I don't know what I was expecting when Damon disappeared into the shadows, but it certainly wasn't the hollow ache that settled deep in my chest as I turned and made my way back toward the edge of his territory. My heart is racing, a mixture of adrenaline and something darker I refuse to acknowledge.
I shouldn't be feeling this way, and yet, I can't shake the feeling that something's shifted between us. There's a weight in the air, an unspoken understanding, and it's almost suffocating.
The night feels colder as I walk through the trees, and every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves sets my nerves on edge. His words echo in my mind: You won't be able to run next time.
I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I'm not about to find out. There's no way I'll allow myself to be caught in his web. Damon may have power, but I have my strength. I won't let him win.
The sound of footsteps behind me is the first warning. I turn, already knowing who it is before I even see him.
"Damon," I say, my voice a little too sharp. I can feel the heat in my chest rise again, the sudden surge of anger mingling with something else—something darker, something that feels like it's pulling at me from deep inside.
His figure emerges from the trees, effortlessly graceful and predatory. The moment his eyes meet mine, I'm rooted to the spot, unable to look away. There's something about the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. Like nothing else exists but the two of us.
He closes the distance between us in a few long strides. When he stops in front of me, the air between us crackles with an energy I can't deny.
"You shouldn't have come back," he says, his voice a low growl. It's not angry, not exactly, but there's something in it—something possessive that sends a shiver down my spine.
"I'm not staying," I reply, my voice more steady than I feel. "I came to deliver a message, nothing more. I'm leaving now."
"Leaving?" Damon laughs softly, his gaze flickering over me. "You think you can just leave after what happened?"
I open my mouth to protest, but before I can get a word out, he's already moving. His hand shoots out, catching me by the wrist. His grip is firm, unyielding, like a vise that I can't break free from. I try to pull away, but he only tightens his hold.
"Let go of me!" I hiss, panic rising in my chest.
He tilts his head, studying me with an almost curious look in his eyes. "I warned you," he murmurs, his tone almost playful. "You don't get to walk away from me. Not now."
I tug harder, my nails digging into his skin, but it does nothing. His eyes darken, and a flash of something dangerous there sends a jolt of fear straight to my gut. He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear.
"You don't know it yet, Ella," he says softly, "but you're mine now."
The words hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I want to scream, to punch him, but all I can do is stare at him, frozen in place. His grip on my wrist doesn't loosen. His other hand brushes against my cheek, his touch gentle, as though we're not on the brink of some dangerous, volatile edge.
"I told you to stay away," I manage to say, my voice a low growl of my own, but there's a crack in it. I feel vulnerable. I hate it.
"I don't take orders, Ella." Damon's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "I give them."
And with that, his hand moves from my wrist, his fingers tracing a path down the side of my neck, his touch light but searing. Every nerve in my body seems to jump under his touch, and the more he moves, the more the heat between us builds, pushing at my chest, drowning me in something I can't control.
The brush of his fingers against my skin makes my pulse spike, my breath hitching as the instinct inside me awakens, alive and demanding.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Damon's voice is low, almost a whisper, as though he knows exactly what I'm feeling. "This thing between us. The pull."
I want to deny it. I want to scream at him to get away from me, but instead, I stand there, unable to move, unable to breathe as his lips draw closer to mine. The heat between us crackles, and for a split second, I wonder if I'll give in. I wonder if I'm already lost.
And then, just as quickly as it started, Damon steps back, his hand dropping from my neck. His smirk is now tinged with something dark, something satisfied.
"You're marked, Ella," he says, his voice final. "By me. Whether you like it or not."
Before I can protest, he turns and disappears back into the woods, his presence lingering like a shadow in my mind.
I stand there, heart racing, my body trembling. Damon's words echo in my head: You're mine now.
I should run. I should leave and never look back. But the way his touch lingered on my skin, the way his words sunk into me, I don't think I can anymore.