Chapter 1 - The Meeting
I know I shouldn’t be here. Every fiber of my being screams at me to turn around, to slip back into the safety of my quiet life, but something—some dark, magnetic pull—keeps my feet moving forward. The city at night is alive with lights, music, and secrets, but nothing could have prepared me for him.
He stands in the corner of the club, the shadows playing across his sharp features like they were sculpted by some cruel artist. His eyes—oh, those eyes—are black as sin, and when they lock onto mine, the air between us catches fire.
I try to look away, to remind myself that I don’t belong here, that I don’t belong to him, but it’s too late. He’s already moving toward me, slow and deliberate, each step a silent promise that whatever he wants, he will take.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around here alone,” he says, his voice low, rough, and commanding. It brushes against my skin, makes my knees weak.
“I… I can handle myself,” I manage, my voice trembling even as I try to appear confident.
He smiles, but it’s not the warm kind. It’s the kind of smile that promises trouble, and I know—I know—I’m already in too deep.
“Can you?” His gaze roams over me, studying, claiming. I feel like I’m naked under the intensity of it, and a shiver runs down my spine. “Because I don’t like people who lie to me.”
Before I can answer, he’s closer, dangerously close, his presence overwhelming. My pulse races. Every instinct screams to flee, but my body betrays me. I want this. I need this.
“You have no idea what you’re stepping into,” he whispers, so close that I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck.
“And you’re going to tell me anyway?” I bite back, trying to sound bold. My heart pounds so loud, I’m sure he can hear it.
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends tremors through me. “No,” he says. “I prefer to show.”
And then, just like that, he touches me—one hand brushing my arm, light as a feather but heavy with unspoken intention. My head swims, and I realize with a jolt: I’m already his. My mind screams in protest, but my body doesn’t care.
“Stay,” he commands, and it’s not a question. It’s an order, and somehow, I find myself nodding.
As he leans in, close enough for me to smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne and something darker, something primal, I know my life is about to change. I don’t know if I’ll survive him. I don’t know if I want to.
All I know is this: the devil has found me, and he’s obsessed.
