The sunlight was merciless.
It spilled through the tall windows, golden and warm, but to Elara it felt like a spotlight burning against her skin, exposing every secret she wanted to bury. She sat on the edge of the bed, hair tangled, lips still tender from the night before. Her reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger—cheeks flushed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, and something else she hated to recognize: longing.
Her hands trembled as she touched her lips. Damian's kiss still lingered, not just on her mouth, but deep inside her like a brand she couldn't wash away. She told herself she despised it. She told herself she despised him. But the whisper at the back of her mind said otherwise, mocking her.
The door opened without a knock. Damian stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. He wore no suit this time, only a black shirt rolled to the sleeves, casual yet still commanding. His gaze traveled over her slowly, deliberately, until she wanted to shrink under its weight.
"You didn't sleep," he observed, his tone calm, as though he already knew.
Her throat tightened. "How could I?"
He smirked faintly, closing the distance between them. "Because exhaustion makes the walls of resistance fall. And you, Elara, are full of walls that need breaking."
She flinched as his hand tilted her chin upward. His thumb brushed her lower lip again, a cruel reminder of his claim. "Last night changed everything," he murmured. "You can lie to yourself, but not to me. Your body doesn't lie."
Elara's pulse hammered. Fury boiled in her chest, but the heat he stirred in her veins betrayed her. "You're a monster," she whispered, hating the crack in her voice.
Damian's smile was sharp, dangerous. "And you're the one who kissed the monster back."
Her breath caught. She wanted to deny it, but the memory of her body arching against his, her lips answering his hunger, was seared into her.
He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear. "Fight me all you want. Defy me, curse me, even hate me. But don't you dare pretend you don't feel this fire. Because I will tear down every wall until you admit it."
Her eyes stung with unshed tears as his hand slid from her jaw to her shoulder, squeezing gently, possessively. "You'll learn, little dove," he whispered. "Belonging to me doesn't mean chains. It means survival."
When he left the room, the air seemed to follow him, leaving her suffocated in silence.
Elara clutched the bedsheets, heart racing, her soul screaming for escape. But deep down, beneath the fear and rage, burned a truth she couldn't deny.
She had tasted the monster—and part of her wanted more.
She curled into herself, nails digging into her palms as if pain could anchor her to reality. The city outside roared faintly, reminding her there was still a world beyond these walls. Yet the echo of Damian's touch was louder, drowning it out. Escape felt impossible… and terrifyingly, unwanted.