Chapter 38 Chapter 38
ANNA'S POV
I was still frozen.
Did he just say that? My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. My heart was hammering in my chest, and every nerve in my body screamed at me to run… and yet, I didn’t.
I wanted to tell him no. I should have told him no. I should have stepped back, put some distance between us, said the words I had rehearsed a hundred times in my head.
"No, Damon… we can’t…"
But then he leaned closer, and the air between us thickened. His eyes held mine, dark, teasing, and daring. That look made my knees weak, made my hands tremble, made my brain short-circuit.
Before I could speak, he pressed his lips to mine.
It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was slow, deliberate, and teasing, full of fire. My body went rigid for a second, but the heat of him, the warmth, the pull of him was unbearable. My hands went to his chest, pressing into him while my thoughts spun in a thousand directions.
His lips pressed harder, and I gasped softly, the sound lost in the quiet of his room. My body was on fire—every nerve alive, every heartbeat screaming. Damon’s hands were firm on my waist, pulling me impossibly close, making it clear I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move away even if I wanted to.
“You like this,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. “You like when I take control.”
I shook my head slightly, trying to tell him no, trying to fight it, but the words caught in my throat. No… I shouldn’t… But even as I thought it, my body betrayed me. I wanted this. I wanted him so badly.
“I… I…” I stammered, breathless, unable to finish the thought. My hands slid against him almost by accident, pressing into the curve of his chest. My heartbeat thudded so hard I was sure he could feel it.
He smiled against my lips, slow, knowing, confident. “Shhh,” he whispered, brushing my hair from my face. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me fuck you, Anna.”
Every part of me was trembling, every thought chaotic, every nerve alive. The room felt smaller, the air hotter, and the space between us disappeared entirely. I could feel the heat of him, taste it, sense it in every brush of his lips, every press of his body against mine.
I gasped again, lips parted, heart hammering, mind spinning. Every instinct screamed to pull away, to resist, to tell him no, and yet I couldn’t. I wanted him. I wanted him so badly it scared me. I wanted to feel this fire, this heat, this danger pressing against me.
He kissed me again, slower this time, softer, but every inch of it charged with desire. My hands moved against him, my body leaning in, pressed to him, drawn like a magnet. My chest pressed against his, my cheek against his shoulder, and for the first time, I let myself get lost in the moment.
“You’re impossible,” I whispered against his lips, voice trembling.
“And you love it,” he murmured back, smiling against me. “You always do.”
I closed my eyes, letting the heat, the tension, the fire take over. For a moment, there was nothing outside this room, nothing outside his arms, nothing outside this kiss.
I couldn’t answer.
My chest was heaving, my fingers clutching his shirt, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath my touch. He moved with a confidence that made my head spin—rough, demanding, but always just enough to make me melt into him.
He pressed me against the wall, and I stumbled slightly in the heat of him. His hands gripped my waist tightly, and I felt the strength behind every move. It wasn’t gentle—never gentle—but it was controlled, deliberate, and designed to make me feel the pull of him, the danger, the thrill.
I tilted my head, pressing closer to him, my lips moving against his again, more urgent this time. His hands slid up my back, tracing the curve of my spine, and I couldn’t stop the little moan that escaped me.
“Damon,” I breathed, interrupting him, because the feeling of him was too much. It was way too much and not enough all at once.
He smirked, that dangerous smirk that always made my knees weak. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered again, my lips brushing his.
His hands tightened on my waist, and he pressed me harder against the wall. The heat of his body, the strength, the pressure—it was overwhelming. My mind was spinning, my chest rising and falling too fast, my pulse in my throat.
“You’re mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing along my jaw, down my neck, teasing and claiming me all at once. “And I’ll do whatever I want with you.”
I shivered, my hands clutching him tighter. I needed him so much. The way he made me feel—safe, terrified, wanted, alive—it was unbearable.
He lifted me slightly, my legs wrapping instinctively around him, my arms around his neck. His lips never left mine, teasing, demanding, and for a moment, the world outside his quarters didn’t exist. There were no kings, no rules, no danger… only him and me, and the fire in his room that mirrored the fire inside me.
He moved against me, strong and unyielding, and I gasped into his mouth. Every touch, every movement, was full of heat, roughness, and that impossible control that made my body tremble.
“Anna,” he whispered harshly, his lips near my ear. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” I breathed, pressing closer. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him harder, needing him more.
He chuckled against my skin, low and dangerous. “Good girl!” he growled, his hands firm on my waist, his lips brushing mine again. “You know your place.”
“I do,” I whispered. “I’m yours.”
His smirk widened. “I know,” he murmured, his hands gripping me tighter, his body pressing all the way against mine. Every inch of him was there, claiming, teasing, dangerous, and I couldn’t get enough.
I tilted my head, our lips meeting in a desperate, hungry kiss. The fire in me matched the fire in the room. I could feel him everywhere—the strength, the danger, the teasing, the dark heat that made my chest ache.
And I didn’t care that he was dangerous. I didn't care that he had killed a man for me. That the kings were terrified of him. That he could crush me in a second if he wanted.
Because I wanted him too.
And even as I gasped into his mouth, my arms tight around his neck, my legs curled around his waist, I knew it.
I was falling harder.
And there was no turning back.
The tension snapped.
One second, he was against the wall—the next, I’d pushed him back with enough force to make him stumble. His eyes widened in surprise, a flash of something like hunger breaking through his calm.
“Anna...” he growled, his voice rough.
Damon fell back onto the bed, his hands grabbing at my ass, as his eyes locked on mine as if daring me to keep going. I leaned over him, my breath brushing his cheek, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
The world blurred until there was only him.
And just when the moment was about to break—
The door suddenly creaked open.
I froze. My heart stopped.
It was Elijah.
He was standing there, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, staring at us.
The world went silent.