Page 9 of Invade Me

Finally, Mr. Ragu made a long grunt. "Okay Storm, this time I will postpone it, but only for the time of this commission. After that, get yourself together. It’s not going away, Storm. Mr. Johansson is very much in love!"

Closing my eyes, I let out a quiet, desperate swear.

It's been like that my whole life. Ever since I was sixteen, there was always a certain type of person around me who just… wanted me to fuck them because I was a purple.

At first, it seemed fun. I had this low-hanging idea that having a lot of sex would boost my confidence and make me feel like I was something, but it only laid bare even more insecurities. The empowerment thing came out empty. So after a while, I started avoiding casual hookups. None of them actually wantedme. They wanted an idea of a purple—like I was some kind of novelty or toy. I mean, I didn’t have anything against people withfetishes, but I was tired of being someone's kink instead of being treated as a real person, someone to respect or have a serious relationship with.

That was one of the reasons I married Tom. He wasn’t all that into me sexually—it was more about how I could boost his status and keep things interesting. He liked the fun, the attention, the stares, the envy. It felt like a new dynamic, and I fell for it… but of course, like all illusions, it didn't last. Still, there was no love there, and surely, no respect.

Walking in on Tom with his fuckboy screwing on the bed I bought, in the apartment I paid for, while I was working twelve-hour days so we could have a good living, was the ultimate proof that I needed to search for some other type of people in my life.

Now it seemed that my old life was coming back to haunt me, in the form of a fifty-year-old alpha with a humiliation kink. I was back to being a walking-talking dick.

All the things interesting about me were… me being a purple.

There was nothing I could do but quit, and I still had 20k to pay in installments. Damn it.

As Mr. Ragu said his goodbyes, I put the phone down and glanced at the laptop.

Suddenly, this commission didn’t seem so bad—maybe even something to look forward to? Johansson was such a downgrade compared to the redheaded student.

Staring at the screen, I sighed.

Minutes passed in silence, and my depression settled back in. Oh, well. It was just another gig. There was nothing that would come out of it—nothing positive for me, no hope. Just a job. I swallowed hard, again feeling that dreaded emptiness inside. My mood grew darker and darker.

But staring at the omega’s face was, in a way, pulling me out of that miserable feeling, so I gave in to it with full dedication.

"Save me, Damien. Save me somehow," I whispered, without even realizing it.

Whoa!

Did I just give him a nickname?

I had no idea what his real name was—it wasn’t given in the commission details. Names were only provided in cases that absolutely required them, like scenarios in public settings. If I was going to the CEO of a company, it made sense to know his actual name, but with private people, in-home scenarios, it wasn’t necessary.

Anyway, my mind was doing some weird tricks on me.

When I focused really intensely, there was this distinctive glow around him, like a purple tinge. Yeah, definitely. There was a strange luminescence that spoke to me, that drew me in, something about him… I couldn’t quite grasp. It kept slipping away, though I wanted to catch it—so much. But why? It’s not like I believed we could have a high mateship, right?

In the past, when I was still working in Fate's Choice, from the moment I discovered that I could somehow sense people's high matches, I tried many, many times to ‘sense’ my own highly compatible mate, but for some reason it never worked. I had even begun to believe that perhaps I could not use my own intuition on myself. Why should it be any different now?

What was worth mentioning—with the commission firmly in my inbox, the system suddenly ran perfectly—no issues, no expired sessions, no battery or power glitches, no crashes. Everything just worked. Fucking miracle.

Again, I locked eyes with the redheaded student in the photo, staring back at me.

"So. Will you save me, Damien?" And then I burst out laughing. Hell no, there was no salvation from my private hell. There was only more misery.

***

Before each assignment, I had to visit headquarters; that was the rule. So, I got in my car and drove to the city center, where the company was located. After waiting in the lobby, I was escorted to Mr. Jun Ragu’s office by his beta assistant. He still personally handled new hires, briefing them on their first official cases before handing them over to coordinators. He was all about double-checking to ensure the service quality was ‘impeccable’.

Mr. Ragu was a middle-aged alpha with a large black beard and a protruding belly. He greeted me with a broad fake smile as soon as he saw me.

"Oh, Storm, I'm glad to see you. I'm actually very pleased that you've accepted this commission. Our company aims to meet all our clients’ needs, even for those with limited resources. We strive to be flexible!" he delivered his usual spiel, and I grimaced. I’d had my fill of these official lines.

Though I was grateful, he didn’t mention Johansson and focused on the current assignment.

We took our seats, and he leaned back in his large leather chair, still grinning.

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