BOUND BY SHADOWS

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE WEIGHT OF HIS GAZE

Amara had always trusted her instincts.

They had saved her more than once on assignments, guiding her to truths others overlooked.

But lately, her instincts had turned traitor.

Every time Damien looked at her, her chest tightened.

Every time he stood too close, the air grew too thin to breathe.

And every time she told herself to stay away, she caught herself waiting—wanting—for him to appear.

---

That evening, she stayed late again. The newsroom was quiet, most of her colleagues gone. She was scribbling notes when the hairs at the back of her neck lifted.

He was there.

Leaning against the doorway like he belonged in her shadow. His tie was loosened, jacket gone, his shirt sleeves rolled high enough to reveal strong, veined forearms. She hated the shiver that ran through her.

“You shouldn’t work yourself to exhaustion,” Damien said.

His voice was silk wrapped around steel.

“I don’t recall asking your advice,” Amara shot back, though her pen shook slightly in her hand.

He stepped closer. The soft thud of his shoes echoed against the empty floor, each one pulling at the fraying edges of her restraint.

“You don’t have to ask,” he murmured, stopping just close enough for her to smell him—dark spice and clean musk, a scent that threatened to undo her composure.

Amara forced herself to stand, her chair scraping back. “What do you want from me?”

His eyes, black pools reflecting every secret she’d never spoken, held her in place.

“Everything,” he said simply.

The word lodged in her throat.

She should’ve left. Should’ve walked right past him.

Instead, her pulse betrayed her, beating wild and unsteady. She hated how her lips parted as if waiting for his touch.

He reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His knuckles grazed her skin—slow, deliberate.

Fire. Pure fire.

Her knees weakened, and she cursed herself for leaning into it.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

His smile was faint, unreadable. “Not yet,” he said softly.

And before she could demand what he meant, Damien turned and disappeared into the darkened hallway, leaving her trembling, burning, and furious at the part of her that already missed him.

---

Amara pressed her palms against her desk, breathing hard.

This wasn’t just attraction—it was possession, a pull too strong to fight.

And if she didn’t find a way to resist him soon, she feared she wouldn’t want to.