Page 1 of Mutual Desire (The Awakening #1)

Smoke and Shadows

Damien Clarke was bored out of his fucking mind. What made him think that letting Dimitri, his longtime friend, drag him to one of New York’s exclusive parties filled with models, influencers, and sketchy rich types was a good idea? Sure, the rooftop venue of the Essence Club had the kind of view only people with insane money could afford, and the free-flowing expensive drinks were supposed to be the highlight. But all Damien could think about was how out of place he felt.

Dimitri, being a part-time model, had charmed his way into some elite event that seemed more like a peacock show than anything else. It was supposed to be a good time, but Damien couldn't shake the feeling that he was an imposter—someone pretending to fit into a world that would never really be his. Dimitri had mentioned some fashion event after-party, but Damien hadn’t expected the sea of polished, impossibly beautiful people—or the lingering, predatory gazes that followed him around the room.

This crowd was not for him. As a teacher at a private school, Damien had a reputation to protect, and this place—with its low lighting, pulsing neon accents, and the constant, subtle exchanges of powders and pills—was nowhere close to where he wanted to be.

Damien leaned back in the plush seating, glancing over at Dimitri, who sat a few feet away. Dimitri was animatedly talking to Samuel, one of their mutual close friends. Samuel laughed at something Dimitri said, his easy, relaxed smile lighting up his face. Damien caught the way Dimitri’s eyes softened ever so slightly whenever Samuel wasn’t looking, the smallest flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable, showing through.But it never lasted.

The moment a couple of tall, lean models drifted over to join the conversation, Dimitri’s expression shifted. His usual confident, devil-may-care attitude snapped back into place, and he played it off with a small, charming smile that didn't really reach his blue eyes. Samuel, oblivious to the change, was polite, his attention focused on the guests now chiming in. Damien sighed, wondering how long this unspoken tension would last.

Watching Dimitri and Samuel, Damien’s mind drifted to Craig, his boyfriend of three years. The guilt crept in, as it often did when Damien found himself in places like this, especially since Craig was working a graveyard shift in the ER. When had they last gone out together? He couldn’t remember, and that realization gnawed at him.

Damien maneuvered his way through the dense crowd, his attention flitting over the sea of people. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two guests a few feet away, huddled close together in a shadowed corner of the VIP section. He didn’t need to hear their words to recognize the transaction happening between them. A small bag passed discreetly from one hand to another, its contents likely familiar substances: uppers, downers, powders and pills.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. A familiar dread curled in the pit of his stomach, dragging him back to a darker time. A time when parties like this weren’t just social outings but dangerous escapes. He’d seen it all before, lived through it. The recklessness, the spiral of self-destruction that always started with a single pill, a single line, a single bad choice. The laughter and the neon lights felt distant, muted now as memories clawed their way back to the surface.

His chest tightened. The faces blurred. He could feel that familiar ache of regret simmering under his skin, threatening to drown him in a well of sorrow. He wasn’t that person anymore. But the shadows from his past were always lurking, waiting for moments like this to remind him. A knot formed in his chest as the crowd seemed to press in closer. Just as the memories threatened to swallow him whole, Eric appeared by his side, offering a lifeline.

“Another drink?” Eric’s voice cut through the pounding music, startling Damien out of his thoughts.

Damien glanced down at his empty glass and nodded absently, mumbling a thank you that Eric, one of his closest friends, probably didn’t hear. Eric poured another round for both of them, his attention momentarily distracted by the surrounding chaos.

Eric was always the glue in their group—the one who made sure everyone was taken care of, even in situations like this. He caught Damien’s eye with a quick, knowing smile.

“You good?” Eric asked, tilting his head.

Damien hesitated, feeling the weight of the night settling in. The music, the neon lights, and the sea of beautiful people seemed to press down on him all at once.

“I’ll be good after one more drink,” Damien finally said, raising his glass to Eric.

Eric grinned and clinked his glass to Damien's. “Cheers to that.”

