CHAPTER 85: PROVOCATIVE

The wind roared relentlessly, but that no longer mattered to Damon. The real spectacle was right there, in front of him—or rather, beneath him. Ester’s slender, firm body, supporting him despite the storm, despite the weight, despite everything.

He smiled, a crooked, lazy smile, as if he had just discovered a new form of torture: not against himself, but against her.

And he decided to take advantage of it.

Damon let his chin fall gently onto her shoulder, inhaling the cold, sharp scent that always came from her, but also something else—a hidden sweetness, hard to capture, but addictive when perceived.

"You walk fast when you’re angry..." he murmured, his deep, low voice vibrating directly against her ear.

Ester shivered. A shiver ran down her spine, but she pretended to ignore it. "Shut up."

He chuckled softly, his warm breath brushing her skin. "Ah... but what if I don’t want to?"

Before she could retort, Damon turned his face and pressed his lips to her neck. A quick kiss, almost a whisper.

Ester’s body froze more than the entire blizzard around her.

"D-Damon?!" Her voice cracked in disbelief, the blush already creeping up her face to her ears.

"Hm..." he murmured, as if tasting something rare. "Cold on the outside, but... here..." Another kiss, slower, more brazen—so warm.

Ester lost her step for a second, sinking deeper into the snow.

"STOP this or I’ll... I’ll...!"

"You’ll what?" he interrupted, smiling against her skin. "Throw me to the ground again? Freeze me alive?"

He knew exactly she wouldn’t do any of those things. He knew because the way her shoulders trembled said so much more than any words could.

Ester, furious with herself, pressed her hands against his legs, holding him tighter.

Damon took advantage of the position. His arms slipped around her waist, wrapping her arms around him from behind in a tight hug.

She gasped in surprise. "What do you think you’re doing?!"

"Warming me." The reply came insolently, accompanied by more muffled laughter. "You’re much more comfortable than any campfire."

Heat rose in waves across her face. She wanted to scream, wanted to tell him to shut up... but part of her, a part she hated to admit existed, couldn’t move.

Damon leaned in again, his nose brushing her jawline until it reached her ear.

"You know..." he whispered, his voice so low it felt like a secret between them, "you’re even more beautiful when you’re angry."

Ester’s breath hitched.

"S-Shut up..."

"And when you blush like that..." he continued, ignoring her protest. "Hmm... I can’t resist."

And, as if to prove his point, Damon bit her earlobe lightly. Not hard, but enough to make her jump involuntarily.

"AAH!" She nearly stumbled again, her heart racing as if it were about to leap out of her chest. "Damon!"

He let out the most brazen laugh of the night.

"Ah, that was perfect." His voice vibrated against her skin, each word leaving trails of heat. "Miss Perfect, losing control just because of a little bite..."

"I’m going to kill you." The words came out shaky, more a threat of pride than conviction.

"Then you’ll have to carry me there, dead." He pressed himself closer to her, his embrace firm, possessive. "But until then... I’m going to have fun." Esther felt every muscle tense, every fiber of her body begging her to react, to push him, to freeze him, to... something. But nothing happened.

Because, deep down, something inside her was paralyzed. Not by the cold. Not by fear. But by that strange heat that grew with each provocation.

Damon noticed. Of course he noticed.

He slid his lips back to her neck, leaving another slow kiss. Then another. Each one a challenge. Each one a reminder that he was there, alive, reckless, and completely focused on her.

"Did you know you have an addictive taste?" he asked, as if it were a scientific finding. "I wanted to try it before, but... I thought I was going to lose my mind."

Ester was shaking. From the cold? From the heat? She no longer knew.

"You’re... an idiot..." she murmured, her voice breaking.

"Yes." He laughed. "But I’m the idiot you decided to save."

Those words cut deeper than any kiss.

Her chest tightened. Her breath faltered. And for a moment, Ester had no answer.

Damon relished the silence.

"I bet no one’s ever looked at you like that, have they?" he whispered in her ear, his lips dangerously close. "No one’s ever made you lose control."

Ester squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the rising tide of emotions. "I don’t... I don’t..."

"Don’t what?" he interrupted provocatively. "Don’t feel anything?"

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.

Damon smiled, satisfied with his silent victory. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck, leaving a lingering kiss, as if he wanted to engrave that moment forever.

"Ester Deathstriker..." he murmured against her skin, savoring every syllable. "Impossible to resist you."

She gasped, her legs nearly giving way for a second.

He returned to her ear, his voice low, husky. "And I won’t stop. Not until you admit it."

"A-admit what?!" she asked, furious and desperate, her face burning.

His smile widened.

"That you like it."

The silence fell like a sentence.

The storm raged around them, but between them, the world seemed suspended.

Ester felt the words like a punch. Denying it was easy, always had been. But in that moment... her body, her heart, even her breath betrayed her.

Damon noticed. Of course he noticed.

He chuckled softly and bit her earlobe again, this time more boldly.

"You’re mine, whether you like it or not."

"I-IDIOT!" she screamed, her voice cracking between hatred and shame, trying to walk faster just to escape what she felt.

But it didn’t matter how hard she ran. He was there, glued to her. And every provocation he made left invisible marks, stronger than any wound.

The wind roared. The snow fell. But the real storm was inside her.

And Damon... smiled, as if he had won the war.