My breath catches.
Heat rolls low and heavy through me, pooling between my thighs so suddenly I shift my weight to hide it. It’s embarrassing how fast it hits me, how sharp the ache is, and how watching them feels like I’m being touched through someone else’s hands.
Zephyra moves like a pulse in the air, a frequency you feel before you breathe, and I know every twitch of it—every ripple and every tremor.It’s my formula.My chemistry. My fault.
I shouldn’t watch. But I can’t stop.
Cami breath warms my ear. “Told you,” she purrs. “Your little science project is making them feral.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I see that.”
She pats my hip, already slipping into the crowd while glitter catches the light like she was born in it.
And suddenly I’m alone.
Alone in a room full of bodies losing themselves. Behind the mask, I’m grateful for now more than ever.
I tug at the lace edge, trying to hide the way my face betrays me. I can feel the flush crawling down my neck. My pulse feels too loud. My hands won’t stay still.
And then I feel it—that unmistakable weight of being watched.
My eyes snap up, scanning the room until they land on him.
Standing near the glass doors that open to the balcony, half in shadow like it belongs to him. Tall. Still. Composed in a way no one else in here is. Dark hair swept back. Sharp features. A suit that fits him like it was sewn onto him.
And his eyes— his eyes are lockedon me.
Heat shoots straight through me, embarrassing and instant. My hand instinctively runs down my dress. It feels like he’s touching me without moving, like he’s peeling back the mask, the dress, and the skin beneath it, looking at something bare.
I can’t breathe.
He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t pretend he was staring by accident.
There’s a slow pull at the corner of his mouth—a smirk, but not a friendly one. More like he already knows what I look like when I come apart.
My heart stutters. I stand frozen, caught in something that feels like gravity and danger, while being undressed in front of a stranger who looks like sin carved into a man.
Irritation hits me fast—sharp and hot. It’s a shield I throw so I don’t have to admit what’s actually happening in my body.Of course, he’s stupidly handsome.Of course, he knows it. Of course, he stands like the universe personally tailored him to ruin someone’s life.
I want to roll my eyes or throw my champagne at his face… or climb him like a tree.
Hard to tell which, honestly.
My pulse does something humiliating, while my skin feels too tight for my bones, and I hate he can probably see all of it.
He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t even pretend to. He just watches me—slow and assessing.
I should look away.God, I should.But I don’t. I can’t, and somehow that pisses me off even more.
Chapter 5
The Problem I Shouldn't Want
Asher
Cami’s parties are predictable—booze, drugs, and bodies getting lost in the kind of expensive depravity only New York’s elite can afford to pretend isn’t happening. Same guest list. Same performances. Same easy boredom settling in the air like dust.
I lean against the balcony railing with a glass of bourbon warming my hand, letting the noise of the room wash over me while I track the usual checks and balances. I’ve already played my part, the supplier keeping everyone entertained enough to forget they hate their own lives. But tonight feels different in a way I can’t quite place, like the air is carrying something new I should already know about.
