Readers POV:
You are Eva Orlov, Hogwarts' newest history professor-and you're not alone. Tom Riddle, enigmatic and brilliant, begins his tenure as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. From the moment you meet, an undeniable pull draws you to...
I look at the closed door for a few seconds. What did just happen..? I feel so.. exhausted. Good.. but bad.. I'm so confused. My head hurts, my legs feel heavy and my thoughts spin. I longed for him. I really did. I have to admit it to myself.
As I lay there, my body still trembling from the aftermath of Tom's ministrations, I can't help but feel a tumult of emotions swirling inside me. The physical pleasure he inflicted upon me lingers, but it is overshadowed by a deeper, more sinister feeling of entrapment. His touch, his dominance. I try to recall what happened before he left, but there are gaps, fuzzy memories that I can't quite grasp.
I slowly sit up, wincing at the soreness that permeates my body. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the moonlight. I can still smell the scent of our intimacy in the air, and it only serves to remind me of how deeply ensnared I am in Tom's web. My mind races back to my last ordeal with Grindelwald, and a shiver runs down my spine. That experience has left scars, ones that even Tom's twisted form of 'affection' can't soothe..
I rise from the bed, wrapping the sheets around me for some semblance of modesty. My mind is a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and a twisted form of longing. Why do I crave Tom's touch despite everything he puts me through? Is it because he's the only one who sees the darkness within me and doesn't shy away from it? Or is it because he knows how to manipulate my desires to his advantage?
I cross the room to the mirror, looking at my reflection. My eyes are haunted, the bags under them a testament to the sleepless nights and the constant battles within my mind. The necklace Tom gave me glints under the low light, it's beautiful, but a constant reminder of him. I reach up, touching the red diamonds embedded in it, feeling the aura it has.
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The door creaks open, and I turn quickly, expecting to see Tom again. But it's not him—it's Avery, standing there with a look of uncertainty on his face.
"Eva," he says cautiously, stepping into the room. "Are you... alright?"
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