Disaster
Alara’s POV The club throbbed like a living heartbeat. Dark. Pulsing. Velvet shadows curled along the walls, broken only by the strobe of neon and the glitter of chandelier crystals hanging like frozen lightning. Bodies moved in waves—sweat-slicked, heat-fueled, electric. Music thundered through the floor, a rhythm that slid under my skin and made my blood hum. I stepped into it like smoke. The dress Ace had chosen for me clung to every inch of my body. Midnight black, satin, backless. The kind of dress that whispered danger and desire all at once. Eyes followed me the moment I entered, but it was only one gaze that made my skin prickle. His. Ace Wolfe leaned against the private lounge booth like sin incarnate—black shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show the sharp dip of his chest, s
- Writer
