Dragon's Obsession

Chapter 1: The Haunting Chase

I could still feel the heat of his breath on my neck, the way his fingers—claws?—had grazed my skin as I slipped out of his grasp. My heart thundered in my chest as I darted through the labyrinthine corridors of the hospital, the sterile scent of disinfectant burning my lungs. I’d lost track of how many floors I’d climbed, how many elevators I’d barely escaped in. Every time I thought I’d shaken him, there he was—Damien, or whatever the hell he’d become after touching that cursed dragon scale.

‘Come back, Lila,’ his voice echoed in my mind, a growl laced with something primal, something that wasn’t human. I could still see the flash of scales under his skin, the way his eyes burned gold when he’d grabbed me with that damn tail. My skin prickled at the memory, a twisted cocktail of fear and something darker, something I refused to name.

The elevator dinged, and I stumbled out onto yet another floor, my boots slapping against the linoleum. Behind me, the doors hissed shut just as I heard his roar—too close. ‘You can’t run forever, love,’ he’d snarled earlier, his voice dripping with a hunger that made my thighs clench despite myself. Damn him. Damn whatever that dragon had done to him.

I rounded a corner, my breath ragged, and spotted another elevator. My salvation. I slammed the button, willing the doors to open faster. ‘Not this time, asshole,’ I muttered under my breath, glancing over my shoulder. The hallway was empty, but I could feel him. He was always there, a shadow stitched to my every step.

The elevator arrived, and I dove inside, jabbing at the close button like my life depended on it. It did. As the doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of him—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair wild, those golden eyes locked on me with a promise of possession. ‘Lila,’ he mouthed, and I swore I felt the heat of his gaze through the metal.

‘Fuck off, Damien,’ I hissed to the empty car, my voice trembling with a mix of adrenaline and something hotter, something I hated myself for feeling. My body betrayed me, a flush creeping up my chest as I remembered the way he’d pressed against me before I’d escaped, his hard body unyielding, his cock straining through his jeans like a weapon meant just for me. I shook my head, banishing the thought. He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t my Damien.

Days later, I thought I’d finally outrun him. I sat outside a quaint little café, the sun warming my skin as I waited for a blind date—a distraction, a way to forget. The guy, Ethan, was already there, lounging on a bench with a lazy smirk. ‘You must be Lila,’ he drawled, his voice smooth as whiskey. ‘Heard you’re a runner. Hope I don’t have to chase you.’

I forced a laugh, sharp and biting. ‘Only if you’re worth catching, sweetheart.’ My eyes flicked over him—cute, but no spark. Not like… No. I wouldn’t think of him.

We talked, meaningless banter to fill the silence, until I turned to glance at the café window. My breath caught. There he was. Damien. Sitting inside, a coffee cup in hand, looking every bit the man I’d loved before the dragon claimed him. His dark eyes met mine, no gold in sight, just raw, aching need. My heart stuttered, torn between running and rushing to him.

‘Problem?’ Ethan asked, following my gaze.

‘Old baggage,’ I snapped, my voice colder than I felt. ‘Thinks he owns me.’

Ethan chuckled, leaning closer. ‘Does he?’

I smirked, leaning in just enough to tease. ‘Not a chance. I don’t belong to anyone.’ But as I said it, my eyes drifted back to Damien, and I saw the faintest smirk curl his lips. My pulse raced, heat pooling low in my belly. What if the dragon was still in him? What if I didn’t care?

I stood, excusing myself with a flippant, ‘Be right back,’ and strode toward the café door, my hips swaying with purpose. Damien’s gaze tracked every move, and as I pushed inside, the air between us crackled. ‘Miss me, darling?’ he purred, his voice a velvet blade.

‘Missed the man, not the monster,’ I shot back, but my body was already betraying me, wet heat building as I stepped closer. His scent—smoke and sin—hit me like a drug, and I hated how much I wanted to taste it.

‘Prove I’m still me, then,’ he challenged, standing, his frame towering over me. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the promise of something hard and unrelenting pressing against his jeans.

‘Careful, Damien,’ I warned, my voice low, dripping with defiance. ‘I bite back.’

His grin was feral, and as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, I knew I was playing with fire. ‘Good. I’m counting on it.’