Damien took a sip, letting the vodka burn its way down his throat, though it did little to shake the discomfort lingering in his chest. His gaze drifted back to Dimitri and Samuel, catching another flicker of something unspoken between them. Each time his eyes would land on his friends, Damien's thoughts would keep drifting to Craig, hoping his shift was going smoothly—well, as smoothly as an ER shift ever could.

What the hell was he even doing here? He couldn’t shake the guilt that tugged at him, feeling like some lousy boyfriend for being out here instead of with him. Damien knew the guilt was irrational—Craig was working, and it wasn’t like he could keep him company in the ER—but somehow, it continued to eat away at him. Being out here, drinking and partying, felt wrong even though there was nothing he could do for Craig tonight. But love never claimed to be rational.

“Everything alright, D?” Eric asked, concern creeping into his voice. He was always the one who noticed.

Damien nodded but didn’t feel like outright lying. As the music rattled in his chest, the neon lights blurred at the edges of his vision, and flawless bodies moved pass him like they belonged — unlike him were starting to feel suffocating, and made his head spin.But Damien managed to put on a small smile.

“Yeah… j ust need a breather.”

Eric nodded, his gaze warm with understanding. “Take your time, man.”

Damien stood and began weaving his way through the crowd, already planning his escape route. Thirty more minutes, tops. He’d find an excuse, probably the old headache trick, and get the hell out of here. He didn’t feel too bad about leaving Eric alone. With his friend’s effortless charisma, Eric would have no trouble merging through the crowd or striking up conversations with a few models. Hell, if he weren’t married, he’d probably have no problem scoring. But thankfully for Julia, Eric’s wife, his friend was a devoted and faithful husband.

Damien pulled out his phone, both to sidestep awkward eye contact and to quickly fire off a text to Craig. Maybe something as simple as Thinking of you . The music pulsed through the air like a heartbeat, thick and heavy, making conversation feel like a contact sport. As he squeezed through a group of people clustered near the bar, a soft hand landed on his arm, stopping him mid-step.

“Hey there, handsome,” a voice called—half-shouted, half-purred—just behind him. He turned slightly and came face-to-face with the owner of the arm. A woman with blonde hair, an Amber Heard doppelganger, watched him with amusement as he tried to blend into the crowd, her touch lingering on his arm.

She leaned in close, her breath brushing his ear so he could hear her. “You slipped away from your friend so fast, I almost missed my shotto tell you how fucking hot you are. But you probably hear that all the time, don’t you?”

Damien bit back a sigh. He didn’t need this right now. He could barely recall the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman—not that it was due to a lack of attraction. With a striking square face framed by a neatly trimmed beard, high cheekbones, and a sharp jawline, Damien was no stranger to compliments. More than one person had suggested he try modeling — Dimitri among them — but Damien always brushed it off with a nervous chuckle. His shoulder-length hair, typically pulled back into a bun, revealed his pierced ears and highlighted his most compelling feature: his green eyes, which, under a certain light, took on enigmatic shades of blue.

“Yeah, my mom says it all the time, so it must be true,” Damien said, leaning toward her just enough to be heard, his tone casual.

She laughed—forced, but flirty. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re way more than that.” Her eyes dipped down his frame. “What do you say we go somewhere quiet and get to know each other better? ”

“Well, I’m actually seeing someone right now,” Damien replied, raising his voice slightly over the beat, hoping to deflect the conversation. Craig popped into his mind, and the guilt of someone flirting with him made Damien want to call instead of just sending a quick text. But on second thought, Craig wouldn’t appreciate a late-night call from a noisy club while he was working his ass off. A text seemed like the better option. Besides, there was no guarantee that he would be able to take the call.

“Oh! You have a girlfriend? Lucky her.” The woman’s smile faltered just enough to reveal her disappointment, though she recovered quickly. It was always a dilemma—correcting people who assumed he was straight. Out of respect for Craig, Damien usually did.

“Lucky him ,” Damien corrected gently . “I also feel pretty lucky.”

