His Mortal Sin

Kianna This isn't right. I wasn't supposed to be here. I didn't like how bodies nudged mine before I could even enter the club. And even when I did, a wave of nausea filled my throat. The smell of sweated bodies, beers, and weed wafted through the air, making my stomach tighten. Laughter, music, and bodies grinding on bodies made me internally wish I didn't come. "Come on, Ki," Trish tugged my hands impatiently. Her smile was the only thing that was keeping my sanity. "You promised, come on. Don't back out." I tightened my grip on my purse. I hadn't seen her for almost a year now, and now she was back in the States... I promised to go anywhere with her... that includes a bar party. I hated it. The thought of moist bodies coming in contact with my skin made me regret ever coming here. A part of me wanted to smile and make her reconsider us staying here... for another five minutes before heading home. Then I felt it. The back of my hair stood — eyes on me. I forced a polite smile on my face, adjusting my tight dress before scanning the room quickly. Strangers everywhere... grinding to the music, kissing, taking shots after shots. Everything looked in place... no one looked dangerous in a place classified as danger. Trish squealed something about drinks and disappeared into the bar, leaving me standing in between a cluster of crowd. Typical. I sighed, then rolled my eyes playfully, wanting to follow her. That was when I saw him. Leaning against the far end of the bar wall like he'd been made for it. Tall. Still. Pale skin almost glowing under the dark party lights. Silver hair that caught my instant attention. His eyes... my stomach tightened as they fixed on me like they'd been waiting for my attention. I froze. The music faded in my ears, my throat suddenly going dry. Don't stare, Kianna. Don't. I dropped my gaze, pretending to check my phone. Pretending I wasn't affected by the way he stared at me. My mother always said I was good at ignoring things... especially the things I was too scared to face. Danger. And this time, it would be no different. But I could still feel how his gaze made my skin crawl under me. I looked back up to see if he was still there... watching me. No one. Just an empty bar wall that was replaced with two couples eating each other's tongues. "Come on, let's have fun." Trish appeared again with two drinks, handing me one. I didn't think about anything, just took in the shot quickly. It scorched the moment the liquid went down my throat. "Damn... that hit," I yelled through the music. "I know, right," she hummed before dragging me to the bar counter. "Let's get another one." I giggled, not because I found it funny that I was almost getting drunk by her when I was the one driving, but because I was drunk. Yep, definitely drunk. "What's in it?" I asked. She just shrugged. "A little bit of vodka, tequila, lemon, and champagne." My jaw dropped before giggling again. "That's disgusting," I slurred. "Another one." She bent over towards the counter, screaming out for the bartender's attention, her golden bracelets clunking against each other, complimenting her olive skin. I giggled at her childishly pouting. Guess I wasn't the only one being drunk tonight. My smile instantly faded the moment the bartender appeared. It was him. The silver-haired guy. His eyes moved from Trish to me, his gaze burning down my body again, then removing, focusing back at Trish. For some reason, I didn't want his eyes to remove from mine. Those dark lava eyes that burned. I think I imagined it, but I heard his voice over the loud music. "What do you want?" he grumbled. I swirled my hair, finding his pierced lips and voice attractive. Which was weird. I didn't like piercings or tattoos. Yet here I was, searching through the dark light to find a glimpse of a tattooed arm. Trish faked a surprised look. "That's no way to treat a regular." I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop a laugh from escaping my throat. He gave her a blank look. "What do you want?" he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. "Two shots of vodka mixed with tequila and champagne and lemon," she blurted so fast that I almost couldn't make sense of it. He didn't even flinch or ask her to repeat her words again. Instead, he muttered, "Coming right up," so dragginly, locking his eyes on mine before disappearing to get our order. My breath caught immediately. Trish sighed, her eyes glancing at his back, following his movement. "Guess you're the only one getting laid tonight." I blinked in disbelief, snapping my head directly to hers. "Where the f**k did that come from?" I exclaimed. She leaned over the counter, turning to face me directly. "He's clearly into you... probably wants to f**k