“You look good,” he confesses. Then lower, so close his lips almost graze my ear, “It almost makes me want to throw my life away just to rip that dress off you.”
The words hit me in the chest. Heat flares across my skin, electric and dizzying, my whole body aware of the space between us.
But before I can move, before I can speak, he’s gone. He slips past me, sliding into the passenger seat as if nothing happened.
I stand frozen, clutch tight in my hand, trying to slow my pulse, praying Genevieve didn’t notice. Enzo’s voice breaks through the night again, and finally, I force myself into the back seat beside her, trying to act as if Elijah didn’t just burn me alive and then walk away.
* * *
The music hits before we’re even inside, loud and rattling in my chest. My palms are already sweating, and I keep tugging at the hem of my dress, trying to settle the nerves buzzing under my skin.
We’re not safe here. Enzo’s said it a hundred times, border clubs mean trouble. But it’s my birthday, and I wanted this. The stories Gen told me, the dancing, the lights, the heat of a hundred bodies moving together, I wanted to feel it for myself.
Gen was able to convince Enzo that it would be okay. Safe as long as we didn’t cross into Vostralya. Surprisingly, he listened.
Enzo walks ahead, clearing the way without saying a word. I follow close, eyes darting to every shoulder I bump into, every flash of jewelry, every hand that brushes too close. Elijah and Gen trail behind me, and I can feel the weight of Elijah watching my every move.
The floor under my boots is sticky, but the smell hits hardest. Sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol. Not the sleek, golden world I’d imagined. I pictured magic. Neon lights, freedom, the kind of dancing that makes you forget who you are. Instead, it feels edged, crowded, and dangerous.
Still, when the lights flash across the room and I catch a glimpse of the dance floor, my stomach flips with excitement. For a second, I almost forget Enzo’s warnings. I almost forget the rules.
When Enzo stops mid-step, making me crash into his back, I know I’m about to get a lecture. His arms cup my shoulders.
“I have to meet a friend. You will listen to Elijah and do everything he says.”
I look up at him, confused. “Where are you going?”
“To. Meet. A. Friend,” he restates, as if it’s simpler now.
I tilt my head in annoyance, but Elijah is already at my back.
“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll protect you while your trainer takes care of business.”
I don’t miss the dirty look Enzo gives his friend for that comment, but he disappears into the crowd anyway.
Once Enzo is gone, the tension shifts immediately. Gen leans closer to Elijah, brushing against him intentionally, her voice low and teasing. “So, are you always this protective, because I’m finding it very hot.”
Elijah smirks, eyes dark, leaning closer to reply, his hand casually resting near hers. “You can find out.”
I stiffen, my stomach twisting. I love him. I want him. And yet here he is, letting her flirt. I want to say something, anything, but the words stop in my throat.
Gen glances at me, catching my gaze for a fraction of a second. “So are you guys a thing or are you available?”
My mouth falls open, and I look to Elijah for what to say, but his lips are already moving.
“Ace is my friend. I’d kill you to protect her.”
He looks over at me, and I can’t help but smile. “But she’s just my friend.”
And that hit me back to reality.
“Yeah, just friends,” I mutter, forcing a smile. My chest aches, but I force myself to let it slide.
Trying to regain control, I tug on Gen’s arm. “Dance?” I ask, my voice higher than I’d planned.
Her grin widens. “Finally. About time you have fun!”
We weave through the crowd toward the dance floor, the bass thudding in time with my heartbeat. I let the music take over, moving with Gen, laughing when she spins me around.
