Blood and Desire
399 Words
Aria couldn’t sleep.
Damien’s words echoed in her skull — “You were drawn to me… and now I can’t let you go.”
She lay beneath the silk sheets, her body restless, her pulse alive with something unspoken. Her skin still tingled from where he’d touched her cheek, and the mark on her neck throbbed steadily — not from pain, but from something deeper. Something that whispered to her in the dark.
Desire.
It terrified her.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about him. Not after everything he’d done. Not after the bite, the secrets, the warnings.
And yet…
When the door creaked open and Damien entered without a word, her breath caught in her throat.
He said nothing as he crossed the room. The moonlight spilled through the window, catching the edge of his pale features, casting his eyes in silver shadows.
“You can’t keep avoiding me,” he said, voice low, controlled.
“I wasn’t,” she whispered.
He came to her side of the bed and sat beside her, silent for a long moment. “Your blood has changed me,” he said. “Since the night I drank from you… I haven’t needed anyone else.”
She stared at him, heart pounding. “Is that… good?”
“It’s dangerous,” he replied. “Because now, I crave not just your blood… but you.”
His hand slid to her waist, slow, reverent — and yet possessive. Her breath hitched as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the edge of her jaw.
“You should hate me,” he murmured. “But you don’t. Why?”
She closed her eyes. “Because I don’t understand what I’m feeling.”
He kissed her then — not like before. This time it was softer, searching, but no less consuming. Her body betrayed her again, leaning into the heat of him, the tension crackling between them like fire in her veins.
When he pulled back, his eyes were glowing faintly. “You’re not safe here, Aria. Not even with me.”
And still, she whispered, “Then don’t let me go.”
Something shifted in his expression — a flicker of pain, of want, of something impossibly ancient.
And then he kissed her again, sealing the truth neither of them dared speak aloud.
This wasn’t love.
It was obsession.
And it was only just beginning.
- Writer
