(Damien's POV)
I watched her from across the room, the way her fingers nervously twisted the edge of the blanket, the subtle tremble in her shoulders, the slight hesitation in her eyes as they darted to the floor. She was always so controlled, so composed, yet here… here, in my presence, she unraveled in ways I could barely resist noticing. Every movement, every breath, screamed that she was mine to read, mine to unravel, and damn if I wasn't going to claim what I wanted.
"Do you want to go back home?" I asked, voice low, smooth, but carrying the weight of absolute authority. I saw the faint stiffening in her posture, the way her pulse quickened in reaction to my words. I let the silence hang just long enough for it to gnaw at her, for her to feel the pressure of my gaze, the intensity of my question.
Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to respond, like she wanted to offer some justification, some excuse for why she lingered here instead of retreating to safety. But I wasn't here for excuses. I was here for the truth. For her reaction. For the moment when she realized she couldn't escape me—not really.
"And for your information," I continued, stepping closer, letting the heat from my body press against the air between us, "I'm not accepting your sister's proposal. Why would I settle for someone who doesn't ignite something inside me, someone who doesn't challenge me, who doesn't…" I let my voice drop, dangerous, almost predatory, "…who doesn't stir me like you do?"
I saw her flinch ever so slightly at my words, and it sent a thrill through me. She was fierce, arrogant, stubborn—the exact opposite of the quiet, polished girl her family expected me to marry. And yet… she was far more intoxicating. Far more alive. Far more… mine to claim if I chose.
I circled her slowly, eyes scanning every reaction, every flicker of emotion on her face. "I could have someone calm, obedient, someone who follows orders without question," I murmured, almost to myself, but loud enough for her to catch every word. "Someone who would never speak back, never challenge me, never make me… want more than I should." My gaze flicked up to hers, searing. "But why would I settle for that when I could have you?"
Her breath hitched, and I knew the effect I had on her. I could feel it—the quickening heartbeat, the tense shoulders, the way she tried to hide herself, to minimize her presence, as if somehow shrinking would make me less dangerous, less commanding. But I wasn't less. I was more. I was every inch of control, every ounce of desire, and every shadow of my obsession focused entirely on her.
"Fierce, wild, unyielding… and so damn beautiful," I continued, my hand brushing a loose strand of her hair back from her face. "It would be a crime to let someone else have you, to watch you be someone else's consolation, someone else's plan. I don't do plans. I do what I want."
I stepped closer still, my chest brushing against hers, my eyes locking onto hers, demanding recognition, demanding submission in the most intoxicating way. "I want you," I whispered, voice low, dangerous, and magnetic all at once. "Not your sister, not some proposal someone else has decided for me… I want you. And I'm going to have you."
Her lips parted slightly, a soft intake of breath, and I knew I had reached the edge. She was caught between defiance and surrender, and I loved every second of that tension. Every inch of resistance made the pull stronger, made the inevitability of her giving in feel like it was already written.
"You get what I'm saying?" I asked finally, tilting her chin up with my fingers so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, charged with the electricity of our collision. "I'm not asking. I'm telling. This… whatever you're feeling, whatever hesitation you have—it ends now. With me. You're mine, Evelyn. Do you understand?"
Her eyes darted away for a fleeting second, and I could almost hear her thoughts racing. Almost. But I didn't need her voice. I didn't need her words. I had her reaction, her energy, her body betraying her defiance even as her mind tried to assert control.
I leaned closer, my forehead almost touching hers, breathing her in. The scent of her, the warmth radiating from her skin, the way her pulse thumped in her neck—I was addicted. Every fiber of me demanded she be mine, not just in name, not just in possession, but entirely.
"You think you can hide from me," I murmured, brushing my thumb across her jawline. "You think you can push me away or deny this… tension, this fire… this pull between us? You can't. You've already been drawn in. You've already been claimed. The question isn't if I want you. The question is… how long will it take for you to accept it?"
Her lips trembled slightly as she tried to speak, to defend herself, to regain some semblance of control. But I silenced her with a finger against her lips, my eyes never leaving hers. "Don't. Don't waste words. You don't get to speak until you understand what I'm telling you."
The room felt alive, every shadow accentuated by the dim lighting, every sound amplified—the soft hum of the air conditioner, the faint rustle of her clothing, the quickened rhythm of her heartbeat. I could feel it all. I could feel her resisting, yet already giving in, already tethered to me in ways she hadn't fully realized.
"I'm not here to play games," I whispered, letting the edge in my voice deepen. "I'm here to claim what's mine. And right now, that's you. Your mind, your heart, your fire… everything. I don't negotiate. I don't wait. I take."
She swallowed hard, eyes wide, and for a fraction of a second, I saw the vulnerability beneath the defiance. That's what I wanted to protect. That's what I wanted to own. Not because I needed to dominate her, but because I wanted her, in every sense that mattered.
"You're fierce, arrogant, stubborn… and so much more than anyone could ever imagine," I said, letting my voice soften ever so slightly, just enough for her to feel the sincerity. "And it would be a tragedy if I let you slip through my fingers."
Her lips parted, breath shaky, eyes brimming with the unspoken turmoil of wanting to fight yet wanting to succumb. I let a slow smirk form on my lips. "So… tell me, Evelyn," I murmured, leaning just a fraction closer, letting the warmth of my body press against hers, the danger, the desire palpable. "Do you want to stay here with me… or do I have to take you by force?"
She hesitated, the tension so thick I could nearly taste it. But I didn't flinch. I didn't need her words yet. I had her reaction. And her reaction told me everything I needed to know.
I could feel the storm of emotions swirling inside her, the conflict, the pull, the undeniable attraction that matched my own. I held her gaze, unrelenting, letting the weight of my presence fill the room, dominate the space, and claim the air around her.
"You get it, right?" I whispered, voice low, dangerous, intimate. "I'm not asking. I'm not negotiating. You're mine, and I want you. That's the truth. Accept it, or I'll make you understand it… one way or another."
Her breath hitched audibly, and I knew the edge had been reached. The tension, the heat, the desire—every part of her had been drawn into me. And as I stepped back slightly, letting the air shimmer with the intensity of the moment, I felt the undeniable certainty: she was mine, whether she admitted it or not.