True Love
Prologues

I was originally a prey, but now I'm a predator, Damian Marcel thought while hunting down New Orleans, looking for the woman who tried to kill him. The woman who became his destiny partner, the only one who can give him a descendant.Jamie Walsh.*Daicara*\nya.

The freshness of the river water pierced his sense of smell.He sighed in sipping the fragrance of Mississippi. Indra Draicon Damian felt the running water, then sipped it gently and slowly.Finally, he returned home.

Deep joy and sorrow appeared simultaneously within him. Nope. This place is no longer his home. It's just a fucking tomb that sucked his body into the ground, making him want to scream while trying to climb out.

Damian tries to concentrate on his physical strength, opening himself up to anything, tempering his instinct to turn his form into a wolf, his dominant side. New Orleans is famous for the supernatural world, but if there are wolves wandering in the middle of the French Quarter, a few tourists must be scared. He smiled widely.

Suddenly another stronger fragrance pervaded his sense of smell. Aroma *honeysuckle* and female warmth. His nostrils were expanding, trying to catch the searing scent. His fingers lifted, tracing the air as if he was caressing the delicate skin of a woman.

"Jamie", how's Damian." Jamie,*chere*. You can run, but you can't hide. I must have found you."

He stored it in French when the woman's scent suddenly\faded. Somewhere, he's in a narrow\-gang alley, a\-color\-hued shop and a sturdy club building\-night club, the woman hiding from Damian.

While putting his hands into a bag of pants, Damian ignored the oborals of tourists who were taking pictures. Across Jackson Square, just under a shady tree, a thin-bodied painter mixes colors in his canvas. He leaned his body weight on the lowest side of his folding chair. On the park chair, the man in white shirt and clad in shorts *Khaki* faded to play a sad song with a Banjo, accompanied by a Saxophonist. The rhythm of the music seemed to reflect Damian's deepest mood.

New Orleans is still struggling to recover after Hurricane Katrina. On the contrary, the Quarter has instead crawled forward, streaming music, into the city, including *magick* which is inherited in its blood and bones. This *magick* well, *magick* the Draicon.

Not *magick* black. *Magick\nya* for Morph.

Damian. The Morphs were originally also Draicon, but they became evil for killing their relatives. As Morph they can transform into any animal. They kill viciously, while absorbing energy from the fear of their victims. Damian's beloved woman has joined the Morphs in order to obtain *magick*, but Damian revokes Jamie's power by reflecting him. While meeting in New Mexico, he lets the woman escape because he realizes Jamie needs time to be alone, and Damian can easily track her down. A week ago, a small danger arose after Damian killed Kane, the leader of the Morphs. It was then that deep sadness colored Jamie's voice.

"I'm gonna break your spell, Damian. You won't be able to have me" he said.

Damian felt voidness and regret piercing his chest, even as he was unsettled by his passion for the woman. The petite Jamie had a fairy-like heart-shaped face, soft clear skin, as well as a large grayish-\-female Expressive eye.

When touching Damian's lips, the woman's lips felt soft, warm and supple.

A gentle gust of cold air hit Damian. His eyes scoured the crowd sharply as he walked down the sidewalk. Sunlight stung the tourists' necks to a reddish, bouncing off the brass plates on the surface of the fading Saxophone. As he passed by the painter, he looked at Damian grimly. While listening to him speak, Damian stopped his steps.

"Have you ever heard the howling of the Wolf?"

Damian was aghast, then turned his body. He observed a touch of gray on the man's temple, as well as a shabby outfit that was almost tattered camping, with patches of gray and black paint splashes. His cheeks were sunken, while his thin, pointy nose looked pale and lethargic under the scorching sun. Surely this man is not a successful artist, Damian thought, because he looks as straight as a ghost.

"Wolf, Sir?" ask Damian.

The man looked. His big sunglasses are hiding his eyes." It will never be mugged, look. Interesting, no?"

Werewolves won't sleep in the marshes, brother. Damian was instantly on high alert when he saw a painting of a howling wolf on a full moon near a wooden cabin. The memories of the past flashed in his mind. He observed the painter's tyrannical face, but could not recognize it. For a moment he hoped. Could this man be a former member of my old wolf pack? Is there anything left of them?

"Unfortunately, the hard worker never falls asleep. Please look at my picture, "ask the painter.

Hope disappeared. All his friends have long since died. Damian cannot allow himself to mourn in the memories of the past. Otherwise, he will lose his concentration. Jamie is his top priority. The painter must have listened to the Damian dialect and started to get along to sell his paintings. None of the Draicon in his comrades were willing to beg. This painter was just one of many starving artists who put his wares to work.

The familiar smell that was haunting him suddenly caught Damian's attention. The smell was so fresh, as he still remembered it came from his childhood.

" i must have had a great imagination" Damian murmured. "Excuse me,"

At first he was observing his surroundings. His gaze was directed at the wrinkled old man who was lifting a large red bucket and putting it on a small wooden table. For a moment Damian felt darkness pass through the seller's watery iris, but then it vanished.

" Sea shrimp," cried the seller." Fresh sea shrimp."

Interested in the sale, Damian approached.

The grayish sea shrimp wriggled in the bucket, its claws thrashing about trying to escape. Damian's mouth began to drool. Memories start me!the flood; the memories of exploring the small river clear, catching crustaceans as a delicious afternoon snack. Her elves suddenly barked. It needs energy from raw food. After collecting money from his wallet, he extended the money to the salesman who was putting the sea shrimp into a plastic bag.

" Fresh food is indeed the most delicious" the seller advised. "All the delicacies are in the shell."

