Then I feel them all, and I swallow.
Every gaze lands like a touch. Warm. Hot. Cold. Electric. Dragging over my skin with an intense thoroughness yet reverence that steals my breath.
But I don’t turn around. Not yet.
Sai’s right about the fabric of the dress. Silk, a deep maroon and a whisper of plum, just a shade or two darker than my hair and eyes with thin, delicate straps that tie behind my neck. My favourite feature is the silver chain that drapes along my spine like spider’s silk, dripping with dark gems that cross at the centre, framing my fully exposed altered rune.
The fabric flows like liquid, moulding to all the right places until it ends an inch above the floor showing a false of black stilettos.
I feel their gazes all over me, tiny pinpricks of awareness soaking in everything. Somehow, the silence seems to sharpen, the building tension pulling taut. Which is my cue.
Slowly, I turn, sweeping my hair to one side, letting it fall over my shoulder, sleek and straight. The strands brush just below my breasts, a thin veil of cover, because the front of this dress is as revealing as the back. With a neckline plunging to my sternum and a slit climbing nearly to my hip, one slip, one tear in the wrong place, and the dress would fall apart.
Tonight, mercy is the last thing on my mind.
Julien breathes out slowly, like exhaling too hard might break something. His eyes sweep over me with an intensity thatburns, trailing down and back up like he’s memorising every exposed inch.
Ezekial mutters something under his breath, a curse or maybe a prayer. His brows draw together, jaw tight, fingers clenched in fists.
Sai doesn’t move, but he smirks. The corner of his mouth lifts like I’ve started something he’s happy to finish.
Kane is the last to react, or to stop reacting, becoming still as stone except for his eyes, which trace every inch, lingering where the silk splits on my thigh.
I tap a painted nail—the same deep red of the dress—against the rim of my glass, trying to remain composed, because while I was preparing my armour, so were they.
They’re all wearing beautifully tailored suits. Dark. Devastating. Every inch designed for them. Each in their signature colour, like they’d planned it, like they knew I’d try to take control tonight.
Kane’s is all in black, of course, but softened. The sides of his hair slicked back, the rest falling loose over his forehead in inky strands I want to push back. His shirt is unbuttoned only once, just enough to tease a slip of smooth caramel skin, and a glimpse of the dark marking I know traces lower.
Julien’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his dark red shirt stretched over those forearms I’ve just been fantasising about. His black waistcoat hugs his chest, every steady, controlled breath making the fabric strain. Then he starts to unbutton it. One button. Then another. Slow and measured. Making my lips part with no sound until I have to look away.
Ezekial’s hair is pushed back by his own hand, silver streaks tangled through the dark like starlight caught in shadows. His broad shoulders are doing unspeakable things to that dark grey shirt—tight in all the right places. Someone really should tell him shirts aren’t supposed to fit like that. Or not.
Sai’s dark blue shirt is barely fastened with only a handful of buttons keeping it together, exposing the intense glowing marks across his pale chest. He wears a dark suit jacket, but my attention snags on something else… something around his throat.
A thick leather band collars his neck, and at the centre, a small silver disk hangs with indecipherable scrawl.
I swallow another sip of wine. Whatever game I thought I was playing… they’ve just raised the stakes.
I pull myself together with a small, sweet smile. “Ireally like this dress, Julien.”
“So do I,” Sai mutters, eyes trailing over my exposed leg.
“I’m glad, mon âme.”Julien pulls out a chair at the head of the table, tilting his chin to it. “Please.”
I take a sip of wine, before stepping towards them. I add a deliberate sway to my hips, which has their mental thoughts slipping through.
“You’ve fucked us, Julien,”Sai hisses, but they’re all still watching me.
“No one think anything. Just…”Ezekial gritted words fall as I walk past, his warmth spiking into heat.
“Do not look at the slit. Do not look at the—”then past Sai, the loud hum of his markings cutting off his words.
“The chain down her back…”Julien murmurs, his sentence ends in a shredded exhale as I slip by.
When my hand touches the table, the stone shimmers under my touch, accompanied by Sai’s mutter: “Do not imagine her on the table. Do not—”
“Stop.”Kane’s voice cuts in. Then. “Why would you buy herthat?”
