The Affair with Masseur

The night it happened, the air was thick with a storm that hadn't yet broken. The wind howled through the trees outside my window, but it wasn't the storm that kept me awake. It was the voice.

They say the devil doesn't ask for your soul. You offer it to him willingly, blinded by desire, power, or the one thing you can't live without.

I was no different.

Low. Velvet. Dangerous.

"Lucia."

I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was dark, save for the flicker of the dying fire, but I knew I wasn't alone. He was here. The man who had haunted my dreams for weeks, creeping into my thoughts until I couldn't escape him.

"Who are you?" I whispered into the shadows, my voice shaking. "What do you want from me?"

There was no answer, but I felt him. The weight of his presence pressing down on me, like a predator watching its prey. My mouth went dry. I should have been terrified, and part of me was. But there was another part, a darker part that had been waiting for this. Craving it.

"Come to me, Lucia."

His voice was a command, not a request, and my body responded before my mind could catch up. I slid out of bed, my bare feet cold against the stone floor as I crossed the room. The closer I got to the door, the stronger the pull became, as if invisible threads were dragging me toward him.

When I opened the door, I wasn't surprised to find him standing there, bathed in shadow. His eyes, black as night, locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath. He was beautiful in a way that made no sense, like something that wasn't meant to exist in this world.

"You've been calling me," he said, his lips curling into a slow smile. "Haven't you?"

I shook my head, but I knew it was a lie. From the moment I had first heard his voice, first felt his presence, I had been drawn to him. Pulled into the darkness he offered, even as I tried to resist.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and something darker clinging to him. "I want what's mine."

I swallowed hard. "And what is that?"

His smile deepened, and my pulse quickened as he reached out, tracing a finger along the curve of my jaw. "You, Lucia. You belong to me."

My breath caught in my throat as his finger traced my skin. Every nerve in my body screamed to pull away, but I couldn't move. There was a force, stronger than anything I'd ever felt, binding me to the spot, locking me in place under his gaze.

"You're wrong," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don't belong to anyone."

Damian chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Not yet."

His hand dropped, and for a moment, the weight lifted, allowing me to breathe again. I stepped back, desperate for distance, for space to think. But there was no escaping him, not now. Not ever.

"You've been running from this," he said, his voice low and seductive, "but you can't run from what you are."

I stared at him, my pulse racing. "And what am I?"

He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Damned."

The word hit me like a blow, and I stumbled back, my mind reeling. Damned? I wasn't religious. I hadn't made any deals with demons or gods, yet something about his words felt like the truth. Like he wasn't just describing my fate but revealing something I had always known deep down.

"I'm not yours," I repeated, though the certainty was slipping from my voice.

He smiled again, a slow, predatory grin that made my heart skip a beat. "You will be. The moment you called me, you sealed your fate."

"I never called you," I said, though the words felt hollow.

Damian's eyes darkened. "You did. Every thought, every secret desire, your soul reached out long before your mind knew what it wanted. And now, here I am."