The Library

Lilith

I glance at my phone again, hoping for something, anything, to explain the silence. It’s been two days since I sent that message, the one where I told him we seriously needed to talk. No games, no teasing—just answers. But nothing. Nothing except for two days. Be ready , which he sent a few hours later, like it was all part of some twisted plan I’m still too blind to see.

My mind keeps running wild, jumping to conclusions that make me anxious, angry, and desperate all at once. I’m tired of this. Tired of the way he can control me even when he’s not here. It’s like he enjoys watching me unravel from a distance, keeping me on edge, giving me just enough to keep me wanting more.

Two days. Be ready.

Two days. It was supposed to give me time to prepare, but all it’s done is make me more restless, more desperate. What the hell does “be ready” even mean? Ready for what? To hear the truth, to finally understand what kind of monster I’ve fallen for? Or is it something else, something darker, more intense, that I’m not sure I’m ready for but crave anyway?

And where the fuck has he been? My anger starts to blossom, spreading like wildfire through my chest. He leaves me here with cryptic messages while he disappears into god knows what. He plays these games, pulling the strings, watching me dance to his tune, and I’m tired of it. I want answers. I want him to show me who he really is, not just keep me waiting in the shadows.

I drop the phone onto my bed, pacing the room as a flood of emotions rush through me—frustration, arousal, confusion. I know I need to confront him, to demand answers about where he’s been and what the hell he’s doing. But there’s a part of me, a twisted, fucked-up part of me, that doesn’t care. That just wants to see him again, to feel his hands on me, to hear him tell me I’m his.

Because I am.

I’ve tried to distract myself—reading, writing, anything to get him out of my head—but it’s useless. He’s there, under my skin, in my mind, in every fucking thought I have. And I hate it. I hate how much I want him, even when I know I shouldn’t. Even when I know what he is.

The darkness surrounding him, the power he has over me… it should scare me. And maybe it does, in some small way. But it’s not enough to make me stop wanting him. If anything, it makes me crave him more. The pull is magnetic, dangerous, and I’m teetering on the edge, ready to dive headfirst into whatever abyss he’s leading me toward.

I’ve been wondering where he’s been, what he’s doing. Is he out there with someone else? Is he doing the kinds of things I’ve been hearing whispers about? The Society, the killings… I’ve tried not to think about it too much, but it’s impossible not to. He’s not a good man—hell, he might not even be a man at all. He feels like something else. Something darker. Something more dangerous.

And I’m falling for it. Hard.

I walk to the window and look out at the darkening sky, my thoughts spinning in circles. There’s a storm building, both outside and within me. I can feel it. The tension between us is growing, and when it finally snaps… I don’t know what’s going to happen.

But I’m not afraid. Not of him. Not of what he might tell me. If anything, the unknown excites me. The rumors about him—the power, the violence, the control—those aren’t just stories. They’re the truth, and I know it. I’ve seen the darkness in his eyes, the way he looks at me like he could devour me whole and enjoy every second of it.

I think about the things I’ve heard, the rumors whispered around town about the Society, about the power they wield, the control they have over everything. Over everyone. They say the Society controls the city, that they’ve got their hands in everything—politics, business, even the police. And Sebastian? He’s at the center of it all, the one they send when they need someone to disappear, when blood needs to be spilled.

I wonder what that makes me. Am I just another pawn in his game? Another piece of the puzzle he’s controlling? Or am I something more?

I don’t know. But as much as I want answers, as much as I want to demand the truth from him, I can’t deny what I feel.

I want him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

He’s not just a man; he’s something bigger, something more terrifying. And I know that, deep down, I’ve always known that. But now, I need to know how far it goes. How deep the blood runs.

I want him to tell me everything, to open up the darkest corners of his world and let me in. I want to see what he sees, know what he knows. And maybe, just maybe, I want to watch him kill again. I want to see the look in his eyes when he does it—the cold, calculated control mixed with a raw, primal hunger.

Because Derek’s death? That was for me. And as fucked up as it sounds, that makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. It makes me feel like his.

My mind flashes back to Derek, to the rumors that circulated after his death. Most people thought it was an accident—a drug deal gone wrong, maybe. But I knew better. I saw the way Sebastian looked at him that night in the bar, the way his eyes darkened when Derek came too close. And when Derek’s body was found? I knew.

Sebastian killed him. And he didn’t just kill him—he made sure Derek knew exactly why he was dying. It wasn’t just a murder. It was a message.

As much as I need the answers, as much as I want to know the truth… I crave the danger more. I crave him more.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I grab my phone again. My fingers hover over the screen, feeling the weight of everything that’s about to happen. I could wait for him to come to me. I could play the good girl, patient and obedient, and wait for the man who’s dominated every part of my mind and body to show up.

But that’s not what I want right now.

I want his attention. I want him to know that I’ve been thinking about him every second since he left me. The way he makes me feel, the way he’s ruined me, and the way I want him to ruin me again.

I type out a message, short and simple, before hitting send:

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your cock in my mouth and the way you fucked me. I’m soaked just thinking about what happens next.

It’s a bold move, but I don’t care. I need him to know how desperate I am for him. How ready I am to let him drag me into his world, into his darkness. I don’t care what it costs me anymore. I want him, all of him.

I can already feel the pull of him, the way my body reacts to the thought of him. Even now, as I stand here, trying to decide what to do, I can feel the heat building between my legs, the way my skin tingles at the memory of his touch.

He has me. There’s no denying that now. I’ve been his from the moment I laid eyes on him, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that. The real question is… how far am I willing to go?

As far as it takes.

With that thought, I glance at the phone one last time, my pulse racing with anticipation.

And I know, when he comes, I won’t be able to stop him.

I won’t want to.