Kill The Luna

27

The entire world seemed to freeze into absolute silence for a fraction of a second. The faint, sweet melody of the piano faded into the background as I slowly closed my eyes, completely giving in to the pull between us. My breathing grew shallow, and on pure instinct, I began tilting my head up, bringing my lips closer and closer to his waiting mouth. A frantic voice screamed inside my head, demanding to know why on earth I was doing this to myself, why I was letting my guard down for a man I barely knew. I didn't have a logical answer. I only knew that my body wanted his touch more than anything else in that moment, completely ignoring all my fears.

Our lips were a mere millimeter apart, the heat between us completely suffocating, when Michael suddenly stiffened. A sharp look of realization flashed across his dark features, as if a cold bucket of water had just been thrown over his head. He pulled back slowly, jerking his chin away from my fingers as his expression hardened into an unreadable mask. "Oh... I think we should definitely have more drinks before the night ends," he murmured, his deep voice sounding slightly strained as he completely broke the intimacy of the moment.

He turned on his heel and walked straight back over to the large dining table, his long strides putting a sudden, cold distance between us. He reached for a heavy, amber-colored crystal bottle, uncorking it with a sharp twist, and poured the dark liquid into two tall glasses. I slowly walked over to join him, my cheeks still burning with embarrassment, and stood by his side as he handed me one of the filled glasses.

I lifted the rim to my lips and took a small, cautious sip, but the liquid instantly burned a path straight down my throat. My face twisted into a heavy grimace, my eyes watering from the harshness of the alcohol. "Wow, this is incredibly strong," I choked out, coughing slightly as I stared down at the dark drink.

Michael lifted his own glass, downing it in one swift motion before tipping the heavy bottle to pour himself another round. "Yeah, it's premium bourbon," he replied simply, a tiny smirk playing on his lips as he watched my reaction.

Determined to numb the heavy, awkward tension lingering in the air and block out the painful memories of Stefan, I reached out and grabbed the neck of the bottle myself. I tilted it over my crystal cup, watching the dark liquid rise higher and higher until it was almost overflowing at the absolute brim. Michael let out a low, amused chuckle, his eyes widening slightly as he watched me fill the glass to the very top. "You are pouring way too much for yourself," he warned, his voice laced with a quiet chuckle. "You are going to get completely high if you finish that."

I lifted my chin, a sudden wave of stubbornness washing over me as I stared into his dark eyes. "I know," I countered, giving him a defiant look. "I want to be completely high tonight." I pulled out one of the heavy wooden chairs and sat down at the table, leaning my elbows against the polished surface. "Let's play a game to pass the time."

His playful expression vanished instantly, his face becoming completely serious as he leaned against the edge of the table, looking down at me. "What kind of game?" he demanded, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

"We are going to play a classic game of truth or dare," I explained, a mischievous smile touching my lips. "But we are changing the rules tonight. There is absolutely no dare allowed—only pure truth, and every single question must be answered with total honesty. And here is the catch: whoever wants to ask a question must take a sip of their drink before they can speak."

Michael leaned back, a dark, intrigued glint appearing in his eyes as he digested the rules. "Hmm, fine," he rumbled, lifting his glass slightly in a mock toast. "Show me what you've got, Fedora."

I didn't hesitate. I immediately took a long, burning sip of my bourbon, feeling the warmth spread through my chest, and leaned forward. "What exactly are you thinking about me right now in that dark mind of yours?" I challenged, locking my gaze onto his face.

Michael didn't even blink. He took a slow sip from his own glass, his eyes dark and intense as he set it back down on the table. "Right now, I am thinking of how to stop you from getting completely drunk and making a mess of yourself," he answered directly, his voice completely smooth.

A breathless laugh escaped my lips. "Okay, fair enough. It's your turn now," I stated, gesturing for him to proceed.

Michael lifted his glass, took another slow, deliberate sip, and set it down. His dark eyes locked onto mine, completely trapping me in his gaze. "What is your body count?" he asked, his tone completely flat and serious.

My jaw dropped instantly, my face flushing a deep, fiery red. "Woahh!" I gasped, slamming my hand lightly against the table. "That went really fast! We just started the game!"

Michael lowered his dark eyebrows, his expression turning completely strict and demanding as he leaned closer. "Answer the question, Fedora. Those are your own rules."

I swallowed hard, looking away from his intense gaze as I twisted my fingers together. "Okay, fine... it's just one," I whispered, the thought of Stefan crossing my mind like a shadow. Desperate to flip the script, I quickly took another large sip of my burning drink, letting the alcohol fuel my confidence. I looked back up at him, narrowing my eyes. "How many girls have you ever actually dated in your life?"

Michael didn't hesitate for a single second. "Two," he stated calmly.

I burst into a loud, unbelieving laugh, shaking my head as I leaned back in my chair. "That is a total lie!" I jeered, pointing a finger at him. "I find that absolutely hard to believe. A powerful Lycan King like you? Only two?"

Michael’s lips twitched upward into a genuine, soft smile at my outburst. "I am completely serious," he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet sincerity. "It really has been just two people."

Before I could question him further, he lifted his glass, taking a deep sip as the game continued. His smile turned into a dark, incredibly wicked smirk as he leaned over the table, his face coming dangerously close to mine. "If you and I were locked completely alone in a room together for twenty-four hours straight, what exactly would you do to me?"

The raw question made my mind go completely blank, the heavy amount of bourbon finally hitting my brain and erasing all my filters. Without even thinking about the words, the ultimate truth slipped right out of my mouth. "I don't know," I breathed, looking straight at his lips. "I would probably ride you."

Michael froze for a fraction of a second, completely caught off guard by my blunt honesty, before a loud, booming laugh erupted from his chest. He shook his head, his chest heaving as his eyes darkened with pure, unfiltered desire. "You couldn't handle it, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.

I just smiled back at him, my cheeks burning like a furnace. I honestly couldn't believe I had just said that out loud; the alcohol was completely taking over my senses, making me bolder than I had ever been in my life.

Anxious to change the subject before I embarrassed myself further, I took another heavy sip from my cup and leaned in. "Who do you love the absolute most between your mom and your dad?" I asked, completely unaware of the minefield I was stepping into.

The very second the words left my lips, the laughter completely died on Michael's face. His expression went entirely pale, his strong jaw clenching so hard the muscles jumped under his skin. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, dark void that sent a shiver of pure terror down my spine.

I noticed the drastic change instantly, the alcohol clearing from my mind as guilt washed over me. "Oh... I'm so sorry," I stammered frantically, reaching my hand out slightly before pulling it back. "I truly didn't mean to pry. I didn't know that question would bring back such bad memories for you."

Michael stood up abruptly from the table, turning his back to me as he stared out the dark window. His broad shoulders were completely stiff. "No, it's completely okay," he muttered, his voice dropping into a cold, completely distant tone that didn't sound like him at all. He didn't turn back around to look at me. "You should go to sleep now. It's already getting extremely late."

A heavy wave of sadness and confusion hit my chest. "Yeah... okay," I murmured softly, realizing the night was officially over.

I quietly stood up from the dining table, leaving the half-filled glasses behind, and walked back into his massive, dark bedroom. I moved over to his large wardrobe, sliding the doors open to pull out the oversized silk pajamas I had seen earlier. After quickly changing out of the beautiful red dress, I climbed onto the edge of his massive bed and lay down beneath the heavy blankets, staring up at the dark ceiling. My mind was completely racing as the silence of the room closed in around me, deeply wondering what kind of tragic past lay behind his eyes and why his face had changed so drastically at the mention of his parents.