Bound by fate:the vampire CEO's bride

Chapter 5: Shadows of the Past

The voice that filled the room wasn't just unexpected-it was chilling. Amara's heart thudded in her chest as she turned her gaze to the doorway. Standing there, framed by the dim light from the hall, was a woman. She was tall, with sharp features that could have been carved from stone, her dark eyes fixed with a knowing intensity.

Amara's breath caught in her throat. Who was she?

Damien's entire body went rigid at the sight of her. His hand instinctively tightened around Amara's, pulling her closer. Amara didn't need to look at him to sense the tension flooding his body, the way his muscles coiled in restraint. There was something about this woman that made him uncomfortable-or worse, afraid.

With every step she entered the room, the sound of her high heels clicking and echoing in his head moved a shiver down Amara's spine. Neither Damien nor she swerved his gaze from hers. The chill was in the air-a past unmentioned, a past unresolved by either of them.

Damien," she said, her voice low with intimacy and disdain. "Long time no see."

The woman didn't answer immediately but stood frozen, as if each word he prepared had been stolen from his tongue. Then finally, his voice came low, almost a growl. "What are you doing here, Larissa?

The name ruffled Amara with confusion. Larissa? Who was she, and why did Damien seem so. unsettled by her presence?

The woman-Larissa-smiled, but it wasn't one of those smiles that reached her eyes. Cold, calculating. "I think the question, Damien, is why haven't you contacted me sooner? After all, it's been so long since you've needed my help." She glanced at Amara, her smile never faltering. "I see you've found someone else to protect.

Amara flinched at the sharpness of her words. Her instincts told her that Larissa wasn't just here for a casual conversation. There was something darker in the air, something under the surface.

Damien's hand around Amara's tightened, and he stepped forward, standing between her and Larissa. "This is none of your business," he said, his voice firm, but the tension in his posture betrayed him.

Unflappable Larissa leaned her head on one side, and her eyes sparkled with merriment. "None of my concern?" Her lips haphazardly arced in an arrogant smile. "Damien, when will you run from the past?

Amara could feel the weight of the unspoken history between them, heavy and suffocating. Whatever this was-whatever Larissa represented-it was clear that it wasn't just any chance encounter. This woman had a claim on Damien, one that neither of them seemed ready to acknowledge.

"What do you want?" Damien's voice dropped harsh and cold, like a blade slicing through the heavy tension in the room.

Larissa's eyes flickered from him to Amara. There was something in the way she looked at Amara, something assessing, calculating. "I want what's mine," she said, her voice as smooth as silk, yet laced with a warning. "And I always get what's mine."

Amara's stomach churned. What did that mean? What was this woman talking about?

Damien's jaw clenched, his fists clenching. "If you think you're going to waltz in here and start making threats, you're mistaken." He stepped closer to her, his gaze hardening. "Whatever it is you're after, you're not going to get it from me. Not now. Not ever.

For a moment, Larissa said nothing. She just looked at Damien-a look that was tender and terrible at the same time, as if she was right through him, to a deeper, more vulnerable part of his soul. And then, finally, she did speak, her voice low, quiet.

You still don't get it, do you, Damien?" The softness in Larissa's voice was dangerous now, the sort that hinted at something darker lurking in its depths. "This isn't about what you want. It's about what always has been. You can't outrun your past. You can't outrun fate.

Amara's heart was pounding. She could feel the weight of the moment-those words pressing down upon her like a storm that was waiting to break.

"Fate?" Damien's voice was tight, barely restrained anger. "Don't talk to me about fate, Larissa. I don't owe you anything. Not now. Not ever."

Larissa's eyes darkened as her features shifted to a more menacing mask. "We'll see about that.

There was a deadly silence, that one point in time when it seemed even the air was holding its breath. Amara felt it-the change in the room, the shift that told her this was going to get well out of hand.

Then, without warning, Larissa turned toward the door. "This isn't over, Damien," she said, her voice low and dripping with menace. "You'll come to me. You'll see, you can't run from the past forever."

With one last look at Amara, Larissa walked out, her presence seeming to stick in the air, heavy as a cold shadow.

Her body was taut with her hand still clasped in Damien's, though different now-faint rammels of uncertainty threading their way through her veins.

For one very long moment, Damien did not move further; he just stood there with his back straight, pitted against some invisible opponent harder than the one he'd had just then. Amara could feel the unease seep from him, a building fight, though she did not know how to reach him. In fact, she didn't even understand what was going on.

Finally, Damien let a hard breath out, the kind that seemed to shake loose the weight he'd borne far too long. Turning back to Amara, his face was softer but no less weighted.

"Don't listen to her," he said, voice husky. "Whatever she says, whatever she does-she's not part of this. She never will be."

Amara nodded, but there was so much she didn't get. Who was this woman? Why did she act as if she were on fire to get Damien back?

But before she had posed her questions, the tension in Damien's frame became more pronounced, and a cloud of something much deeper-than she could grasp-caught in his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'll explain everything later. I just. need some time.

The words floated in the air, but to Amara, he spoke gibberish. She wasn't so sure of anything anymore.

Before Amara could answer, a low growl emanated from the hallway, and a shadow remained fixed in the doorway, another presence, and this time not just a ghost from Damien's

past, but far closer, and one whose intentions were just as fuzzy.