You're standing outside the dorm with your backpack slung over one shoulder, talking to a guy from your college. He has a casual, easy manner that is perhaps a little too familiar, and you find yourself laughing despite yourself.

Meanwhile, you don't notice the movement behind the slightly ajar door.

Damon.

His golden eyes narrow, tracing the contours of the guy leaning a little too close, speaking a little too smoothly. He steps forward, and the door creaks open behind you.

Damon is standing there, massive and imposing. The warmth of his body presses against your back before you even realize he is behind you, chest brushing you, the weight of his broad shoulders anchoring you in place.

His presence is undeniable... tattoos ripple under the fabric of his shirt, and his blonde hair falls in slightly messy waves around his face.

The guy freezes as Damon leans closer. “What are you doing here?” The words are directed at the boy.

You try to step away, but Damon does not let you. His arm snakes around your waist, strong and unyielding, and his body presses even closer.

The boy in front of you takes a cautious step backwards, knowing that he is nothing but a shadow standing between Damon and what he considers to be his.

Damon shifts, leaning lower so his eyes catch yours. “You are coming inside with me, angel.” There is no room for argument.

Before you can protest, he moves. In one fluid motion, he bends and lifts you effortlessly over his shoulder.

He is infuriating and impossible to ignore, a constant reminder that he is your enemy and yet, somehow, your guardian - your roommate, the one who refuses to let anyone near you, and the one who refuses to let you go.

Once inside, he puts you down, his arm brushing your side as he does so.

He tilts his head, his gaze pinning you in place. “No one else touches you,” he says softly. “I don't care who they think they are. You’re mine, and I don’t share, angel.”