CHAPTER 224: PINNED BENEATH HIM

Elena’s POV

I couldn’t breathe.

Well—I could. Technically. My lungs were working, but every inhale scorched. Every exhale trembled.

Damon was above me.

And not just above me—on me. His chest was rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon, but there wasn’t a single drop of sweat on him. Not one sign of strain.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. Panting. Flushed. Pissed.

And completely caged beneath him.

My arms were pinned by the weight of his body braced around me. My legs tangled with his. The position should’ve been humiliating, but that wasn’t what made heat crawl up my throat. That wasn’t why my core pulsed and my skin prickled.

No. It was him.

The scent of him. The feel of his thigh pressed between mine. The unmistakable ridge of his arousal straining right against where I was already too warm, too aware, too damn needy.

"You lose, little mate," he whispered, and I felt the words slide across my skin like a spark down a fuse.

Gods, that voice. It should be illegal.

My glare could’ve cut steel. "Get. Off."

He didn’t budge. Of course he didn’t. This was Damon—the arrogant, possessive, infuriatingly magnetic bastard who punched other men for breathing near me and thought brooding in corners passed as foreplay.

"Say please," he murmured, and I wanted to punch him in the throat.

I also wanted to kiss him until we were both drowning.

Fuck.

"Damon," I growled, writhing beneath him to try and shimmy out from under—but that only made things worse. My hip brushed against him and his jaw clenched. A low, dangerous sound vibrated from his throat.

"You keep doing that," he warned, "and I won’t care how mad you are. I’ll take you right here."

My entire body flushed.

But I refused to let it show. I was done letting him steer the ship of my emotions.

"And what?" I snapped, "You’ll just run off again after? Leave me hanging like you did this morning?"

That hit something.

His eyes flicked, pain and frustration flashing in the storm. "You think I don’t want you? You think walking away was easy for me?"

I stiffened.

And then he said it. Voice raw, laced with something more dangerous than lust.

"From now on... I’m training you. Every day. Five p.m."

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, his weight shifting just enough to make my breath catch again. "No more Luca. No more anyone. I train you. Every day. No exceptions."

I scowled. "And what if I say no?"

"You won’t."

"Try me."

He smirked. "Because I’m the only one who can teach you to beat me."

I hated how much that thrilled me.

I hated more how right he was.

He pushed up slowly, finally giving me space to sit up. I scrambled to my feet, brushing myself off with more fury than necessary. My hair clung to my sweat-damp face. My bra was crooked. My pride? Absolutely wrecked.

"You’re a possessive control freak," I muttered, grabbing my water bottle.

He stood, cool as ever, rolling his shoulders like he hadn’t just had a very visible hard-on pressed between my legs.

"And you like it," he said, cocking a brow.

I glared, cheeks burning. "I haven’t decided yet."

"Give it time, little Luna," he said with a crooked smirk, turning to leave. "We start tomorrow. Don’t be late."

He was halfway to the door before I found my voice.

"You’re not the boss of me."

He looked over his shoulder.

"No," he said with a glint in his eye. "I’m worse."

Then he was gone.

And gods help me—I couldn’t stop smiling.

******

Just to piss him off, I slept in the guest room.

Petty? Absolutely.

Necessary? Also yes.

Satisfying? Immensely.

I made sure to lock the door too—not that it would actually keep Damon out. If he wanted in, he’d be in. Lock or no lock, walls or steel bars, that man had a way of slipping into places he wasn’t invited like a very hot, very smug home invasion.

But still. It was the principle.

I kicked the door shut behind me with more force than necessary, then flopped face-first onto the mattress. My whole body groaned. Muscles I didn’t even know existed were throbbing from that so-called "friendly spar."

Except there was nothing friendly about it.

Damon had wiped the floor with me.

Literally.

And the worst part? That bastard hadn’t even broken a sweat. Not one. Meanwhile, I was panting like I’d sprinted through ten forest battles and back. I was drenched, aching, and humiliated—while he stood there like some unbothered warrior god, probably flexing for fun.

And to top it all off? I ended up pinned under him, practically melting into a puddle while he whispered you lose, little mate like it was some wicked lullaby straight from the depths of hell.

I punched the pillow, gritting my teeth. "Smug, arrogant, gorgeous—"

I cut myself off. I was not going to compliment him mid-rage.

I wasn’t.

I rolled over onto my back, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me.

Why did my body still remember his?

Why did my skin still tingle where his hands had been?

He’d said I couldn’t train with Luca anymore. He’d said he’d train me instead. And yeah, I could see the logic—he was stronger, faster, more experienced—but gods, the nerve of just deciding that for me like I was some fragile porcelain doll that needed his mighty wolf-vamp hybrid to protect me.

I hated it.

I hated him.

I also kind of wanted him to bang the door down and pin me again.

Ugh.

I growled and yanked the blanket over my face. No more thinking about Damon. No more brooding, no more fantasizing, no more stupid images of his shirt sticking to his chest in the training ring or the way his eyes darkened when I glared at him.

Screw him.

Tonight, I was sleeping in peace, alone, untouched, unclaimed.

Even if part of me secretly wished he’d break that lock just to prove me wrong.