I never thought I'd find myself on Shadowclaw land again, but here I am—standing on the border, heart pounding in my chest, breath coming in shallow bursts. The moon is full tonight, casting an eerie glow over the woods, the silver light seeping through the trees like a warning. It doesn't take much for me to sense that something's off, that I'm not alone.
I try to turn back, to step away from the edge of their territory, but it's too late. I hear the soft crunch of leaves behind me, a figure emerging from the shadows. His scent hits me first—a mix of earth and something deeper, wilder. My pulse quickens as the familiar tension surges between us.
Damon.
Of course, it's him. It couldn't be anyone else. I feel my stomach tighten, a mix of fear and rage boiling up inside me. We've been enemies for years, each encounter leaving scars on both our souls. But tonight, there's something different in the air, something thick and charged, pulling at me in ways I don't want to admit.
"Ella," he says, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down my spine. He steps closer, his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—locking onto mine with a force I can't escape.
I hate him. I've spent years hating him. But as he stands there, watching me, the hatred flickers, replaced by something else. Something darker. I can feel the heat of his presence like an invisible hand gripping my chest, tightening around my lungs.
"What are you doing here?" Damon's voice is smooth, and commanding. Even in the dark, he exudes power, a predator sizing up his prey. I don't flinch, though—I refuse to. He doesn't get that satisfaction.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," I say, forcing the words out, though my voice shakes slightly. I can't let him see how much I'm affected by him. I won't. "I was just passing through."
He doesn't buy it. He never does. "You're lying."
I take a step back, my body on high alert, ready to bolt if I need to. But Damon is faster, already right in front of me, his hand reaching out to grab my wrist. His grip is tight, unyielding, and I feel the familiar pull of his strength, that magnetism that's always been there between us, a force neither of us can deny.
His eyes search mine, his face inches from mine. There's no anger in his gaze—only something far more dangerous: hunger. Not the kind of hunger I've seen in his eyes before, when he was calculating, cold, and ruthless. No, this is something more raw, more desperate.
"I could smell you the second you stepped into my territory," he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with something primal. "And I don't let trespassers go unpunished."
I can't breathe, can't think past the electric current rushing through my veins, pulling me toward him, drowning me in something I don't understand. My mind screams at me to push him away, to fight him, but my body betrays me. There's something about Damon—about the way he holds me, the way he makes everything else disappear—that makes it impossible to break free.
His fingers tighten on my wrist, and his gaze shifts to my lips. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the racing of my heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be. This isn't how it's supposed to feel. We're enemies. Nothing more.
"Let go of me," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
But Damon doesn't listen. Instead, his free hand reaches up, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a spark of heat straight through me. His gaze lingers on my lips, and I feel his breath warm against my skin. I don't know how to explain the way my body reacts to him—it's as if it has a mind of its own, responding to his presence without my permission.
"Why do you fight this, Ella?" His voice is almost a whisper, and it's the closest thing to a question I've heard him ask in a long time. "You know you want to."
I don't answer him. I can't. The truth is, there's something about Damon—something dangerous—that makes me want to step into the fire and let myself burn.
But I'm not ready to lose myself to him. Not yet.
I wrench my wrist out of his grip and take a step back, though it feels like I'm walking away from a part of myself I'm too afraid to face. "I don't want anything from you, Damon."
He watches me for a moment, and I can see the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You always say that. But your body doesn't lie."
I should leave. I should run. But I'm rooted to the spot, my feet like lead, my body caught between fear and something much more dangerous.
He steps back, his smirk never leaving his face. "Next time, Ella," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You won't be able to run."
And just like that, he vanishes back into the shadows, leaving me standing there, breathless, confused, and more entangled in Damon's web than I ever thought possible.