AURORA
I'm the kind of person who firmly believes in the power of a good packed lunch. Seriously, nothing gets me more excited in the middle of the workday than remembering that, at the bottom of my bag, there's a little container with rice, seasoned chicken, and sautéed vegetables that taste just like Mom's cooking. Bless my past self, always saving my future self.
So when lunchtime finally rolled around, I practically jumped out of my chair. I left the department with a goofy little smile, ready to eat in peace in the company cafeteria—which, by the way, was way too beautiful for a place where people did nothing but chew and complain about their lives.
I took the elevator, pressing the button for the cafeteria floor with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd just struck gold. And off I went, light steps, lunch container in hand, mentally humming some random song.
But… the moment I turned down the hallway leading to the cafeteria, my happiness froze in my throat like dry ice.
I can't explain it.
It was like hitting an invisible wall of bad vibes.
You know when you walk into a place and immediately feel like you shouldn't be there?
As if one very specific part of your body—the part that remembers predators in the forest—were screaming, “Run!”
Yeah.
It was almost like that.
Almost.
I took two steps, and the entire hallway seemed… strange.
It's been like that at certain moments when I pass some of the company's older female employees. The way they look at me, as if I were living the good life in my position.
Little did they know… how much I suffered under the manager's schedule.
The air was colder.
A cold that didn't come from the air-conditioning—it came from somewhere else, an organic chill, like someone's breath right against the back of your neck.
I swallowed hard and hugged my lunch container to my chest.
But I kept walking, because I'm stubborn and because hunger is a force of nature.
I reached the cafeteria door.
And then my hand froze on the doorknob.
Because inside… someone was standing in the center of the room.
Someone tall.
Motionless.
With his back to me, talking to another employee who had approached him and was handing him a cup of coffee.
I would have recognized that posture anywhere.
That perfectly tailored suit.
That elegant rigidity.
That aura that seemed to come with a little touch of “I'm going to steal your soul.”
Adrian Thorne.
My CEO.
My problem.
My nightmare, if he decided, just because he was in a bad mood, that he didn't want to see my face around the company anymore.
Or… who knows what else.
The first thing that hit me wasn't fear.
It was the smell.
And that caught me off guard.
A sweet, alluring… warm smell.
Very, VERY faint, almost imperceptible, but perceptible enough to send a shiver all the way to my bones.
My lunch container almost slipped from my hand.
I tried to understand what he was doing there—with mere mortals, standing in the middle of the cafeteria.
But before I could think, he turned his face slightly.
Just enough for one blue eye to appear in profile.
And I swear… that look was… intense.
Darker.
Almost… hungry.
Instinctively, I took a step back.
The sound echoed across the porcelain floor as if I'd stepped onto a silent stage.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Adrian turned all the way around.
And when his eyes met mine, my heart dropped.
Because he didn't look human in that moment.
He looked like the stone-faced CEO the manager had described, warning me to be careful with my work and whenever I encountered him in the hallways.
Looking at him now, his skin was very pale.
His eyes, far too deep.
His breathing… even more noticeable as he approached me.
“Aurora,” he said, his voice far too low, almost hoarse. “I did not expect to see you here.”
The way he said my name… wasn't normal.
It was… almost a summons.
Almost hunger disguised as politeness.
What kind of boss talked like that?
“I just… came to have lunch.” I raised my lunch container as if it were a medieval shield. “My food… you know? Human food…”
Congratulations, Aurora. Brilliant comment.
He took a step toward me.
Slow. Smooth. Far too silent for someone wearing dress shoes.
And the closer he came, the more the air seemed to turn physical.
Heavy.
Dense.
Suffocating.
“You should have waited a few more minutes,” he said. “I… was not prepared for interesting company.”
Interesting company.
Great.
What was that supposed to mean?
My brain unleashed an avalanche of deeply uncomforting possibilities.
“I can… come back later,” I replied, already backing away slowly.
It wasn't as if I felt like I was in paradise, sitting alone at one of the cafeteria tables.
He watched me.
Every micro-movement.
As if he were studying me.
As if he were… confirming something.
“No,” he said suddenly. “Stay.”
My feet froze.
So did my spine.
He moved closer—far too close—until he was only a few steps away from me, crossing the doorway on the right, where I was about to turn and enter the cafeteria.
I could see the details of his face.
Pale perfection with faint golden undertones.
Cold elegance.
And, my God… I could actually see the slight vibration beneath his jaw, as if something inside him were… fighting.
“Do you always eat lunch alone?” he asked, his voice so calm it was frightening. “I feel that you do.”
“Sometimes…” I answered, swallowing hard. “But today I wanted homemade food. I made it last night.”
He tilted his head, as if that were particularly important information.
“Homemade,” he repeated, more quietly. “Natural. Fresh.”
I had no idea whether he was talking about the food or me.
And just when I was about to suggest, guided by every survival instinct I had, that I'd rather eat somewhere else, he took one final step.
And stopped so close… so absurdly close yet hidden from prying eyes… that I felt the heat of his body radiating onto my skin.
His eyes focused on my throat.
Then my wrist.
Then my hand—the same one I'd cut yesterday.
And the world seemed to shrink around the two of us.
“Aurora…” he murmured, almost as if enchanted. “Your scent today… is more floral.”
I lost my breath.
“My… scent?” My voice came out as a fragile whisper.
Like… what?
He blinked slowly.
Watching.
Fighting an invisible battle.
“You should have stayed away from me,” he said, in that deep tone that sounded like it came from some historical movie where the leading man was irresistibly charming. “But… I cannot stop coming toward you.”
What?
And before I could react, the elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened, someone stepped out onto the cafeteria floor talking loudly, and Adrian merely passed me, leaving a breeze carrying away his scent.
Literally.
In the blink of an eye.
As if the shadows had swallowed him.
I stood there, frozen, sweating cold, gripping my lunch container far too tightly while my heart tried to decide whether to stop completely or explode.
And deep in the back of my mind, a single certainty echoed:
It wasn't fear he felt toward me.
It was hunger.
And worse…