Chapter 19
Lena
You can feel the excitement the second we step inside Twisted Souls.
It wraps around us like a live wire, pulsing through the thick air, crackling with anticipation.
The lights are low, tinged with blue, casting a sultry haze over the crowd.
Music thumps from massive speakers, making the floor vibrate under our boots.
The buzz tonight is undeniable. Killer is supposed to show up, and everyone knows it.
When Declan texted me earlier, inviting me here, I admit I was surprised. The logical part of me figured he’d want to keep me as far away from Wesley as possible, especially in this world.
But when I read the message, my heart skipped a beat. He wanted me here. That had to mean something.
He also knows how much I love Killer’s music. The fact that he remembered? That he thought to include me in this night? It felt thoughtful. Unexpected. And I’m not used to that kind of consideration. Especially not from a man like Declan.
There was no way I could come without telling Jeanne.
She would’ve killed me if I showed up to see Killer without her.
And I wasn’t taking that risk. We also invited our friend Vivianne.
She’s a little wild, a lot of fun, and fully obsessed with Killer.
She’s the perfect mix of chaos and charisma, with a laugh that’s always a little too loud and a mouth that never backs down.
Wesley’s not her biggest fan. That’s putting it mildly.
They’ve hated each other for years, and he’s always warning me to steer clear of her like she’s some kind of ticking time bomb.
But tonight? I’m not here to make my brother happy.
I’m here to have fun, lose myself in music and drinks, and maybe, just maybe, hang out with Declan.
The three of us make a beeline for the bar. Jeanne is already flagging down the bartender with that practiced wave of hers. She orders us a round of shots and margaritas, practically bouncing in her heels.
“To a night to remember,” Vivianne declares, raising her shot glass high, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jeanne and I lift ours in unison, and the three of us toss them back. The tequila hits hard, burning its way down, and I hiss through my teeth as I chase it with a sip of my margarita.
“Damn,” I mutter, feeling the fire spread through my chest.
“What time is Killer and his band supposed to get here?” Jeanne asks, leaning on the bar, scanning the room with wide, eager eyes.
I shrug. “No idea. I was just told they’d be here sometime tonight.”
Vivianne rolls her eyes and swings her gaze toward me. “As long as I don’t see your brother, I don’t care how long we have to wait.”
I laugh. “Same.”
We talk for a little while, nothing too serious, just the easy kind of conversation that happens when you’ve had just enough alcohol to relax. Then Viv grabs both our hands and drags us to the dance floor.
And we dance.
God, it feels good to let go, to move freely to the beat, hips swaying, hair clinging to my skin. Laughter bubbles out of me as Jeanne spins me in a circle and Viv wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
But even as I dance, even as I smile and pretend to be carefree, I’m scanning the room. Searching. Hoping.
Where is he?
Why invite me if you’re not even going to show?
I try to shake off the disappointment. Focus on the warmth spreading from the alcohol, on the music thrumming through my veins. But it’s hard. Because deep down, I want to see him. Need to.
Then it happens.
The air shifts.
It’s subtle at first, a prickling awareness along the back of my neck, like my body knows before my brain does.
I stop mid-step, turning slowly toward the bar.
And there he is.
Declan.
He walks in demanding attention. Shoulders back, steps confident, his gaze laser-focused.
He’s not alone. The other guys from Shattered Souls are with him, looking like every single one of them could kill a man and then ask if you want a drink.
They weren’t here a minute ago. It's like they appeared out of thin air.
My breath catches when our eyes meet.
Declan smirks. That slow, sinful curve of his lips that’s become dangerous to my self-control. And damn it, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I can feel my resolve start to crack. It takes everything in me not to run across the room to him.
But I stay where I am.
Barely.
He’s watching me like he can see through my dress, like he knows I’m already wet just from the look he’s giving me. My skin prickles, heat pooling low in my belly. I clench my thighs, pretending to keep dancing, but all I can think about is how he’s going to ruin me later.
And how much I want him to.
The bass thumps through the floor and into my bones, the crowd packed tighter as the night rolls on. Lights flash. Laughter rises. Drinks flow freely. The heat in the room thickens, but none of that has my full attention.
