WHISPERED TEMPTATIONS

Sorority Party - Part 4

「 ✦ Hero's POV ✦ 」

The pretty little fairy and I were locked in a staring contest, her jade and gold eyes challenging mine across the dim, pulsing room.

Glitter dusted her high cheekbones, catching the strobe lights with every subtle shift of her delicate features. Her face remained a perfect marble mask—no hint of a smile, no flutter of lashes to betray interest or disdain, nor what thoughts swirled behind those beautiful eyes.

The mystery of her indifference crawled under my skin like an itch I couldn't scratch. Unsettled me. Women always gave themselves away to me—a blush, a bite of the lip, a telling glance—but she stood impenetrable as fortress walls, unreadable, a beautiful cipher.

Then, like a candle being snuffed, her eyes darkened to forest green, the shift as sudden as a summer storm, she pivoted on her chunky heels - heels that added maybe five inches to her petite frame—and vanished into the writhing sea of bodies.

My stomach dropped as I scanned the crowd desperately.

Somehow, despite her distinctive appearance and the fact that she barely reached most people's shoulders, her petite frame melted into the throng of dancers like a drop of rain into the ocean.

My eyes darted wildly across the sea of faces, searching for a glimpse of her delicate features.

The Victorian house now teemed with partygoers, their perfumes and colognes mingling into a dizzying cloud.

Men in club outfits and women in tiny dresses swarmed around me, their voices blending into a deafening hum. Hands clapped my shoulders, mouths moved with words I couldn't focus on, all becoming obstacles between me and my enchanting fairy.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, jaw clenching as I fought the urge to shove through the throng.

The intensity of my need to find this woman I didn't know, burned like whiskey in my veins—inexplicable yet undeniable.

Something magnetic pulled me toward her, and every second without finding her felt like time running dangerously short.

It defied logic, yet the need pulsed through me with each heartbeat, urgent.

As the crowd surged around me like a human tide, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the back door in the kitchen—its hinges whispering as it opened and closed in one fluid motion. For just a heartbeat, I saw her: those unmistakable brown and bronze locks catching the dim kitchen light, curling softly against her back.

My pretty little fairy, slipping away.

With jaw clenched and shoulders squared, I began carving a path toward that door. The voices of my friends dissolved into meaningless noise—"Hey, where are you going?" and "The keg's this way!"—but their words might as well have been underwater.

My vision tunneled until all I could see was that door, the last place she had been.

「 ✦ Halsey's POV ✦ 」

The cool night air kissed my flushed skin like a lover's whisper as I stumbled through the dewy grass of the backyard.

Though not packed shoulder-to-shoulder, clusters of partygoers dotted the landscape like constellations—their red Solo cups catching the string lights overhead, laughter punctuating the thrum of bass that vibrated through the soles of my shoes.

I scanned the yard, my gaze settling on a weathered wooden swing hanging from a gnarled oak branch in the shadows beyond the patio lights.

My feet carried me toward it before my mind could protest, each step an escape from the chaos. All I could think about was him—the masterpiece I'd left inside—those haunting blue eyes like chips of winter sky that had followed me across the room, piercing through the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

I didn’t understand my intense and visceral reaction to him, but all I knew was I needed to get away.

No man who looks like that, wants anything to do with someone like me.

I refused to waste my evening stealing glances at someone who'd only see me as a convenient distraction, a nameless face he'd forget by morning while I replayed every second of his attention for weeks.

I plopped down on the weathered wooden swing, the chains creaking as I leaned back until my spine arched against nothing but night air.

The breeze whispered across my flushed cheeks, carrying the scent of bonfires and sweet pea.

My chestnut hair cascaded behind me like a waterfall, each strand tugging at my scalp with a grounding heaviness that anchored me to this moment.

What is wrong with me? Did I not learn my lesson after Tyler's betrayal?

Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes, blurring the stars above into smudges of distant light. I shook my head, feeling a single droplet escape and trace a cool path down my temple.

Not everyone is like Tyler. You've grown stronger these past months. Maybe you should go say hello...

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, hollow as a dead tree. My own thoughts were like quicksand, pulling me deeper into the familiar darkness I'd been fighting to escape.

"Why did you leave?"

The question floated through the twilight air, smooth as aged bourbon and just as intoxicating. I jolted upright, the swing's chains jangling as I nearly toppled sideways.

Hero stood before me, moonlight catching on the sharp angle of his jawline, his six-foot-something frame casting a long shadow across the dewy grass.

I scrambled to my feet, excuses already forming on my tongue, but in my haste I tripped on a clump of grass beneath the swing.

