Owned by shadows

Chapter 13 :Unwanted Desire

The air in the city was heavy with late summer heat, the kind that clung to skin and made the night feel alive with electricity. Elena left the gallery well after closing, the faint scent of turpentine and varnish still on her hands. The streets were quieter at this hour, lights pooling on the pavement in golden puddles, shadows stretching long between them. She hugged her bag close to her chest and quickened her steps.

Behind her, she heard the crunch of measured footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. They didn’t fade when she sped up.

Elena stopped beneath a flickering streetlamp, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. Damian stepped from the darkness, his frame cutting sharply against the dim light. He wore black, as always, his presence too large for the narrow street.

“You shouldn’t walk alone,” he said, his voice low, even.

Elena’s breath caught in her chest, but she didn’t back away. “And you shouldn’t follow me.”

A faint curve touched his mouth. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he closed the space between them slowly, his boots striking the ground like an unhurried heartbeat.

She moved first, sidestepping him, brushing his shoulder as she tried to pass. His hand caught her wrist—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that she stopped.

“Elena,” he murmured, his tone carrying her name like it was a claim.

Her chin lifted, her voice steady despite the tremor in her pulse. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. His thumb brushed lightly against the delicate skin at her wrist, the touch sparking an unwanted shiver. His eyes dropped to the gesture, lingering there a beat too long, before he released her.

She stepped back, but not far.

“I don’t need you showing up everywhere I go,” she said.

“I don’t leave things I want unguarded.” The words landed sharp, and for a moment silence pressed between them.

The city hummed in the background—distant traffic, laughter spilling from a bar, the rustle of leaves in the humid air. Yet everything narrowed to the taut line stretched between them, invisible but unbreakable.

Elena turned sharply, walking down the block. Damian’s footsteps followed, a half-beat behind.

“Stop following me,” she snapped over her shoulder.

“No,” came his quiet reply.

The word was so simple, so absolute, that she faltered. Anger warred with something she refused to name as she spun around. He was closer than before, only a breath away.

Her back met the cool brick wall of a building, his shadow folding over hers. Damian didn’t touch her this time. He leaned in, one hand braced against the wall beside her head, his other resting casually in his pocket.

Elena’s breath stuttered, but she steadied it quickly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. “You think you can corner me until I—”

Her words cut short when his face lowered, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he spoke. “Until you stop lying to yourself.”

Heat pooled between them, the air charged, suffocating. His voice was quiet, but the closeness of it struck through her like a blade.

“You don’t know what I want,” she said, her tone sharp.

“I know what you don’t run from,” he countered, his breath stirring her hair.

Her pulse leapt, but she set her jaw. “Move.”

He didn’t. His hand slid down from the wall, hovering just above her hip, not touching but close enough that she could feel the weight of it. She shifted, pressing herself harder into the wall, her breath shallow.

Their eyes locked, the space between them vanishing. The tension wound so tight it hummed in the silence. Her hands pressed against his chest, not pushing with strength but caught between defiance and hesitation. His heartbeat thudded steady beneath her palms.

“Elena,” he said again, softer this time, his lips brushing her name like a dangerous promise.

Her resolve wavered. She felt it in the way her fingers curled against him instead of shoving him away. In the way her lips parted, a breath slipping free.

Damian’s mouth lowered, the edge of his lips brushing hers, not yet a kiss, but the barest ghost of one. It was enough to unravel her.

She turned her head sharply, breaking the contact. “Don’t.”

But the word came out weak, trembling.

Damian’s hand finally touched her, fingers sliding around the side of her throat—not choking, not forcing, just resting there with undeniable possession. He tilted her face back toward him with quiet control.

Her lips parted, caught between protest and surrender.

The first press of his mouth was rough, unyielding, a claim rather than a request. She gasped, the sound swallowed by the force of him. Her hands that had pressed against his chest fisted in the fabric of his shirt, not pushing, not pulling, just holding as if the ground beneath her had tilted.

The kiss deepened, his lips demanding, his body caging hers against the wall. He tasted of smoke and danger, of something that burned and lingered long after.

Elena twisted her face away, her breath ragged. “I don’t want this,” she said, but her voice betrayed her, shaky, uneven.

Damian’s hand slid down, gripping her hip now, grounding her in place. His mouth hovered over hers again, so close she could feel the heat of every word.

“Liar,” he whispered.

The word vibrated against her lips before his mouth claimed hers once more, harder this time.

Elena’s knees weakened, and his body steadied her effortlessly, his hand pressing at the small of her back. The world narrowed to the sound of their breaths, the clash of lips, the violent, undeniable pull between them.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his hand still holding her hip. She drew in a shuddering breath, her lips swollen, her body trembling.

He studied her face silently, his eyes dark, unreadable.

Elena shoved at his chest, this time with more force, creating space between them. Her voice came hoarse, strained. “Stay away from me.”

Damian’s mouth curved faintly, but he said nothing. He let her slip past him, her steps unsteady as she fled down the street.

He didn’t follow this time. He just stood in the glow of the streetlamp, watching until she disappeared into the night.

But the echo of his kiss lingered on her lips, a mark she couldn’t scrub away.