Kevin's brows furrowed as Alina placed her hand gently on Anaya's shoulder.
"Kevin… can you take Anaya to your place tonight? Just for tonight," she asked softly, glancing briefly at Damon. "I think it's safer that way."
Kevin blinked, surprised. "You want me to take her? What about you? You'll be alone if both of us leave."
Before Alina could respond, Damon stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.
"She won't be alone," he said, eyes locked on Kevin. "I'm here."
Kevin's jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed on the stranger's figure, taking in the tailored suit and unreadable gaze.
"And who exactly are you?"
Alina stepped in quickly, sensing the tension.
"He's Damon. The one who came to the café that night… and the man who saved me in the club. He's… a friend of Noah's dad."
Kevin's gaze didn't waver. "Convenient."
But after a moment, he nodded, turning his attention to Anaya with a softer expression.
"Alright. Let's go, little one."
The silence after Kevin and Anaya left was thick—neither comforting nor cold, just... heavy. Alina had spent the last hour finishing the hospital formalities for her grandmother's admission. Paperwork, ID verifications, medical briefings—it drained her completely. Her limbs ached. Her head throbbed. But Damon had remained. Quiet, composed, like a shadow refusing to leave.
She turned slowly, facing him. The overhead light cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the strange calm in his eyes.
"I don't understand you," she said quietly, her voice rough with exhaustion. "I mean… you're a big businessman. You probably have a hundred places to be, a thousand things to do. Yet you're here. Comforting me. Pampering me." She took a breath, her lashes low. "Why?"
Damon blinked. His eyes flickered with something—confusion? Disbelief?
It was the same question haunting him.
Why was he here?
Why was she the exception to everything?
He opened his mouth but said nothing. The answer didn't come.
Alina let out a hollow laugh and looked away. "You don't owe me anything. I don't want to be the reason you carry guilt, Damon. Just leave. You've already done enough. You're always there… when I need someone to lean on, and I—" her voice cracked slightly, "I haven't given anything in return."
Her words weren't an accusation. They were a confession.
He took a step toward her, slowly. "Don't say that."
She looked up, startled by the rawness in his voice.
"I don't need anything from you, Alina," he said, almost too quietly. "You just… breathe, and I stay."
Her breath caught. For a moment, their eyes locked in a silence louder than words.
Then a nurse interrupted, politely clearing her throat before handing Alina a bill for her grandmother's medicine. Alina glanced down, eyes widening—she didn't have enough. Not even close.
Before she could say a word, Damon stepped forward, took the paper, and without hesitation paid the entire amount.
Alina's hands tightened into fists. Her pride wavered, but so did her heart.
She swallowed. "Is your offer to take care of Noah still there?" she asked softly. "Even after all this?"
Damon nodded once, firm and certain. "If you want it, yes. But even if you don't accept, I will protect you. From everyone. Always."
Something broke in her. Something quiet and deeply buried.
She stepped forward and hugged him.
Tight.
Tighter than she meant to.
Damon froze, his breath stalling. Her warmth pressed into him, her arms wrapped around his frame like she was anchoring herself—clinging to something real in a world that kept breaking.
He didn't move for a heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and let himself feel it.
The softness of her cheek against his chest. The faint scent of her shampoo. The tremble in her body that only he could sense.
His arms wrapped around her slowly, unsurely, but possessively.
He loved this.
The way her body fits into his. The way she held him like he was human. Like he mattered.
"Thank you," she whispered into his shirt.
He didn't reply.
Because if he opened his mouth now, he'd ruin everything with the truth—
That he didn't just want to protect her.
He wanted to own her.
Alina pulled back from the hug, her eyes glossy but determined.
"I accept your offer," she said softly. "To take care of Noah. I trust you."
Damon's gaze sharpened at her words, as though something inside him shifted. Anchored.
"Good," he murmured. "You won't regret it."
He escorted her to his car without another word, the ride to her house quiet but oddly intimate. Alina leaned against the window, her body finally giving in to the fatigue, but her mind buzzed—with everything Damon was becoming to her, with the strange pull she couldn't name.
