The days blur together after Damon leaves. I'm caught in a strange haze, half-furious with him, half-terrified of how much I miss him already. Every corner of my apartment feels like a reminder of him—his scent, his presence, the intensity of his touch. No matter how hard I try to push it all away, it clings to me like a second skin, suffocating me.
I can't stop thinking about his words. About how he seemed so sure. "You'll come around," he said like he already knows something I don't. Like he's waiting for me to surrender.
But I won't. I refuse to.
Still, every time I think I'm finally free of him, I hear a knock on the door. And every time, I don't have the strength to ignore it.
This time, I don't hesitate. When I open the door, Damon's standing there, his expression unreadable, his eyes darker than before. His presence fills the space like an invisible force, and my heart speeds up just from being near him.
"I told you I wasn't going anywhere," Damon says, his voice a low murmur. There's no anger in his tone, no smugness. Just calm, unyielding certainty.
"You're persistent," I mutter, stepping back to let him in, though I don't know why. Every logical part of me is screaming at me to shut the door, to walk away from this dangerous pull between us. But I can't.
"I know what I want, Ella." He closes the door behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet room, sealing us both in this space together.
I cross my arms defensively, though I can already feel my walls weakening. "And what's that? To prove me wrong?"
"Not exactly," Damon replies. "I'm not trying to prove anything to you. I'm just trying to make you see that what's between us can't be ignored anymore."
I scoff, trying to sound confident, but the way my body reacts to him betrays me. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're not going to get to me."
He raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer. "Is that so?"
I want to tell him to stop, to keep his distance, but the words get caught in my throat. There's something about the way he looks at me that makes it impossible to lie to him anymore. His gaze pierces me, like he sees every thought, every fear, every doubt swirling inside me.
"Why do you want this?" I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you want me?"
He doesn't hesitate. "Because I've never wanted anything more."
His words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I didn't think he was capable of feeling anything for me beyond obsession. But there's something raw in his voice that I didn't expect. Something that makes my chest tighten.
"You're not the type to get attached," I say, though I know it sounds more like a question than a statement. Damon is ruthless and unyielding. He's not supposed to care about anyone, let alone me.
"I'm not attached," he says, his voice smooth, but there's something in his eyes that says otherwise. "But I don't let go of what's mine. And you, Ella, are mine."
I flinch at his words, but before I can say anything else, Damon steps forward, closing the space between us. His presence is overwhelming, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, the touch surprisingly gentle, though his fingers linger too long.
"Stop trying to fight it," Damon murmurs, his voice low, almost coaxing. "We both know where this is headed."
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to give in to the overwhelming pull of him. Every part of me is screaming to push him away, but the other part—the part that's already tangled up in him—wants to pull him closer. I want to feel him, to drown in the intensity of whatever this is between us.
But I can't. I won't. I don't know how to let him in without losing myself completely.
"Why don't you just walk away, Damon?" I ask, my voice trembling, though I try to sound firm. "Why keep pushing me?"
He looks at me for a long moment, his gaze searching mine, before he answers, "Because I know you want this, too."
His words are like a challenge, and I feel the tension in the room shift. It's no longer just a matter of me trying to resist him. It's about something deeper. Something that I can't deny, no matter how hard I try.
He reaches for me then, and for a moment, I freeze, caught between instinct and fear. But Damon doesn't give me a chance to pull away. His hand comes up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my skin, sending a spark of heat through my body.
"Tell me you don't feel it," he whispers, his voice raw, a trace of desperation in the way he holds me. "Tell me you don't want this as much as I do."
I open my mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him that I can't be with him. But the words never come. I can't lie to him. I can't lie to myself.
Because, at that moment, I realize that I do want this. I do want him.
But I also know that if I give in, I might never be able to escape.