Page 38 of Salem’s Fall (Dark Seasons Thriller #3)

“Of course you can’t trust me,” he says, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been raised in a family that’s built its legacy on manipulation, on secrets and witchcraft and blood sacrifices. Despite what I feel for you, I’m not the good guy in this story. I never will be.”

I cross my arms, defiance hardening my resolve.

“You’re right. You’re not.”

I can’t allow myself to fall for this man, no matter how much he makes my heart race.

I’m not the kind of woman that believes in fairy tales and happy endings, not after everything I’ve seen in my life.

A love confession from a man like Damien Blackhollow?

And just a few days before he’s meant to sacrifice a fourth victim—a Tether, a woman like me—in order to ascend the Veil ranks?

It all feels just a little too coincidental…

“Take me back to the Cottage,” I demand.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until this is over.”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to, but if it means keeping you alive, I’ll do whatever it takes.” His gaze sharpens, his voice now dropping to a dangerous whisper. “The Veil has something planned for you. It’s not safe for you out there. Not with Veil Night just a few days away.”

“A few days? How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week.”

My jaw drops.

“A week?”

“You’ve been in and out of it for days. Gave me quite the scare, but my doctors said it looked worse than it really was.

That you just needed rest. But if you think for one second that I’m going to let anyone else try to harm you—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply, as if grappling with the intensity of his own feelings. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

“Oh, is that why I’m your prisoner? For my own protection?” I let out a sharp, disbelieving snort. “How convenient—locking me up just days before Veil Night.”

“Convenient is the last thing you are,” he mocks, his laugh bitter and low. “You’re reckless. Headstrong. The most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” He takes a step forward, gaze burning into mine. “And yet, no matter what I do—no matter how hard I try—I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”

His hand comes up—slow, deliberate—and curls around the side of my throat, thumb resting just below my jaw.

Not tight. Just enough to make me feel owned.

He pulls me in until our faces are inches apart, his eyes dark and unreadable.

For a beat, he just stares at me, like he’s trying to capture every detail. Like he’s at war with himself.

The air crackles, the magnetic pull between us undeniable. It’s not safe. None of this is safe. He’s dangerous, I know that. A man capable of things I can barely comprehend. But I can’t look away. A dark, twisted force draws me closer and closer even when I know I should run.

This isn’t some sweet, soft fairy tale. It’s messier. Twisted.

And God help me, I want it anyway.

My breath catches as his lips graze mine, a fleeting touch that sends a surge of warmth and fear spiraling through me.

My hands find his chest, but instead of pushing him away like I know I should, I cling to him, pulling him in, letting myself get lost in the thrill of feeling his body against mine.

Before I know what’s happening, his hands tangle in my hair and his mouth crashes into mine in a fierce, searing kiss.

A groan escapes him—low, guttural, like he’s been holding back for far too long and can’t anymore.

His body presses against mine, all heat and tension and need, like he’s trying to memorize the way I fit against him.

For a brief, reckless moment, I forget everything but the feel of him.

Lips touching. Tongues meeting deliciously.

Breath tangling. My entire body explodes like I’ve been struck by lightning, like I’m on fire and am going to die, but it will be the most exquisite death anyone’s ever had.

Never in my life have I been kissed the way this man is kissing me.

But just before I tumble completely off the cliff—past the point of no return—a sliver of reason cuts through the fog of my desire.

“No, we can’t…” I murmur against his mouth, breathless. “This is wrong…”

He jerks back slightly, eyes darkening—confused.

“James?”

“You… you’re dangerous, Damien.” I shake my head, my breath coming in shaky bursts. “You can’t just kiss me and expect me to ignore what I know about you.”

“Maybe I am dangerous,” he admits. “But I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

“Safe? From what— from you ? No, you’re as bad as Nick,” I say, my voice trembling. The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I’ve known this all along. Nothing about Damien is safe. “You’re just another man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “I will.”

A cold chill slithers down my spine. His admission is a reminder of the darkness lurking within him, a darkness that no amount of chemistry and attraction or professed feelings can erase.

