Page 12 of Invade Me

Mr. Ragu eyed me. "I have this passion for watching old, thousand-year-old movies. One of them had somebody like… a demon kid or something, and this student has the same name."

"Is it Damien?!"

Mr. Ragu chuckled. "Oh, so you also like old movies?"

I blinked in shock.

How the hell did I guess hisrealname?!

For a moment, I was just stupefied, but after a few frantic thoughts, I decided it was just my alien intuition. Yeah. It had to be. I could guess people’s perfect mates, for fuck’s sake! Why not guess a person’s name after staring at him for hours? I could see that happening, easily. There was probably nothing more to it, right?

I relaxed a bit and leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, I am. Sorry for asking, it was just… interesting. An intriguing name. But let’s continue."

Mr. Ragu also relaxed and smiled, helping me with the folder to put in the documents.

The sheets held all the information I needed, including the address and details for the scenario, so I took them and stood up.

"We’ll be in touch!" Mr. Ragu said, winking. "When you’re done with this assignment, I’ll set up a date for you to meet with my husband, okay?"

I hesitated, wondering if I should ask about potentially being taken off the Johansson thing, but I concluded he wasn’t the right person to discuss it with. Mr. Ren Ragu would have much more authority to free meifI gave him something he really wanted.

So, with an official smile, I just gave a short nod.

I drove home in a bit of a daze, my mind spinning. Mr. Ragu’s proposition intrigued me. The man was clearly desperate—worried about hefty fines if he didn’t meet the terms of the contracts. And this ‘big thing’ happening soon? Maybe they needed funds for an investment and were scared penalties would swallow their reserves? That was my suspicion, but of course, I couldn’t be sure.

In theory, it wasn’t my problem, but… if I pulled off whatever he needed, maybe it would be my way out of this mess. My secret talent—my sixth sense—I could use it if things lined up just right!

Smiling to myself, I drove home as night settled in.

According to Mr. Ragu’s text, the client had already been notified that we’d accepted his commission. They never knew the exact moment things would happen—that would kill the vibe. Usually, they got a vague timeframe of three days to a week, keeping them on edge and stretching out the thrill. This client had only three days left. Normally, I wouldn’t consider doing it on the first day, but with the window closing fast, I’d have to move quicker than usual.

Traffic slowed me down, so it was already late when I got home. I tossed the folder on the bed, lay down, and started thinking through a few scenarios I could use with the student. As usual, I checked his picture—it had become a daily habit—brainstorming something creative and believable that he’d find satisfying.

And once again, the trap was activated: his photo caught me.

He was such an interesting-looking omega. Amaranth-red hair, almost pinkish, and fair skin. Maybe I could work that into the scenario? Compliment him on the sensitive skin common to redheads. He had freckles across his nose—maybe elsewhere too. Personally, I had a soft spot for freckles; they reminded meof tiny sunspots. His face wasn’t classically handsome, but for some reason… well, he was almost cute. His full lips, and even the braces peeking between them, added to his nerdy appeal. Sure, his skin could use some acne treatment, but his features weren’t half bad—at least in my eyes. Without these thick glasses and with a smoother complexion, he could even be pretty, birthmark or no birthmark!

Besides, I was so over the ‘perfect ten’ types, like Tom, who embodied omegan beauty standards to an annoying degree. I’d fallen hard for that once, totally blindsided. Never again.

Damien.

So that was his real name! A computer science student, probably surrounded by a sea of betas and omegas all day—alphas rarely went into programming. Except, of course, for my peculiar family. Three of my brothers and a cousin were programmers. The rest? Musicians. And me? Definitely even more the odd one out.

I wondered if people stared at Damien’s birthmark, a nearly perfect rose shape on his cheek. It wasn’t ugly at all, honestly. Strange, that I had a similar mark on the back of my head, so it felt like a hidden kinship—a bizarre secret connection. One twist in my DNA, and I could’ve ended up with it on my face, too. That thought made me look at him with a bit of empathy. Life’s luck hadn’t been on his side there.

We had other similarities, too—like hair color. Mine was a mix of dark purple and deep burgundy, part of my alien heritage, but people often assumed I dyed it. Nope, it wasau naturel.Were Damien’s light amaranth-red curls real, or was he hitting the dye?

Behind his glasses, his eyes seemed an indistinct color—maybe dark gray or hazel. The photo had a slight yellowish sepia tint, making it impossible to see the true hue. His straight red lashes, more like cow lashes, didn’t have that flirty upwardcurve. Instead, they drooped down, giving him a perpetually sad look.

To my surprise, there was yet another photo in the extras file folder—a candid shot of Damien leaning awkwardly against a tree, as if the picture had been snapped at the last second. His hair was a little tousled, his eyes startled. He wore a thick, oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, so his shape was hard to make out. He might’ve been a bit chubby, not obese—just soft and round in certain places—but the hoodie hid most of it.

From a distance, he was just another computer science student with red-pink curls and thick glasses, someone who probably blended into the background. But I still had some time, so I stayedtrapped—staring at the omega’s hypnotizing face.

Finally, I forced myself to look at the sheet again.

Okay, so he wanted to start with doggie style—the so-called ‘breeding position’, instinctive for omegas during heats. But here was the weird part: he specifically requested that it be gentle, with plenty of prep beforehand—nothing rough.

That was unusual. Most of Dark Dreams’ clients were all about the intense stuff. But, to be fair, it was his first contract with the company, and sometimes people were skittish at the beginning. Maybe he just wasn’t very experienced and wanted to ease into it, opting for a more relaxed atmosphere during sex.

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