The Virgin Stripper

CHAPTER TWO

VELVET RULES

LUCIEN'S POV:

The club was too loud for someone who could hear heartbeats. From the balcony above The Velvet Den, Lucien watched the world he’d built devour itself—men and women moving under red light, faces blurred by smoke and music. It was a place where people came to forget, and he came to remember what he’d lost.

Then he saw her.

She stood in the corner of the stage, hesitant, small under the lights. She wasn't painted like the others. Not practiced. Her steps were cautious, like someone walking barefoot across broken glass.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t belong here.

The crowd below barely noticed her, but he did. The sound of her pulse cut through the noise—uneven, terrified and alive. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless, pushing closer. For a moment, he let himself breathe her in. Fear. Innocence. A trace of something he hadn’t felt in years.

It shouldn’t have reached him from this far. No human presence ever had.

He turned away, jaw tight, forcing distance. Whatever this was, it was wrong. He didn’t come here for reminders of the living.

“Not again,” he muttered, voice low, the words scraping out like a warning.

But as he left the balcony, the echo of her heartbeat followed him into the dark.

SELEN’S POV:

The mirror’s lights flickered, buzzing like trapped flies.

Selen sat at her spot backstage, combing out her hair with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. The glitter from last night still clung to her skin, a reminder that no amount of scrubbing could wash off what this place did to her.

"First night’s the hardest," Mara said from behind her, voice rough from smoke and years of pretending. She leaned against the counter, same as she had last night, watching Selen through the mirror. “You’re still standing. That’s a good sign.”

Selen managed a tired smile. “You were right about the heels.”

“Mmmm.” Mara leaned closer, applying fresh lipstick. “Now that you’ve had a taste of it, I’ll tell you the three rules. Don’t forget them just because you made it through once.”

Selen looked up, listening.

“One, don’t use your real name. Not even by accident.”

Selen nodded. “Got it.”

“Two, don’t fall for anyone. This place is built on pretending, and the minute you start believing it, you’re done.”

Selen’s throat tightened, but she said nothing.

“And three…” Mara’s tone lowered. “Don’t go upstairs.”

Selen frowned slightly. “Still not telling me why?”

Mara hesitated, her reflection flickering in the mirror light. For a second, something unreadable passed through her eyes—fear, maybe, or memory.

“Because you don’t want to know,” Mara said simply. “Trust me, sweetheart. Some doors don’t open back.”

Before Selen could reply, the dressing-room door opened and Cassian stepped in—smile sharp, suit darker than the mood.

“Evening, ladies,” he said, voice smooth as oil. His gaze found Selen instantly. “The boss doesn’t like mistakes. Don’t make any.” He left as quickly as he came, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive cologne and warning.

Mara sighed. “See? That’s reason number four—don’t let that man near you.”

Selen gave a weak laugh, mostly to hide her nerves. "You should write these down."

“Maybe some day,” Mara softened her tone. “You’re doing fine, kid. Just… don’t forget why you’re here.”

Selen didn’t answer. She already knew why. Survival. Always survive.

When her name was called again that night, Selen forced her legs to move. The stage lights felt hotter this time, the music heavier. She knew the rhythm now, but not the way her fear crept beneath her skin.

Each step was a choice. Each glance into the crowd was a risk.

She kept her eyes on the lights instead of the faces. Pretended the sound of their cheers wasn’t for her. Pretended the stage wasn’t swallowing what was left of her pride. By the time the music ended, her body ached, and her pulse thundered in her ears.

She stumbled off-stage and collapsed into a chair backstage, gasping for breath. Her hands shook as she reached for the towel Mara tossed her way.

“You did fine,” Mara said, her voice softer than usual. “Better than most on their second night.”

Selen managed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Does it ever stop feeling like you’re drowning?”

“No,” Mara said quietly. “You just learn to breathe underwater.”

Cassian appeared at the door again, his smirk faintly amused. He held out a small stack of cash. “For your trouble,” he said, voice low. Selen took it with trembling fingers. The bills smelled like perfume and guilt.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Cassian’s gaze lingered a moment too long. “Try not to disappoint.” Then he turned and left, his shadow stretching down the hall. By the time the club emptied and the lights dimmed, Selen was the last to leave. She stepped out into the rain-soaked alley, the neon sign above the door flickering crimson against the puddles.

She clutched the cash in her hand and told herself this was enough. One more night. One more lie.

She didn’t see the light still burning in the penthouse above the city. Didn’t see the man standing behind the glass, drink in hand, watching the streets below like a predator scenting the air.

Lucien didn’t know why he’d come back to the balcony. Didn’t know why his pulse spiked when he felt something shift in the night.

He couldn’t hear her name, but her heartbeat found him anyway.

And though he didn’t believe in fate, for the first time in years, Lucien Blackwell forgot how to be alone.