I hadn't meant to look at her again, but my gaze kept drifting to her, watching her, longer than I should have. But something kept pulling me back to her, as if gravity was a command whispered in her name.
She looked eternal under that soft glow of streetlight. Is this what it feels like to adore someone with a whole heart? I questioned myself.
I shouldn't have stared.
But I did. When we pulled in outside her place, I didn't wake her. I just sat there like an idiot, letting the silence stretch. The city hummed outside, lights blinking through the glass, but all I could focus on was the slow rise and fall of her breathing.
She looked fragile. And I hated how much that affected me.
"Really, Ella?" I muttered, tapping the wheel to do something with my hands. "You're just gonna knock out like that?" Nothing. Not even a twitch. I tried again. "Superstar. We're here."
Still nothing. A breath, half sigh, half laugh, escaped me. "…Alright. You asked for it." I opened the car door, walking to her side. When I lifted her, her body melted into me as if it recognised my body—like I was something familiar that her body leaned toward without thinking.
When her face buried against my neck—her breath warm, her lips just barely grazing my collarbone—I froze. Fuck...
My heartbeat felt like someone was punching my ribs so fasten geez she makes me go crazy...
"Damn it," I muttered, but I didn't move.
Her scent was soft, warm, just hers. wrapped around me like a memory I could never escape. It was both painful and comforting.
By the time I got her inside and onto the bed, I thought I was steady again. I thought the ache in my chest had faded.
Then she grabbed my wrist. Not tight. Not desperate. Just enough. Enough to make something in me unravel. Maybe the drinks were catching up on her, hair framing her face
"Ella…" The word came out softer than I intended, breaking at the edges.
Her voice, raw with exhaustion, slipped out:
"Ash…"
And I swear if she'd asked for anything in that moment, I would've given it.
Every part of me leaned toward her before I could stop it. Her hand on my wrist, her body relaxed beneath the sheets, her lashes casting shadows across her cheeks—she looked like a promise no one should touch.
My breath brushed her lips too close, too dangerous—but I didn't pull back.
"You're gonna be the death of me," I whispered, voice low, rough, real. inches apart as I sat down on the floor, resting my head beside the bedside, gazing at her.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years of following her, standing beside her as if I belonged there, even when she never knew I was more than just her companion, "I was hers."
She slept as if nothing could touch her, as if she was safe because I was close enough to catch her if she fell. Her breath was soft and warm against my throat. The smallest exhale from her lips made my stomach tighten in a way that felt too familiar.
How many nights had I imagined this?
How many times had I allowed myself to believe she might finally look at me and see all that had always been there? The devotion, the hunger, the unwavering loyalty.
I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand, slow and deliberate. It wasn't enough to wake her, but it satisfied that desperate part of me that craved contact like oxygen. She twitched, her fingers curling slightly, almost as if she was reaching for me.
And I swear, my pulse stopped.
"Ella…"
Her name felt different in moments like this. Softer. Ruined. A prayer and a warning intertwined. I leaned closer, unable to pull away, drawn in by something I had fought for too long.
Fifteen years of being patient.
Fifteen years of pretending this wasn't killing me.
"Do you even know what you do to me?" My lips hovered near her ear, my voice low, barely audible—just breath and confession.
"You chase the whole world," I whispered, my chest tightening, "but you never noticed I've been chasing you."
I moved my hand from her wrist to her jaw, the pad of my thumb tracing her cheekbone the softest, most dangerous touch I'd ever allowed myself.
She didn't flinch. She didn't pull away. She leaned into it. And that was the moment something inside me shifted. Cracked. Broke open.
She wasn't just the girl I loved. She was the fucking ache that went deep in my bones
The obsession I never asked for but could never fight.
A low, humorless breath escaped me. "Just once," I murmured, my forehead nearly touching hers, "turn around and see me."
My chest burned with want, frustration, and devotion all tangled together into something darker. The darker thoughts curled up to me, "You can cage a butterfly."
"Maybe this was the only way," I whispered, the words barely forming, more breath than sound, like I was confessing to her bones rather than her ears. My thumb stroked her throat once. Slow. Possessive. Reverent.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, not kissing, just close enough for my breath to warm her skin.
