Revelation slowly stepped back, her eyes locked on Damon. His expression was unreadable, cold, like he was dissecting her with his stare. For a few tense seconds, neither of them said anything. She scanned his face, trying to guess if he'd figured her out—if he knew who she really was and why she'd truly been brought here.
"You don't need to analyze me, kitten," he said coolly. "I know you've got something up your sleeve. And I'll figure it out soon enough."
His voice was low and biting, each word pushing her back like a force of wind. But then she stopped retreating, standing her ground, eyes blazing as the space between them disappeared until they were almost touching.
A flicker of relief sparked inside her—he didn't know yet. But it still irritated her. Damon was watching her too closely, suspecting too much. If he kept sniffing around, she'd never get the chance to meet with her contact. He was sand in the gears of her plans.
She took a deep breath, jaw tightening. "I don't know what your problem is," she snapped. "But it's obvious you're obsessed with me. I've told you already—I'm not interested. So back. Off."
He didn't flinch. Instead, he looked down at her with something like amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Obsessed?" he repeated with a mocking chuckle. "You're the one who stole my first kiss, thief. Sounds like you're the obsessed one."
Her breath caught. She blinked, startled. His first kiss? Was he serious—or just messing with her head?
Damon—Fang, or whatever he was—was a certified jerk. Arrogant. Dangerous. And every inch of him screamed trouble. Still... she had to admit he was annoyingly handsome. In a rugged, rough-around-the-edges way. Tattoos laced up his thick arms, one of his biceps easily the size of her head. And his eyes—gods, his eyes—were an impossible mix of gold and grey. Like moonlight flashing off a blade. Cold. Sharp. Hypnotic.
Eyes that didn't belong to someone his age. They looked like they'd seen too much. Lived through things no one should.
Revelation hated that she noticed.
Hated even more that her heart skipped a beat when his smirk deepened, like he could hear her thoughts. She yanked her gaze from his eyes and glared at the scar running across his jaw. A reminder that someone had hurt him once. Maybe she could, too.
"You're delusional," she spat, voice lower now but sharp. "I didn't steal your kiss. Who exactly are you trying to deceive?"
Damon leaned in closer, head tilting like a cat toying with its prey. "I'm trying to deceive you?" he echoed, mockingly thoughtful. "That's crazy, kitten. Because I remember you crushing your lips against mine, so who's deceiving who."
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. He was baiting her—and she was tired of falling for it.
"You're wasting your time. And mine." She stepped to the side. "I'm not your toy. I'm not here for your games."
She turned to walk away—but he caught her wrist and yanked her back, slamming her into the wall. She gasped, eyes wide. Before she could react, he raised his tattooed hand, and her head snapped to the side on instinct, like she expected a blow.
Instead, he laughed.
His right hand—covered in ink from knuckle to fingertip—pressed her waist firmly against the wall, and then he shoved two fingers into her mouth.
Her eyes flew wide.
He moved his fingers slowly around, rubbing the roof of her mouth, her tongue, then sliding them across her lips, now wet and parted. His eyes darkened as they stayed fixed on her mouth.
"For some reason, I can't stop thinking about your lips," he murmured. "It disgusts me."
Her fists trembled at her sides from the humiliation. The invasion.
"Get your hand out of my mouth," she growled, though it came out muffled.
"I don't kiss women, kitten. I don't even remember their names. I fuck them. That's it." His voice was low, hoarse. "But you—you had the audacity to put those lips on mine."
Her glare sharpened into something wild—and then she bit.
Hard.
He winced, but didn't pull back. She bit down harder, teeth sinking into his fingers, and his smirk only widened. He grabbed her neck suddenly, tilted her head to the side—and bit her back, hard enough to draw blood.
She gasped, letting go of his fingers. She shoved him away, heart pounding, blood trickling from her mouth.
She touched her neck, fingers trembling, but she couldn't see the wound—only feel the sting and heat spreading under her skin.
And Damon?
He was standing there like a demon, licking her blood off his lips with a satisfied grin.
She turned to him, anger blazing in her eyes. "Are you insane?" she snapped, her voice trembling—not from fear, but from pure, blinding fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Damon wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, his gaze locked on hers—unbothered. No… amused.
"You bit me first, kitten. I thought we were sharing."
"You bit my neck, psycho!" she yelled, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Do I look like your dinner?"
He caught her hand mid-jab, gripping it just tight enough to remind her who was stronger. His smirk only deepened.
"No. You look like dessert."
Revelation's jaw dropped. Her palm itched to punch the arrogance off his face.
"You're disgusting."
"And yet…" he murmured, leaning in again, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, "you still haven't walked away."
This time, she shoved him—hard. Her hands hit his chest with more fury than strength. He shifted slightly, still grinning.
"Stay away from me, Damon. Or whatever you call yourself. Touch me again and I swear I'll break something more important than your fingers."
His eyes gleamed with amusement, like her threat was a flirtation.
"You'd have to get close to do that. And kitten… you're not leaving my sight."
"Stay. Away," she hissed, each word like a blade. "You've completely lost your damn mind."
She wanted to scream. Wanted to plant her boot somewhere painful. But instead, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her mind racing with a hundred insults she didn't say aloud. Behind her, Damon's low, dark chuckle echoed through the Estate grounds.
He looked down at his fingers, feeling the sting of her bite still pulsing.
And smiled.
He liked her fire.
Too bad he was going to be the one to burn her first.