The hallway feels impossibly long.
Damion doesn't speak as he escorts me to the car that waits in the underground garage. His presence alone presses against my skin, tight and consuming, like a storm bottled into a single human frame.
I want to speak. I want to ask him everything, demand answers. But his silence… it makes me cautious. Tentative. Nervous in a way I've never been before.
"You don't have to tell me everything now," I murmur, trying to break the tension.
He glances at me from the corner of his eyes. That look—the one that pierces right through my thoughts—settles on me like a weight I can't lift.
"I will," he says quietly, voice low and precise. "But not here. Not yet. You wouldn't understand. And I need you safe until then."
"Safe?" I whisper, almost laughing bitterly. "Damion, nothing about you is safe."
His lips twitch—half a smile, half a warning. "Exactly."
We reach the car. He opens the door for me, an automatic gesture, but it feels charged. Possessive. And when I sit, I feel the air around me tighten, like a string pulled taut.
The driver waits silently, watching. He knows better than to question anything.
Damion slides into the seat beside me, close enough that our arms brush. The touch ignites every nerve ending along my skin, but he doesn't seem to notice—or he's pretending not to.
"I need you to promise me something," he says suddenly, voice low, eyes dark.
"What?" I ask, instinctively leaning slightly closer.
"You won't look for answers before I tell you. No one, no phone, no messages. Not even your brothers. Understood?"
I hesitate. Part of me wants to argue. Part of me wants to say I won't promise. But when I look at him, the intensity of his gaze makes my resolve crumble.
"Understood," I whisper.
His eyes soften ever so slightly, just enough to give me a flicker of the man beneath the storm.
"Good," he murmurs. "Because when I tell you, there's no turning back."
I shiver. The words land heavier than anything anyone has ever said to me.
The Ride
The car glides through the streets silently. The city lights blur past the window, but I can't focus on them. My mind replays every inch of him: the office, his touch, the way his voice wrapped around my name yesterday… and this morning… and the way he's been controlling the air between us ever since.
I don't even realize I'm speaking until my voice trembles.
"Damion… why me?"
He turns slightly, just enough that the light catches his profile. Shadow and sharp angles. Eyes like storm clouds.
"Why you?" he echoes. His voice isn't angry. Not really. It's raw. Vulnerable, almost. "Because I've been watching you longer than you know. Because… you're dangerous in ways I can't resist. You make me want things I shouldn't want."
My chest constricts. The intensity of his words presses against me, nearly suffocating.
"Things you shouldn't want?" I whisper.
He glances at me, jaw tight, and the corner of his mouth curves slightly. "Everything."
The House
We arrive at his home—massive, imposing, and just as intimidating as the man himself. The driveway is empty except for us, silent but alive with tension.
He opens the door for me, his hand brushing my wrist lightly. The touch is electric. I swear I feel it down to my bones.
Inside, the house is dim, warm, luxurious, and quietly menacing. Every shadow seems to belong to him. Every light is measured, calculated, meant to draw the eye without giving too much away.
He moves ahead of me, closing the door softly but firmly.
"I'm going to explain everything," he says, voice low, almost intimate. "But first… I need you to understand something."
"Understand what?"
He stops, turning, gaze locking onto mine. He steps closer. The air between us seems to vibrate with heat and danger.
"I am not like anyone you've ever met," he murmurs. His lips brush the space just above mine, close enough that I can feel his breath. "And if you're going to want me… if you're going to step into my world… you'll need to accept that I'm not safe. Not for you. Not for anyone."
I swallow. Heat floods me. Desire coils low and dangerous inside me, but fear dances alongside it.
"Damion…" I whisper.
He tilts his head slightly, voice a velvet growl. "Say it. My name. One more time."
"Damion," I breathe, almost against my will.
A flicker of hunger crosses his eyes, just for a heartbeat. Then he steps back, controlled, but I feel the pull of him leaving a mark inside me.
"You have no idea what you've done to me," he says quietly, voice strained, dangerous. "No idea."
And then the moment breaks — sharp, unexpected — with a sound that cuts through the charged air: a message alert on his phone.
He glances at it, and his expression tightens — lips pressed in a thin line, jaw rigid. Something dangerous, urgent flickers across his face.
I want to ask, to see, to touch… but I don't. I know better than to break the spell.
Finally, he turns back to me.
"You're not safe," he says, softer, more raw than before. "Not because of me, not because of Magnus, but because someone has been waiting… watching. And they're getting closer."
My stomach twists. Fear coils low, primal.
"And you're…" I begin.
"I'm the only one who can protect you," he says, cutting me off. "From him. From everyone. And from what I can't protect you from… I need you to trust me."
The words land like a heavy chain settling around my chest.
I do. Somehow, I already do.
The Pull Between Us
We stand there, inches apart, and the air hums. I can feel him in every nerve. Every pulse. Every heartbeat.
"I don't know if I can do this," I whisper.
He leans closer, voice low, intimate, a dangerous velvet brushing against my ear.
"You already are," he says. "You're already mine in ways you don't even understand."
I feel his hand brush against mine — slow, deliberate, teasing.
"I… I shouldn't feel this," I murmur.
"Feel it," he whispers. "Feel it all. Fear, desire… it's all part of it."
My pulse surges, and I know he can feel it too. Every inch of control he tries to maintain trembles when he looks at me.
And I realize something terrifying: I don't care if it's dangerous.
I want it anyway.