20.
893 Words
The music swallowed me the second I stepped back inside.
A wall of bodies. Heat. Bass like a pulse. It all blurred into motion, and I dove headfirst into it. I needed to be touched. Seen. Wanted. I needed to pretend, just for a little while, that I wasn’t unraveling inside.
A stranger found me. Tall. Ridiculous cheekbones. That grin like he’d been waiting for me his entire life.
“Dance with me,” he said.
I didn’t answer. I just let him put his hands on my waist and pull me into the rhythm.
He smelled like citrus and smoke. His fingers rested just barely too low, and his eyes drank me in like he couldn’t help himself. The attention should’ve made me uncomfortable.
It didn’t.
It made me drunk.
I let my head fall back as I moved, a laugh slipping out like champagne bubbles. My dress caught the light, clung to my hips, teased the edges of decency. My skin tingled like it remembered something my mind didn’t.
A hand brushed my thigh.
My eyes snapped open—not because of him.
Because I felt him.
Lio.
He was across the room. Leaning against the bar, half-shadowed. Arms folded. Tension wound tight across every inch of him. Eyes locked on me.
Gods.
His jaw clenched, and I swear the air bent around him. A thunderstorm waiting to happen.
I tilted my head back toward the stranger and smiled.
Let him run his hand up my spine.
Let him whisper something that got lost in the bass.
And all the while, I watched Lio.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
But the possessiveness in his stare lit a fuse under my skin.
The stranger’s lips brushed my ear. “You’re addictive, you know that?”
I laughed. Spun. Let my back press to his chest. Arms looped around me.
That was when Lio moved.
Fast.
Predatory.
One blink and he was there.
“Enough,” he said, voice low, deadly.
The stranger barely had time to blink before he was yanked backward by invisible force. Not thrown. Lifted. Hovered mid-air, held by something unseen.
People gasped.
The lights flickered.
“Lio!” I snapped, chest heaving.
He let the man drop. Just—dropped him. The stranger stumbled away, eyes wide, and disappeared into the crowd like prey.
Lio didn’t even glance at him.
He looked at me.
Like he was starving.
Like he hated himself for it.
“What the hell was that?” I breathed.
“You were glowing,” he said. “Again.”
“Maybe I wanted to glow.”
“Maybe I wanted to tear this place apart.”
We were too close.
His breath hit my lips.
I should’ve stepped back.
He should’ve.
We didn’t.
His hand lifted—just barely—and grazed the line of my jaw with the backs of his fingers. Soft. Reverent.
“You don’t get to be jealous,” I said, voice shaking.
“I’m not jealous,” he murmured.
“Liar.”
His eyes flicked to my mouth. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m dangerous.”
“I know.”
He took a step back like it physically hurt.
Cas appeared behind me then, too sharp and too late. “We need to get her out of here.”
I didn’t argue.
I couldn’t.
Because I was still shaking. Still burning from Lio’s touch. Still tasting the almost of it on my lips.
And I knew—I knew...
If he’d stayed one second longer, I would’ve let him ruin me.
---
The car ride was tense.
Cas stared straight ahead.
Calypso hummed some ancient song under her breath, legs crossed, hair still perfect.
Lio was next to me, way too close. I could feel the heat of him. His thigh brushing mine once—twice—until I pulled my leg in tight like it wasn’t affecting me. It was.
He didn’t look at me.
But I knew he wasn’t breathing right either.
---
Back at the house, I kicked my heels off too hard and nearly fell. Lio caught me with one hand, fingers gripping my wrist a beat too long before he let go.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“I’m not,” he said. But his voice was too rough.
Calypso disappeared into the kitchen. Cas lingered behind like he might say something, but I glared him down until he vanished too.
I turned back to Lio. “You don’t even like me.”
His jaw clenched. “You’re right.”
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
“But I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said finally. Quiet. Dangerous.
The power flared in my fingertips.
The air in the hallway shimmered with heat.
“I don’t need saving,” I said, trembling.
He stepped closer. “You need truth. And someone to punch the next bastard who touches you like that.”
I blinked. “You volunteering?”
His smirk was wolfish. “I already did.”
I hated how much I liked it.
“Goodnight, Lex,” he murmured. “Sleep. Drink water. Try not to set your curtains on fire.”
He turned, walked away without looking back.
I stood there a long time, heart hammering, still glowing.
Still wanting.
- Writer
