The days blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the next. Elara found herself slipping deeper into Rowan's world, unable to break free of the strange hold he had on her. She tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy—school, work, her friends—but every time she stepped outside of her routine, Rowan was there. His presence loomed like a shadow, a constant reminder that he was always watching, always waiting.
It had been a week since the last encounter, the kiss that lingered like a brand on her skin. Elara tried to convince herself that it hadn't meant anything, that it was just a moment, but the feeling of his lips on hers haunted her. His words—the possessive, demanding way he spoke—echoed in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the sense that he was slowly taking over her thoughts, her life.
She had hoped that with time, things would settle down, that Rowan would realize his behavior was too intense, that he would pull back and give her space. But instead, his grip only tightened. The texts became more frequent, the calls more insistent. He seemed to always know where she was, even without her telling him.
One evening, after finishing her shift at the bookstore, Elara walked out to her car, feeling exhausted. The world felt heavy on her shoulders, and for the first time in days, she longed for peace. She wanted to be left alone, to breathe without the pressure of Rowan's gaze following her every move. But as she reached her car, her heart sank.
There, standing by the passenger door, was Rowan.
"Rowan," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
His expression softened as he stepped toward her, his eyes scanning her face with a look of concern. "Elara, you've been avoiding me."
Elara flinched at the accusation. She hadn't meant to avoid him; she simply needed space. But Rowan didn't see it that way. To him, space felt like rejection. And rejection, to him, was something he couldn't tolerate.
"I'm not avoiding you," she said quickly, though the lie tasted bitter on her tongue. "I've just been busy."
Rowan's gaze darkened slightly, and Elara could feel the shift in the air. It was subtle, but the change was unmistakable. "Busy with what?" he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous. "Busy with who?"
Elara froze, unsure how to respond. There was no one else. She had no secret life—no hidden agenda. But Rowan's words, his tone, made her feel like she was under a microscope, like he was waiting for her to make a mistake.
"I—" She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I just need some time, Rowan. I've been… feeling overwhelmed."
At her words, Rowan's expression shifted again, this time to something softer. He reached for her, his fingers brushing against her cheek, and she instinctively leaned away, just enough to create a sliver of space between them.
"Elara," he said, his voice gentle now, coaxing. "I understand. I know things have been hard lately. But you don't have to go through it alone. I'm here. I'll always be here for you."
For a moment, the sincerity in his voice almost made her believe him. Almost made her forget the way he had been controlling her, isolating her from everything and everyone. His touch, though tender, felt possessive, like a claim being made. She wanted to pull away, to step back, but his presence was too consuming.
"I… I don't know if I'm ready for this," she whispered, her words barely audible, even to herself.
Rowan's eyes darkened once more, and for a split second, Elara saw the storm brewing behind them. He pulled his hand away, his jaw tightening, but his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "You don't have to be ready, Elara. You're already mine. You've always been mine."
The words hit her like a physical blow, and she recoiled, stepping back. This time, Rowan didn't try to stop her. He simply watched her, his expression unreadable. She could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical presence, pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.
"Elara," he said, his voice suddenly calm, but there was a coldness to it now. "I've given you time. I've been patient. But you don't get to push me away. I don't care how you feel. You're mine. And I will make you see that."
There was no warmth in his words anymore. No affection, no understanding. Only ownership. Only control.
Elara's heart raced, her thoughts spinning. This was it. This was the moment where everything changed. She could feel the walls closing in on her, the suffocating pressure of his expectations, his demands. The more she fought, the more he would try to hold her down. And she didn't know if she had the strength to escape anymore.
"Rowan, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "I just need a little distance. I need to breathe."
Rowan's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but then it returned, colder than before. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "You think you need distance," he said softly. "But what you really need is me. You need me, Elara. You always have."
Without warning, he reached for her, pulling her toward him with a force that startled her. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but tender this time. It was possessive, claiming. Elara struggled, her hands pushing against his chest, but he didn't release her. His grip tightened, and she felt the heat of his body against hers, the crushing weight of his control.
It was as if the world had stopped, as if nothing else existed except the two of them, locked in this moment. The feeling of his dominance over her, his power, was overwhelming. And yet, despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she felt a strange flutter in her chest—a twisted desire to surrender.
When he finally pulled away, his breath heavy, his eyes gleaming with something dark, Elara's legs felt like jelly. She could barely stand, but Rowan didn't care. He didn't wait for her to regain her footing. He simply took her hand, his grip firm, and led her toward her car.
"Let's go home, Elara," he murmured, as if there was no question about it. "You're coming with me. You're not going anywhere without me."
Elara felt a wave of panic wash over her. This wasn't right. This wasn't how love was supposed to feel. But the part of her that longed for connection, that yearned for his touch, couldn't seem to break free.
And deep down, she wondered if she even wanted to.