The second shot goes down easier than the first, heat spreading through my veins like molten metal. The music seems louder now, more compelling, and I can feel my body starting to move with the rhythm almost without conscious thought.
"Dance with me," I say, surprisingly nervous.
"Heidi—"
"One dance." I step closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Please?"
For a moment, I think he might say yes. His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, and I can see the conflict written across his features. But then he shakes his head, stepping back just enough to put distance between us.
"I don't dance."
"Everyone dances. You just choose not to."
"The distinction matters."
Frustration wells up in my chest, made sharper by the drink and the pulsing music and the way he's looking at me like he wants to devour me but won't let himself take a single bite.
"Fine," I say, turning toward the dance floor. "I'll find someone who will."
I don't make it three steps before a hand catches my arm. The touch is wrong immediately—too rough, too presumptuous, nothing like Mihalis's careful strength.
"Looking for a partner?" The voice belongs to a xaphan male with sandy hair and wings the color of dried blood. He'shandsome enough, but there's something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. "I'd be happy to oblige."
"Thanks, but?—"
"Come on." His grip tightens, already pulling me toward the dance floor. "Don't be shy. It's Noxalyth—time to embrace the darkness."
I dig my heels in, ready to tell him exactly where he can shove his embrace, when suddenly he's not touching me anymore.
Mihalis moves like violence given form, shoving the other male away with enough force to send him stumbling backward into a group of dancers. The crowd parts around them, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, and I can see several people reaching for phones to capture whatever's about to happen.
"She's taken," Mihalis snarls, the words carrying clearly despite the music. His wings spread slightly—not fully, but enough to emphasize his size, his power, his absolute willingness to shed blood if necessary.
The other male looks ready to argue until he gets a good look at Mihalis's face. Whatever he sees there makes him raise his hands in surrender, backing away with the quick steps of someone who's just realized they've made a potentially fatal mistake.
Before I can process what just happened, Mihalis's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his side with possessive force that sends heat racing through my veins. I can feel the tension in his body, the barely leashed violence, and instead of being frightened I find myself getting wet.
"Mine," he says, the word pitched low enough that only I can hear it. But the claim in his voice, the raw possessiveness, is unmistakable to anyone watching.
Then he's moving, cutting through the crowd with me pressed against him, heading for the stairs that lead to his office. I don't resist—can't resist, not when every cell in my bodyis screaming yes at the way he's holding me, protecting me, claiming me in front of an entire club full of witnesses.
He doesn't speak during the climb, but I can feel his control hanging by threads through the frayed bond between us. The possessive need radiating from him is intoxicating, making my skin feel too tight and my breath come in short pants.
We reach his office and he practically shoves me inside, slamming the door behind us before leaning against it, his back to me. His wings are spread wide now, trembling with the effort of holding himself together, and I can hear his harsh breathing in the sudden quiet.
Through that frayed bond, I feel flickers of everything he's trying to contain and I know him just well enough to make sense of it. The raw, primitive need to mark me as his. The fury at seeing another male touch me. The desperate hunger that's been building between us for weeks, held back only by his iron self-control.
And underneath it all, that bone-deep possessiveness that should terrify me but instead makes me feel more desired than I've ever been in my life.
I want him. Gods help me, I want him so badly I can taste it.
14
MIHALIS
I'm barely holding myself together.
Every muscle in my body coils tight as I lean against the door, wings spread wide to create distance between us because if I turn around right now—if I look at her in that dress again—I'm going to do something that will send her running straight back to the streets where I found her.
