The night blurred together in a haze of sensations I couldn't fully comprehend. Xavier's touch, his lips against mine, the way his hands seemed to know exactly where to go, it all felt like an addiction I couldn't escape. I should have been repelled, should have been terrified of how easily he wrapped me around his finger, but instead, I was drawn to him, to the darkness he offered like an invitation I couldn't resist.
As the night wore on, we found ourselves in his living room, the city lights casting a muted glow through the windows. The air was thick with tension, thick with things unsaid. I wasn't sure how we got here, but the words on the tip of my tongue refused to leave—I want to go home. But I didn't want to leave, not really. I wanted to stay, to see where this thing between us would go, even if I knew it was a path full of thorns.
Xavier was sitting across from me, leaning back in his leather chair, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about the way he looked at me, something calculating in the way he watched every small shift in my expression. He wasn't like other men I'd known—he was colder, more dangerous. And yet, there was something compelling about it.
"You're quiet," Xavier said, his voice smooth, like he could read every thought in my mind.
"I'm just thinking," I muttered, barely meeting his gaze.
"About what?" he pressed, his tone more intrigued than anything else. "How much deeper you're going to fall?"
I snapped my head up at that, my chest tightening. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're here with me, Zoey. You keep coming back. The question isn't whether or not you'll fall. It's whether you'll be able to stop yourself once you do."
I hated how right he was. There was no escaping it now, no pretending that I was still in control of this situation. I was tangled in his web, whether I liked it or not.
"Stop acting like you have me figured out," I said, my voice a little shakier than I intended. "You don't."
He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "You're wrong. I know exactly who you are. I can see it in the way you look at me, in the way you respond to me. You're already mine, Zoey."
I felt my heart pound in my chest, the words hitting me like a blow. He was right, and I hated him for it. He made it sound so easy, as if this was all part of some game he was playing, something he could control. But this wasn't a game for me. Not anymore.
"I'm not yours," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I'm not anyone's."
Xavier's smile was slow and predatory, like he was savoring the fight in me. "You're wrong. You belong to me in ways you don't even understand yet."
I stood up abruptly, the words burning in my chest. I needed to get out, needed space to breathe. "I need to leave."
"You're already here," he said, his voice soft, almost mockingly. "You've already given yourself to me. There's no going back."
I felt a flicker of something in my chest, something sharp and painful, but I didn't want to feel it. I didn't want to admit that he was right. That somehow, with every word he spoke, every touch, I was falling deeper into this dangerous game.
"You think you know everything about me," I said, my voice quiet but steady as I turned to face him. "But you don't. You don't know who I really am."
His gaze softened for a moment, and I almost believed him when he spoke next. "Maybe not, Zoey. But I know exactly who you could become. And that's enough for now."
A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickly turned away, my mind racing. His words lingered in the air, like a threat, like a promise. The more I tried to convince myself that I wasn't like him, that I wasn't like them, the more I found myself being drawn into the very thing I had feared.
"I need to go," I said again, this time with more conviction.
He didn't stop me. He didn't say anything for a long moment. And when I looked back at him, he was watching me with an intensity that made my stomach twist.
"Do you really want to leave?" he asked quietly. "Or are you just pretending?"
I hesitated, my hand on the door handle. His words hung heavy in the air, a question I didn't want to answer. I had convinced myself that I was stronger than this, that I could walk away before I got in too deep. But I wasn't sure I could. I wasn't sure I even wanted to anymore.
"I'm not pretending," I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.
But I didn't leave. Instead, I stayed there, the door still half-open, trapped between wanting to escape and wanting to stay.
Xavier didn't move, didn't speak, but his presence in the room was suffocating. His power over me was undeniable, and I felt my resolve crumbling, piece by piece.
"I don't know what you want from me," I said, my voice breaking, "but I'm not sure I can keep doing this."
He was silent for a moment, then slowly stood and walked toward me, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"You're already in this, Zoey," he said quietly, his voice soft but with an edge that made my heart race. "And you'll keep coming back. Because you can't help yourself."
The air between us crackled with tension, and for the first time, I truly wondered if he was right. Would I keep coming back? Would I keep falling into this twisted, dangerous pull he had on me?
As I stood there, caught in his gaze, I realized that I didn't know the answer.
