“Careful,” I say low, and amused, as my thumb brushes that spot that gives her away softly with my thumb. “You keep flirting like that, and I might forget I’m supposed to be the scary one here.”
Her grin only widens.
Fucking hell.
She’s not just playing along.
She’s having fun, and fuck me, I love that.
I laugh under the mask and let the blade slide into view, slow and obvious as it catches the red light. I don’t touch her with it this time, yet her thighs tense anyway, just a little, but I fucking see it.
“Little Valentine,” I murmur, amused, “you’re clenching like you want me closer. Don’t tempt me unless you actually mean it.”
Her eyes flick from the knife to my mouth and stick there. “Big talk,” she says softly. “For a guy hiding behind a mask.”
“Funny,” I say, tucking the blade back into my pocket before hooking my fingers under the edge of my mask and tugging it up just enough to show her my mouth, my chin, the grin I’ve been sporting since the alley. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
Her inhale catches, sharp and shallow.
I step in, close enough that there’s no room left for pretending this is just a game. I lean down, lips hovering over hers, not touching, but close enough that I feel her breath hitch against my mouth. Close enough to make the pause fucking hurt.
My free hand grips onto her hip, firm and possessive, pulling her small body into me like I’ve already decided she belongs right there. Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses closer, daring me to finish what I started.
I smile against her mouth, enjoying the tension, the control, the way she’s trembling just a little now.
“Kross.”
Fucking Kade. Of course.
His voice is flat and fucking final. The party's over.
“This ends now.”
She glances between us, clocking the dynamic instantly. Me, clearly having the time of my life. Him, ready to shut it down.
“Wow,” she says, smirking. “You’re definitely the no-fun one.”
I snort. “Told you.”
“Aeri?”
The name cuts through everything like a record scratch.
She stiffens instantly.
Her whole mood flips on a dime—smile gone, body going rigid like someone just dumped cold water down her spine. She turns toward the voice with a tired little exhale that says she’s already over this shit.
“Oh my god,” she mutters. “What do you want, Mark?”
The guy steps closer like he thinks he’s allowed to. Average height and build, definitely at least a few inches shorter than myself and Kade. Clean-cut in a way that screamsI think I’m the good guy. Hair too neat for a fucking rave, and his jaw is clenched like he’s rehearsed this confrontation in the mirror. His eyes rake over her outfit, lingering too long for my liking—judgmental and possessive all at once.
I don’t know him.
But I already don’t fucking like him.
He talksather, nottoher and it instantly rubs me the wrong way. His voice raised just enough to sound offended instead of embarrassed, likeshe’sthe problem here. Like, he didn’t show up uninvited to a rave full of knives and bad decisions to run his mouth at a girl who clearly does not give a fuck.
She crosses her arms, chin lifting, fire flashing back into her eyes. Oh yeah. That look? That’s the good stuff.