When they arrived at her house, she fumbled with the keys, half-turning to thank him.
"You don't have to wait," she said. "It's late."
But Damon said nothing. Just watched her until she disappeared inside.
And yet—he didn't leave.
Alina, now in the dim light of her small living room, went to close the curtain out of habit. That's when she saw him.
Still there.
Still watching.
His figure leaned against the sleek black car, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her house like he belonged to the darkness around it.
Her chest tightened. She couldn't stop herself.
She rushed out the door barefoot, the cool air biting her skin as she ran down the steps.
"Damon!" she called, breathless. "Why are you still here?"
He didn't move.
"To fulfill my promise," he said simply. "The promise to protect you. To guard you."
Her throat thickened at his words. She stared at him—this enigma wrapped in shadows and silk, whose eyes held secrets and sadness and something frighteningly close to devotion.
"You don't have to stand outside like this," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "It's… too much."
"No," he replied, his voice low. "What's too much is what you've been forced to carry alone."
Alina opened her mouth, but the lump in her throat stopped the words.
Damon took a step closer, not touching her, but close enough for her to feel his presence like a hum in her skin.
"Go inside, Alina," he whispered. "Sleep. I'll be here."
And somehow, she believed him.
Because monsters didn't wait like this. Only something far more dangerous.
Someone who was already inside her story—and wasn't planning to leave.
Alina didn't move.
Damon straightened, something primal flickering in his chest.
She walked toward him—slow, deliberate—and stopped only inches away. No fear. No trembling.
Only her heartbeat, thudding like a fragile song.
He stepped forward once. She didn't flinch.
He could hear it now—her breath, her pulse, the soft catch in her throat as she lifted her face to him. Her eyes fluttered shut. Trusting. Open.
Inviting.
His hand moved on instinct, calloused fingers lifting to cradle her cheek, the warmth of her skin burning into his palm.
She leaned into it.
And it broke him.
His mouth found hers—hesitant, searching. But once their lips met, something shattered. The kiss deepened like a secret uncoiling in the dark.
Slow.
Then slower still.
A silent ache bloomed between them, the kind that doesn't scream but burns.
His hands slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, tasting her like a starving man finally allowed to breathe.
She didn't stop him.
She kissed him back, soft and uncertain, until the world collapsed and only this moment remained.
Only her.
He kissed her until her breath was gone.
And even then, he didn't pull away.
Not until she gasped softly against his lips.
Not until he tasted the very last breath she had left.
He rested his forehead against hers, his voice a husky whisper.
"I told you… I'd protect you."
And in his mind, he didn't say the rest:
Even if it's from myself.
Alina's breath trembled against his lips.
She didn't move, even when he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead on hers. Her eyes remained closed, lashes trembling like wings about to lift. Her lips—kiss-bruised and swollen—parted slightly, still tasting him.
Her heart wasn't just racing now.
It was screaming.
it was something dangerously close to surrender.
Damon's mind spiraled.
She had no idea what it took to stay away. No idea how every second in her presence was a war against instinct. Against obsession. Against the darkness that wanted to consume her.
She was his weakness.
And yet—his only peace.
He wanted to tear the world apart for her.
Alina's voice was barely a breath.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
Her eyes remained closed, as if saying it out loud made her fragile, made her real. The question wasn't just about presence—it was about safety. About warmth. About needing him.
When she finally opened them, Damon was still watching her—unblinking, ravenous in silence.
Damon's world tilted.
He had promised to protect her. But he hadn't prepared for this—for the way her voice asked him to stay not out of fear, but out of trust.
That trust broke something in him.
No words formed on his tongue.
So he did the only thing his body knew.
He kissed her.
But not gently.
Not like before.
This time, it was fierce. Urgent. Desperate.
Alina gasped, struggling to match the rhythm, the intensity, the hunger. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, clutching like he might vanish if she let go. Damon smirked against her lips—she was trembling—and it thrilled him.
