CHAPTER THREE
I tap Sabrina on the elbow, her eyes popping open. She stops dancing and turns. “Why, yes, sheepy sheep?”
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
I think she’s on her fourth or fifth champagne, dancing getting looser and the predators closing in from the perimeter of the dance floor.
I don’t want to leave her alone, but I really have to go.
“Fine, fine,” she waves in the air, champagne sloshing from her glass. “See you soooon,” she laughs.
I head off the dance floor, pushing myself between two men and finding the bathroom down the back.
I push through the heavy wooden doors, the loud chatter and music of the ball fading behind me. The room is dimly lit, shadows flickering across the marble countertops. A chandelier dangles from the ceiling, crystals tinkling with my entrance.
I walk to the sinks, gripping the stone.
It’s like I can feel his hands on my body. They’re big, greedy. His breath is warm on my neck. There’s a flush of heat between my legs that almost makes me falter.
The hell is happening to me?
The air is heavy and smells of perfume mixed with a hint of musk. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror, eyes wild and lips swollen red. I glance away quickly, not wanting to see the desire written across my face.
Desire.
The word echoes in my mind and I swallow hard. I have never felt this way before, never wanted something so badly that it consumes every thought. But why? I know nothing about this guy. I don’t even know his name.
It’s like he’s in my head, puppeteering my thoughts.
My nipples tighten. I squeeze my thighs together, craving the feel of his hands, his mouth...anything, really.
A soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
My breath comes faster as I imagine his hard length pressed against me.
The sound of the door opening startles me from my thoughts. I turn to see a woman in an ivory gown and swan mask glide into the room, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. A scar runs from her lower lip to the bottom of her chin, jagged.
I open my mouth, but no words form. The woman turns away, walking to the stalls at the back of the room. The tap of her heels echoes in the silence as I stand motionless.
The woman emerges from the stall a moment later, smoothing her skirts and regarding me with an inscrutable gaze. I struggle for something to say.
Finally, she speaks, her voice low and husky. "Do not call the number on that card."
I frown, confused. "I'm sorry?”
She glides closer and brings her lips to my ear. “Forget Lumina. Forget him, Annabelle.”
My chest tightens.
“How do you know my name?” I ask, my voice pitching up.
"Names have power. I won't give you mine." The woman glides closer, and I force myself not to recoil. "Listen to me. Forget the card. Forget the number. Don't go down that path."
"What are you talking about?" I demand, anger kindling under my fear. "Speak plainly."
I look sideways to question her further, but she’s already moving away, stalking towards the door.
"Wait, who are you? What is this about?" I press, following her. She pauses with her hand on the door, half-turning to meet my gaze.
"Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again," she intones softly. A shiver runs down my spine at her words. I bolt my feet to the floor. "You’d do well to remember that,” she finishes.
With that, she sweeps through the doors and from the room, leaving me alone with nothing but a cryptic message.
This whole night is getting fucking weird, and fast.
I take out the card and stare at it, torn between curiosity and the woman's warning. What did she mean? What will happen if I go? But still my heart races at the thought of hearing his voice again, of glimpsing the man behind the mask.
But her scarred face lingers in my mind, a silent warning.
She was scarred. He was scarred. What will happen to me if I call the number?
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
Her words echo in my head.
I shake it, trying to clear the confusion. This is stupid. It’s madness. These people are strangers. I shouldn't be caught up in their Society games. I start to crumple the card in my fist, stop. My gaze falls on the gold numbers, tantalizing in their mystery.
Against my better judgment, I find myself smoothing the card flat once more, tracing the indentations with a fingertip. I can almost hear his whisper in my ear, feel the heat of his gaze through the mask.
Without realizing it, I’ve taken out my phone and started to dial the number. My thumb hovers over the call button, hesitating.
Do I dare?
The woman's scarred face flashes in my mind again, twisted. I jerk back as if burned, the phone tumbling from my hands to clatter on the floor.
No. Something about this feels wrong, dangerous in a way I don't understand. I crush the card in my fist, my knuckles turning white with the force of my grip as I stride to the trash can and toss it in.
Let this mystery remain unsolved. I want no part of it.
Breathing hard, I stare at the crumpled card lying at the bottom of the bin. But I can still feel the imprint of the number in my palm, as if it's been branded there.
No, I remind myself. Fucking go, will you?
I stumble out of the bathroom in a daze. The ballroom seems darker and more sinister now, shadows lurking in every corner. The woman's warning echoes in my mind as I search the crowd for any sign of Sabrina. It’s high time we get out of here before things go full Eyes Wide Shut.
I don't understand any of this. I shouldn’t be here.
Sabrina is chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. I grab her arm, pulling her aside with more force than necessary. She gives me a startled look.
"Ana, what on Earth—?"
"We have to leave," I say urgently. "Now."
Sabrina frowns. "What? Why?"
I shake my head, casting another uneasy glance around the ballroom. "I can't explain right now. Please, just trust me."
Her eyes narrow, seeing my obvious distress. "All right. Let's go."
Relief washes over me as we make our way toward the exit. The stranger's warning echoes again in my mind, and I quicken my steps, eager to escape.
We're nearly at the door when a hand closes around my upper arm. I gasp, whirling to find piercing emerald eyes gazing down at me in the semi-dark.
It's him.
The Wolf.
I let out a whimper. The memory of scarred flesh flashes behind my eyes, the Wolf’s grip on my arm burning like a brand.
I know then, with cold certainty, this is not going to end well.
Sabrina looks between us, confusion etched on her face. The stranger's lips curl into a predatory smile as his gaze rakes over me.
"Leaving so soon?" His voice is velvet and poison. "The night has only just begun."
I try to pull my arm from his grasp, but his fingers only tighten. Panic rises in my chest, strangling the breath from my lungs.
"Let go of me," I say through gritted teeth.
The stranger leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "As you wish.”
Revulsion churns with desire in my stomach at his touch—the worst kind of contradiction. I twist violently, wrenching my arm free. The Wolf makes no move to stop me as I stumble back. His eyes follow me, hungry and knowing, as if he already has me in his grasp.
“Fucking psycho!” Sabrina yells back at him.
I grab Sab's hand, dragging her after me. We burst through the doors of the ballroom and out into the night. The cold air is a shock to my fevered skin. I lead Sab down the alleyway, thankful to be free. I keep my silence throughout our short stroll knowing I’m a complete mess. Only when we're in the back of the limo, speeding away from the ball, do I finally feel I can breathe again.
I wipe the beads of cold sweat from my upper chest, my heartbeat slowing as the night streaks by outside.
Sabrina touches my shoulder gently. "Jesus, you know that asshole?”
I shake my head. “No.”
I wrap my arms around myself, a chill settling deep in my bones. I can still feel the Wolf's eyes on me, stripping me bare.
I brace myself for more questions suspecting Sabrina will not let up, but to my surprise she’s too busy rummaging through her purse and probably too drunk to care. She’s never been particularly good at holding her alcohol, not that I can talk. My head’s wooly enough as it is.
The further we get, the more relief floods through my system.
Still, I know with grim certainty, whether I call the number or not, something is in motion.
Whatever it is, whatever has started, it’s only the beginning.