Damian nodded." I know."

Flanking his grocery bags, he climbed the stairs to the Moon Walk, a stretch of stone road that surrounds Mississippi. Damian watched the barge slowly pull upstream while leaning against a tree growing on the street. Because he did not see anyone around him, he ventured to open the bag, and devoured a number of sea shrimp one by one, then stopped at the last sea shrimp, the shrimp did not move or fight, only silent. Maybe this one isn't fresh.

Damian lifted the shrimp into his mouth but immediately canceled his intention when he saw the shrimp open its mouth and say, "Draicon," he said.

Alert, he dropped the shrimp. Morph. Before falling onto the cobblestone path, the shrimp changed into a shape, and doubled themselves. Daiman's hands clenched while waiting and paying attention to what form he wore.

Overflow of sea shrimp spilled on the road. Some even fled. Soon Damian snatched the shrimp and killed them. Shit, where's the mother?

Damian swings his hand. A dagger appeared in his palm. The creature attacked, let out a sigh of anger, then struck Damian's chest with his knife. Damian staggered away and immediately turned around. He calculated his steps and rested on his feet while estimating the strength of his opponent. Nimble, but Damian's faster and more alert.

Then the Morph grinned, revealing a barrage of disgusting yellowish teeth. " It's too late, Draicon. Draicara. Your spell failed."

He was surprised, then took a step back. The morph seized the opportunity to hit him. Damian managed to recuperate as his opponent began to change in form. Paws emerged from his fingers and fangs replaced those yellowish teeth. As a result of their fight, the creature's speed in change also slowed.

Not so fast. In the form of other beasts, the Morph would be even harder to kill.

Damian lunged, smashing his opponent to the ground. He dropped his dagger as he jumped and crushed the creature. He banged the Morph's hand into the street, until his opponent's dagger came loose.

They are more vulnerable in human form. Damian pressed hard on the third vertebrae of Morph's neck, applying enough pressure to inflict excruciating pain. The pain will give up their precious energy and prevent them from changing.

"Tell me, coward. Why doesn't my spell work?"

The morph squealed but said nothing.

Damian added to the pressure. The creature groaned. Stop, stop," he asked. Saliva dripped from the corner of his lips. Damian smiled grimly.

" Say."

" Your spell only slows down her black magick, not stops it. His blood...curdles." The morph was writhing, trying to break away.

With a growl, Damian pressed the creature even harder, then plunged his thumb deeper. A groan sounded from his opponent. "Alright, please, stop, stop hurting you" he asked.

"black magick in him, turn him. The stone lives, lives but dies."

Damian was surprised, his grip loosened. The Morph is trying to escape Damian's deadly clutches. But the man grabbed the Morph's arm, then twisted it backwards.

"details. Now! Or I'll break all the bones in your body and I'll hope I'll eat you" Damian threatened.

The morph breathed a heavy sigh. " porphyry spell...

rarely used. We can't-can't absorb the victim's energy. With black magick, the more magick used, the faster the spell worked. In a few weeks, in-he'll turn to stone. Dead but hi-dup- asshole, it hurts!"

D amin's mind raced." You can cancel you," he said, twisting the creature harder.

"no-no, "The Morph was roaring. "Can't. Just an old magick book."

Suddenly he got up, released the victim and grabbed his dagger. It's all time, break it up.

The morph recovered and staggered. While rebuking, the creature stood up, its face full of hatred. There is no mercy. Damian twirled the dagger, then threw it. Right on target, right through his heart.

Blood spurted, Damian flinching, just observing the Morph collapsing. Grimacing, he rolled the body into the Mississippi river, watching it turn to ash before sliding into water.

Damian took a deep breath, enduring the pain from the wounds he had sustained. Fortunately, his strength was quite large and slowly the wound was set. He said the hands, in an instant, replaced his Versace shirt, his broken silk pants and leather shoes with faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and shabby biker boots. The style of most New Orleans residents.

The morph is telling the truth. Damian's stomach feels nauseous. He had heard the ancient story of the Porphyry mantra. Initially, the victim will feel weak. They will eat anything to get energy, especially sugar. The food they will digest quickly because they need sweet food, while their blood....

Their blood started to thicken, their skin was grayish, their internal organs slowly turned into granite. It was a painful death.

" Pity," he said slowly.

Damian ran back to where he bought the shrimp, looking for the seller. But the man has disappeared. Anger. He has been deceived. The seller must be a Morph.

Jamie's. While the Morphs are free to roam the city? What the hell's going on?

Are they everywhere, disguised as humans? This is bad news. Even his powerful Draicon senses could not sense their presence in a human form.

He looked up, inhaled the air, trying to track down the seller's smell, but the seductive scent was instead smelled by him, carried away by the Wind, Honeysuckle and the warmth of women. Jamie.

His instincts are racing fast. He must find the woman. In a few weeks Jamie's gonna be dead. No, it's worse. It'll be petrified, it's a lifelong curse.

He turned around, filling his lungs with air. Now the smell is stronger, there, from the south? He passed by a group of tourists who were enjoying the banjo player's music.

Magick's long-lost book has its offering. The ten thousand-year-old manuscript contains both black and white Magick, as well as harboring ancient secrets. Damian's father hid the book from the Morphs. Once every seventy years, one spell must be used to keep his Magick working.

If Damian can't find the book in three weeks, the spell will be gone forever.

If he doesn't find her soon, Jamie will have a terrible death.

I promise to save you, My beloved Daicara, even to my last breath.

With her wolf sense of smell remaining alert, she follows Jamie's scent.