Jealous Damon

The music thumped around her, low and heavy.

The hospital charity gala was in full swing, glittering with wealthy donors and bored aristocrats. Alessia stood near the bar, clutching a glass of champagne she barely sipped.

She didn’t even see the man until he was beside her — a young lawyer from the city, smooth-talking, polished.

He leaned in too close, laughing too loud at his own jokes.

She plastered on a tight smile, already plotting her escape — but across the room, she caught a flash of him.

Damon.

He stood half in the shadows, a drink forgotten in his hand, his eyes locked on her.

Not moving.

Not blinking.

Watching.

When the lawyer brushed his hand along Alessia’s bare arm, Damon’s jaw ticked. His hand flexed around his glass like he was imagining snapping something — or someone — in half.

The next second, he was moving, stalking toward her with the kind of predatory grace that made her mouth go dry.

“You’re needed,” Damon said, his voice a rough growl as he slipped between her and the lawyer, his hand settling possessively on her lower back.

Alessia stiffened.

The lawyer blinked. “By who?”

“By me,” Damon said, deadly calm.

Without waiting for permission, he steered Alessia away, his fingers digging just slightly into her hip.

Once they were clear of the crowd, she yanked free, furious.

“You can’t just manhandle me whenever you feel like it!”

“You were uncomfortable,” he said flatly. “I fixed it.”

“I can handle—”

“I know you can,” he cut her off, voice low, dangerous. “Doesn’t mean I like watching him put his hands on you.”

Their faces were close now. Too close.

Alessia’s heart pounded. She could feel the anger rolling off him — and something else. Something hotter, darker.

Damon’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her — right there, in front of everyone.

And God help her, she wanted him to.

But he only leaned in, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice dark silk, “I’m the only man who touches you.”

Alessia shivered all the way down to her toes.

It was pouring rain when Alessia found Damon waiting outside her apartment building.

Again.

“Are you stalking me now?” she snapped, yanking her hood tighter over her head.

He didn’t move from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Rain slicked his hair back, drops sliding down the sharp lines of his jaw. He looked like something wild and furious.

“You’re in danger,” he said simply.

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed, shouldering past him.

Damon caught her wrist — not hard, just enough to stop her.

The rain poured between them, cold and heavy.

His touch burned.

“Then why are you shaking?” he asked quietly.

Alessia wrenched free, anger crackling through her like lightning. “Because of you!” she shouted. “You keep showing up, messing with my head, making me—” She broke off, chest heaving.

“Making you what?” he demanded, voice raw.

Their eyes clashed — hers furious, his burning.

“Making me feel,” she whispered, broken.

The silence was deafening.

Damon stepped closer until they were nose-to-nose, rain soaking through their clothes. His hands hovered near her arms, like he wanted to pull her into him but didn’t dare without her permission.

“You think you’re the only one?” he rasped. “Every time you walk away, it feels like I’m dying.”

Her breath caught.

Their faces were inches apart.

The heat between them a live wire, snapping, sizzling.

For one wild second, Alessia leaned in, their mouths brushing — not a kiss yet, just a breath apart.

She could taste him.

She could fall.

But at the last moment, she shoved him back, shaking her head violently.

“I can’t,” she choked out.

Damon let her go, his fists clenching at his sides, watching her like she’d just ripped his heart out.

“You will,” he said hoarsely. “One day.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the rain, leaving her standing there, aching.