Page 36 of Sticks & Serpents

It meant nothing.

But even as I told myself that, every muscle in my body betrayed me, recalling how it felt when he pressed me against the wall—how his hands claimed my wrists like they had every right to hold me captive. It didn’t feel like nothing; it felt like ownership. Like possession.

He was claiming me all over again.

I threw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling while frustration simmered in my chest. How had he managed to do this? How had he wormed his way back into my life with just one kiss? The air thickened with his presence, filling the space like a shadow I couldn’t escape.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to block out thoughts of him—of his smirk and those stormy blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. “This isn’t happening,” I whispered to myself, but it didn’t change anything.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, contemplating whether or not to text him back. My fingers hovered over the screen before I tossed it aside in frustration. No way was I letting him have that power over me again.

But as much as I wanted to deny it, a small part of me craved that power—his ability to turn everything upside down with just a glance or a touch.

I let out a frustrated groan and buried my face in the pillow. If only I could forget that feeling—the pull of him—the danger—and focus on anything else instead.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his kiss still pressing against my lips. Part of me craved it. That rush of adrenaline when he closed in on me, the way my heart raced at the danger he represented. I hated that part of myself—the part that yearned for his attention, for his intensity.

That’s what terrified me. I remembered all too well how easily he could draw me in, how quickly I could forget everything else. Damien Sinclaire was a storm, and I was just a leaf caught in his path. When he loved you, he owned you. And once you were owned, breaking free felt impossible.

I thought about all those times I had tried to escape him—how I had convinced myself that going to Lakeshore last semester, what should have been my entire college career, meant leaving Damien behind for good. But then my father got this job, and I was back in his web again.

Images flashed through my mind—arguments that spiraled into chaos, the way he always pushed until I broke. The anger, the passion—it had always felt like a double-edged sword, and I had paid dearly every time it cut too deep.

And then there was Logan—innocent Logan—who stood no chance against Damien's fury. The thought made my stomach twist into knots. Logan’s hands were a testament to the violence Damien could unleash when provoked. And yet here I was, thinking about the very thing that put him in danger.

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, stifling a frustrated scream. “Why can’t this just be simple?”

I should have been relieved to be away from Damien’s influence all those years ago, but it felt like a lie now—a façade I'd built to convince myself that freedom existed beyond him. Yet every moment spent away only reinforced how much he held power over me.

And now? Now he’d managed to reel me back in with one kiss.

I couldn’t shake off the truth: I wanted him again—but wanting him meant inviting chaos back into my life. It meant opening myself up to heartbreak and pain that I thought I'd escaped.

My heart pounded as thoughts raced through my mind: What would happen if I didn’t resist? If I let myself be pulled back into his world? Would it destroy me again?

I checked my phone again, like it held some kind of spell over me. I stared at the screen, willing it to light up, hoping for a message that would shatter this heavy silence.

Nothing.

No calls from Damien. No texts.

I should have felt relieved, maybe even a little victorious. After everything that had happened, the chaos he dragged into my life, the last thing I needed was another one of his games. Buts I lay there staring at the blank screen, disappointment gnawed at me like a hungry animal.

“Why?” I muttered under my breath. I should have been grateful for the quiet, but instead, anger surged through me—a hot wave of disgust at my own weakness. How could I still want him to reach out? To care? It sickened me to think that a part of me craved his attention after all he had put me through.

Then, just when I thought the universe might actually be on my side, my phone buzzed with a new message.

My heart raced as I grabbed it again.

Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.

The words slammed into me like a punch to the gut. My stomach dropped and my pulse spiked as heat flooded my cheeks. It was as if every rational thought evaporated in an instant; all that remained was the raw energy of his voice echoing in my mind.

I threw the phone onto my bed like it burned me. The shockwaves of his message rippled through me—anger mixed with an undeniable thrill that I couldn’t shake off. It was just a text, but it felt monumental—his claim resonating in ways that left me reeling.

I wanted to scream, to tear at something until I felt grounded again, but instead, I sank back onto my bed, feeling both alive and utterly trapped by him once more.

I needed to regain control, to pull myself back from the edge where Damien’s kiss had pushed me. I reached for my phone again, fingers trembling as I scrolled through my contacts. Logan’s name glared back at me like a beacon of safety—everything I was supposed to want.

---