Page 74 of Little Spider

“Damien,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

He smirks, pressing his forehead to mine.

“There it is,” he murmurs. “You’re finally admitting it. You’re finally saying my name like you know I own you.”

My cheeks burn, and I try to look away, but he won’t let me, his fingers digging into my hips.

“You can’t run from me,” he repeats, almost gently. “Even if you try. I’ll always find you. I’ll always pull you back. Because you’re mine. You chose this the moment you let me in.”

My heart hammers, and I feel the tears sting my eyes, but they don’t fall. His lips press against the corner of my mouth, soft this time, almost like an apology.

“You can’t hide from me,” he whispers. “I’ll always know where you are. Always.”

I hate how his words make something in my chest ache, like I want to believe him even though I know it’s wrong. He drags his lips down my neck, sucking another bruise into my skin, marking me all over again.

“You’ll never get rid of me,” he promises, his hands slipping under my shirt, fingers tracing over my ribs. “Because you don’t really want to. You want me to catch you every time. To remind you that you’re mine, no matter how far you try to run.”

My breathing hitches, and I feel the fight slipping out of me, replaced by something darker, deeper, rooted in the need I can’t shake. He smirks, sensing the shift, and kisses me again, harder this time, his hands bruising my skin.

“You’ll come back to me every time,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Because you’re addicted to the way I break you.”

And as much as I want to deny it, I know he’s right because no matter how far I run, I know I’ll never escape the way he makes me feel—alive, terrified, and irrevocably his.

His hands are relentless, gripping my thighs so tight I can feel the bruises forming. Damien’s lips crash against mine, rough and consuming, like he’s trying to remind me—brand me with every kiss. I can’t think, can’t breathe, and he’s not giving me a second to find my footing.

I try to twist away, but he just presses me harder against the wall, his hips pinning mine, his mouth dragging down my neck, teeth grazing over the fresh bruises he left earlier. My legs still wrap around his waist, and I hate how natural it feels, as if my body already knows how to fit against his.

“You keep running,” he whispers, his voice low and furious. “But you don’t get it, do you? You’re mine now. You don’t get to choose anymore.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and wild, like he’s barely holding himself together. His thumb brushes over my swollen lips, wiping away the blood he drew earlier, and his gaze softens for a moment—just a flicker, like he’s fighting something darker.

But it doesn’t last. His hand slides down, slipping under my shirt, fingers tracing the line of my ribs, making me shiver. He leans in, his mouth brushing over my jaw, biting down just hard enough to make me gasp.

“You made me chase you,” he growls, his lips moving against my skin. “You made me hunt you through that fucking crowd, and I couldn’t think of anything except dragging you back and reminding you who you belong to.”

His grip on my wrists tightens, pinning them against the wall above my head, his other hand moving to my hip, squeezing hard. I can feel the tension thrumming through him, like he’s barely holding back from tearing me apart.

“You don’t understand what you do to me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “You don’t get how much I need to make sure you don’t forget—how much I want to break anyone who even looks at you.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my breathing steady, but it’s impossible. His words wrap around my mind, sinking in like thorns, and I can’t tell if I want to shove him away or pull him closer.

“You think you can fight me?” he sneers, his teeth scraping over my collarbone. “But I’ve already won. You gave in last night. You begged for me. You can’t take that back.”

My cheeks burn, and I shake my head, but he just smirks, leaning in to bite down on my shoulder, hard enough to make me yelp.

“That’s it,” he taunts. “Scream for me. Remind me how much you need it.”

His hand moves lower, gripping my thigh, pulling me against him, and I can’t help the way my body responds—arching into his touch, my breath hitching. I hate that he’s right. I hate that I’m still drawn to him even after everything.

He drags his lips over my neck, his tongue flicking out to soothe the bite, and I shiver, trapped between wanting to push him away and wanting more.

“I saw the way you looked at me last night,” he murmurs. “Like you didn’t know whether to kiss me or stab me. That’s what I love about you, Raven. You’re a beautiful mess, just waiting to be broken.”

I try to pull my wrists free, but he just tightens his grip, forcing my arms higher, stretching me out against the wall. His eyes blaze with a dark, hungry light, and he presses his hips against mine, grinding just enough to make me gasp.

“You think you can just leave?” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “After I spent months making sure you were mine? You think I’ll just let you slip away?”

He kisses me again, hard and bruising, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, claiming me all over again. I can’t hold back the whimper, and he swallows it greedily, his hand slipping up to tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to make me tilt my head back.