The woman paused, her smile slightly fading, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Oh! So, you’re gay?”

Damien nodded, preparing himself for the usual follow-up comments. There was a reason hedidn't fancy getting hit on—or getting hit at all for that matter.

“But you don’t look gay,” she added, her voice tilting with curiosity rather than malice, as if she were trying to solve a riddle she hadn’t expected to find.

Sigh . There it was. Damien had heard this before. It took every ounce of willpower for him not to roll his eyes. He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to reply, “You don’t look stupid” or “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get my rainbow dildo and shove it in my ass.Would that be gay enough for you and help you process this?”

Sure, it would have been a disproportionately harsh reaction toward Amber Heard who probably meant no harm, but it was an old trigger for him—an instant jab that got under his skin every time.

Instead, Damien offered her a restrained smile and kept his tone light. “I also don’t look like a teacher, and yet, here we are.”

That caught her off guard, making her laugh genuinely this time. “Touché. I should know better. No one can guess what I actually do for a living.”

“Let me guess,” Damien said, glad to shift the conversation. “Astronaut?”

“Ah, very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes but grinning, nonetheless. Damien could tell she wasn’t used to people deflecting her advances so smoothly.

Just then, another guest stepped into the conversation uninvited—taller, broader, with a cocky smirk that instantly rubbed Damien the wrong way. He looked between Damien and the blonde, then flashed the woman a conspiratorial grin.

“So, you got yourself one hottie, huh?” he said, nodding toward Damien. “Lucky bastard.”

Damien blinked. The club’s thrum made it hard to tell if the guy was being sleazy or just clueless. Either way, it landed wrong.

The blonde arched a brow, clearly amused now. She leaned toward the man and shouted over the music, “He’s gay. ”

The man blinked, surprised. “Gay? ” He looked Damien up and down. “ You don’t seem the type.”

Jesus . There it was again. Damien’s patience was wearing thin. He didn't exactly know what the guy meant by “ type ” , and quite frankly, Damien couldn't give a rat’s ass.Instead of saying what he really wanted to, he bit back his sarcastic retort and simply smiled.

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

The man’s smirk faltered. “Right,” he said, before turning and muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.

As the man left, the woman leaned in again, her voice softer. “Well, you handled that better than I would have.”

Damien shrugged. “I’ve had practice.”

The woman smiled, and this time it felt sincere. “Well, it was nice chatting with you, Mr. Teacher. Hope you find a quiet corner to escape soon.”

“Thanks,” Damien said, already looking for the exit, when his phone vibrated in his hand. Grateful for the distraction, Damien pulled it closer to his face, noticing Nick’s name flash across the screen. Perfect timing. This call from his best friend was a sign and the excuse he needed.

As he navigated through the crowd, Damien felt the air in the room grow heavier with each passing second, like the people and the neon lights were closing in on him. Every laugh, every half-shouted conversation became an indistinct noise, blurring into one unbearable buzz.

He’d had enough. His fingers curled around the smooth edge of his phone case, the faint texture grounding him, eager to answer a phone call like he hadn't been for a long time. Slipping past a group of men talking too loudly about their recent trips to Ibiza, Damien moved through the crowd, weaving between bodies pressed together in a collective rhythm he couldn’t relate to. The music was a relentless thrum, shaking his chest like a second heartbeat. Lights pulsed overhead, neon flashes painting the room in electric colors as his gaze firmly locked on the exit.

Damien glanced toward Dimitri and Samuel, both now stationed near the bar. Dimitri’s hand lingered on the small of Samuel’s back, a gesture Damien noticed but pretended not to. Samuel didn’t seem to mind, but there was a tension in the air between them that made Damien’s chest tighten. He’d seen these moments before, little cracks in Samuel’s composure whenever Dimitri got too close. A glance too long, a touch too familiar.

Damien shook his head, turning toward the crowd again. This wasn’t his problem. Not tonight.

