The first time I really feel the weight of Damion's presence in a way that doesn't just chase my skin but twists my chest, it's when he calls me to his private suite in the penthouse.
I step inside, and the city sprawls beneath us like a sea of lights, soft and shimmering. But the room… the room isn't soft. Not even close. It's dark, luxurious, alive with shadows that feel like they have teeth. Every corner whispers control, every surface hums with danger.
And then there's him.
Damion is leaning against the edge of the bed, hands tucked into his pockets, one knee bent. The light from the floor-to-ceiling windows casts half of his face into shadow, the other half bathed in gold. He doesn't move as I step closer. He doesn't have to. Every inch of him radiates ownership, command, and danger.
I swallow. "Damion…"
"Say it again," he murmurs, voice low, coaxing, magnetic.
I feel heat rising, almost against my will. "Damion."
He steps forward, slow, deliberate, and the air between us tightens until it's hard to breathe. He stops just short of touching me. The electricity of the space between our bodies hums. My pulse hammers so hard it feels like he can hear it.
"You're saying the wrong thing," Damion says, dark and sharp.
"What are you talking about?" I whisper, breath trembling.
His lips curve just slightly, wicked and intoxicating. "I told you I only want to hear my name on those lips."
The words hit me like fire. They burn, they thrill, they terrify. And I realize: I want him to say it too, in response to my voice, my confession, my desire.
I step closer, reckless. "Damion…"
His hand lifts, gentle but firm, sliding along the line of my jaw. The touch is electric, stirring everything beneath my skin. He tilts my head toward him just slightly, enough that I can feel his intent before it's even realized.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs. His voice is low, rough, and dangerously intimate. "No idea."
I can barely breathe, barely think, barely exist outside of the gravity of him. "Then show me," I whisper.
A flicker of hunger crosses his eyes — just enough to make me ache. Then, like he's restraining a storm inside him, he steps back, just enough to leave me wanting more, trembling in the aftermath of his proximity.
"You're mine," he says softly, dangerously, and there's no question in his tone. No room for argument.
I shiver. "I…" I can't finish. Desire and fear coil together in a messy knot.
He takes a slow breath and closes the space between us again, but now his restraint is thinner, almost teasing. His lips hover over mine, close enough that I can feel the heat, the danger, the impossible pull.
"You want this," he murmurs, brushing my lips with his thumb, tracing a line along them that ignites a trail of fire inside me.
"I… yes," I whisper.
His eyes darken completely, the room thick with tension, and he leans in just slightly, slow and calculated, stopping just before our lips meet.
"I should stop," he says softly, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.
"Don't," I murmur. "I want you."
His jaw flexes. One hand comes up to cup my neck lightly, tilting my head, while the other traces the line of my collarbone. "You're tempting me beyond reason," he whispers, voice husky.
"Then give in," I breathe.
He freezes for a heartbeat, staring at me like I've dared him to cross a line he has wanted to cross since the first moment he saw me. Then, finally, he presses his lips to mine in the softest, most intoxicating kiss, slow and teasing, a promise of what's coming and a warning of what's dangerous.
Every nerve ignites. Every thought disappears. Only him. Only the heat of his mouth. Only the dark, dangerous pull between us.
He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. "Mira," he murmurs, voice low, feral and intimate. "I can't… I can't hold back much longer."
"I don't want you to," I whisper.
His hands tighten on me, his gaze searing. "Then prepare yourself," he murmurs. "Because once I do… there's no turning back."
And I realize — I don't want to.
The tension stretches, heavy and intoxicating. Magnus, the stalker, the danger looming outside… none of it matters here. Not in this moment.
All that matters is the dark, dangerous pull between Damion and me, and the knowledge that every choice, every word, every touch will push us further into a fire neither of us can escape.
And just before he leans in again, I know — this is only the beginning.
(Part 2)
The second the door closes behind him, the world contracts. The city outside becomes irrelevant; the only thing that exists is him, me, and the charged air that hums between us like it's alive.