you." "Okay, slow down. No one is f*****g anyone tonight. I'm here because of you. Who needs men when we have one night to spend with each other?" I trailed off, reaching my hands to hold hers. A smile tugged her lips, adding to mine. Trish squeezed my fingers before pulling back. "Fine, fine. But don't act surprised when guys pull you over for a dance." I scoffed. "Dance? This isn't a ballroom, Trish." She just rolled her eyes. "I'm so glad I came to see you again, Ki," she said suddenly. I smiled. "Damn, you just know how to change the subject righ—" I stopped mid-sentence, my head snapping up to the silver-haired bartender appearing with three bottles and a lemon in his hands. His fiery eyes burned on mine, then slowly down to my lips. And I couldn't help but notice how everyone's eyes were on him as he walked. He had this magnetic attraction that followed him... you couldn't help but look at him. There's no way he's single, I thought. "He should be a model at this point instead of wasting it at a bar." I snapped my attention back at Trish, who seemed hypnotized as he stood in front of us. "What the hell are you doing at a bar," Trish asked him, her hands waving in front of her face, "when you can be one of the most paid models with that eye-catching look?" The guy didn't answer, his attention solely focused on the bottles as he opened and poured them into a shot glass with such precision... you could tell he was an expert. Though that wasn't what caught most of my attention. His biceps — the way they flexed. I could literally imagine myself touching them. Thud. He slid our drinks in front of us, looking down at me. I bit the inside of my cheeks, closing my legs tightly for no absurd reason. As I took my drink, his eyes didn't leave mine as I took a full gulp. I looked at my glass, my face twisting as the hotness of the drink filled my throat. "You single?" Trish asked after taking in her drink. "No," he muttered simply, making me raise my head in disbelief. "That's impossible." "How so?" he asked, pouring another mixture for a refill. "Because you can't be single," I blurted, surprising Trish and... him. His perfect, thick brows raised, questioning my response. "I... I mean... every girl here can't keep their eyes off you..." "When you say every girl... do you mean you?" he countered, cutting me off, and for some reason, my skin turned hot. Trish stared at both of us with curiosity, very much piqued by his question. I cleared my throat softly. "Don't be ridiculous... I merely stated a fact..." He shrugged. "Fact or not... I do not like your eyes on me." I paused, blinking rapidly, scoffing loudly. "You're no Greek god that catches my attention." He lifted his hooded eyes, raising a brow. "Good," he responded before walking away. I blinked, confused. What just happened? I thought. "Well, I guess you weren't his type," Trish scoffed. "What an asshole... clearly he has bad taste in women." I didn't know whether it was Trish's words when she uttered I wasn't his type or the way I didn't wish I was, but my chest tightened strangely. I brushed strands of hair from my face, taking a deep breath before slamming my shot glass on the counter, muttering something that shocked the both of us. "Let's dance." "What?–" I didn't let her finish her words before pulling her towards the crowd of heated bodies. The sound of Charlie XCX, I guess, played through the speakers. Trish, as usual, danced to the rhythm, her hands waving up and down. Meanwhile, my steps were slightly wavy, but I just let the music flow through. Adrenaline filled my blood, heat filled my body as a hand grabbed my waist. I suppressed the urge to vomit the moment the owner of the hands whispered in my ear huskily, "Grind on me, baby." My fingers twitched to push his body off me, to slap the living hell out of him. The moment I lifted my eyes to search for Trish, who seemed busy making out with a blonde dude, subconsciously, my eyes searched the crowd, landing on a pair of fiery eyes — the same ones that claimed to hate my eyes on him earlier — looking at me and the dude behind me, holding my waist. Jaw clenched, leaning over a wall, folded hands. Watching us. Watching me. Intensely. A shiver ran down my spine the moment his eyes locked on mine. A smirk curved on my lips as I grinded my waist, my body on the man's already hard-on. I could hear a small groan escape the man's lips, but my eyes and attention were fixed on the bartender's eyes. At that moment, I heard a small voice — not from the man holding my waist or from anyone beside me. It was so little, I almost couldn't hear it, but I caught it. "Stop daring me, princess." My vision blurred, and all I could see was his eyes staring at me intently. And then everything went dark.