Still without breaking the kiss, he bent down and swept her into his arms.
Princess style.
She let out a surprised breath but didn't resist.
Their lips remained locked—breathless, messy, raw—as he carried her through the quiet house, up the stairs, and into her room. The scent of her skin, the weight of her in his arms—it was intoxicating.
He set her down on the edge of the bed, lips brushing her jaw, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth, as if he were memorizing her one inch at a time.
Alina's mind was spinning.
Not just from the kiss.
But from the way his presence filled the entire room. The way her body knew his before her mind could catch up.
"Damon…" she whispered, unsure what to say, what she was inviting.
His hand cupped the back of her neck. His forehead pressed to hers again.
"I'll stay," he said finally. "But not because you need me."
He paused, voice dipping lower.
"Because I need to."
To protect you. To haunt you. To have you.
Even if only for tonight.
"Alina…" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
A shiver ran down her spine at his words. She trembled but didn't step back. The space between them crackled with tension. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance, cupping her chin and lifting her face to meet his gaze. His eyes—intense, searching—held her captive. Then, without warning, he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers, a feather-light touch that sent her heart racing. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he savored every moment. Alina, caught off-guard, let herself melt into it, her body responding before her mind could catch up. His lips were warm and inviting, but there was a desperation behind the kiss, a need to pull her closer. She didn't resist. Every part of her craved this connection, this moment that felt like a lifeline in a sea of confusion.
As the kiss deepened, the world outside faded away. She lost herself in the heat of him, her fingers finding their way to his chest, pressing against the hard muscle beneath her touch. She wanted to breathe, to pull away, but each attempt was met with his firm grip, grounding her in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. He kissed her with a fervor that took her breath, each movement insistent, demanding. The reality of the moment slipped away, leaving only the sensation of him, the heat of his body against hers, the pulsating desire coursing through her veins.
Finally, he pulled away slightly, their foreheads touching, breaths mingling in the stillness. Alina felt the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms, the warmth radiating from him like a flame.
"I want you, Alina," he whispered, his voice raw with need. "May I?"
The question hung in the air, thick with tension. She felt her heart race, caught between fear and longing. Words escaped her momentarily, but the hunger in his gaze anchored her.
"Yes."
The word slipped from her lips, a whisper laden with something profound.
Damon's expression shifted, a mix of relief and desire flooding his features. He stepped closer.
"I need you," he breathed, the urgency in his voice igniting a fire within her.
The night draped itself over the room like a silken veil, swallowing the world beyond its walls. Inside, the air was thick with tension, charged with something raw, something inevitable.
Alina stood before him, heart racing, her pulse erratic as she faced the overwhelming pull between fear and yearning. His gaze pinned her in place, dark and unreadable, a silent promise of ruin and reverence.
Then, he kissed her.
His lips were soft yet insistent, coaxing a response from her with an intoxicating slowness. The world outside faded, drowned beneath the steady press of his mouth, the unraveling of her restraint. He tasted like danger wrapped in temptation, like something she should resist—but never could.
Damon's hands roamed over her back, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She gasped, her body responding before her mind could catch up, caught in the firestorm of his touch. He pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together as if sculpted for this moment.
"Alina," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper curling around her name like a vow. He lifted her chin, his gaze dark and consuming. "I need you to feel this. Feel me."
Her fingers found his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the heat of his skin searing her fingertips. A shiver raced through her, not just from the intensity of his touch but from the way he watched her—as if she already belonged to him.
It was slow, deliberate. A claim, not a request.
His lips trailed lower, brushing against the pulse at her throat, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. She arched against him instinctively, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach.
"Damon," she breathed, a plea laced with something she didn't understand.
He smirked against her skin, savoring the way his name fell from her lips. "Say it again."
She hesitated, caught between fear and longing. Then, softer this time—"Damon."
His fingers tightened at her waist. Satisfaction flickered in his gaze, dark and possessive. "Good girl."