I pitched forward, bracing for impact with the cold ground.

Instead, I collided with a wall of warmth.

Arms encircled me, strong and certain. I inhaled sharply—leather with the bite of well-worn jacket edges, cinnamon that lingered like a secret, and sweet tobacco that reminded me of autumn evenings.

The scent enveloped me, rich and masculine with undertones of something darker, more primal.

God, I could burn that scent in my bedroom every night, wake up to it clinging to my sheets.

I gazed up, suddenly aware of how close his face hovered above mine. My focus dropped to his lips.

Would they feel as velvet-soft as they looked? Would they taste of cinnamon and smoke, or something altogether more dangerous?

A tremor ran through me, hot and electric, desire pooling low in my belly as his fingers tightened imperceptibly at my waist.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trip," I murmured, my cheeks burning hot.

I turned my head, fixing my gaze on a clump of grass, unable to meet those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to shift between indigo and cerulean in the moonlight.

My pulse hammered in my ears, thoughts scattering like marbles dropped on hardwood whenever I looked at him.

“Mi Pequeña Hada, why did you run from me?”

My head snapped forward so quickly my dark curls tumbled across my vision. I stared at him, eyes wide as saucers, pulse hammering in my throat.

His gaze moved methodically across my features, lingering on my parted lips.

"What did you call me?" The words escaped as barely more than a breath.

Hero's muscular arms coiled tighter around my waist, the heat of his palms burning through the thin fabric of my blouse.

"I called you Little fairy," His voice rumbled deep in his chest, voice like velvet, that seemed to vibrate through the scant inches between us.

His hooded eyes traced a deliberate path leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he looked from my parted lips to my flushed cheeks, then back to my eyes, holding my gaze with predatory languor as he pulled me flush against the solid warmth of his chest.

My whisper barely escaped my trembling lips.

"Why? We don't even know each other?"

I couldn't tear my gaze from his eyes, which seemed to darken as they held mine.

My fingertips pressed against the corded muscles of his forearms, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Each thunderous beat of my heart sent shivers across my skin—a chaotic symphony of warning and wanting that left me dizzy, caught between the urge to flee and the desperate need to lean closer.

Run away, move closer, escape, surrender.

My breath caught in my throat as he stared silently at me, his eyes reflecting the silver moonlight filtering through the ancient oak's sprawling branches.

His large hand—smooth and slightly rough, yet impossibly gentle—traced a path from my flushed cheek to my trembling chin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Because you are tiny, cariño, and the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. You can only be a fairy."

The world around us dissolved into nothing but shadows and whispers—just this towering man cradling me under the leaves of an oak tree, the distant laughter from my sister's sorority house fading into insignificance.

His fingers drifted to my chin, tilting my face upward until I was drowning in his gaze, the scent of his cologne, enveloping me.

"You ran from me," he murmured, his accented voice like velvet in the darkness, "and no one has ever done that. Why?"

Though his tone was curious, I caught the flicker of vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I instinctively reached up, my small hands framing his stubbled jaw, wanting nothing more than to soothe that unexpected hurt.

"I got scared," I whispered the truth before I realized what I'd done. My voice barely audible over the rustling leaves above us.

"Look at you—and look at me. There is no way you would be interested, why focuse on the impossible."

My words hung between us as his expression froze, surprise etching itself across his sculpted features.

“I’m not interested in being your entertainment for the night.” I mumble pathetically as I look down and away from Hero's handsome face.

The silence between us was tangible, like a living thing, stretching between us like taffy, sweet yet uncomfortable.

I don't say anything further, and Hero doesn't respond.

For minutes I stood into his warm embrace, his muscular arms wrapped around my trembling shoulders, bringing me a comfort I didn't realize I craved like oxygen.

Finally after what felt like forever, Hero cups my face with his large hands and looks into my eyes, his face serious, his midnight-blue irises searching mine.

"Did you not feel it, when our eyes met inside, or was it just me?" he whispers, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon.

His words hangs in the air as he watches my face intently, searching for answers.

My heart stutters to a complete stop, as I stare back at the man whose thumb is now tracing delicate circles on my flushed cheek, as he looks down at me.

I open my mouth, not sure what to say, the words evaporating on my tongue.

So instead, I act on instinct for the first time in my life—my heart hammering against my ribs as I grasp Hero's arms, feeling the warmth of his skin on mine.

My stomach flutters as I balance myself on my tip toes, in my heels, the world tilting slightly as I press my trembling lips to his and watch as the world explodes into techincolor.