A dangerous game

I can't stop thinking about him.

The words Damon spoke to me last night—You're mine now—are like an echo, ringing in my ears, reverberating through every thought. I try to push them aside, to focus on something—anything—else, but his presence, his touch, won't leave me. It's not just his words; it's the weight of them, the truth they carry, that settles deep within me, twisting in my gut.

He marked me, whether I liked it or not, and I'm not sure if I want to erase it or give in to it.

I've spent most of the day pacing, trying to rid myself of the feeling that Damon has invaded my thoughts and my space in a way no one else ever has. The sky above is cloudy, and heavy with rain, and it matches the storm brewing inside me. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face, his dark gaze, his knowing smirk.

I should be angry. Hell, I should be furious.

But all I feel is an unsettled longing, a pull that I can't fight. I can't let myself be weak, though. I've been through enough. I've learned the hard way to rely on no one. Especially not Damon.

I'm sitting in my office, the familiar dim light from the candles around the room flickering as I try to focus on the paperwork in front of me, but the door suddenly swings open, and I hear a deep, gravelly voice I'd rather ignore.

"Ella."

I don't even need to look up to know who it is.

Damon.

"I told you I was leaving," I say, my voice hard as I keep my eyes on the papers, willing my pulse to slow. I can't let him see how his presence still affects me. I won't give him that satisfaction.

Damon steps into the room, his boots making an almost predatory sound on the hardwood floor. I can hear his breathing, slow and deliberate, as though he's savoring the moment. "You should've known better," he says, his voice quiet but filled with authority. "You can't escape me, Ella."

I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. My body is tense, every muscle coiled, ready to fight if necessary. But I know it's pointless. Damon is too powerful, too damn persistent.

"I'm not yours to claim," I snap, trying to hold onto whatever control I have left. I want to shout at him, to tell him to get out and never come back, but something stops me. Maybe it's the dangerous way he watches me, or the way the room suddenly feels too small, too suffocating with him in it.

He steps forward, and his eyes never leave mine. The air between us crackles, thick with unspoken tension. "You're wrong about that." His voice is low, a promise, a threat, all rolled into one. "You've been mine since the moment I saw you."

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the instinct to step back. But I won't give him that. I refuse to show weakness.

"You're delusional," I say, gritting my teeth. "You can't just walk in here and take what you want."

A dangerous smile curves his lips, and he leans in, his body so close I can feel the heat radiating from him. His scent—earthy, wild—fills the room, and despite myself, I feel my pulse quicken.

"I don't need to take anything from you, Ella," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "I already have you. You just haven't realized it yet."

His hand moves, brushing against my arm in a touch so gentle, so familiar, that it sends a shiver down my spine. My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel the air between us grow thick with tension. I hate the way his proximity makes me feel, the way my body betrays me.

"Stop," I say, my voice unsteady, but I don't move away. I'm frozen, caught in his gravitational pull, unable to escape.

Damon's hand moves up to my cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of my jaw. His touch is so soft, so damn tender, it sends a rush of heat through my body. Every part of me screams to push him away, to stop this madness, but I'm paralyzed.

"You can fight it all you want, but it won't change anything." His words are like a curse, a truth I can't deny. "You belong to me, Ella."

His lips are mere inches from mine, and I can feel the heat of his breath, and taste the lingering edge of desire in the air between us. I should move away, I should slap him, do anything to break this insane connection. But instead, I'm still. I can't look away from his eyes, can't seem to escape the pull of his gaze.

Damon leans in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that is soft, slow—almost tentative as if he's testing me. It sends a bolt of fire through my veins, igniting every nerve in my body. I should stop it. I should push him away. But I don't.

I let him kiss me. And in that moment, I know there's no going back.