NOVEL NEXT Chapter 47: More Than Desire *
Warlock Ch 47. More Than Desire
"Yep," he replied, turning off the faucet and setting the dish aside. "All the content is already in my head. I'm ready to go."
Evelyn crossed her arms, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Alright, prove it. Let's see how much you really know."
Damian turned to face her fully, a playful glint in his eyes. "Try me."
Evelyn paused for a moment, her expression shifting as she thought of a question. "Okay," she said, her tone taking on a mock-seriousness. "What's the most common type of crystal used for amplifying defensive spells?"
Damian didn't even blink. "Sapphire. Its natural resonance with defensive magic makes it perfect for reinforcing barriers and shields. It's also highly durable, which helps it withstand high-pressure environments."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad. How about this—what's the difference between a mana crystal and a soul crystal?"
"Mana crystals store raw magical energy and can be used by warlocks to fuel spells when they're running low on power," Damian explained, folding his arms across his chest. "Soul crystals, on the other hand, are the rarest and can trap the essence of a being. They're used for more dangerous rituals—like summoning or binding—and they have a darker reputation for obvious reasons."
Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, I get it. You've been paying attention."
Damian grinned, leaning against the counter. "Told you. I'm a quick learner."
"Apparently," she said, her tone softening. She stepped closer to him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment longer than usual. "You're really something, Damian."
He felt his chest tighten slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. "I'm just trying to keep up," he said, shrugging it off. "There's a lot to learn, and I don't want to fall behind."
"You're not falling behind," Evelyn said quietly. "If anything, you're moving faster than anyone I've ever seen. You should be proud of that."
Damian looked down at his hands, the faint glow of the warlock mark catching his eye. "Maybe," he muttered. "But it doesn't feel like something I can be proud of. Not yet."
Evelyn reached out, brushing a lock of hair from his face. Her touch was light, but it made him feel warm. "You don't have to be proud of it yet," she said softly. "But don't be afraid of it either. You're doing fine."
Damian met her gaze, feeling a strange warmth settle between them. There was something comforting about the way Evelyn looked at him, like she genuinely believed in him, even when he wasn't sure he fully believed in himself yet. It wasn't just the words she said; it was the way her eyes softened, the way her touch lingered as if reassuring him that, despite everything, he was on the right path.
'Partners, huh?' he thought to himself. The term felt strange now, especially after everything that had happened between them. Yesterday had been a blur of emotions and sensations, and he still wasn't sure he'd fully processed it all. When they had their first intimate moment, it had been almost overwhelming for him. The pleasure had been there, no doubt, but he hadn't fully understood what he was feeling. He had just gone with the flow, acting on instinct more than anything else, confused but not wanting to question it in the moment.
But now, standing here with her in the quiet of the kitchen, something had shifted inside him. Even though he knew she was still holding back, keeping things from him—things he wasn't ready to know—he couldn't deny that their bond was growing. It was more than attraction now. It was like a spark had ignited between them, something deeper, something warmer. It wasn't the kind of spark that had caught his attention the first time he saw her walk into the bar. No, this was different. It wasn't just physical.
This was a connection.
Without really thinking about it, Damian reached for her, his hand gently brushing her cheek. Evelyn's breath hitched slightly at the touch, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned in and kissed her. But this kiss wasn't like the ones from before. It wasn't hesitant or unsure. This was something deeper. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her body against his, and kissed her with an intensity he hadn't realized he was holding back.
He used his tongue, tasting her, feeling every inch of her lips against his. It was a hunger he hadn't expected, something raw and primal, but also tender. It was as if he wanted to consume her, to feel her completely, not just in his arms but in his soul. The way his hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, said everything that words couldn't.
Evelyn responded almost immediately, her hands finding their way to his hair, her fingers threading through it as she leaned into him. The kiss deepened, and Damian felt her body melt against his, like she was giving in to the same pull that had drawn him to her. Her lips parted more, allowing him to explore, to taste, and he did—hungrily, like he couldn't get enough.
It wasn't just about desire. It was more than that. Damian wanted to understand her, to connect with her in a way that went beyond the magic they shared or the danger they faced. He wanted to know the real Evelyn, the person behind the secrets and the walls she kept up. He wanted to feel everything she was hiding, every part of her she hadn't yet revealed.
His hand slipped to the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, and the kiss deepened until it was all-consuming. There was a quiet urgency to it, a need that had been building for longer than he realized. And in that moment, everything else fell away—the fear, the doubt, the unanswered questions. All that mattered was her.
Damian's lips moved from hers, trailing down her jaw to her neck, where he could feel her pulse beneath his mouth. He kissed her there, his breath hot against her skin, and the soft sound that escaped her lips—a low, breathy moan—made something snap inside him. That sound drove him crazy, sent a shock of desire racing through his veins, and he couldn't stop himself. His lips pressed harder against her neck, and before he knew it, he was giving her a hickey, marking her with a kind of primal need he hadn't expected.