Page 25 of Sticks & Serpents

I let out a soft chuckle, relishing the tension coiling between us. It felt familiar and intoxicating, a dangerous dance we both knew too well.

“Come on, little lamb.” I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on my knees as I watched her face flush with frustration. “You can’t honestly say you’re not at least a little glad to see me.”

She opened her mouth to respond but then hesitated, biting down on her lip as if searching for the right words—an instinctive reflex from our past conversations where emotions tangled like barbed wire.

“Look at you,” I continued, reveling in how easily I could provoke her. “You think you can act like you’re unaffected? Like all those years didn’t mean anything? You know better.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but beneath that fire lay something softer—a flicker of doubt.

“Just admit it,” I pressed on softly, enjoying this moment too much to let it go just yet. “You missed me.”

I leaned back, enjoying the tension radiating from her. She tried to mask her emotions, but I saw through her façade. The way her fingers drummed against the table betrayed her.

“Logan’s not here. Shame. Guess you’ll have to settle for me,” I said, letting a playful smirk creep across my face.

Her jaw tightened at the mention of his name, and I reveled in that slight crack in her armor.

She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, adopting a tone that dripped with professionalism. “This isn’t about you, Damien.”

“Of course not.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table as I kept my gaze locked on hers. “But it could be. You always liked when I took charge.”

I let that hang there for a moment, watching as she shifted in her seat, pretending to check the notes she’d scribbled earlier. She was trying so hard to play it cool—polite and detached—but I could sense the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Should I handle the roster?” I offered casually, watching as her eyes flared with indignation.

“I can manage just fine without your help,” she shot back, her voice steady but lacking conviction. It was a brave front, but we both knew better.

“Oh, come on.” My tone turned teasing as I leaned back again, arms crossed behind my head like this was all some kind of game. “You and I both know how this works. You get overwhelmed with details and then panic when things don’t go according to plan.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, frustration flaring again like a beacon shining through the darkness we’d built between us.

“I’m not panicking,” she insisted sharply.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at that—a low rumble that broke through the thick air surrounding us. “Not yet,” I teased lightly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she fought to keep composure under my relentless jabs. But every little quirk of her expression told me exactly how close to breaking she really was. And damn if that didn’t thrill me.

“Let’s just get this done,” Holly said finally, an edge creeping into her voice as she forced herself to look away from me.

I enjoyed this too much—pushing against her walls, reminding her of who I was and what we had shared. This was only the beginning; she could try to deny it all she wanted, but deep down? She still felt it too.

“You can hate me all you want, little lamb,” I murmured, my voice dropping low enough for only her to hear. “But you’ve never been good at lying to yourself.”

Her jaw tightened further, that familiar defiance rising like a shield. I relished it; it was a dance we knew too well. She’d spent years building walls around her heart, but every crack told me she felt it—whateverthiswas between us.

I watched as her gaze fell to my hands—my hands, the same ones that had hurt Logan. The same hands that had once cradled her face. She couldn’t look at them without remembering what I was capable of, what I had done just hours ago.

“Damien,” she warned, her voice a soft but firm whisper.

“Not here to threaten you,” I replied smoothly, feigning innocence even as I let my smirk widen. “Just here to remind you of reality.”

The fire simmered beneath her cool exterior. I caught the way her breath hitched slightly when I leaned even closer, drawing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with something earthy—a reminder of summer days spent together long ago.

She opened her mouth as if to protest but hesitated. Her resolve faltered for just a moment before she shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not scared of you.”

Oh, but she was. I could see it in the way her body tensed up around me like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.

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