She barely registered when her back met the edge of the bed. He had guided her there without her realizing, his control so absolute it made her dizzy. When she stumbled, he caught her effortlessly, lowering her onto the sheets with a slow, practiced ease.
"Stay with me," he murmured, his lips hovering over hers. "Let go of everything else."
She hesitated, a flicker of resistance in her eyes. But when his fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head just right, when his mouth brushed against hers again, stealing the breath from her lungs—she nodded.
"I'm here."
A quiet growl of approval rumbled in his chest. Then, he kissed her again, deeper this time, demanding everything. His hands traced fire across her skin, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt, mapping the shape of her, memorizing every shiver that betrayed her.
He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. "Are you sure?"
The weight of him, the heat, the hunger in his gaze—it was consuming. And yet, she knew the answer before he even asked.
"Yes."
A slow, dark smile stretched across his lips. "Words, baby. I need to hear them."
She swallowed, her pulse skittering. "I want you, Damon."
Whatever restraint he had left unraveled.
His kiss turned urgent, searing, branding her with every stroke of his tongue. His hands roamed lower, dragging her closer, pressing her into the mattress. He devoured her, worshiped her, but beneath the tenderness was something darker—an unspoken vow.
Mine.
His control slipped further as he pushed her shirt over her head, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight of her.
"You're breathtaking," he murmured, reverence warring with possession. "More than I ever imagined."
Her skin burned under his scrutiny, under the way he touched her as if committing her to memory. He traced her collarbone, then lower, his fingers teasing, testing her reactions. Every shudder, every soft gasp, fueled the need in his eyes.
He wanted to break her, to make her forget anything that existed beyond him.
"Damon," she whispered, pleading for something she couldn't name.
He hushed her with another kiss, swallowing the sound, reveling in the way she trembled beneath him. His hands were everywhere, slow, unhurried, but possessive.
As if she was already his.
Alina's breath trembled as her fingers reached up, slow and unsure, and slid over the buttons of Damon's shirt. One by one, they came undone, revealing the sculpted form beneath—broad chest, toned abs, smooth skin stretched over muscle like a statue brought to life.
A god.
That's what he looked like.
Unreal. Dangerous. Beautiful.
Damon watched her with fire in his eyes, unmoving, as if her touch alone unraveled him.
When the last button slipped free, she pushed the fabric aside. His shirt dropped to the floor like a fallen curtain between them.
Her hands paused, eyes tracing every line of him. And he—he did the same.
With quiet control, he hooked his fingers gently into the waistband of her pants and slid them down her hips. His eyes never left her—not even for a blink.
Now she layed under him—in just her bra and panties, vulnerable and burning red. Her cheeks flushed. She instinctively raised her hands to cover herself, fingers trembling.
But Damon caught her wrists—firm but tender—and lowered them.
"Don't hide from me, baby," he murmured, his voice like velvet laced with smoke. "Let me see you. Let me worship you."
Alina's heart raced.
He said it like a vow.
Like she was the altar and he was the sinner kneeling before her.
There was no laughter in his voice, no teasing. Just reverence.
As if she was something holy. Something forbidden. Something he had longed for too long to pretend otherwise.
She shivered—not from fear, but from the heat building between them.
He leaned forward slowly, lips brushing her jaw, then her collarbone, then lower—worshiping just like he promised. Every kiss a prayer. Every touch a confession.
In that moment, she wasn't broken.
She wasn't scared.
She was seen. Desired. Owned.
And for the first time… she wanted to belong.
Damon's breath was unsteady as he looked down at her, laid bare beneath him—flushed cheeks, trembling lips, and eyes heavy with something between fear and trust.
He knelt between her legs, his touch reverent, his gaze devout. His hands gently undid her panty and tossed it somewhere and then he parted her thighs, and for a moment, he just stared—mesmerized. She was stunning, every inch of her. Vulnerable and strong. His.
He lowered himself, lips ghosting over sensitive skin, and then—
A kiss.
Soft. Bold. Claiming.
