Reborn, Its Time To Save My Family And.. My Enemy!
Chapter 172: You Are Mine

Chapter 172: You Are Mine

"We are enemies. she said, her voice steady, though it felt like it was breaking inside her. "My sister wanted to kill you to give the title to her son. And I am bound to her. How could I love you?"

She expected him to pull away, to release her, to finally let her walk away. But he didn’t.

His grip on her waist tightened. His eyes darkened. The air between them crackled, thick with tension and desire.

"Then why did you help me?" His voice was soft, but it was as dangerous as a knife’s edge. The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could answer, he released her suddenly. She staggered slightly, feeling as though the ground beneath her was shifting. Her breath came in short gasps, disoriented by the sudden loss of his touch.

But then, before she could understand what was happening, he reached into his coat and pulled out a dagger.

He held it out to her with a cruel, mocking smile.

"You can kill me, Olivia," he said, his voice low and dark. "Right here. Right now. No one would stop you. No one would challenge you. You’ll have your sister’s power, your dear Leo on the throne. Everything you and your family have ever wanted. All you have to do is take it."

Her mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. She had expected many things—anger, hatred, manipulation—but this? This was madness.

She stared at the dagger, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light of the room. And for a moment, the thought of ending it all—the pain, the fight, the endless dance between them—was tempting.

But she wasn’t that woman.

"I can’t kill you," she said, her voice hoarse as she pushed the dagger away from her. "I won’t."

Damon’s eyes never left her face, and for a moment, she thought she saw something like relief flicker in them. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that damnable smirk.

"You don’t think I’ll defend myself when I’m handing you the weapon?" he asked, his voice thick with something else—something she couldn’t quite read.

"You’ve lost your mind," she said, turning to leave, her back stiff with the effort to maintain control.

But then, before she could take another step, he was behind her, his hand gripping her waist again, pulling her back into his chest.

"Yes," he whispered into her ear, "and you’re the reason for it. Olivia Witherland, choose me before it’s too late."

It was late, she wanted to whisper back but knew he would not listen. He never listened and now he had lost his mind.

"Why are you doing this? The princess.."

Damon’s lips curled into something darker, more feral. "Can burn in hell." His hand slid lower down her waist, fingers brushing the curve of her hip, sending a shiver through her body. "If she’s stopping you," he murmured, his voice low, drenched with a possessive intensity that made her heart race faster. "I will burn her too."

Olivia’s breath hitched at the coldness of his words. But it wasn’t just the words. It was the certainty in them, the savage promise. And the madness in his eyes. He meant it. He would do it without hesitation.

Her body stiffened involuntarily, but his other hand was already on her chin, forcing her to face him. His fingers were warm, but his grip was like iron, holding her in place.

The space between them closed. She could feel his chest pressing against hers, the heat of him seeping into her skin, making everything inside her tense and coil with anticipation.

"You think I care about the princess?" She managed to scoff, but her words lacked conviction. Because, deep down, a part of her knew that Damon had a way of making her question everything she had once believed. He was a force that couldn’t be ignored. "You think that... this... will make me fall for you?"

The smirk on his lips was maddening. He didn’t answer her with words. Instead, his free hand moved upward, brushing along her collarbone, trailing up the side of her neck until he cupped her jaw, tilting her face just enough to claim her lips.

It was sudden.

It was raw.

His kiss was demanding, pulling her into the fire he had set between them. His lips were insistent, coaxing her to open to him, to surrender, even though she fought it with every ounce of strength left in her. She could feel his heartbeat—fast, wild—pounding against her chest, matching the erratic rhythm of her own.

She stiffened for a moment, her body betraying her as her mind screamed at her to stop him, to push him away, to remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t give in.

But Damon wasn’t letting go.

His fingers trailed down her neck, touching the sensitive skin there, sending a rush of heat through her veins. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his lips parting against hers, tasting her, taking her in like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue brushed against her own, coaxing a moan from her throat that she couldn’t hide.

The touch of his hands against her skin made it harder to think, harder to breathe, harder to fight. She wanted to pull away, wanted to scream at him, tell him how much she hated him for this—how much she hated herself for even responding to him. But she couldn’t. Her hands trembled at her sides, then involuntarily rose to clutch at his chest, digging her nails into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ground herself, to keep herself from spiraling.

She had been so certain, so sure that she would never let him take her like this. But there was something in the way he kissed her—something that stirred something dark and uncontrollable inside her. She could feel it—this dangerous connection, this insatiable pull between them. It was as though they were caught in a storm of their own making, with no escape.

His hand slid lower, brushing the edge of her waist and then daring further down to her hip. She gasped into his mouth at the touch. The intensity of the kiss deepened, his lips moving over hers with a fervor that made her dizzy, his hands making her feel like she was losing herself, slipping deeper into the abyss.

She was burning.

He was burning.

The fire between them was all-consuming, and for a moment, she let herself sink into it, let herself lose control.

But that was when the clarity hit her.

With a gasp, Olivia pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss, her breath ragged as she pulled herself back just enough to look into his eyes—those dark, haunting eyes that held too many secrets, too many lies.

"No," she said, her voice shaking. "You don’t get to do this. Not like this."

Her chest heaved with the force of her words, the intensity of the moment still hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

Damon didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his grip on her remained firm. His lips still tingled against hers, and his eyes, dark and lustful, never wavered from her face.

"Why?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost too soft. "Why fight it, Olivia?" He pulled her closer again, his hands running over the bare skin of her back as though claiming her once more. "You’re already mine. We both know it."