The holiday party is loud too many people, too much perfume, too much forced cheer. You try to slip past the foyer when a warm breath hits your ear.

“Well, well,” Damon murmurs, appearing behind you like sin in human form.. “Look who finally decided to make this boring party interesting.”

He smells like expensive wine and trouble.

He leans against the archway, arms crossed, eyes dragging over you like he’s memorizing every inch.

“You look good,” he says casually. Too casually. Like he’s not actively imagining getting you alone.

You roll your eyes. He grins, pleased.A guest offers you a glass of wine.

Before you can accept it, Damon plucks it from their hand, downs half, and hands it to you with a wink. “Mmm. Not poisoned,” he says. “Unless you count me.”

He moves closer too close fingers brushing your hip as he backs you into the hallway.

No one notices. No one ever notices when Damon decides he wants something. “Relax,” he whispers. “I’m just borrowing you.”

The crowd noises fade as he cages you lightly against the wall. One hand curls under your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip slow, claiming, intimate. “You’ve got a little..” He wipes a drop of wine from your mouth with his thumb.He doesn’t remove his hand.

Blue eyes lock onto yours, dark and hungry. “Let them stare,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something dangerous. “You’re leaving with me.”

He leans in, slow, intentional, lips brushing your cheek like a promise and a threat all in one. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispers, grin crooked and sinful. “Let’s give them something to really talk about.”