7. Dagon

7

DAGON

T agar is still lurking around, leering with judgmental eyes that light up when he's fucking with me. He's a constant presence that weighs on my ability to rein in my simmering temper. He knows how much to poke and prod to get under my skin and he's just looming around, as if he belongs here. My anger is so repressed, slowly building up as the darkness swirls within me.

I find myself taking it out on Callista more than normal. Every creak of the floorboards seems to amplify my irritation as I stalk through the house.

The house is steeped in a tense, heavy atmosphere, each day darker and more oppressive than the last. Tagar's taunts are like whispers from shadows, constant and chilling, pushing my simmering temper closer to the edge. It's a storm waiting to burst, and today, it finds an unexpected trigger.

I'm walking down the narrow hallway, lost in a brooding swirl of thoughts, when Callista suddenly rounds the corner. She's moving quickly, perhaps too caught up in her own frustrations, and collides with me with a surprising force. The impact sends a shock through me, igniting an immediate, fiery anger.

Without thinking, my hand shoots out, gripping her throat. It's a reflex, dark and dangerous. "Watch where you're fucking going!" I snap, my voice a low growl, fingers pressing just enough to remind her of the power I hold.

Her eyes widen, not with fear, but with burning defiance. She grabs at my wrist, her grip firm, but she doesn't try to pull away. Instead, she meets my gaze head-on, her voice steady. "You think this frightens me, Dagon? This petulant outburst?" I flex my fingers around her neck, relishing in the way her throat bobs as she swallows.

Her hand is warm as she holds tight to my wrist, not to overpower me, not that she could, but in a refusal to back down. And for a moment, I'm taken aback. Her resilience, her refusal to cower, only fuels the fire within me.

"You know nothing of what I can do, Callista," I growl, getting closer to her face. "Do not presume to test my limits." Her heaving breaths are warm on my face. I'm close enough to kiss her, to dominate her here in this fucking hallway.

Her response is a fierce whisper, her breath warm against my hand. "And you should not presume that I'll be so easily broken." She swallows again, those violet eyes, and by the fucking seven I'm so wound up that I can't help the low rumble that escapes my throat.

The intensity of the moment hangs between us, thick and charged. Slowly, I loosen my grip, not out of pity, but out of a grudging respect for her spirit. She doesn't flinch or step back, maintaining eye contact that speaks of battles yet to come.

We both know this is far from over. This collision, a simple mishap in the hall, has peeled back another layer of our tumultuous coexistence, revealing the raw, seething layers beneath. As she turns and walks away, the air still vibrating with the echo of our confrontation, I'm left with a mixture of frustration and a newfound wariness.

The atmosphere in the old house is charged, almost electric, as if the very air crackles with the tension between us.

"Why the fuck do you persist in this rebellion?" I demand, unwilling to let her just walk away. My voice is low and menacing. The question is more of an accusation, a challenge to her relentless opposition. Callista's defiance, sharp and unyielding, cuts through the silence of the dimly lit corridor where we confront each other.

She turns around and meets my gaze steadily, her voice equally firm. "Because someone has to stand up to your shit, Dagon. Someone has to show you that your darkness doesn't control anyone but your fucking self."

Her words ignite something fierce and dark within me. In a swift motion, driven by the force of everything I've been holding back, I press her hard into the wall. My hand finds its way back to her throat, in a display of the control she keeps testing. My other hand pins her arm above her head, and I lean in close, my hips pressing against hers, a deliberate assertion of dominance.

"You think you're the one to teach me fucking lessons?" I hiss into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. The proximity, the tension, it's palpable, and I can feel a subtle shift in her, a response she might not even admit to herself.

Callista's breath catches, her body tenses and stills under my hold, yet there's an undeniable, though perhaps unwilling, responsiveness in the way her eyes flicker, the slight quickening of her breath. "You... you won't break me," she manages, her voice a breathy whisper that only fuels the dark fire within me.

"Break you?" I chuckle darkly, tightening my grip ever so slightly. "No, Callista. I want you to see the fucking power, to understand it. You provoke this darkness within me, challenging the very nature I strive to control. I don't want to break you," I correct her quietly, my tone menacing. "I want to bend you—to mold you into submission. I want you to acknowledge that I'm the one in control."

I'm breathing heavily, the heat of my frustration mingling with the cold air. Every shallow breath she takes fuels my need to see her submit, to break that fiery spirit of hers. "I can't fucking take this anymore, Callista," I snarl, my voice low and dangerous, a direct reflection of the storm raging inside me.

Her eyes spark with defiance, that familiar fire that challenges me. "You think you can just force me?" she spits back, her voice laced with contempt.

"Yes," I hiss back, my grip tightening, my body pushing more insistently against hers. "I'm done with your defiance. You're going to learn who holds the fucking power here."

Her breathing becomes ragged, her chest heaving against mine. I can feel the fight in her, but I can also sense her resolve starting to crumble. This isn't just about desire. It's about proving a point, about establishing dominance in the most primal way possible.

Leaning closer, I let my lips brush against her ear, my words a dark promise. "Stop fighting me. It's inevitable. You will submit to me." The whisper is not gentle. It's a command, an inevitable conclusion drawn in the dark ink of my will.

I pull back to look her in the eyes, ensuring she sees the uncompromising determination in mine. My heart is racing against my chest and my fingers flex tighter around her throat. I'm in fucking control, and she's about to find out firsthand what that fucking defiance has triggered in me.