The pulsing music faded into the background as Damien made his way down the long corridor leading to the exit. For a brief moment, he caught sight of another guest handing off a suspicious little baggie under the dim glow of the hallway lights, but he kept moving. He wasn’t about to linger long enough for that familiar, unwelcome sense of nostalgia to creep in again.

Finally, pushing through the heavy door, Damien stepped into the cool, damp night air. The chill kissed his flushed face, a welcome relief from the suffocating heat and chaos of the club. The city sounds—honking cars, distant laughter, and the occasional roar of an engine—were oddly soothing, grounding him. Phone in hand, he stared at the screen glowing under the streetlamp’s pale light. A missed call from Nick flashed at the top. With a sigh, he pressed redial and brought the phone to his ear.

“D, I’m fucking screwed, man,” Nick blurted out, skipping any preamble.

Damien chuckled despite himself. “What’s got you so worked up? You sound like you’re about to have a coronary.” He escaped the stress of the party only to be hit with a new one in the form of his panicked best friend.

“Worked up? I’m fucking spiraling over here, D! I have this presentation on Monday, and this damn bug is ruining everything. If I don’t fix it, I’m fucked.”

Damien stifled a sigh, leaning against the brick wall of the building. He loved Nick, but the guy’s timing was impeccable—in all the wrong ways. Nick had a flair for dramatics, and this was no different. Still, something about his tone hinted this wasn’t just an overreaction. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced around the dimly lit street, hoping the breeze would somehow clear his mind.

“I’m kind of out right now. Not sure how much of a help I can be,” Damien said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What? Are you serious? You’re out at—wait, is that music? Are you at a club?”

Damien huffed a laugh. “Unfortunately, yeah. Got dragged out by Dimitri. Trust me, I’d rather be anywhere else.”

Nick groaned on the other end of the line. “Man, I could use a drink right about now. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Damien chuckled lightly then added, “anyway, I don’t see whatany of this has got to do with me.”

“Oh, come on, D!” Nick’s tone edged toward desperation. “How many times have I begged you for help? Yeah, I know you were swamped before, but you’re free now, right? You’re way better at this stuff than I’ll ever be. Please, man, I need you. I really, really need you.”

Damien clenched his jaw, biting back a sarcastic retort. Well, what I need is to get my dick sucked by my man, but is that happening right now? No. So, I guess we can’t always get what we want, can we, Nicky?

Of course, Damien didn’t say that out loud. Nick didn’t need to know how frustrated—and horny—he was. Instead, he exhaled, long and slow, as the weight of guilt pressed on him.

“Nick,” Damien said, his voice firm. “The world won’t end because of one bug. You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m not overthinking shit!” Nick shot back. “This project is my ticket to the next level, man, and this stupid, retarded bug could fuck everything up. Please, Damien. I’m begging you.”

A flicker of guilt sparked in Damien’s chest. As much as Nick’s tendency to overreact annoyed him, he knew his friend was genuinely feeling the pressure. Nick was his best pal. His ride or die. They’d been inseparable since high school and were unapologetic nerds with a shared passion for computers and big dreams of making it in the tech world. Nick had put in the work and was now thriving at a company known as Novatek Imperiya Tech Solutions. The man was making big bucks, and he had recently become the owner of an Audi. Damien had taken a different path though, earning a respectable living as a renowned private school teacher. He was content with his life, but now and then, the thought of what might have been crept into his mind.

“D?” Nick's voice pulled him back to the moment. “Please, man. I’m desperate.”

Damien rubbed a hand through his dark hair, feeling that familiar tug of responsibility. Nick had always seen him as the genius, the guy who could fix anything. But it had been ages since Damien had coded anything serious. He wasn’t sure what help he could offer, but he didn’t want to let Nick down.

“Fine,” Damien relented, dragging the word out. “I’ll take a look. But not tonight. Fresh eyes tomorrow morning, okay?”

The moment the words left his mouth, regret crept in. His gut told him he was signing up for something he wouldn’t enjoy, and his gut was rarely wrong.

