The aftermath of Damon's kiss hangs in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. I stand in my living room, trying to regain some semblance of control over my body and my mind, but it's impossible. Every inch of me feels like it's on fire, my pulse still racing from the heat of his touch.
He watches me, his eyes burning with that familiar intensity, as though he knows exactly what I'm feeling. And that's the problem. Damon doesn't just want me; he understands me in a way no one ever has, in a way I don't even understand myself. He sees through the walls I've built, tearing them down one touch at a time.
I should be angry. I should be terrified. But instead, there's this gnawing, aching pull that draws me to him, like I'm a moth to a flame, and no matter how much I try to pull away, I'm always being drawn back.
"You're quiet," Damon says, his voice low, almost teasing. But there's a dark undertone there, a warning in his words that sends a shiver through me.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words die in my throat. What can I say? What do I even feel anymore? My head spins, my body still aching for him, but my mind is a mess of confusion and fear.
"You're not going to run from me again, are you?" Damon steps closer, and despite everything in me telling me to move away, to push him out, I can't. His presence is magnetic like it's pulling me in from every direction. I don't want to admit it, but I can't deny it. I need him.
I force myself to take a step back, but Damon closes the distance with a single stride. "I told you, Ella," he murmurs, his voice smooth and dangerous. "You can't escape me."
His hand reaches for mine, gently at first, as though he's giving me the chance to pull away. But I don't. I can't. His touch is like a drug, and I'm already addicted.
"I'm not running," I whisper, my voice barely audible. The words feel like a lie as soon as they leave my lips, but I need to say them. I need to believe them. "I'm not."
Damon's eyes darken, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. "Good. Because this isn't just some fling, Ella. This isn't something you can walk away from when it gets too hard. This is who we are now."
I swallow hard, my throat dry as dust. His words cut deeper than I want to admit. I know he's right. I can't escape him. Not anymore. But that doesn't stop the fear from clawing at me.
"I don't want to lose myself," I confess, the vulnerability in my voice making my stomach churn. "I don't want to become... like you."
Damon raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "You already are like me. Maybe not in the ways you think, but in the ways that matter, we're the same. You're just afraid to admit it."
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him he's wrong, but the words never come. Because deep down, I know he's right. The connection we share, the pull between us—it's not normal. It's something deeper, something more primal than anything I've ever experienced.
"You don't have to be afraid of it," Damon continues, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The simple gesture sends a shock of electricity through me, reminding me of just how much power he holds over me. "You just have to accept it."
I want to reject him. I want to scream at him and tell him I don't need this, that I can't let myself fall into whatever this is. But the truth is, I don't know if I can. And that terrifies me more than anything.
I pull my hand back, breaking the contact, but Damon steps forward, his body closing the space between us in an instant. He's too close. Always too close.
"You're mine, Ella," he growls, his voice raw with something darker, something possessive. "And no matter how much you fight it, you're always going to be mine."
I try to breathe, to steady my racing heart, but it's impossible. The weight of his words hangs over me like a storm cloud, dark and inevitable. I want to argue. I want to tell him I don't belong to anyone. But as I look into his eyes, all I can see is the truth of his words.
I am his.
And that knowledge both terrifies and excites me.
The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, and I can feel the tension building again, like a spark waiting to ignite. I should tell him to leave. I should tell him I'm done, that I can't keep doing this. But instead, I stand there, paralyzed by the storm inside me.
"I won't stop, Ella," Damon says softly, almost as if he's reading my thoughts. "I won't stop until you're mine in every way."
I shudder at his words, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in his eyes—something almost... tender. But then it's gone, replaced by the familiar intensity that makes me feel like I'm being pulled under by a riptide.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but before I can get the words out, Damon's lips crash against mine.
The kiss is nothing like before. It's fierce, desperate, a claim that sends me spiraling. His hands grip me tightly, pulling me against him as if he's afraid I might disappear. And in that moment, I realize I'm not just afraid of him. I'm afraid of losing myself in him.
But it's too late. I've already lost.
Damon pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes burning with a mixture of passion and something darker. "You feel it, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "The way I can make you burn. The way I own you."
I don't answer, because I can't. The words wouldn't be enough to explain what's happening inside me.
He smirks, as though he knows exactly what I'm feeling. "This is the price of power, Ella," he says, his hand sliding down my back, his touch sending a wave of heat through me. "This is the price of wanting me."
I wish I could tell him I don't want this. I wish I could fight him, fight the pull between us. But the truth is, I can't. And deep down, I know that I don't want to.