My Possession

Ithan

The night was thick with silence when the cab pulled into the basement. I watched from the shadows, my body leaning against a cold pillar, arms crossed as I waited.

The second the passenger door opened, I felt my pulse settle.

Ayin.

Good. She was alone.

Because if she had stepped out with that smug-faced, insufferable excuse of a colleague, I wouldn't be standing still. That white grass wouldn't be breathing by morning.

She walked toward the elevator, heels clicking sharply against the cement floor. Purposeful. Collected. But I knew better. She was aware.

She felt me.

Even without looking back, she knew I was there, watching. That deliberate straightness in her spine, the controlled way she moved—it was her way of telling me she wasn't fazed. A silent challenge.

A smirk pulled at my lips. Always so stubborn.

I stepped forward just as she reached the elevator. The moment she turned toward the doors, her gaze clashed with mine.

There. That flicker in her eyes.

I saw it before she smothered it with that bold, indifferent stare.

I stepped inside the elevator, slow and unhurried. Letting the tension settle thick between us.

Her voice came, calm and clipped. "What were you doing here?"

I leaned lazily against the mirrored wall, letting my gaze drag over her like I had all the time in the world. "Waiting," I murmured, my voice smooth, teasing. "Waiting for my wife."

She didn't react. Not even a blink. Just the same unbothered mask she always wore around me.

And yet—there was something. A tension in the way she held herself. A sharpness in her breath, too faint for anyone else to catch.

The elevator dinged open.

I stepped out first, unlocking the apartment and pushing the door open wide for her. "All good at work?" My voice was softer now, casual, but laced with something more.

She didn't slow as she walked past me. "If it wasn't, why would I tell you?"

A small, defeated smile tugged at my lips. Of course. That was her answer. That was always her answer.

"I ordered food. Freshen up and come eat," I said, my voice firm yet casual.

Ayin didn't reply, just slipped into her room without a glance. Typical. She hadn't eaten all day, lost in her work as always. I knew she would come—she wouldn't be able to resist hunger forever.

With that thought, I headed into the shower. The moment the cold water hit me, I let out a slow breath, letting exhaustion drain away. Today had been long—too long. But my mind wasn't on my next move, my next hunt. It should have been. Time was slipping through my fingers, but instead of strategizing, my thoughts were looping back to her.

Ayin Elzid. 

Her image kept seeping into my mind like an intoxicating drug. The way she moved, the fire in her bold stares, the sharpness in her voice when she spoke to me like I was the worst person alive. Her ginger eyes, thick pink lips, the way her hair always fell into a perfect mess. And her smile… when was the last time I had seen her smile?

Too long.

I ran a hand through my wet hair, sighing. What would make her happy? A penthouse? No, she already lived in one—with me. An island, then? Tch. She'd probably throw the deed back in my face.

Flowers. Those white flowers.

Jasmines.

She loves them. I remember seeing her spend minutes—sometimes hours—just standing by jasmine trees, or flower shops, letting the scent fill her senses. She had even posted them on Pinsta before. Yes, white jasmines would be perfect.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I turned off the shower. I was late.

Damn it.

I hurried out, barely taking the time to towel my hair dry, tucking my shirt into my trousers as I moved. The food had already been heated, and I set the table quickly, lighting a candle. Maybe it was unnecessary, but... she deserved something nice.

The sound of her door opening made me look up, and for a moment, I forgot what I was doing.

Ayin stepped out, her damp hair clinging to her neck, stray droplets trailing down her skin. She looked effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beauty that wasn't meant to be contained in a fleeting glance. She was wearing pajamas and a plain white shirt—nothing special, yet somehow, even the most ordinary things looked incredible on her. I wanted to capture her in this moment, etch it into my mind forever.

"Come sit," I said, my voice lower than I intended.

She narrowed her eyes, walking toward the table, sliding into the chair with her usual unimpressed look. "Are you making this some kind of date night or what? What's with the candlelight dinner?"

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table. "Of course. It's our first dinner together after marriage. Or rather… our first meal together?"

She scoffed. "Whatever this is, I'm not playing your game. And you can drop the whole Romeo act—none of this changes the fact that you took advantage of Max's situation to trap me in this marriage. I still don't get why you wanted me."

I smirked, swirling my fork in my fingers. "Isn't it obvious?"

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"I wanted a queen beside me. And who better than you?"

She laughed dryly, shaking her head. "To win the queen, you have to be the king first."

I chuckled, dark and low. "Oh, sweetheart, that's where you're wrong. I'm not here to win you. I'm not the king in this game—I'm the devil. I'm here to seal you–The Queen. And you, my dear, should be afraid."

I let my jaw tighten as I watched her, drinking in her reaction. For the first time, her expression flickered—fear, confusion, something she didn't want me to see. I liked it. That's how I wanted her—under my control, delicate yet tangled in my web.

But then, in the blink of an eye, she was back to her bold, unshaken self.

She tilted her head, staring at me with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "I should give myself credit. I always knew you were the devil. The world might see you as perfect, but I saw through you the moment I found out the real reason behind this marriage."

Something inside me twisted.

For the first time in my life, her words hit somewhere deep.

I shouldn't care.

I didn't want her to love me—I am the danger itself, the kind of danger that doesn't just destroy but consume. So why did it hurt to hear her say it? I was the devil, yes. But the world was hell, and I was the only one who could protect her from it. That's why, after years of guarding her from afar, I finally took her for myself. 

I leaned back, my lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk. "Good for you. But let me tell you something, Ayin—I made you my Possession. The devil's Possession. And you're already caught in my web."

Her lips quirked slightly, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Then don't be surprised when I cut through it."

I chuckled. Tsk. How adorable my little prey is!

The rest of dinner was silent, filled only with the quiet clinks of silverware against plates. She finished first, standing and pushing her chair back.

"I'm full," she said, carrying her plate to the sink. Then, pausing just before leaving, she threw over her shoulder, "Actually, I was already full the moment you brought your cocky, devilish self to the table."

I didn't reply. Just watched her walk away, my gaze locked on her every move.

Then, as she reached her doorway, I spoke.

"Don't go to Huston, my love."

She stopped.

Turned to me, her eyes wide.

Shocked.

And just like that, I made my second move in the game.