The Library

Lilith

M y body is trembling, the water from the shower still running down my skin, mixing with the heat of my own sweat and the remnants of him. Every part of me feels like it’s been claimed—my wrists are still sore from where he pinned them, my throat burns from when I screamed his name, and deep inside, there’s an ache that both terrifies and thrills me.

I collapse against the cool tile, my legs weak, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath. It’s not just physical exhaustion. It’s everything. Everything that he is, everything he’s done to me tonight—it’s all too much, yet not enough. How can I want more of something that I know is breaking me?

I can still feel him inside me, that lingering sense of fullness, of his control, as if my body hasn’t caught up with the fact that he’s pulled away. My mind is a whirlwind, trying to piece together what just happened. The blood, the danger, the way he looked at me like he could destroy me if he wanted to— he almost did and yet, he didn’t. He touched me like I belonged to him, like I was something precious in his fucked-up world.

I should hate him for it. I should be running, screaming, getting as far away from him as possible. But I’m not. I’m still here. And that’s the part that terrifies me the most.

I push myself up, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. My legs are still shaking, but I manage to grab a towel, wrapping it around my body as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection stares back at me—flushed, lips swollen, hair sticking to my damp skin. I don’t even recognize myself.

My gaze drifts to my neck, the faint red marks from where his hand had gripped me earlier. The memory sends a thrill through me, my skin tingling where he’d touched me, kissed me, broke me down to my core. There’s no denying it anymore. I’m his. I’ve been his since the moment he stepped into my life, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

And now… now, there’s no going back.

But what does that mean for me? For us? I came here tonight for answers, and instead, he showed me exactly what I thought I wanted—but all I’ve been left with are more questions. Questions about him, about his past, about the darkness he’s dragging me into. Did I really want to see it, or was I just fooling myself?

He did give me some answers, in his own way. He didn’t tell me anything outright, but he showed me his true self. The side of him that’s raw and dangerous, the side I never expected to actually witness. And now that I’ve seen it, I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s both terrifying and intoxicating, because now I know what he’s capable of.

I can’t stop thinking about the blood. The way he stood there, so calm, so composed, as if it was just another day. As if taking a life, being covered in someone else’s blood, didn’t faze him at all. And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe this is just who he is—a man who kills, a man who thrives on power and control. A man who breaks women like me because he can.

I swallow hard, my throat dry as I think about what he’s told me, the glimpses he’s given me into his world. The Society. The killings. The secrets he’s hiding. I don’t know if I’m ready to see it all, but I also know I can’t walk away now. I’m too deep in this, too far gone to pretend like I don’t want more.

But what does that make me? Am I just as twisted as he is, craving the darkness that surrounds him? Or am I simply caught in his web, powerless to escape?

I stare at myself in the mirror, my mind racing, my heart still pounding. The truth is, I don’t have all of the answers. Not yet. But one thing is clear—I can’t stay away from him. No matter how dangerous, no matter how broken this is, I’m not ready to let go. I don’t think I ever will be.

He thinks I’m small, fragile, easy to break. But if he wants to be ruthless, I can be too. I’ll show him he’s wrong. And if he wants to drag me into the darkness, I’ll gladly go. For him, I’d follow without question.

I grip the towel tighter around my body, feeling the cool air bite at my wet skin as I step out of the bathroom. The hallway is dimly lit, shadows creeping along the walls, and I can hear the faint clink of glass from the kitchen. Sebastian is still here, waiting.

He showed me what happens next with fucking. Now I need to know what happens next with us.

I march down the hallway, the remnants of fear and hesitation evaporating with each step until I’m standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Sebastian’s muscular, tattooed back is to me as he pours another drink, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of what just happened doesn’t affect him at all. But I’m not letting him slip away this time.

“What happens next?” My voice cuts through the silence, harsher than I expected.

He turns slowly, his eyes locking on mine, calm, as if he already knows the answer. But I don’t let him speak. I can’t hold it in anymore. The floodgates have opened, and everything I’ve been holding back is spilling out.

“You think fucking me, showing me the blood, is enough?” I say, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and something I can’t quite name. “What are we now? What am I to you, Sebastian? What happens next? Because you’ve made it clear what happens when you fuck me. But I need to know what happens to me now that you’ve dragged me into this.”

He watches me, his face unreadable, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze like a fire burning into me. He steps closer, but I don’t back down. Not this time. My heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins, but I stand my ground.

“You’ve shown me who you are,” I continue, my voice rising. “You’re covered in blood. I know what that means. And I still—” My voice breaks, but I force myself to go on. “I still want you. But I need to know, Sebastian… what the fuck am I stepping into?”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches between us, thick with tension, the air crackling as his eyes darken. And then, in a move so swift I barely see it coming, he’s in front of me, his hand wrapping around my throat. But it’s not like before. This time, there’s no malice, no threat. It’s control, pure and simple.

His lips hover near my ear, his voice low and dangerous. “You want to know what happens next, ? You want to see how far you’ll fall?”

I can feel his breath on my skin, sending shivers down my spine as his grip tightens ever so slightly, just enough to remind me who’s in control. His voice is like his bourbon, dark and smooth, and I can feel the pull of him, the way he’s unraveling me piece by piece.

“This is who I am,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with menace. “You’re in my world now. And there’s no turning back. You’ll follow me into the darkness, . I’ll drag you deeper, and you’ll beg for it.”

My heart slams against my chest, but instead of fear, all I feel is raw need. The part of me that’s still clinging to logic, to reason, is screaming at me to run. But the rest of me—the part that craves him, that’s been craving him since the moment we met—won’t let go.

“I’m already falling,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He smirks, a dangerous glint in his eyes, and I know then that he’s right. I’m already his. I’ve been his since the beginning. And I’ll follow him, no matter how dark the path gets.

“Good,” he whispers, brushing his lips against mine, his grip tightening just enough to make my breath hitch. “Because you’re mine now, . I am the only man who will ever be inside you—mind, body, and soul. You’ll never belong to anyone else. And I’ll spend the rest of my life fucking you like the whore you are—the one you crave to be.”