The bass possessed.
It rolled through the club like a living thing, crawling into ribs and settling beneath skin.
The lights flashed in violent pulses; slicing through smoke and sweat and perfume until everything blurred into heat.
I never liked losing control.
And yet my dress was too short for comfort, fabric slipping up my thighs every time someone brushed past her. I kept tugging it down, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd for Jaden.
Gone, in less than a minute.
Bodies pressed in from every direction. The air was thick with cologne and heat and something dangerously electric.
My pulse was already too fast.
Gosh, how I hated crowds. Did these people even shower before coming here?
I slipped toward the bar and handed over the black card Jaden pressed into my palm earlier.
"Two regulars," I said.
The bartender didn't question it.
The drink burned going down. The second one softened the edges of everything. The bass felt deeper now. Closer. Like it was syncing with my heartbeat.
I moved back into the crowd.
The rhythm was relentless. It dragged my hips into motion. Slower. Then deeper.
Heat gathered at the base of my spine.
The lights blurred into halos. Sweat slid down my neck. My breathing grew heavier, not from exertion.
From awareness as a presence shifted behind me, I felt it before I saw it.
A body aligning with mine, almost too close.
Then hands, warm and firm settled on my waist.
I inhaled sharply.
"Relax."
The voice was low. Familiar. Velvet dragged over gravel.
My stomach dropped.
"Zyren," I said without turning.
A faint exhale — almost a laugh — brushed my ear.
"I was wondering how long it would take you."
His grip didn't tighten.
But it didn't loosen either.
The music surged, and the crowd pressed us together. My back met his chest fully now. My body betrays me instantly — melting into the contact.
"You're following me," I said.
"I'm dancing," he corrected softly.
His hands slid an inch lower — resting just above my hips.
I swallowed.
"When did you start dancing?"
"You don't usually come to places like this."
The challenge in his tone made me turn slightly. Our faces were inches apart now, breath mixing in the flashing light.
His grey eyes were darker in here. Almost silver under the strobe.
"You don't know me as well as you think" i said.
His gaze dropped slow, to my lips.
"Oh, Ayra," he murmured. "I know more than you realize."
My mark flared.
A pulse of heat shot through my ribs.
His eyes flickered downward for a split second.
He felt it too. Of course he did
The crowd moved again, pushing me back into him. His hand slid to my stomach — steadying me from falling.
His breath warmed my neck.
"Does this overwhelm you?" he asked quietly. "The noise. The lights. The way i hold you"
"Why do you care?"
"Because you're not built for chaos," he said. "You fight it."
His fingers flexed slightly around my waist, and I felt how tightly he was controlling himself. Every movement is deliberate. Measured.
"You don't get to analyze me."
"And you don't get to pretend you don't feel this."
My pulse tripled.
"This?" I echoed.
His hand drifted slowly from my stomach to my waist again, thumb brushing bare skin where my dress had ridden up.
The contact wasn't obscene.
It was worse.
Intentional.
My breathing changed, shaky.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"From the bass."
"Liar."
The word wasn't cruel.
It was almost fond.
I turned fully this time.
Now we were face to face.
The crowd moved around us, but we were in a pocket of stillness. A charged silence in the middle of chaos.
"Why are you here, Zyren?" I asked.
"To see if you'd look at me the same way you do in your room."
Her heart slammed.
"What are you talking about?"
His expression didn't shift but something sharpened in his gaze.
"You think I don't notice?" he continued softly. "The way you hesitate before shutting your curtains."
My breath caught.
"That's not"
"You're curious."
His hand rose slowly brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
I should've stepped back.
"Curious about what?" I whispered.
"About how far I'd go," he said. "If you stopped running."
My skin burned.
"Im not running" I said carefully. "Maybe I'm waiting."
His jaw tightened at that.
"For what?"
"For you to be honest."
A flicker — there. A crack in his composure.
He leaned closer, our foreheads almost touching.
"You want honesty?" he murmured.
"Yes."
His hand slid from my waist to my jaw thumb grazing the edge of my lower lip.
Every nerve in my body lit up.
"I think about you," he said quietly. "More than I should."
My breath faltered.
"And I don't like not knowing what you are."
The confession wasn't what I expected.
"What am I?" I repeated.
"You react to me," he continued. "Your mark does. Your pulse changes. You dream."
My stomach twisted.
"You don't know that."
His gaze held mine.
"Don't I?"
The music dropped suddenly, a heavy beat crashing through the room.
He moved with it, pulling me against him for a split second before releasing me just enough to look at my face.
My hands had come up gripping the front of his shirt.
His breathing was heavier now too.
Controlled.
But strained.
"If I kissed you right now," he said, voice rougher, "would you stop me?"
My lips parted.
Our lips brushed. Barely, it was electric.
He held my waist as if fighting instinct.
I inhaled sharply against his mouth.
"Zyren—"
"Say stop," he breathed.
I didn't.
The kiss deepened, not wild, not reckless but loaded. Heavy with weeks of tension. With things unsaid.
My mark burned again.
His grip faltered for just a second.
He felt it.
His forehead dropped against mine.
"What are you doing to me?" he whispered.
My heart pounded in my ears.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
The lights flickered violently white, then black.
And suddenly, silence , I was all alone.
My eyes snapped open.
Darkness.
I woke up in my room.
The sheets twisted around my legs.
My breathing was ragged, lips tingling as if the kiss had actually happened.
The black dress lay folded neatly on the chair.
It was untouched. I sat up slowly.
My mark throbbed faintly beneath my collarbone.
"Was I dreaming?" i whispered.
Or was he there?