"I've waited," I murmured, voice low, roughened by restraint that was starting to fracture, "longer than anyone should ever wait. And you never saw me. Never noticed the way I watched you fall in love with everything except the one person who would burn the world just to keep you breathing."
My fingers slid down her jaw, resting at her throat—not squeezing, not threatening—just claiming space that had always been mine in every way except spoken aloud.
"Mine… right?"
The words weren't a question. They were a truth I'd waited too long to say—even if she was too asleep to realize she'd finally heard it.
And for the first time in fifteen years, I didn't want to let go.
---
Ella's POV~
Morning light filtered through the curtains, warming the sheets and my skin. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, stretching lazily until my fingers tangled in something soft and thick.
Hair. I froze. My gaze fell, and my breath caught.
Asher.
He was sleeping on the floor beside my bed, his head resting against the edge as if he fought sleep until the very end. His curls were a mess—wild and soft, the kind of hair that only deep sleep and exhaustion could create. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted as he breathed quietly.
He looked peaceful. But there was something else in his expression—a hint of vulnerability mixed with restraint, with calmness hiding a storm.
I felt myself tensed up real quick as reality hit me hard.
My phone lit up. Thirty minutes.
"OH MY FUCKING GOD!." The curse escaped me as adrenaline surged through my veins.
I shot upright so quickly that the room spun. I stumbled to the nightstand and grabbed my phone again, notifications pouring in. I barely registered anything until I heard Asher's voice, low and rough with sleep.
"You're up?"
He wasn't looking at me yet—just rubbing his face, half-asleep, his shirt riding up enough to reveal a sliver of warm skin and a toned stomach. Before I could respond, he gave in and flopped face-first onto the bed beside me with a muffled groan.
I shook my head, muttering under my breath, suddenly another Buzz. Another notification.
Sylus: "Heading to the company. They called you last night. I'll pick you up. See you soon."
My heart raced. I typed a quick reply, grabbed my clothes, and dashed to the bathroom—slamming the door behind me. "How could I be knocked out? fuck." I look like a graveyard zombie, ughh, the wine and drinks were too much ig. I slipped away to freshen up, unaware of the brewing going on.
---
Asher's POV~
The slam echoed, but I didn't look up. Burrying my face into the pillow deeper as I lay there, listening to the shower, hearing her rush through the morning like she always did. It was chaotic, beautiful, and impossible.
Jealousy clawed up my ribs, slow, sharp, and poisonous. The way she hurriedly texted him back as if she had left a piece of herself with him. " That son of Bitch." My voice dripping with venom, suddenly her scent deeply buried in pillow, hit me hard
I breathed in her scent from the pillow—warm, sweet, and floral but not innocent.
A dangerous comfort.
One I sank into like a sinner at an altar. Minutes passed before the bathroom door clicked open again.
And then, there she was.
Fresh from the shower, water still dripping from her curls as it slid down her throat, slowly catching faint sunlight. She wore a deep red robe that tied tightly at her waist as if afraid to slip away. It was loose enough to tease skin and had enough curve and softness to make my blood burn.
I dropped my head back into the pillow with a quiet groan, my fists clenching the sheets.
"What the fuck even am I to her?"
"Does she even know what she looks like right now? "
"Does she even know what she is doing to me rn?"
She rummaged through her closet, completely unaware of the slow unraveling happening less than three feet away. Then she disappeared again.
Leaving me with nothing but memory and restraint stretched thin.
Time felt as if it had slowed down as 15 minutes passed, and when she stepped out the second time, dressed and polished, everything inside me tightened.
She looked effortless. Her hair fell around her shoulders, her fitted top hugged her waist, and her wide-leg denim trousers swayed softly with each step. Her earrings glinted with every move. Her lips held a soft berry tint, kissable and ruinous.
My jaw tightened until it ached. She slipped on her shoes and hurried to the door.
"Make sure you rest," she said, not noticing the battle raging behind my eyes. "Eat something. I left food in the fridge. And lock the door with the spare key—I'm late."
She gave me a small, half-smile, playful, gentle, and unaware.
"You look like a zombie anyway." And just like that, she was gone.
The door shut as the Silence swallowed the room whole. I moved without thinking, going straight to the window.
Soon, a sleek black car stopped outside. She ran toward it, messy, adorable, and alive. He leaned over to open the door for her.
