And not with myself for wanting him so badly.
Damien’s arms wrap around me like steel bands, and I feel trapped, caged in by his heat, his scent, his unyielding grip. I want to fight, to scream, to claw my way free, but I’m frozen. Not just by fear—by something darker, something that coils around my insides and knots me to him.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb stroking my jaw. His eyes soften, but there’s still that dangerous glint, like he’s holding back the part of himself that wants to tear me apart.
“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my forehead. “I can practically see it. Trying to figure out how to escape. You’d be smarter to just give in.”
I swallow hard, my pulse still racing, and he smirks, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. He leans down, nipping at my lower lip, dragging his teeth over the bite until I gasp.
“Still pretending to hate me?” he taunts, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Even after everything I did to you last night? After you begged me to ruin you?”
My cheeks burn, and I hate that he’s right. I hate that my body still aches for him, even as my mind rebels. He moves closer, his hands sliding down to my waist, fingers tracing the curve of my hips.
“You’re mine, Raven,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “I won’t let you forget it. I won’t let you pretend you don’t crave it.”
I force myself to take a breath, trying to gather my thoughts, but his hands are relentless, pulling me closer, his mouth brushing over my jaw, down to my throat. His teeth scrape over my pulse, and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me.
“I should mark you again,” he growls, biting down just hard enough to make me gasp. “Cover every inch of your skin so no one even thinks about touching you.”
His fingers slip under my shirt, pushing it up, and I try to shove him back, but he just catches my hands, pinning them behind me, pressing me against his chest.
“Stop fighting,” he hisses, his mouth hot against my ear. “You’re only making me want to break you all over again.”
I choke on a breath, trying to squirm free, but he tightens his hold, his other hand moving to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You don’t get to act like this didn’t happen,” he whispers, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t get to act like you didn’t want it.”
My throat tightens, and I try to shake my head, but he doesn’t let me. His lips brush mine, soft and taunting, and I hate the way I lean into it, craving the way he makes me feel—like I’m teetering on the edge of something dangerous and irresistible.
He pushes me back against the wall again, his hands gripping my wrists, pinning them above my head. His body presses into mine, and I feel the hard line of his arousal digging into my stomach.
“You keep acting like you’re scared of me,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking over my bruised lip. “But I know better. You’re scared of yourself. Scared of how much you liked it.”
I swallow, my mouth too dry to speak. His hand slides down, cupping my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Say it,” he demands. “Admit that you wanted it. That you want it now.”
My heart thunders, and I shake my head, biting back the words. His eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing over mine with deceptive gentleness. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and desperate. “And I’m not letting you forget it. No matter how many times you run.”
His hand slips down to my waist, his fingers digging into my skin, and I feel the heat pooling low in my belly despite myself. He moves his mouth to my throat, kissing and biting, his hands tracing the lines of my body as if he’s trying to memorise every inch.
“You can run as far as you want,” he whispers, his teeth grazing my collarbone. “I’ll always find you. I’ll always drag you back. Because you belong right here, with me.”
I hate how his words twist around my thoughts, making my resolve slip. He presses his lips to mine again, slow and consuming, and I can’t help the way I respond, my body arching into his touch.
His hand slips between my thighs, pressing against the heat there, and I gasp, my mind spinning.
“You’re not getting away,” he growls. “Not now. Not ever.”
I feel trapped—physically and mentally—caught between the need to escape and the twisted desire to stay. He knows it. I can see it in the way his smirk softens into something darker, more dangerous.
“I’ll never stop,” he whispers, his hand sliding under my waistband. “You keep pushing me, trying to make me let go, but it just makes me want to dig my claws in deeper.”
He cups me, fingers pressing just enough to make my knees go weak, and I hate the way I lean into him, craving more. He watches me with that feral intensity, like he’s daring me to deny it.
“I’ll remind you every single day,” he whispers, his mouth tracing over my collarbone. “That you’re mine. That no one else gets to have you. You’ll never be free, Raven. Never.”
He doesn’t give me time to think.
