Page 42 of Sticks & Serpents

“What is wrong with you?”I scolded myself, flopping down onto my bed with a huff. The sheets felt cool against my heated skin, but they couldn’t wash away the memories that flooded back—the good and the bad alike.

The truth settled like a stone in my stomach: Damien still had power over me, whether I wanted to admit it or not. The very idea made me want to scream and cry at once. My heart raced as shame washed over me for letting him back into my life after everything he’d done.

“You’re stronger than this,”I muttered under my breath, but it sounded hollow even to me. How could strength coexist with this simmering desire? How could I stand against him when every part of me craved his chaos?

I stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the light. The fluorescent glow illuminated my face, revealing the storm of emotions swirling in my eyes. My breath caught as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

There it was—a mark on my neck, a vivid reminder of Damien’s possessive kiss. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks, and I instinctively touched the bruise, feeling a pulse of shame mingling with something darker that lurked beneath the surface.

“You should be ashamed,”I told myself, but even as the words left my lips, they felt empty. A primal urge coursed through me, tightening low in my belly, igniting a fire between my thighs that I couldn’t ignore.

I turned away from the mirror, shaking my head as if I could physically dislodge those thoughts. I should know better than to let him get this close again. After everything he’d done to ruin my reputation once, why would I put myself at risk again? He’d do it without hesitation—he thrived on chaos and destruction.

Yet here I was, drawn back into his orbit like a moth to a flame. My father had fought hard to pull me away from Damien's world after all those years of turmoil. He had seen what Damien could do and vowed to protect me from that darkness. Why was I flirting with disaster? Guess it didn’t matter, not with how he threw me to the wolves.

Or wolf, one very specific wolf.

“I didn’t push hard enough,”I whispered into the silence, frustration curling around my throat like a noose. Somewhere inside me lay an unsettling truth: I had let him slip past my defenses too easily.

My heart raced as the reality hit me—I was already losing this battle before it had even begun. Every encounter with Damien seemed to drag me deeper into his chaotic world where rules blurred and danger loomed at every turn.

And worst of all? A dark part of me wanted to be there, craved that intoxicating thrill he offered despite knowing it could lead to ruin again.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, the screen lighting up with my father’s name. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the green icon. Ignoring it felt like a tempting escape, but guilt pricked at my conscience.

He’d sacrificed so much for me, always trying to ensure I had a stable future—especially after my mother left and everything fell apart. And now, with this charity game looming over us, he was pushing me to work with Damien again, as if that was some sort of solution. The thought twisted in my gut.

I couldn't handle another lecture. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. The way he could dissect my choices left me feeling exposed and raw—especially after everything I’d just gone through.

But the guilt clawed at me again. After all he’d done to secure his position and support me through everything, how could I ignore him? I could give him that. I owed him that much.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed answer.

"Hello?"

“Holly. I need you to listen carefully.”

The way he said it made my heart sink; I already hated where this was going. My instincts screamed at me that this conversation would be another weight pressing down on an already fragile moment.

“You’ve been invited to the Sinclaire estate this Saturday.”

The words hung in the air like a lead balloon, suffocating any remnants of calm I had managed to muster. The Sinclaire estate—the very place where so many memories of Damien lingered, thickening the air around me like smoke from a fire that refused to die out.

I clenched my jaw against a wave of emotions rising inside me—panic mixed with dread and an unwilling longing for something I'd sworn I'd never want again. The last thing I needed was to be thrown back into his world so soon after everything.

“Dad,”I started but felt my voice crack under the weight of it all. "No."

I felt my heart sink as my father's words echoed in my mind.

“Damien’s father is hosting a formal dinner for the charity event committee. It’s an important night for the university, and you will be there.”

I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself.“You can’t be serious.”The words slipped out, laced with disbelief and panic.

“I don’t care what’s going on between you and that boy."He didn't waver. His tone was cold and clipped, as if he were discussing some mundane task rather than my impending doom."You’ll be polite, you’ll dress appropriately, and you’ll go. End of discussion. You have a history. But it's been years. You have to move past it."

My grip tightened around the phone as if I could crush the conversation with sheer force of will.“You’re just going to throw me in there with him?”

His irritation cut through the line like ice.“You’re an adult, Holly. Act like it.”

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