Her smile, bright and unaware, hit me like a knife.
The car rolled away. And I finally breathed. Slow. Controlled. Barely.
I slipped off my shirt, tossing it aside. The ink sprawled across my back caught the sunlight, part of me she still didn't know. The part of what happened abroad. The part meant for the war that was coming.
My voice dropped into the still air, almost a vow.
"Oh, Ella…" My fingers tapped rhythmically against the windowsill, steady and patient.
"As much as it kills me not to have you yet, I'll wait." A low hum of something darker threaded through my pulse.
"But don't mistake patience for absence." My reflection stared back at me, eyes dark, jaw tense, with something feral simmering beneath the calm.
"You won't run forever." A faint, humorless smirk curved my lips.
"And when you finally turn back to me…" My hand closed slowly, like catching wings midair.
"I won't let you go."
----
Ella's POV~
My phone buzzed. Again, as I stepped outside the company, the shoot was canceled.
Perfect. Just what I needed on a morning that was already chaotic. Now what was I supposed to do? I let out a sharp breath, running a hand through my hair as sunlight spilled onto the pavement, too bright and too loud for my mood.
I walked back towards the parking lot, and Sylus was leaning against his sleek black BMW like a sin carved into metal. One ankle crossed over the other, his suit jacket undone just enough to look intentional. His sunglasses rested low on his nose, revealing the quiet amusement in his eyes, the kind that made you feel like he already knew your next five decisions.
His gaze met mine. How many languages can he even speak? as he ended the call.
"What happened? Did you forget something?" " No... the shoot got canceled."
A grin slipped on his lips. "So… you're free now." His tone showed no surprise. It was as if the universe unfolded exactly as he expected it to.
I narrowed my eyes. " Barely. I was supposed to shoot three looks today, then head to the flower shop.." Sylus pushed off the car, slow and deliberate, like a predator who knew I had no chance to escape.
" Perfect. Now you're coming with me." I raised my eyebrow, "To where exactly?"
He shrugged casually in a way, "A masquerade gala. Very exclusive. I need a date."
I blinked."You're asking me like you're offering coffee." A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips." Coffee is next week. Sweetheart, let's go with dress code first."
This guy never fails to make me speechless. " Absolutely not." He walked forward, inches apart." Already confirmed your attendance. Try again."
He opened the passenger door with a lazy flick of his wrist, as if this was meant to happen. Before I could protest again, he scooped me up—effortless, unfair, infuriating—and placed me in the seat. "YA! How could you-"
" SYLUS!" He shut the door gently, too gently, like he was handling something fragile. He slid inside the driver's seat. "I am kidnapping you for a while, hope you wont mind it Ella " his voice calm, smrik plastered on his face as he swiftly started the car "OH! I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING MIND IT!" my voice dripped with sarcasm "I seriously can't understand you sylus"
A few minutes later, the boutique smelled expensive, like money, power, and secrets wrapped in silk. Soft jazz floated through the room. Sylus fit in too well. He had his hands in his pockets, his tie slightly undone. He strolled through the couture gowns as if he were choosing a weapon.
My mind raced with possible thoughts. Who even was he? Was he just some investor's assistant or something else.. Lost in thought, I bumped into him as he abruptly turned around, "ouch-"
He paused and picked a gown off the rack. A Deep wine-red. Elegant. Sinful and the slit was too high for sanity.
" No. Absolutely not." My voice came before I could register my own words. He tilted his head.
" Is "no' your today's go to word?" I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Before I could retort, he stepped behind me, holding the dress to my body. We faced the mirror together. The gown draped over me as if it already knew my shape. His hand adjusted the fabric at my hip—slow, firm, familiar in a way it should not be.
My breath hitched." It's too—" his voice low, behind my ear. " Hm? too what sweetheart, making you look like a beautiful sin?"
Heat crawled up my spine. " I could just pick black." " Wear black if you want to feel invisible." His gaze burned through the mirror. He leaned closer, " But you will catch my attention. No color changes that."
I turned, meeting his eyes without the safety of glass. " You're impossible."
Sylus smiled slowly, devastatingly. "And yet, you're still here."
He handed me the dress and nodded toward the fitting room. " Try it."
I hesitated. He raised an eyebrow. " Unless you're doubting my choice?"