Nick, however, sounded relieved. “Thanks, man. I owe you. When you come by, I’ll show you what I’ve got so far. We’ll give Anto-X a little makeover .”

Damien snorted. Anto-X. Of course. Nick had named his antivirus software after a ridiculous alias he’d once joked about using—either as a porn star or if he ever decided to try his luck on OnlyFans. His middle name was Antonio, thus the ‘Anto. ’ And the X? Well, that part was self-explanatory. Typical Nick—full of quirks and grand ambitions.

“I see that you’re still going with that name. Thought you’d retired the whole ‘porn star alias ’ thing.”

Nick barked out a laugh. “ Hey, it’s memorable! And let’s not act like you didn’t think it was genius when I first came up with it.”

“Genius? No. Ridiculous? Absolutely,” Damien quipped.

Nick laughed again, his tone lighter now. “Seriously, thanks, D. You won't bail on me, right?”

“I won’t,” Damien promised. “Get some rest, Nick. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Fuck yeah, we will! And Damien?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Damien rolled his eyes, a grin creeping onto his face. “Go to bed, Nick.”

“I love you, D!” Nick shouted, sounding like a kid on a sugar rush.

Damien ended the call and pocketed his phone, the corners of his lips still tugged up in a faint smile. For all Nick’s dramatics, he couldn’t imagine life without his best friend.

After hanging up, he sighed, his hand brushing against the box of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. He hesitated. He didn’t smoke often—not anymore. But tonight had a way of dragging old habits out of hiding. His fingers tightened around the box as he let out a deep and long sigh. He glanced up at the night sky, the inky black stretching above him.

No stars. Not here. The city’s glow swallowed them whole, leaving only the faint haze of light pollution. It was better this way. Stars were a cruel reminder somehow—of his father. The sky was vast, like a blank slate that mirrored the emptiness he tried to ignore. His father’s presence still clung to him—not as a distant memory, but as a shadow that followed him everywhere, heavy and constant. Damien’s grip on the cigarette box slackened, his chest tightening with a familiar ache. His father’s death lingered heavy in his heart, a wound that refused to heal. And lighting a cigarette now felt like a betrayal—a reckless mimicry of the habit that had taken his dad from him.

But the alcohol buzzing in his veins dulled the guilt. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

Grief, he had learned, didn’t fade. It only softened, settling quietly like smoke in his lungs. His chest tightened at the thought, a cruel echo of the disease that had stolen his father, as if the night itself carried a reminder that some absences could never truly be filled.

Damien shook his head, refusing to go down that road. Thinking about it now would only send his emotions spiraling, and that was the last thing he wanted. Not tonight.

He took another pull from the cigarette, the bitter taste grounding him. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening his grip on his thoughts, letting the darkness creep in where he usually kept it locked away. Or maybe the stars—hidden behind the haze of the city—were hiding for a reason, unwilling to illuminate what he didn’t want to face.

As he exhaled, a thought crossed his mind—should he even go back inside? He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the models and pretentious party guests. The fatigue of the night was catching up with him, and all he wanted was to be home.

Making his decision, Damien crushed the cigarette under his sneaker and sent a quick text to Eric and the others in their group chat, explaining that he needed to head out early. He wasn’t lying, after all—he did have to help Nick in a couple of hours.

Sliding into his car, he drove through the quiet streets, taking his time. Thirty minutes or so later, he was back at his apartment, the weight of the night still lingering on his shoulders. A cold shower helped wash some of it away, but the exhaustion ran deeper than that.

Lying in bed, his mind raced. Thoughts of Nick’s work project mingled with the frustration of the evening. Deep down, he knew this was a minor disruption in his life, but something felt off. Maybe it was just the alcohol messing with his head, or maybe it was his instincts, that nagging feeling telling him to be careful.

Whatever it was, sleep didn’t come easily that night. And Damien had no idea that agreeing to help Nick would soon set off a chain of events that would change everything.

If only he had listened to his gut.

If only.