Most of the time, it's one of our own kind." His eyes had softened then, in a way that made her chest tighten. "But not this time. Mine is human."
She had blinked. "And… that's supposed to mean something?"
He smiled faintly. "It means you."
The words had struck her like a slap. Her mouth had opened but nothing came out. Mate? That was something you read in werewolf novels, right? Or some corny web novels about soul bonds and fate and other nonsense. Not real. Definitely not her.
But Darien had looked at her like it was the simplest truth in the world. Like her disbelief didn't matter at all.
She'd thanked him for sharing this information… no, the secret, somehow, awkward, shaky, desperate to sound polite, and promised she wouldn't tell anyone. She'd even added that she'd keep her mouth shut forever if that's what he wanted.
He'd just said, "I know you will," in that calm, deep voice of his. Like he already knew every choice she'd make.
And then she'd done the only thing that felt right, she tried to leave.
That had been hours ago. Now, she sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing her new shirt, staring at the moon outside. Her thoughts felt like a tangled ball of string, pull one and everything else came loose.
She couldn't stay here any longer.
No. Absolutely not.
She'd already thanked him. She'd already said she'd go. There was no reason to stay. Except maybe curiosity. And maybe… the tiniest flicker of something she didn't want to name.
But no. She needed to go.
Amara got up and took a deep breath. She ignored the slight pain from everything that had happened before. She folded the blanket neatly, because somehow that made leaving easier, and then gathered her things. A few small items. She'd wash the ones he lent her later and return them somehow. Maybe she'd mail them. Or burn them. Yes, maybe that was easier.
She opened the door quietly and stepped into the hall. The mansion was silent and dim, with the silver light leaking from the tall windows illuminating its long hallways. Everything sounded louder than it should have, including her breath.
She told herself she wasn't sneaking. Just… being polite about her exit. No need to wake the dragon-man.
By the time she reached the front hall, her palms were damp with sweat. The main gate loomed just beyond the courtyard, guarded by two men in dark uniforms. Their posture alone screamed no entry, or exit without permission.
Despite that, Amara brace herself and tried anyway.
"Excuse me," she began, forcing a friendly tone. "I'm heading out. Mr. Dravik knows…"
The guard on the right glanced at her and shook his head slowly. "No one leaves without his order."
She blinked. "His order?"
Oh, for crying out loud.
Before she could argue, a shadow moved from behind the stone archway. Heavy footsteps. The kind that made the ground feel smaller.
Darien.
He was dressed simply, dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled like he'd just woken up. His eyes found her immediately, and something flickered there. "Where do you think you're going, little fox?"
Her throat went dry. "I… I told you earlier. I want to go home."
"Now?" He stepped closer, one brow arching. "It's past midnight."
"I can't stay here." She forced a small, polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You've done enough. Thank you for the help, really."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, to her surprise, he sighed and nodded once. "Fine."
That… was too easy. She blinked, suspicious. "Fine?"
He gestured toward the courtyard. "Follow me."
She hesitated, but what choice did she have? She followed him until they reached a wide building she hadn't noticed before, a massive garage with steel doors and bright light coming to her sight. Inside, a line of vehicles gleamed under dim lamps. Not just cars, beasts of luxury. Sleek, powerful things that smelled faintly of metal and leather.
He pressed a key fob. A black car came to life. He slid into the driver's seat like someone perfectly at home behind the wheel, then looked up at her. "You coming?"
"I…uh…" She frowned. "You're driving me?"
He tilted his head, a faint smirk curving his mouth. "Unless you plan to walk through a forest full of things all alone."
That shut her up, so she climbed in.
A deep, smooth sound filled the silence as the car roared to life. For a while, neither of them spoke.
It was really strange how calm he seemed. Like driving through the dead of night with a half-terrified human girl beside him was just another Tuesday.
But he was right. It wouldn't be a great experience for her if she ever had to walk through this forest all alone.
Every now and then, before she could tell him where to turn, he'd already taken the right road. Once, twice, then a third time, each one perfectly accurate. Amara's chest tightened. "How do you…?"
He gave her a sidelong glance. "I've been there."
Her stomach dropped. "You've… what?"
"Before you ask," he said, "I just needed to know where you'd be safe."
That sounded a little too much like stalking. She gripped her knees and stared ahead, telling herself she was overthinking. Maybe he just had… resources. Of course he had. He could do and get anything done with just a snap of finger. Beastman GPS or whatever.
By the time the familiar route to her apartment complex appeared, relief flooded through her so hard she nearly laughed. She reached for the door handle as the car rolled to a stop.
"Thank you so much, Sir," she said quickly, fumbling for the latch.
But before she could push it open, Darien's hand caught hers. She froze.
"Goodnight, little fox," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Her breath caught. "Yes?"
He released her hand, smiling faintly. "Sleep well."
Amara blinked at him, utterly confused. "Wait… what…"
However, he had already shifted his focus back to the road. Something about his composure made her want to bolt. So she did.
"Goodnight," she muttered, stumbling out of the car. Then she bolted across the pavement, coat clutched tight, refusing to look back.
She didn't see the way his expression changed when she disappeared through the entrance door. Didn't see the faint, satisfied curve of his lips as he lifted his phone and pressed it to his ear.
"Yes," he whispered. "Make it effective starting tomorrow. I need her close to me."