Damien
The moment I stepped into her office, a fucking wave of tension slammed into me, a familiar rush that I both craved and feared.Amelia Harper. The name echoed in my skull, but it was her presence that hit me like a goddamn punch to the gut. She was sitting behind her desk, bathed in soft light that seemed to halo her, making her look like some kind of fucking angel. Long, wavy brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face that was striking, but still approachable. Those light honey eyes?God, they were fucking beautiful! They cut through her professional mask, holding an intelligence that lured me in while warning me to stay the hell out.
As I crossed the threshold, I felt an irresistiblepulltoward her. It wasn’t just physical attraction; it was something deeper, a magnetic force that promised obsession and control. Her beautywas undeniable, but it was the way she carried herself that completely fucking captivated me. There was this quiet strength in her posture, a dangerous mix of confidence and vulnerability that made me want to tear her apart, piece by piece. I could almost see the layers underneath her composed exterior—each one a challenge, begging to be unraveled.
I caught myself studying her—how her brows furrowed slightly when she focused, how she straightened her back to project some semblance of authority, but there was an underlying tension in her movements, like she was just one wrong word away from running the hell out of here. I couldn’t help but admire it—how she tried so fucking hard to mask her emotions, acting like I wasn’t slowly crawling under her skin, like she wasn’t shaken by my presence. But I could see it in the way her breath caught when our eyes locked, the subtle shift in her body language that betrayed her calm facade.
I could feel it then, the obsession igniting—like wildfire, wrapping its filthy tendrils around my mind, dragging me deeper into her little world. Every beat of my heart was a reminder that I was now in her territory, andI liked it. I wanted to break her—see how far I could push, how many buttons I could press before she cracked. The hunt always got my blood pumping, butwith Millie? This felt different—raw, twisted,personal. I needed to know everything about her. Every goddamn secret. Peel back the layers until there was nothing left but the raw, exposed core of her soul.
She took a steadying breath, but I could see her composure crack just a bit. I let my words hang in the air, thick with the weight of them. “To understand,” I said softly, almost contemplatively. “Topossess—to unravel the complexities of another person until they become an extension of me. But in your case, I have to wonder: how far are you willing to let me in?”
The moment hung heavy with implication, and I could see the unease flickering in her eyes.Fuck. I wanted to see how far I could go before she lost her balance, before she couldn’t hide that crack in her perfect little facade.
“What you’re describing sounds more like possession than understanding,” she replied, her voice steady, but I could taste the adrenaline on her. It made me want to push harder, to watch her squirm just a little more. “Therapy isn’t about controlling another person; it’s about collaboration and trust.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her fierce response. The fire in her words was fucking captivating, but I saw right through her attempt to regain control. I leaned back, letting the amusement take hold of me. “Collaboration,” I repeated, dragging the word out like it was a joke. “Interesting choice. You make it sound so noble. But in reality, everyone wants something, don’t they? Isn’t that why you’re sitting here with me, pretending you’re in control? I could see it in the way you’re holding yourself together. You’re just as drawn to this as I am.”
Her breath caught, and I reveled in that moment of vulnerability. She was trying so damn hard to maintain her façade, but I could see the cracks starting to form. “The only thing I’m drawn to is helping you, Damien. If you’re willing to be honest and work through whatever’s brought you here.”
I tilted my head, my expression shifting to something darker, more serious. “Honesty is a slippery concept, doctor. It’s rarely as clear-cut as you want it to be.” I leaned in just enough, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if I told you that part of me enjoys this little back-and-forth? That Ithriveon the chaos of it? What would that say about me?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, and I watched the tension ripple through her body. The pull of my obsession tightened around her, and I was damn close to reeling her in further. But she was tougher than I expected. She cleared her throat, focused herself, and locked her eyes onto mine with a fierce determination.
“Every interaction in this room is a choice,” she stated, each word carefully crafted. “You’re here because you want to change. So let’s start with why you think you want to possess someone, rather than connect with them.”
For a brief moment, I was taken aback by her strength. She was pushing back, and I couldn’t help but admire that. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, an acknowledgment of the chaos swirling between us. But I wasn’t about to let her take control for long.
“Touché, Amelia,” I said, my voice low and smooth, a teasing lilt creeping in. “But let’s not pretend you’re not just as fascinated by this dynamic as I am. You’re drawn to it, and I can’t help but wonder how long you’ll keep that detachment.”
I watched as she stood her ground, her expression defiant. “I’m here to help you, Damien, not to play games. If you want this to work, you’ll need to meet me halfway.”
I leaned back slightly, gauging her response with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You know, I could sense something in you, Amelia. You’ve seen darkness, haven’t you? The kind that lurks beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge. It’s that same darkness that makes us…similarin ways that might surprise you.”
I let my words linger, watching as her expression shifted, just for a fraction of a second. There was a fleeting glimpse ofrecognitionthat I found deliciously enticing. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you navigate this space. You understand what it means to confront the shadows, to grapple with the parts of yourself that are not so easily accepted.”
Her eyes narrowed, but I could tell I’d struck a nerve. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, her voice firm but laced with an undertone of uncertainty.
“Oh, but I do,” I countered, leaning in closer, my voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve danced withthe darkness. You might think you’re here to help me, but in reality, we’re both just trying to make sense of our pasts. Maybe your past isn’t so different from mine.”
She stiffened, her resolve apparent as she shook her head. “You’re mistaken if you think you know me. My past is my own, and it doesn’t make me like you. You’re here because you need help, and that’s the focus of this session. Nothing more.”
“Is it really?” I challenged, a smirk creeping onto my lips. “Tell me, doctor, how do you separate your past from the present? What happens when the ghosts of yesterday come knocking at your door? Do you simply shut them out, or do you invite them in for a cup of tea?”
The tension in the room thickened, electric and palpable. I could see her grappling with my words, her mind racing as she tried to keep control over the conversation. “That’s not how therapy works,” she insisted, her voice steady. “This isn’t aboutme; it’s aboutyouand the challenges you’re facing.”
“But isn’t that the beauty of it?” I replied, my tone playful yet probing, the madness simmering just beneath the surface. “You think you’re in control, but the truth is, you’re just as susceptibleto this game as I am. We both have our demons, Amelia. The difference is, I embrace mine, while you—well, you seem hell-bent on hiding yours.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” she shot back, her frustration bubbling just below the surface. “And I won’t let you distract me with your psychological games. My job is to guide you through your struggles, not to delve into my personal life.”
“But what if the guide is lost?” I pressed, leaning in, my eyes locking onto hers, the challenge hanging in the air like smoke. “What ifyou’re the one who needs to confront your own darkness? It’s not just about me, Millie. It’s about the complexity of our lives, woven together by all the experiences we try to outrun. I see you fighting against it, and that… that only makes me want to dig deeper.”
She breathed in sharply, steadying herself against my provocations. “I’m here to help you, Damien. But if you think for one second that you can manipulate this situation, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m a psychologist, and I know how to navigate these conversations without getting caught in the web you’re trying to spin.”
“Maybe so,” I conceded, the thrill of the challenge licking at my veins. “But I also know that beneath your cool exterior lies a tumult of emotions and memories that you haven’t fully processed. You might think you’re unaffected by what I say, but I can see the flickers of doubt and curiosity. That’s where the true connection lies.”
She shook her head, frustration warring in her expression. “You’re trying to redirect this conversation, and I won’t allow it. If you want help, you need to engage honestly, not play mind games.”
“Why not both?” I challenged, a dark smile tugging at my lips. “Why can’t this be a journey of discovery for both of us? You might find that letting go of control can lead to someunexpected revelations.”