Alina gasped, her fingers diving into his hair instinctively. It was overwhelming, electric—each touch sending waves of heat spiraling through her.
She tugged gently, unsure, breathless, but Damon didn't move away.
Instead, he caught both her wrists and pinned them either sides, gaze locked on her face as he worshipped her like a man starved.
Alina moaned, a sound that escaped her lips before she could stop it—raw and uncontrollable. She had never known this kind of pleasure, this kind of surrender. And Damon... he knew. He felt her every reaction, fed on it, deepened it.
He didn't stop until she was trembling, lost in a haze of sensations, calling out his name like a secret only the night could hear.
When he finally pulled back, her chest was rising and falling in uneven waves, her body limp with release.
But Damon wasn't done.
He kissed her lips—slow at first, then deeper—with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. One hand slid over her womanhood and he massaged it and another hand moved upward and found the clasp of her bra. A simple motion—unclipping, freeing her completely.
And he looked at her, truly looked at her.
As if she were art. As if she were destruction and salvation wrapped in one trembling body.
"You're mine," he whispered against her lips, possessive and breathless.
And Alina—eyes glassy, soul bare—didn't deny it.
Not tonight.
He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard while Alina became a moaning mess beneath him. His other hand massaged her second breast gently, yet firmly, making her writhe under his touch.
Damon took his time, devouring her with a hunger that made her body tremble. Every kiss, every lick, was filled with raw desire and unspoken obsession. Alina's fingers tangled in his hair as he moved between her soft curves, worshipping her like she was made of something divine.
Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut, as waves of sensation overtook her. Damon didn't rush—he moved with precision, with intent, as if memorizing every inch of her, owning her without saying a word.
Damon's breath grew heavier as he hovered above her, eyes darkened with a storm he could no longer contain. He slowly removed the last barriers between them—his belt, his pants, and then the soft rustle of fabric as everything fell away.
Alina closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what was coming—not just the act, but the surrender, the unraveling of everything she had guarded for so long.
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, voice trembling with restraint.
But she didn't.
Instead, her fingers curled against his back, pulling him closer.
There was no rush now. Only breath. Skin. Trust—fragile, trembling, but real.
He pushed into her slowly, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. "Damon, I... I can't—" But he silenced her with a deep kiss, claiming her completely in one fluid motion.
Her breath caught as Damon's lips trailed across her throat, his touch igniting a fire that consumed her from within. She whimpered, her body tightening around him, overwhelmed by the intensity of him.
"Damon… I… I can't—"
He silenced her with another kiss, swallowing her words, his grip on her hips firm, possessive. "Just let go, baby. Give yourself to me."
And she did.
Pain melted into pleasure, her body adjusting, surrendering. With every slow, deliberate thrust, he unraveled her, pushed her further into oblivion until all she knew was the feel of him, the way he whispered her name like a vow, the way he claimed her like she belonged to him alone.
"You take me so perfectly, Alina. Like you were made for this," he groaned against her lips, his voice raw with need.
A moan escaped her as she arched beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. Damon growled, his pace quickening, his control slipping as he drove her to the edge. His name fell from her lips in broken cries, her pleasure mingling with his, their bodies moving in a rhythm that felt inevitable.
Time blurred. Nothing existed beyond this moment, beyond the way he consumed her, the way he worshipped her with every touch, every thrust. His hands gripped her thighs, urging her to wrap them around his waist, pulling him deeper, sealing their connection in a way that felt irrevocable.
Hours passed in the haze of their passion, their bodies tangled in sheets damp with sweat and desire. Damon's voice was the last thing she heard as exhaustion claimed her, his lips pressing against her forehead in a whisper of possession.
"Mine," he murmured, dark and velvet-smooth. "Completely mine."
Alina didn't fight it. Couldn't.
Because in that moment, beneath the moonlight spilling through the curtains, she let herself belong to him—even if it meant losing herself completely.
And he? He vowed in silence to never let her go.
Not even if it destroyed them both.