Declan’s eyes are locked on me like he knows exactly what he does to me. Like he enjoys watching me try to keep my shit together when all I want to do is walk over there, grab him by the collar, and taste that smug mouth of his.
He doesn’t look away. Not once. Even as Hux and the others start talking to the bartender, Declan's body is angled toward me, his attention laser-focused.
It’s like foreplay without a single touch.
I pretend to focus on Vivianne and Jeanne, who are still dancing like they’re living their best lives. But my body’s already humming with the need to move to get closer. My skin prickles with awareness. My pulse is ridiculous. I feel like I’m burning up and chilled all at once.
Declan turns his attention to Lex, another member, slow and unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does.
I take the moment to turn away, heading toward the bathrooms. I need a second to breathe. To calm the hell down. He’s already got too much power over me, and we’ve barely spoken tonight.
The bathroom’s mercifully empty when I step inside. Cool, dim lighting and the faint buzz of a neon fixture overhead.
I lean on the sink, grip the edge, and stare at my flushed reflection in the mirror.
“Jesus,” I whisper, trying to gather myself.
And then I hear the door open behind me.
The soft click of the lock being thrown sends a bolt of anticipation down my spine.
I don’t even have to look.
Declan’s reflection fills the mirror behind me, dark eyes locked on mine as he moves toward me like a storm rolling in. A storm that’s inevitable and unstoppable.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I say, voice breathless, betraying my own need.
“You think I care?” His voice is low, rough, already dragging shivers down my spine.
He stops right behind me, hands bracing the counter on either side of mine, caging me in without touching me. His body heat seeps into mine. His breath fans against my neck.
“I didn’t invite you here just for Killer,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I promised you the entire weekend, and I couldn’t wait until I got home later. I needed to see you, even if I couldn’t touch you.”
I swallow hard, every nerve on edge, strung tight between need and restraint. “You’ve got this whole intense thing going on, you know that?”
He chuckles softly, but there’s hunger in it. “I only get like this with you.”
I turn in the cage of his arms, heart pounding, and find myself face to face with everything I’ve been trying to resist. His dark eyes search mine, lingering on my lips before dragging slowly back up.
“I’ve been watching you all night,” he says. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
“Then do something about it.”
That’s all it takes.
His mouth crashes down on mine, all heat and desperation and want. I moan against him as his hands grip my hips, lifting me just enough to settle me against the counter. The kiss deepens, hungry and raw, the kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for permission. It claims you.
I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. He tastes like whiskey and sin and everything I crave but shouldn’t.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, lips swollen, heart racing.
“Now we’re even,” I say, trying to find a shred of sanity.
Declan chuckles, brushing his fingers down my jaw. “Not even close.”
His eyes are dark with want, and mine probably match.
I should stop this. We’re in a public bathroom, for God’s sake.
There’s a packed club on the other side of this door.
But logic is nowhere to be found. And if I’m being honest, it’s such a turn-on knowing that he’s desperately trying to keep this relationship a secret from my brother, but he’s willing to risk it because he wants me that much.
Declan’s hands slide beneath the hem of my dress, rough palms against my thighs, fingertips dragging upward until they reach the lace I wore with him in mind. His growl is pure sex, low and dangerous, vibrating straight through me.
“Maybe it’s time you stop wearing panties,” he rasps, pushing the lace aside, brushing his knuckles along where I’m already wet for him.
I nod, breath catching. “I’ll leave my pussy bare for you.”
“Fuck, Lena.” He captures my mouth again, this kiss deeper, dirtier. I open for him, tasting every ounce of want he’s been holding back. He rips them off and gives me that sexy as sin grin. “Next time, no panties.”
My breath hitches, but it’s sexy as hell..
“Wrap your legs around me.”
I do, needing the relief as badly as he does.
He reaches down, unbuckling his belt with one hand like it’s nothing, the other still gripping my hip to keep me balanced on the counter.
Then I feel him, thick and hard, pressing against me. I bite my lip, rocking forward just enough to make contact. He groans low in his throat.
“Hold on tight because this is going to be hard and fast,” he hisses.
I nod, eyes locked with his. “Please,” I beg, needing him like never before.
He pushes into me in one slow, steady thrust.