Prologue #2
“What’s your name?” I ask, keeping my tone casual, though my heart is doing that stupid fluttering thing that never stops when danger—and attraction—collide.
He shakes his head, the movement deliberate, teasing. “Names are overrated. Tonight… I just need to know you’re paying attention.”
I smirk, daring him further. “I am. You’re… interesting, I’ll give you that. But I’m not leaving here with you. You could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous is exactly why I approached you,” he says, and I catch the faintest edge of amusement in his voice. “And I can tell… you don’t scare easily.”
Tilting my head, I pretend not to notice the way my pulse jumps. “I’ve had practice.”
He leans just a fraction closer, enough that I feel the brush of his sleeve against mine. “Good. Then maybe you’ll enjoy the night ahead.”
I shiver, and it’s impossible to tell whether it’s the air, the music, or the way he watches me like he’s sizing me up. The thrill of unknown danger, of someone who could be anywhere from charming to deadly, sends a shiver down my spine.
And just like that, the night shifts. The masks, the costumes, the glittering chaos—they’re background now. He’s the only thing that matters, a spark I can’t quite touch… and somehow, I know I shouldn’t.
Yet I can’t look away.
He takes my hand before I can protest, and I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. The music pulses through the floor, reverberating in my chest, and suddenly we’re moving together, slipping into the rhythm as if the world outside this club doesn’t exist.
His hands are careful at first—one on my waist, the other brushing against my back—but there’s an unmistakable edge of exploration, like he’s testing boundaries, learning what’s new to him.
I can’t help the sharp intake of breath that escapes me when his fingers graze my hip, light but deliberate, sending a heat curling through me I’ve never known.
Without meaning to, I stiffen slightly, unsure of how to respond.
I’ve been sheltered my whole life, wrapped in silk and shields, my body mostly mine but my heart…
often watched, often controlled. Now, pressed against him, I feel something else entirely—curiosity, longing, and yes, a hint of fear that excites me in ways I shouldn’t admit.
“You’re tense,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice low and teasing. “Relax. Feel it. Let it guide you.”
Swallowing hard, I nod, forcing a small laugh, though my pulse is thrumming in my throat. “I—I don’t… I’m not used to this.”
A chuckle rumbles from him, deep and amused, and I feel the vibration along my shoulder. “Not used to being wanted?”
The bluntness of the question makes my stomach flip, and I shake my head, cheeks warming beneath the paint. “I’ve… never danced this close.”
“Hmm,” he hums, his hand sliding slightly higher on my back, pressing closer, testing me without rushing. “Then tonight … you’re allowed to explore. No rules. Just you … and me.”
It’s ridiculous. Dangerous and thrilling. My hand drifts to his chest almost without thinking, feeling the solid heat of him beneath the fabric, the pulse of hard muscle. I’m learning, inch by inch, the rhythm of closeness, the way a body reacts when it hasn’t been touched like this before.
His other hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together, firm and possessive, guiding my movements. Every brush of his palm, every shift of his body against mine, feels like it’s writing a secret language I didn’t know I wanted to learn.
“Relax your shoulders,” he whispers, and I do, letting him take over the sway, the lift, the turn.
His body is confident, skilled, and I am raw, unpracticed, every nerve alight with sensation.
I can’t stop the shiver that travels up my spine when his hand glides along my side, daring, patient, as though he knows exactly how far he can push.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I let the music and his touch guide me. This is forbidden, intoxicating, and utterly new. And somehow… I’m not scared. Not yet.
“Good girl,” he murmurs near my ear, the words grazing my skin like fire. “You’re… perfect tonight.”
And just like that, the world narrows to this—his hands, the rhythm, the heat, the spark of something I’ve never been allowed to feel.
“Princess, you ignoring me over here?” Maria’s voice slices through the club like a flare, full of mock outrage. She’s on the other side of the dance floor, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I bite back a laugh, and for a moment, the intimacy of his touch feels almost… wrong. Almost. I give him a small, apologetic smile, the one that says this isn’t over , and step back, letting his hands fall away.
Maria’s grin widens as I slip into her side. “There she is! I thought you were going to leave me lonely out here, huh?”
“I’m here,” I say, laughing, and she pulls me into a spin. The candy-bucket costume flares around her, bright and ridiculous, and I can’t help but smile, feeling the ease of her friendship like a lifeline.
