Kiss Me, Damnation

XV

Adrian

Her words are still echoing in my head. “Thank you, Adrian.”

Two small words. Two syllables. A normal human interaction. But from her? From Evelyn? They feel like acid burning through my veins. She thinks I wanted her gratitude? That I cut her uncle’s filth out of her life so she could look me in the eyes like I’m some ordinary boy playing hero?

No. That’s not what I am. That’s not what we are.

She doesn’t understand that every move I’ve made was for her, not for some pathetic acknowledgment. I wanted her trembling silence. I wanted her eyes to fill with fear, awe, rage — anything but gratitude. Gratitude makes me human in her world, when I am the very thing that has been sculpting her life from the shadows.

I don’t want to be thanked. I want to be needed.

And she needs me, whether she dares to admit it or not.

For days, I’ve replayed her soft voice, the way her lashes lowered, the hesitation in her throat as she uttered those words. I should have relished it. Any sane man would. But sanity has never been my strength. Instead, it triggered the fire that lives inside me, the one I can’t douse.

She doesn’t see how fragile she is. She thinks she’s strong because she hides behind Daniel’s arm, because she can paste a smile over the bruises of her past. She fools everyone, but not me. Never me. I’ve seen her shatter in silence. I’ve watched her eyes scream for help when her lips were too afraid to. I’ve memorized every detail — the way her mouth trembles before she lies, the way her pulse beats too fast when I touch her hair, the way her breath hitches when she tries to resist what she already knows: she belongs to me.

And then she dared to walk up to me, after a week of silence, after abandoning the fire between us, to offer me a thank you. As if I’m a boy she borrowed notes from in class. As if I didn’t bleed for her. As if I didn’t cleanse her world of the monster who’d been tainting her.

I felt my rage coil so violently that my fists shook. I saw her flinch at my tone, at the way my jaw locked when I told her she had no right to thank me. She doesn’t understand yet, but she will.

She will.

---

The day stretches long, but I wait. I don’t approach her immediately. I don’t drag her to me when the halls are full of curious eyes. I’ve learned patience. It’s sharper than any blade.

By evening, when the corridors are mostly empty and her friends have gone, I find her. She’s trying to leave unnoticed, her bag heavy over her shoulder, her steps quick. She’s been avoiding me — like a moth avoiding the flame it secretly craves.

“Evelyn,” I say, my voice calm, but laced with iron.

She stiffens. Always so deliciously reactive. She turns, slow, like prey cornered by its predator.

“What do you want?” she asks, her voice firm, but her hands betray her — clutching the strap of her bag tighter, her knuckles whitening.

I step closer, slow, deliberate. “What I’ve always wanted. You.”

Her eyes flash, and I see the war inside her. Hatred and fear on the surface, but underneath… the pull. The one she can’t smother no matter how much she clings to Daniel.

“You need to stay away from me,” she says, almost steady. Almost.

I smile. The kind of smile that unsettles, because it doesn’t reach the eyes. “And if I don’t?”

Her lips part, ready to bite back, but I lean closer, close enough to let my breath ghost across her cheek. “Do you really want me to tell Daniel your secret?”

Her whole body freezes. Perfect. I knew she’d understand immediately. The uncle. The nights she doesn’t dare to speak of. The shame she carries like a second skin.

“You—” her voice breaks, “you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Evelyn,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers trail deliberately slow, “you should know me better by now. I always do what I say. Always.”

Her breath hitches. She hates my touch, hates how it ignites something she cannot put out. That’s why she shoves my hand away — not because she doesn’t feel it, but because she does.

“What do you want from me?” she whispers, her voice thin, terrified.

“Break up with him,” I say, each word clear, sharp, undeniable. “Daniel doesn’t deserve what you’ve already given me. End it with him… and come to me.”

Her eyes widen, tears threatening to spill, but I don’t let her speak yet. I step back, straighten, and hold out my hand as if offering her a choice she doesn’t really have. “Come with me now, Evelyn. There’s something you need to see.”

She shakes her head, but her feet betray her, carrying her after me down the quiet corridor. She knows resisting me here will only make me louder, crueler. She’s learning.

I lead her to the far wing of the school, where the old classrooms are rarely used. One in particular has long since been abandoned, its door hidden behind stacks of unused furniture. But I’ve kept it alive — my space, my sanctuary, my stage for what she will learn.

When I push open the door, the dim light spills across the room I’ve transformed. The walls are bare, but the center holds a heavy chair, ropes coiled neatly at its base. The faint scent of leather and iron lingers, mingled with the ghost of smoke.

Her sharp intake of breath behind me is intoxicating.

“What… is this?” she whispers.

“My truth,” I say softly, stepping inside. “And soon… yours.”

She doesn’t move, doesn’t step forward, but I can feel her gaze darting from corner to corner, the realization dawning that this isn’t just a room — it’s a reflection of me. Of what she’s already begun to taste.

I turn back to her, my expression unreadable, my pulse thrumming with violent satisfaction. “You wanted to thank me, Evelyn. But gratitude won’t cut it. If you want to survive me… you’ll give me something far more valuable.”

Her lips tremble, but no sound comes out.

And for the first time in days, my rage finally cools, replaced with anticipation.

Because now, she’s exactly where I want her.