I walked out of Xavier's apartment that night, my mind swirling, my body on autopilot. I didn't know if I had just made the right decision or if I had just let go of the last thread of control I had over myself. What was I doing? Why did I keep letting him in?
The cold air hit me as I stepped into the elevator, the harsh reality of the city surrounding me. I tried to focus on the rhythm of the elevator as it descended, but all I could think about was him—Xavier's dark eyes, his touch, the way he made me feel both alive and terrified.
I told myself I was done, that I wouldn't fall for whatever dangerous game he was playing. But as soon as I stepped out into the street, the hollow ache in my chest told me otherwise. I was already too far gone, wasn't I? There was no escaping him.
I didn't know where I was going. My legs carried me aimlessly through the streets as the noise of the city felt distant, muffled. Every step seemed heavier than the last, weighed down by the knowledge that I was tangled in something I didn't fully understand.
I stopped at a small park bench, sitting down without thinking. My hands shook as I wrapped them around my phone, staring at the screen, waiting for the familiar name to pop up. But it never did. Xavier didn't need to text me. He had already claimed me, in his own way, without words.
I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending that this wasn't consuming me. I couldn't keep running from him. I couldn't keep pretending that I wasn't drawn to the chaos he embodied.
"Zoey."
The voice was soft but strong, sending a ripple of recognition through my body before I even turned around. My heart skipped a beat, my body freezing for a moment before I reluctantly faced him.
Xavier was standing just behind me, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dim light of the park. His eyes glinted with something darker, something more intense than I remembered. And yet, there was a calmness to him now, like he had all the time in the world and no intention of letting me escape.
"What do you want?" My voice was harsh, but there was a tremor I couldn't control. I had thought I'd left him behind, thought I could regain some sense of normalcy. But here he was, as if he had been waiting for me to fall into his trap all along.
"I told you, Zoey," he said softly, his gaze unwavering. "You can't leave me. You're not meant to."
I stood up quickly, my pulse racing as I felt the distance between us shrink. "You don't get to decide that. You don't get to decide what's best for me."
Xavier stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, like a force I couldn't fight. "But I already have. You just haven't realized it yet."
I stepped back, my mind screaming at me to leave, to walk away, but my feet stayed rooted to the ground. He had a way of making me feel like there was no other option, no way out.
"You think you can control me?" I spat, feeling a surge of defiance. I wanted to push him away, wanted to believe that I wasn't just another pawn in his sick game. But the words felt hollow as they left my mouth. The truth was, I wasn't sure I could keep resisting him.
"I don't think, Zoey," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "I know."
I looked at him, a part of me wanting to run, wanting to scream, but another part of me—this twisted, broken part—was drawn to him. His words hung in the air, suffocating, leaving me no room to breathe.
"I can't keep doing this," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I can't keep playing this game. It's too much."
Xavier's gaze softened just a fraction, and for a moment, he almost looked… human. But that thought vanished the second he took another step toward me. "You're not playing, Zoey. This isn't a game. It's real. And you're already mine."
I felt a cold shiver run through me, like a chain tightening around my chest. I wanted to deny it, wanted to fight back against the truth of his words. But I couldn't. Not anymore.
His hand reached out, brushing my cheek gently, and I flinched, even though the touch was almost tender. But beneath the tenderness was a promise, a dark warning that I couldn't escape.
"You belong to me, Zoey," he said, his voice low and steady. "And no matter how far you run, you won't be able to outrun it."
I stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to think clearly. His words, his touch, everything about him was pulling me deeper into the vortex I had once hoped to avoid. I wanted to leave. I wanted to scream, to push him away, to walk away from all of this. But deep down, I knew—I knew I couldn't.
"I don't know what you want from me," I said, my voice shaking. "But I'm not like you. I'm not like them."
Xavier's lips curled into a slow smile, but it wasn't kind. "You don't have to be like me, Zoey. You're already becoming who I need you to be."
I shook my head, trying to break free from the suffocating feeling that threatened to swallow me whole. "I'm not your toy," I snapped, though my words lacked conviction.
His smile only deepened, and in that moment, I saw the truth. He wasn't asking for my compliance. He was taking it, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but him.
I couldn't fight him. I couldn't fight the way he had crept into my life, into my soul. With every word, every touch, I felt myself becoming someone else. Someone I didn't recognize, someone I was afraid to be.
And yet, despite the fear, despite the warning bells ringing in my mind, I stayed. I was already lost.
I was already his.