005
864 Words
Lena stood in the grand hallway of Damon’s estate, the opulence of her surroundings contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside her. She clutched the sleek black card Damon had given her, the weight of it heavier than its physical form.
He extended his hand. “Come, let me take you to your room .”
Lena hesitated before placing her hand in his, the touch sending a jolt through her. Together, they walked deeper into the mansion , the path ahead uncertain but undeniably compelling.
Lena paced the massive bedroom Damon had shown her to, the soft cream walls and ornate furnishings doing nothing to settle the knot in her stomach. The estate felt like a gilded cage . beautiful, yes, but a prison all the same.
She’d barely slept on the flight. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Damon’s expression as he’d called her his wife in front of those stone-faced strangers. The ease with which he’d said it, as though he wasn’t shackling her to him with every word.
The knock at the door startled her.
Before she could answer, the door cracked open and Damon leaned against the frame, a fresh drink in his hand, looking infuriatingly at ease.
“You should eat something,” he said. “It’s been hours.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll feel better if you do.”
“I’ll feel better when I’m not being held hostage in your mansion.”
He smirked. “You’re not a hostage. You’re my wife.”
“Stop saying that like it means something,” Lena snapped.
Damon stepped into the room, his gaze darkening as it landed on her. “It means everything, Lena. Whether you like it or not.”
Her pulse skipped at the edge in his voice.
Before she could come up with a response, a vibration rattled against the bedside table. Her phone. Damon must’ve had it returned at some point.
Riley.
Without thinking, Lena lunged for it, answering on the second ring.
“Lena! Jesus Christ, where the hell are you?” Riley’s voice was frantic.
“I……Riley, I’m okay,” Lena rushed to say, her voice a shaky whisper. “I can’t talk for long.”
Damon stood across the room, watching her with unreadable eyes, one brow raised.
“What do you mean you can’t talk long? You disappear after Vegas, no texts, no calls. Are you hurt? Did something happen?”
“No …..I mean yes, but I’m not hurt. I’m… with someone. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated? Lena, I swear to God, if you married some psycho off the strip…..”
“I’m safe,” she cut in, her voice tightening. “I’ll explain everything soon. Just… don’t freak out.”
“I’m already freaking out, you idiot.”
Lena’s throat thickened. God, she missed her best friend’s sarcasm already.
“I have to go,” Lena whispered. “I’ll call you when I can.”
“Don’t you dare ghost me again…..”
Click.
The call was cut out. Damon had ended it.
“What the hell?” Lena spun on him, fury sparking in her chest.
“You get one call,” Damon said coolly. “That was it.”
“You can’t just decide….”
“I can. And I did.” He crossed to her in two unhurried strides, stopping so close she could feel the heat rolling off him. “I told you, Lena. My world has rules. If you want to stay breathing in it, you’ll follow them.”
“Or what? You’ll lock me in this palace forever?”
He gave a low, dark chuckle, his gaze dropping to her lips. “If that’s what it takes.”
For a beat, neither of them moved. The tension between them, sharp as a wire, stretched thin.
Then Damon reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“You should rest,” he murmured.
“I don’t need you worrying about me.”
He leaned in, his mouth just inches from hers, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes. “But I do, Lena. You’re my wife now.”
And then, before she could pull away or throw another insult, Damon kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t careful.
It was possessive, hungry, claiming.
A kiss that stole the air from her lungs and made her forget, for one treacherous second, how angry she was.
His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and instinctively, her fingers gripped his shirt. The taste of whiskey on his lips, the press of his body , it was chaos, fury, and heat all at once.
When he finally pulled back, Lena’s heart was pounding, her breath ragged.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
His smirk was slow, sinful. “Good. Hate keeps things interesting.”
And with that, Damon turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Lena sagged against the wall, her fingers brushing her kiss bruised lips.
What the hell was happening to her?
And why, in the middle of all this madness… did she already know it wasn’t over?
- Writer