I snatched the gown from his hand and marched into the fitting room, completely ignoring the ridiculous smile pulling at my lips. The dress fit like temptation designed just for me. Silk hugged every line. The slit defied gravity. The neckline whispered sins.
I tried to zip it. Halfway. Stuck. Of course. "What the fuck.." I cussed under my breath as I tried again, "Unbelievable." A knock on the door, " You done, Ella?" " No. Just need a little help, can you call anyone for assistance?"
Pause. "For what?" I tried ot supress my annoyance. "My zipper got stuck. "
I cracked the door open just enough to glare." You are NOT enjoying this."
He leaned against the frame, relaxed, amused, and dangerous.
" Enjoying? No." His voice dropped. " Maybe Enduring? Barely." "Where is the attendant?" "They are on break." He said in a casual tone, "Unless you want me to bother them? "
I rolled my eyes." Can you just fix it. No commentary." He let out a low chuckle. "Here," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "Let me help". His hands were cool and steady. His breath was warm on my neck. With a firm tug—zip. Smooth. Final.
But his hand didn't move. It stayed. Right there. At the small of my back. I felt the shift before he spoke. His gaze met mine in that private, secluded room, golden hue and undeniable floral scent hitting all the right notes. He really looked this time, his gaze trailing down my body. "You look…" Silence stretched—slow, electric.
"Look what?" His voice was low, unfiltered, and dangerous. " Like something a sane man would run from… and a broken man would burn the world for."
"EH?" I frowned at his words in confusion. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at him he stepped back
"The color of my favorite wine… and just as intoxicating." As he stepped closer behind me, whispering in my ears, deep, low, sinful, a chill ran down my spine as heat crawled up behind my neck.
---
SYLUS POV~
I stepped back slowly, taking my time. I let my gaze linger on her reflection, as if I was trying to memorize a sacred text. The height difference became painfully obvious in the mirror; she stood poised and unaware, while I loomed behind her, staring like a man who hadn't eaten in days.
Her open curls fell down her back, softly rebellious, the silk clinging to her like it had been sewn right onto her skin.
My God. That neckline running down the stretch of bare skin caught the lights in the boutique, glimmering like it was covered in moonlight and temptation.
A low breath escaped me. The monster deep inside me—the one I'd pretended was buried lifted its head with slow, hungry curiosity.
"Devour her." Not gently. Not sweetly.
Like she was meant for it. And damn, the thought burned through the last bits of my sanity.
Only if I were the one honoured enough to take that dress off her tonight.
I pressed my hand to my face before the thought grew darker, dragging my palm down as if I could wipe away the madness. I let out a dark, shaky laugh and forced the words past the tightness in my throat.
"Ella," I murmured softly, low but dangerously calm. It was the kind of tone meant for secrets or confessions you never take back. "Do you have any idea what you look like right now?"
She blinked in the mirror, confused and unaware, and devastating. My dear salvation and the only chaos I'd ever accept.
"You look," I breathed, letting the honesty pierce the air between us, "absolutely breathtaking."
The kind of beauty that ruins men. The kind that makes blood burn and restraint feel like a punishment. I took a step closer, closing the distance until there was barely any space for air between us. "The color of my favorite wine… and just as intoxicating."
I leaned down slowly, settling my head into the warm curve of her neck—too close, too intimate, too much but still not enough. She was standing still, frozen in her place, her tinted lips parted, but no words could leave those lips. Her skin felt feverish as her ears were slightly turned red. I gazed at her, barely holding myself together, a small, lazy grin crossed my lips as I locked gaze with her through the mirror.
My gaze was trying to analyze any sense of discomfort she might be having all she was feeling was stunned and speechless. Seems like I again made her speechless, " Mio Amore." Her scent wrapped around me
Vanilla. Warm. Soft. & Addictive. I inhaled once, slow and deep. Every muscle in my body tightened as if someone had pulled through me. Not a question. Not a request. A vow wrapped in velvet. And a warning wrapped in hunger.
I stood behind her as she turned around, slightly flustered, and as I took her hand in mine, she was small compared to mine as I held her, gazing into those beautiful brown eyes looking back at me.
"Honor me," I whispered against her skin, my voice barely human, "and be my date tonight."