I'm not sure when I stopped fighting. Maybe it was the moment his words pierced through the fog of my anger and confusion, or maybe it was when the weight of his touch settled into my skin like fire, branding me in a way I couldn't escape. But I'm starting to realize that Damon and I are caught in something neither of us can control.
He doesn't just want me. He needs me. And I… can't seem to stop wanting him.
I pace through my house, restless, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Every time I close my eyes, I see Damon. Every time I breathe, I feel him—his presence, his touch, his words.
I shouldn't want him. I shouldn't be letting myself drown in this.
But my body betrays me. It's like my heart and mind are at war, and my instincts are losing. Every moment that I spend away from him feels like I'm missing a part of myself.
The knock on the door jolts me out of my spiraling thoughts. I freeze, but I know who it is before I even walk toward it. Damon. He's relentless, always showing up when I least expect him, but somehow, I always seem to be waiting for him.
I take a steadying breath and open the door.
"Ella," he says, his voice like velvet, smooth and knowing. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel my pulse quicken, my breath catching in my throat. "I didn't expect you to keep running from me."
I stand there for a moment, staring at him. He's dressed in black, like always—dark, dangerous, a perfect contradiction of what I should avoid. And yet, every inch of him pulls me in.
"You're not welcome here, Damon," I reply, forcing my voice to remain steady, though my body betrays me. There's something in the way he looks at me, in the way his presence fills the doorway, that makes my defiance seem futile.
He steps closer, his boots thudding against the wooden floor as he closes the gap between us. "That's where you're wrong," he murmurs. "This is my territory. You're mine."
His words are a claim, a statement of fact, not a request. And deep down, I know he's right.
"Stop this," I say, my voice strained, though the words feel empty even as they leave my mouth. "This obsession with me—it's not healthy. You're pushing me away, Damon."
His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. "I'm not pushing you away. I'm pulling you closer. You just don't see it yet."
I want to argue. I want to shove him away and run, to regain control of this chaos. But the truth is, I'm already too far gone.
He reaches for me, his hands gentle but firm as they wrap around my wrists, pulling me toward him. I don't fight it. Not this time. It feels too natural like I've been waiting for this. I want him too badly.
Before I can stop him, his lips are on mine. His kiss is all-consuming—soft at first, as though he's savoring the moment, but soon it deepens, turning fierce, desperate. He's hungry for me, and it feels like I've been starving for him too.
His hands move, sliding from my wrists to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel every inch of him—his strength, his heat, the power that emanates from him in waves.
I should pull away. I should scream, tell him to stop, but I can't. My body betrays me, responding to him in ways I can't explain. The electricity between us is undeniable, and it's pulling me in with an intensity that I can't escape.
I break the kiss, gasping for air, but Damon doesn't let me go. Instead, he presses his forehead against mine, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with something that feels dangerously close to possession.
"You're mine, Ella," he repeats, his voice low, almost a growl. "And you always will be."
I want to say no. I want to fight him, but the truth is, I don't know if I can anymore. Something inside me is unraveling, and the more I resist, the stronger the pull becomes.
He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're marked," he says softly. "And I'm never letting you go."
I can't deny it. There's no escaping him. The mark he's left on me is more than just physical. It's embedded deep inside me, a connection I can't sever, no matter how hard I try.
I want to scream. I want to fight back, but I can't.
I'm his. And I don't know how to get out.