The Cage You Made for Me

    Nova woke to the echo of his breath still on her skin. Her thighs ached. Her lips were tender. Every inch of her body hummed with the memory of Damian's mouth, Damian's hands, and the way Damian had whispered her name like a vow and a curse all at once. The sheets were tangled around her legs, damp with sweat and something more dangerous. Niva should've been furious. Should've been afraid. But instead, all she could feel was wanted. Known. Claimed. That terrified her more than the silence of the room. The windows were still open. The breeze kissed Nova's bare shoulders. Somewhere outside, the wind rustled the leaves. But inside, it was still. Too still. Nova sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness between her thighs. It wasn't pain; it was memory. Of what he'd done. Of how she had let him. How Nova had wanted him. Nova pulled the blanket tighter around her chest and stared at the empty space beside her. Damian was gone. But his presence still filled the room. Still filled her. That was the problem. Damian didn't even need to be here to leave his mark.

    Nova had always thought luxury would feel freer. But sitting in the velvet-cushioned breakfast nook of Damian's penthouse, with sunlight pouring through glass walls and a bowl of imported berries untouched before her, she felt… caged. It was subtle. Like the slow pull of a tide, you didn't realize it was drowning you until your feet left the sand. She'd been in his home for what, weeks now? Days? Time blurred under soft sheets and slow kisses, between the expensive gifts and the lingering touches that always ended with her breathless, pressed to a wall, a bed, a memory. And it scared her how much she craved it. Craved him. Damian Vasile was every bad decision wrapped in silk, controlling, obsessive, too calm ever to be safe. And somehow, she was starting to smile at his jokes. She hated herself for that.

That afternoon, Nova wandered into the sitting room with a hesitant question lodged in her throat.

"Damian?" Nova asked, fingers brushing the back of the leather couch. "I was thinking…"

Damian looked up from his laptop. Calm. "Yes?"

"I want to visit my bookstore. Sweetgum & Spine. Just for a couple of hours."

A pause. "You can have Sadie-Rae bring anything you need," Damian said.

"No. I want to go. Myself." Nova replied.

Damian set the laptop aside, stood, and crossed to her with the kind of slow, measured pace that always made her heart stutter.

"It's not safe," Damian said.

"It's downtown Atlanta, not a war zone," Nova said.

Damian's eyes cooled. "You've already been followed once."

Nova's chest tightened. "I know. But I need to feel… normal. Just for a minute."

Damian didn't raise his voice. Didn't argue. Instead, he kissed her forehead and said, "Maybe next week. We'll take proper precautions."

    Just like that, it was over. No fight. No drama. Just a soft "no" wrapped in silk. And that's when it hit her. She wondered, 'Dangerous, protected from who?'That night, Nova didn't speak to him. Not out of spite. Out of fear that if she opened her mouth, everything in her would spill out. All the anger, all the confusion, and all the want. She wasn't sure which scared her more. But when Nova returned to her room, a small velvet box waited on the antique desk. She didn't open it, not right away. Instead, she changed into a camisole and loose shorts, tugged her curls up into a loose puff, and sat by the window, legs tucked beneath her, the city glowing below. Nova didn't hear him enter. She just felt the heat of his presence as he crossed the room and sat beside her on the chaise. Close. Not touching. Silent. After a moment, he slid the box across the cushion between them.

"You looked at it once," Damian said softly. "Years ago. Boutique in Savannah. You were with your mother."

Nova stared at the box. "How did you—?"

"I remember things that matter," Damian said.

    Nova opened it slowly. A necklace rested on a cushion of cream velvet, featuring rose gold and delicate details, with a pendant shaped like a quill. Elegant and Beautiful, A writer's necklace. Nova ran her fingers over the metal, throat tightening.

"I didn't buy it," she said. "We couldn't afford it. I told her I didn't want it anyway." Nova finished.

"But you did," Damian murmured. "You still do."

Silence.

    The city outside kept moving. Horns. Distant sirens. The thrum of a world still turning. Nova blinked back, heat behind her eyes. Damian reached out, gently lifted the necklace, and fastened it around her throat. His fingers grazed her skin, Light and Intentional. When she looked up, his face was close.

"I'm trying," Damian said quietly. "Even if it doesn't look the way you want it to yet."

Nova swallowed. Her voice was barely there. "You can't buy me with presents."

