Chapter 03: First Step Before Midnight.
1236 Words
Draven POV
The hotel room reeked of mortality.
Even the air here was thin, cheap, unworthy of a king of hell. I stepped onto the balcony with my wine, glaring down at the city as humans scurried like ants, chasing things that never mattered...money, lust, survival. Pathetic. I sipped slowly, the red liquid staining my tongue, but it did nothing to cool the heat boiling in me.
The cafeteria flashed in my mind again. That girl. Those eyes. The way my mark blurred and burned. Damnation had its tricks, but that felt different, too close to fate for my liking. I hissed, set my glass down, and snapped my fingers.
“Followed them?” I asked, voice sharp.
My guard, tall and cloaked, bowed. “Yes, Master. The man works at a hospital. A doctor. The girl...a firm nearby.”
I turned my gaze back to the city. “Good. I want to see the hospital.”
“Now, my Lord?”
The fool. I snapped my head toward him, my tone cutting like a blade. “Do I ever ask twice?”
He bowed again, quickly, and within moments we were in the car. But halfway through the drive, music rolled through the streets, low and heavy, pulling at something ancient in me. I motioned for the car to slow, the window sliding down as I stared at the glowing sign.
A club. A place alive with bodies, sweat, sin.
Brooke Entertainment Suites.
For the first time tonight, my lips curved into something close to a smile. This was where I had once lived like a god among men. A hundred years ago, my voice filled this room, my fame untouchable, until mortality crushed me, forced me to sell everything to live forever.
Without thinking, I ordered the guard to stop. “I’ll walk.”
The mortal music hit me the moment I stepped inside. Different century, same hunger. Perfume, alcohol, flesh pressed against flesh. The room pulsed like a beating heart, alive with lust and money. The decor had changed, but I remembered every inch of this place, every corner where men once chanted my name.
And now, no one knew me. They were dead, gone, swallowed by time. Only I remained. Immortal. Untouchable.
I chose a chair in the highest corner, the same spot where kings used to watch me perform. Strippers glided by, bodies shimmering under neon, their laughter drowning in bass. One of them swayed toward me, hips rolling deliberately, her perfume sweet and cheap.
Before she could even touch me, my guard shoved her back. “Leave.”
I smirked, raising a hand. “Relax. Send the manager. Tell him I want the hottest woman in this city sent to my hotel. Money is not a problem.”
My guard obeyed, slipping into the crowd. I leaned back, breathing it all in. This was mortality at its filthiest...its truest. The heat, the greed, the flesh. Yes, I hated being mortal. But sin? That I would never stop loving.
The lights suddenly cut off.
Darkness swept the room. The crowd didn’t panic; instead they clapped, laughed, whistled like they’d been waiting for this exact moment. I leaned forward, my senses sharpening.
Red light shot across the ceiling, bleeding down over the stage. A pole dropped from above, gleaming silver, and the screens lit up one name.
Elara Moon.
The roar that followed shook the walls. The red light died, the stage swallowed whole by blackness, and my wrist flared with fire.
The mark burned....hotter than it had in centuries. I hissed low, clutching it under my coat, scanning the room. Someone here wasn’t just mortal. Someone here belonged to me.
Then the chant began.
“Say hi to the Midnight Ballerina!!! awake the devil!”
The words stung my ears. Awake the devil. Were they mocking me? Summoning me?
My guard returned then, shoving a girl into my space. She was eager, curving her hips, trying to sit on my lap. I looked at her, unimpressed. She climbed anyway, pressing herself against me, but I caught her chin in one hand.
“I’ll give you more money than you’ve ever dreamed of,” I said, voice low. “If you disappear.”
Her mouth parted, confused. “What...”
“Get. Out.”
I shoved a bundle of cash against her chest and she stumbled away, shocked. I didn’t even spare her another glance.
Because then...she appeared.
The stage exploded in crimson, and out of the darkness, she walked.
Masked.
The mask was black velvet, feathered at the edges, hiding her face but revealing enough to drive men insane. A glittering corset clung to her body, lace spilling down over bare thighs. Her stockings shimmered under the lights, heels tall, deadly, and perfect. She wasn’t just a stripper. She wasn’t just a dancer. She was both, and something more.
A ballerina of the damned.
My lips parted.
Every roll of her hips, every twist of her leg around that pole...it was blasphemy turned into art. The crowd howled, men throwing money like worshippers tossing offerings to a goddess. But I didn’t hear them. I didn’t see them.
I only saw her.
And then her eyes found mine.
Through the mask, sharp, bright, unforgettable.
The world stilled.
She froze for just a second, one hand curved around the pole, her chest rising as if she felt the same thing clawing through me. Recognition. Heat. Lust. Something deeper I couldn’t name.
I clenched my fist over my burning wrist. Fate? No. Impossible.
She moved again, rolling down the pole, bending low, her gaze locked on me the whole damn time. I could hear her breath even over the music. I could feel her pulse syncing with mine.
My guard shifted beside me, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
I stood, eventually, tossing my own bundles of cash toward the stage, my eyes never leaving hers.
Her eyes and mine locked.
For a second, the world dropped away. The club, the noise, the money raining at her feet, it all blurred, like shadows that didn’t matter. All that remained was those eyes.
And damnation, they felt familiar.
A flash. Quick, sharp, cruel. A memory not quite mine yet buried deep inside me. I didn’t know when or where, but I’d seen them before. Felt them before. Maybe in a life I’d long erased, maybe in a moment time had stolen from me. I clenched my jaw, fists tightening, but no clarity came. Just heat.
Her gaze burned through me, tearing at the mask of the devil himself. And yet… all I felt was lust, or maybe I think so..
Pure. Savage. Lust.
I dragged in a breath, steadying myself as she wrapped her leg around the pole and arched her back, body bending like sin made flesh. The crowd roared, bills flying, but none of them touched me. None of them mattered.
I smirked.
So what if I couldn’t place her? So what if her eyes sparked some forgotten flame? Right now, all I wanted was her body against mine, her skin trembling under my touch. Whatever fate thought it was playing at....I didn’t care.
I’d wait until she was finished. Wait until she came down from that stage.
Because after tonight, Elara Moon would know what it meant to be laid with the devil.
And reallymmmmwhat’s an adventure without a little bit of fun?
- Writer