He’s everything I should fear, everything I should run from.

A man who bends morality to suit his needs, who doesn’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to reach his end goal—no matter how wrong.

A memory flickers in my mind—faint, but persistent.

The fancy restaurant. The wine. The overwhelming exhaustion that hit me out of nowhere. I’d been drinking, sure, but not enough to feel like that.

I look up at him sharply. “That night at dinner, you drugged me, didn’t you?

I wouldn’t listen about the Hollow, so you made me listen.

” The pieces snap together as I finally understand just how far this man will go to control me.

“The Xanax,” I whisper, remembering the prescription bottle I found in his briefcase at the Cottage. “That’s how you did it, isn’t it?”

His expression darkens. “How do you know about the Xanax?”

“It doesn’t matter!” I snap, my pulse pounding in my ears. “How could you do that to me?”

His eyes lock onto mine, a storm brewing beneath their surface.

“I did it for your own damn good. I needed to keep you safe.”

“You drugged me—against my will—to keep me safe ?” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea how messed up that sounds?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. A muscle in his jaw clenches, and for the briefest moment, something like regret flickers across his face. But then it’s gone, buried beneath that familiar cold resolve.

“Maybe so. But it worked.”

Anger curls hot in my stomach, but it’s not enough.

I’m not nearly angry enough for what he did.

I swallow hard, feeling off-balance and confused at my own emotions.

I should be furious at the sheer violation of him taking my autonomy—my choices—away.

I should be looking at him with nothing but loathing, demanding he let me go, threatening to make him pay.

But I’m not.

Because I can’t ignore the truth in what he’s saying.

I would have gone that night to the Hollow.

Like with Hargrove, I probably would have walked straight into something I wasn’t prepared for, and I don’t know if I would have made it back alive.

I hate that he’s right, but even more I hate that some part of me—some sick, twisted part—doesn’t hate him nearly as much as I should.

Beneath my anger, something unexpected slithers.

Something unsettling. Something like… gratitude.

And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Damien Blackhollow is far more dangerous than I ever suspected. He can control me, manipulate even my very emotions, bend my reality until I can’t tell right from wrong anymore. A man like this… what else has he done? What else is he capable of?

“You did it, didn’t you?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “You killed those women—Carla, Elise, Vivienne. I’m sure they also believed your lies when you told them how much you cared for them.”

Something cracks in his expression—a flash of pain, raw and unguarded. His hands clench at his sides like he has to physically restrain himself. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” His voice is sharp, almost desperate. “I never hurt those women.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” His lips press into a hard line.

He looks almost… wounded, like he can’t quite believe I think so little of him.

But then, just as quickly, his expression steels over, his voice turning cold.

“But remember this—I’m the only one keeping you from becoming the Veil’s next sacrifice. ”

“So that’s it? You’re really doing this?” I ask, my voice unsteady, like I’m still waiting for him to take it all back. “You’re just going to keep me here against my will?”

“Now you’re getting it, Counselor.” He smirks, but there’s no humor in it.

“You’ll find all the doors and windows in this house are locked to you.

Otherwise, you’re free to roam within these walls however you like.

All this”—he gestures around the room—“all that’s mine is now yours too, to do with as you wish.

If you need anything, just ask, and I’ll make sure you have it,” he says.

“But you won’t be leaving Blackthorn Manor until I say so. ”

A sharp pulse of panic shoots through me as I realize just how screwed I am. Trapped in this fortress of a house, away from all my family and friends, solely at the mercy of Damien Blackhollow—a man who could be my savior or my doom.

“You can’t just keep me here! You’re—you’re a monster!”

“Maybe I am,” he says, my heart hammering as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my temple, catching me off guard. “But it’s a role I’m willing to play if it means keeping you safe. Because if I let you leave, you won’t live to see November.”

Then he strides to the door and slams it shut. The sound echoes through the room, final and unyielding, sealing my fate inside this gilded cage.