"I'm not trying to," Damian said. "I'm trying to deserve you."

    Then he kissed her, not with heat, but with hunger laced in restraint. As if he were holding back a part of himself, Nova wasn't ready to see. She leaned into it. Let her hand slide up his chest. Let his lips press lower to her jaw, her throat, the hollow beneath her collarbone. Nova wasn't afraid at that moment. She was just burning. And when Damian laid her down across the cushions, when he peeled her camisole away with slow reverence, when his mouth met her bare skin like a vow, she didn't think of cages or control. Nova thought only of the way his voice had sounded when he said deserve. Nova's breath hitched as Damian lowered himself over her, weight braced on his elbows, eyes locked on hers like she was the only fixed point in a spinning world. Every brush of his skin against hers was deliberate, measured, yet pulsing with desire so potent it nearly stole her breath. Damian's hands slid beneath her, cupping her ribs, fingertips grazing just beneath the soft swell of her breasts. Nova's nipples tightened in the cool night air, pebbling under his gaze before his mouth found them languid, reverent. Damian suckled slowly, tracing one taut peak with his tongue before moving to the other, coaxing a soft cry from her lips. Nova arched beneath him, need coursing through her in frantic waves.

"You're beautiful when you stop fighting it," Damian murmured against her skin.

"I'm not—" Nova began, but the protest fell apart before it could finish.

    Nova was fighting. Fighting herself. Fighting how her body sang for him. Fighting how every time he touched her, it didn't feel like captivity. It felt like worship. Damian kissed lower, his tongue dragging over her navel, down to the waistband of her sleep shorts. He hooked his fingers into them and slid the fabric down, inch by inch, baring her completely. Nova didn't flinch. Didn't cover herself. She didn't have to. His eyes devoured her, slow, dark, reverent. Like every inch of her belonged to him already. When Damian's mouth descended on her center, Nova gasped, sharp, needy, shattered. Her hips bucked into his mouth, but his hands pinned her thighs with gentle insistence, keeping her wide, keeping her open. His tongue moved with devastating precision, slow, circling strokes that built with maddening intensity. Damian licked her like he meant it. As if she were a language only he could speak. And Nova trembled, helpless, unraveling, moaning as the pressure inside her mounted with violent, beautiful heat.

    She came with a cry, thighs shaking around his head. Then again, moments later, when he sucked just right, drawing her back into the fire. Damian didn't stop until Nova was sobbing his name, breathless and boneless beneath him. Only then did he rise, face glistening with her pleasure, eyes blown black with hunger. Nova reached for him, dazed and trembling. Damian caught her wrist, not harshly, but with a quiet dominance that made her body clench again. He guided her hand to his belt.

"Take it off," Damian said, voice low and ragged. "If you want me."

    Nova's fingers worked the buckle, trembling as she unzipped him and freed him from his slacks. Her breath caught. He was hard, thick, and already leaking for her. Damian climbed over her again, and when he pushed inside, she arched off the mattress like lightning had struck her spine. He groaned, guttural and raw, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "You feel like fire."

Nova wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching his back. "Then burn with me."

    Damian moved slowly at first, hips grinding in a rhythm that made her toes curl. He kissed her jaw, her mouth, her throat, claiming her inch by inch. His thrusts deepened, dragging whimpers from her lips with every relentless slide. He moved like a man who wasn't just taking his pleasure but delivering hers with precision.

"Say it," Damian growled, grinding deeper. "Tell me you're mine."

Nova's nails bit into his shoulders. "You already know."

    That did something to him. Damian slammed into Nova with wild intent, hips crashing against hers, driving her back into the pillows. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, wet, messy, desperate. He tangled their fingers above her head, laced tight, holding her in place while his free hand roamed her body like he was etching her into memory. Her climax slammed into her like a wave, and she cried out, head thrown back as her walls clenched around him. Damian followed with a strangled curse, jerking inside her as he spilled into the heat of her body. The moment he collapsed, Damian pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her like armor. They stayed tangled like that, their skin slick with sweat, heartbeats slowly syncing. Nova stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. And she didn't say a word. Because deep down, she knew something had changed. He was still too possessive. Still the shadow in Nova's dreams.

But tonight…

    He'd also been her fire. And maybe the scariest part wasn't the cage that surrounded her. It was the first time she didn't want to leave it.