Eliane couldn't escape the haunting sensation of Seraphine's touch. It lingered like a shadow, a dark presence that clung to her skin no matter how many times she tried to scrub it away. She kept replaying the moments they had shared—the quiet intimacy, the dangerous proximity. The desire she'd felt, despite herself.
She sat at the edge of her bed, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, trying to steady her breath. But every inhale was shaky, every exhale a struggle. She couldn't get her mind to stop spinning, to stop replaying the warmth of Seraphine's breath on her neck, the way her voice had slid like velvet into Eliane's ear.
How could she want someone like Seraphine? Someone who walked into her life like a storm, bringing destruction in her wake? Someone whose presence made Eliane feel both terrified and alive?
Her chest tightened. It wasn't just that Seraphine had broken down her defenses—it was that she had built something inside Eliane she hadn't known she wanted. Something that terrified her.
Eliane's pulse raced at the thought. She had tried to push it all away, but now, it was as if she couldn't breathe without thinking of Seraphine. There was a part of her, deep down, that craved the danger, craved the chaos. But that same part of her also feared it—feared what it might cost her.
"God, what is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself, burying her face in her hands. She had built walls to protect herself from this, from being consumed by someone else. But Seraphine—Seraphine was different. She was relentless, as though she knew exactly what strings to pull, when to pull them, and how hard.
"I'm not like this," Eliane muttered, her hands shaking. "I'm not... I can't be."
But every moment that passed, every lingering thought about Seraphine, made it harder to believe that.
Her thoughts shifted to the confrontation earlier that morning. The way Seraphine had come to her door, looking like she owned the world. The smug satisfaction in her eyes, the way she had spoken with such certainty. She had made Eliane feel exposed, as if she knew her more than Eliane knew herself.
Eliane hadn't been strong enough to shut her out, and now... Now it felt like Seraphine was inside her head, wrapping her fingers around her thoughts. A dangerous game was being played, and Eliane was beginning to wonder whether she had already lost.
She stood up, pacing back and forth, trying to shake the feeling of being trapped. But no matter what she did, the thoughts kept coming. Would it be better to resist? To fight against whatever Seraphine wanted from her? Or should she surrender to the inevitable, let herself fall into whatever this was?
The idea of surrender made her stomach twist. It was everything she'd fought against. Yet, a small part of her—the part she had always pushed away—whispered that giving in might bring freedom. That by losing control, she might actually gain something. Something she'd never had before.
But at what cost? Would she still be herself afterward? Or would she be someone else entirely? A puppet, dancing on Seraphine's strings.
Eliane paused in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with confusion. The woman who stared back at her didn't look like the person she once was. She felt fragmented, torn between the life she had built for herself and the woman Seraphine was asking her to become.
A knock at the door shattered her thoughts, and she froze. She knew who it was before the sound even reached her ears. The question was, how could she keep herself from opening that door? How could she refuse to face the woman who had begun to break her apart?
But in that moment, Eliane knew one thing for sure: no matter how hard she tried, Seraphine wasn't going anywhere. And neither, it seemed, was the pull she felt toward her.
---
End of chapter 9
---