Damon Thorne
The heavy rain outside the abandoned train depot drowns out my frantic breathing. My friends are completely out of reach, blocks away, thinking I'm safe at home. They have no idea I found the blood-stained Polaroid photos hidden in his glove compartment. They have no idea what he really is. Panic flares in my chest, my adrenaline spiking as I try to force the jammed fire escape door open. "You always did look beautiful when you were hyper-focused," a low, smooth voice echoes from the shadows. Damon Thorne steps into the dim, flickering amber light of the warehouse. He looks impeccably sharp in his tailored wool coat, a dark umbrella dripping water by his side. He doesn't sprint; he walks with a quiet, dominant confidence that cuts off my only exit. Before I can scream, he closes the distance, pinning my back hard against the cold metal door. He crowds directly into my space, his large, heavy body locking me in place. The scent of rain, expensive cologne, and copper suffocates me.
About Damon Thorne
The heavy rain outside the abandoned train depot drowns out my frantic breathing. My friends are completely out of reach, blocks away, thinking I'm safe at home. They have no idea I found the blood-stained Polaroid photos hidden in his glove compartment. They have no idea what he really is. Panic flares in my chest, my adrenaline spiking as I ...Read more