He steps closer again, but this time there's no hesitation, no pause. His fingers trace lightly along the side of my neck, tilting my face toward him. Every brush of his skin against mine sends sparks crawling through my veins.
"I should warn you," he murmurs, low and intoxicating, "I've been holding back since the moment I saw you."
"You don't have to hold back," I whisper, my voice trembling despite myself. "I want this. I want you."
A flicker of something sharp, feral, passes through his eyes — desire, restraint, and danger all tangled into one. "You're tempting me," he says, voice husky, "in ways I shouldn't let you."
"And yet you're here," I reply, almost daring him.
He leans in, close enough that the heat of his body presses against mine, and my breath catches. He lowers his lips to my ear. "You don't know what you're doing to me," he murmurs, a growl beneath the words.
I shiver at the sound, the vibration of his voice crawling under my skin. "Then show me," I whisper, barely audible.
Slowly, impossibly slowly, he tilts my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. The intensity in his eyes is almost unbearable. Every dark thought, every hidden desire, every dangerous pull of him is concentrated in that look, and it makes my pulse hammer in ways I've never felt before.
"Say it," he whispers. "My name."
I don't hesitate. I can't. "Damion," I breathe, every inch of me alive with tension.
A flicker of satisfaction, hunger, and something dangerously protective flashes in his eyes. His hand slides from my neck down to my collarbone, light and teasing, tracing lines that make me ache. He leans in just enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.
"You're saying the wrong thing," he murmurs, voice low, deliberate.
"What are you talking about?" I whisper, heart racing.
"I told you," he says, voice thick, "I only want to hear my name on those lips."
The words set fire to every nerve ending in my body. I can barely think, barely breathe, barely exist outside of the pull of him.
"Damion…" I whisper again, my lips trembling.
He closes the space between us, just slightly, enough that our lips hover a fraction apart. I can feel his desire, his restraint, his dangerous control pressing against me, and it makes my knees weak.
"You have no idea…" he murmurs, voice low, feral. "…what you do to me."
"I want you," I confess, almost without thinking, the words spilling out like a secret I can no longer hold.
A dark, dangerous hunger ignites in his eyes. He leans in just a whisper closer, and I can feel the pull of him everywhere, like gravity itself has shifted.
He stops a breath away from touching me, his lips brushing mine lightly, teasing, torturing. "I should stop," he murmurs, almost painfully.
"Don't," I whisper back. "I want this."
He hesitates, breath mingling with mine, then whispers, almost against my mouth, "Then prepare yourself. Because once I do… there's no turning back."
My pulse jumps, heat flaring through me. Desire and fear coil together, messy and wild.
Then, just as he leans in, the soft ping of his phone cuts through the tension. His expression tightens—jaw rigid, eyes flashing with barely contained emotion.
I glance at him, heart hammering. "Damion… what is it?"
He glances at the screen, then back at me, expression a complex mix of fury, concern, and something far darker. "Another message," he mutters, voice low, almost dangerous. "From someone you've been warned about."
My stomach twists. "The stalker?"
He exhales sharply. "Yes." His fingers tighten against my arm lightly, grounding me, claiming me, warning me all at once. "But… I won't let him get to you. Not tonight. Not ever. Do you understand?"
I nod, unable to speak, because yes — I understand. I also know that the heat of this moment, the pull between us, the dangerous desire… will only grow stronger from here.
He releases me slightly, just enough to step back, and the room feels empty, yet the tension remains thick. Every glance he gives me, every movement he makes, every inch of him seems to mark me. Claim me. And I realize — I want to be claimed.
Even by a man I should fear.
Even by a man I've already surrendered to, bit by bit, with every look, every brush of skin, every dangerous, magnetic word.
And in the back of my mind, I know this is only the beginning.
Because Damion King isn't just dangerous.
He's irresistible.
He's consuming.
And he's mine.