The old house sat quiet, pale light pouring inside from high windows, flowing like melted metal. Dark shapes crept across the plaster, calm and still - but underneath, a buzzing tension hung there, heavy, pressing against your skin.
Lena perched near her room's window, legs tucked tight, gazing down at the yard. Blooms, neat bushes, water jets - everything looked like it belonged somewhere else, some place calm, where things made sense, nowhere sneaky hid.
Yet everything seemed off now.
She kept thinking about everything from earlier - the moment she saw Vanessa at the club, how Damian looked at her with that quiet fire in his eyes, how just being near him sent her heartbeat racing, that warm rush clinging to her like humidity. She opened her novel, meaning to get into it, hoping the lines would make sense, yet they swam across the page without sticking. No matter where her mind wandered, one image stayed sharp - him.
A gentle tap on her door cut through the quiet.
"Lena?"
Her breathing stopped. Not until she heard it did she realize - she'd recognize that sound anywhere. Quiet, steady… it had stuck in her head for days without warning.
"Damian," she said low, jerking upright. "It's... past bedtime."
He went in regardless, shutting the door soft behind. Light from outside carved out his jawline, giving off a vibe - strong, electric, edged. Each step felt calm but sure, like he already owned the space - even her pulse seemed to answer to it.
I keep coming back to you," he murmured, tone deep, edged with a feeling he usually kept locked away. Wasn't rage - well, not quite. And not want, even if it teetered near that line. More like fixation mixed with hunger, plus… some unnamed thing that'd crack open everything he tried to hold together.
Lena's chest tightened.
You... don't belong here," she muttered - yet her shaky tone slipped, revealing that part of her wanted you close.
He moved nearer, a tiny grin pulling one side of his mouth - like he already knew what was coming into her mind.
"I don't care about rules tonight," he murmured, stepping so close the room felt impossibly small. "I only care about you."
Her heart pounded loud in her head. Still, she couldn't turn back or speak up - rules kept her stuck. Yet something wild inside pushed her forward. It wasn't safe, but it felt right.
You're... fixated," she murmured, almost silent.
"You," he muttered, tone sinking deeper, gaze turning sharp, "act like it's not true."
Her legs went shaky. Holding the window ledge, she tried to balance - her mind and muscles both jittery. Her body wobbled. The frame kept her from swaying too far, even if everything inside spun loose. Nerves tugged at her focus. Still, she clung there, waiting it out.
"You can't," she breathed. "We're… step-siblings. This… this is wrong."
His mouth tilted a little - sudden warmth flared in her ribs.
"Wrong doesn't matter when it's this real," he murmured. "When I feel this for you."
He moved closer, sweeping a lock of hair off her cheek. Not heavy at all - yet warmth shot through her fast. Part of her said run - but she stayed. It wasn't possible to move.
I... I don't know," she said softly, eyes wet with tears pressing hard behind them - scared, wanting, mixed up, yet aching deep inside all together.
"Yes, you can," he said, voice low, deliberate. "Because every part of you wants this. Every part of you wants me."
Her breath hitched. Her limbs moved on their own, inching closer even though her thoughts yelled to stop. Eyes shut, she gave in to the pressure building inside. His heat reached her skin, his fingers grazed close, his stare held too much weight. Confusing. Electrifying. Scary as hell.
He moved in near. Only a tiny gap left now - so near, she sensed the soft warmth from his breathing.
"You're mine," he said quietly, his tone shaky from feelings he couldn't hold back.
Her heart hammered fast. She thought about bolting away. Screaming felt right too. Yet part of her pulled toward him - drawn by something risky, thrilling, real. That pull kept her still.
A flash of uncertainty hit her. Maybe this isn't right. Could it mess up all the plans?
Yet Damian's voice broke past the panic - quiet but firm.
"I don't care about what anyone says. About rules. About what's acceptable. Tonight… it's just us. And I won't let anyone, anything, or even yourself deny it."
Lena gasped. Danger mixed with want, sending shivers across her skin, making her pulse jump. A tight pull grew in the space between them - strong, like a force she couldn't turn from.
He stretched his arm, fingers drifting close to her skin - just a whisper away, yet enough to spark everything.
"Can you sense it as well?" he said, gaze locked on her face, steady.
Her mouth felt parched. All she wished was to say no. Yet that wasn't possible. Not deep down.
"Yes," she whispered. "I feel it."
The words stayed there, light but ready to burst.
His eyes warmed a little - still sharp, though. He moved nearer, near enough that his lips might just graze her temple, almost meant to happen… but held back.
They stayed frozen - close, but not touching - for what felt like forever. The air buzzed with things never said, wants that wouldn't quit, yet neither moved; this kind of pull was risky, something deep down told them to resist.
Lena figured it out - scary stuff. Yet wild, kinda thrilling too.
She didn't wish for him to quit. Yet she wasn't keen on fleeing either. Him - she craved that.
Damian? He craved her just the same. Each throb, each breath, each look proved it - no doubt at all.
The night dragged on without end, thick with unease, fixations, yet a hidden hint of what might follow.