“You’re glowing tonight, Princess,” Maria teases, leaning in so only I can hear. “But you’re making the poor masked stranger over there sweat bullets.”
I glance over my shoulder, and yes—he’s still watching, his mask tilted slightly, the tilt of his head and the way his eyes narrow making my pulse skip. My stomach flutters with a delicious mix of thrill and nerves.
Maria tugs me toward the bar. “Come on, Princess, let’s get another drink before you melt on me.”
Snorting, I say, “I don’t need to be handled. I just… I can’t help myself.”
She laughs and loops her arm through mine. “Then don’t. Just have fun. Tonight, nothing else matters.”
And I do. I let myself fall into the chaos of the party, the laughter, the music, the freedom of being with Maria. But even in the midst of the fun, even with my mask-smudged smile and candy-bucket friend beside me, I can’t stop the pull toward him.
I know before this night is over, I’ll find him again.
***
The clock in my mind screams almost one, and reality crashes in—I have to get home before someone notices I’m missing.
Maria, oblivious as always, is still laughing, waving her hands to the music.
Grabbing her hand, I weave us through the crowd to the club’s entrance.
The cool night air outside hits me like a breath of freedom, crisp and sharp against my flushed skin.
Maria spins toward me, grin wide, but freezes mid-step. Her dark eyes flick to the street. “Uh-oh,” she murmurs.
V stands there, jaw tight, eyes narrowing like only a disapproving older brother can. “Maria,” he says—not a greeting, just her name, low and serious. “We need to talk.”
I glance at Maria, who shoots me a quick, conspiratorial shrug. She’s used to this. I nod, letting her lead the way a few steps ahead. “Go on,” she murmurs. “I’ll catch up.”
Maria flashes me a reassuring smile, then turns to face her brother. I slip past them, heading down the stairs toward her car.
I’m nearly at the car when a hand clamps over my wrist. My breath catches.
I’m spun back against a wall, chest pressing into a solid, impossibly firm body.
The masked stranger from the club looms close, hands bracketing me against the brick.
My heart stutters—fear swirling with something far more dangerous.
“Princess,” he murmurs, low and teasing, the mask hiding his expression but not the intent in his voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I… I’m just—” I falter, my voice thin. My inexperience with men, with this, with him , tangles with the thrill surging through me.
His hands move, tracing lightly along my arms, sending shivers I can’t control through my body. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand—I want to run, but the warmth and strength of him keep me pinned, caught somewhere between fear and longing.
“You shouldn’t disappear,” he whispers, his breath brushing my ear. One hand slides up, fingers lingering near my neck, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. “Not when I’ve been waiting all night.”
I press my palms against his chest, tiny against the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “I—I’m not… I’m not…” Inexperienced, sheltered… unprepared. Words fail me.
A soft chuckle rumbles from him, vibrating through the wall behind us. “Not used to being wanted?” His fingers trace slowly along my jawline, teasing me.
My knees threaten to buckle. My pulse hammers in my ears. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper, voice barely audible.
He tilts his head, masking a smile I can feel more than see. “Then let me show you,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and the scent of him—warm, dangerous, intoxicating—fills my senses.
I try to swallow, to steady my racing heart, but my body betrays me, arching slightly into his touch, responding to every brush of his hands, every inch of heat pressing into mine. My mind screams caution, yet something inside me trembles with reckless curiosity.
He leans just slightly closer, eyes locked on mine, voice dropping to a near growl. “Princess, don’t look away from me. Not now.”
Biting my lip, I’m torn between warning myself to flee and the raw, thrilling pull that won’t let me.
He leans closer, my pulse is deafening, my breath shallow, and I know he can feel it through the brush of his body against mine.
Then, he closes the distance. His lips touch mine—softly at first, a whisper that makes my knees weaken and my stomach flip. I freeze, unsure what to do, my hands clutching at his chest, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Princess…” His voice is rough, low, and the way he says my nickname sends shivers straight through me.
His mouth presses harder, confident, insistent, and I finally respond—not fully, not with skill, but with curiosity and instinct. My lips part, and his tongue traces mine gently, exploring, coaxing, and I gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by how foreign and… thrilling it feels.