Salem's Fall (Dark Seasons)

by Rektok Ross

I pull my focus back to the computer screen, the lines of text blurring as my vision narrows. No, I refuse to be that girl, the one who fades into the background and accepts her fate. I have too much to prove.

Quinn watches me for a moment longer, as if weighing my readiness. There’s something else in his gaze—something more personal. It’s always there, simmering beneath the surface, but never quite acknowledged. The tension between us has grown over time, but neither of us dares cross that line.

I suppose it’s easy to have black-and-white morality when you’ve never had to face any adversity.

“You’ve never dealt with anyone like me, James,” he says. “Trust me on that.”

“You shouldn’t go around giving your attorneys expensive jewelry, Damien. It’s highly inappropriate,” I huff, but I can’t stop the small, traitorous smile that tugs at my lips.

His fingers flex slightly around my waist, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. And his expression… the way he’s looking at me while we dance—like I’m something rare, something treasured—sends a soft buzzing through my entire body. Too soon, the song ends.

“I’m afraid I have to make my rounds for a bit, though I’d much rather stay here with you in my arms,” Damien says, voice low. But instead of stepping back, he leans in—lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Don’t dance with anyone else,” he murmurs, almost like a command cloaked as a plea. “Not tonight. You’re mine.”

“It’s against every instinct, every damn shred of control and self-preservation I have, but I can’t seem to stop myself when it comes to you.”

“You’re reckless. Headstrong. The most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” He takes a step forward, gaze burning into mine. “And yet, no matter what I do—no matter how hard I try—I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, James,” he whispers. “You’re mine now. And I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”