The sharp scent of tobacco blended with sandalwood invaded my senses immediately. That wasn't Julian’s scent. The voice whispering against my neck—so deep, raspy, and dangerous—belonged to Damian Sterling. The man who, for the past two years, stood as the coldest, most untouchable figure, and the strictest observer of The Pact among the five of them.
My heart felt as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer. The silence in the dark corridor—lit only by the faint, flickering glow from the end of the VIP section—made our every breath sound deafeningly loud.
"Damian..." My voice caught in my throat, half a whisper, half a whimper. "What... what are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" Damian chuckled softly. A humorless laugh that sent a cold wave of chills down my spine. His large thumb was stil
