Chapter 2 ATHENA
ATHENA
I knew coming to this party was going to be a mess, I just didn’t realize how much of one.
An hour ago, I stood in front of my closet, silently battling myself over what to wear.
My white Prada dress screamed town elite, but this wasn’t that kind of party.
So, I compromised—black mini skirt, fitted tank top, my favorite white-and-black designer jacket, high heels to match, and a white headband dotted with tiny diamonds. Chic but casual.
Or so I thought. Apparently, I’d still overdressed.
Now I was making my way through a dimly lit, overly crowded house in the middle of the forest, getting stared at like I’d shown up in a ball gown. Isadora and Seraphina had the right idea—jeans, sneakers, crop tops. Meanwhile, I looked… lost.
Good job, Athena.
The music was so loud it made the floor vibrate, the air was thick with weed and spilled beer, and someone was already passed out on the staircase.
We had arrived late, and the party was already in full chaos mode.
Bodies everywhere, laughter, shouting, people dancing on every piece of furniture that could hold their weight.
Still, my brother looked right at home—arm around some wide-eyed brunette, drink in hand, talking to strangers like they were old friends. Classic Ace.
Mason wasn’t far from him, laughing with the guys, drink in hand, and looking effortlessly good. His smile was too easy, his vibe too relaxed. I tightened my grip on my red cup and glanced at the clear liquid inside. Cheap and sharp, just what I needed.
“You look like you’re trying to manifest teleportation,” Seraphina said, raising her cup beside me.
“Is it working?” I asked dryly.
“Nope.” She smirked. “But if it does, beam me up with you.”
Isadora clinked her cup against mine. “You should’ve worn jeans.”
“Next time, I’ll come in a trash bag and see if that helps.”
They laughed, but I wasn’t joking. I felt like a high-end ghost in a frat house.
“Athena, you enjoy the party?” Seraphina asked, arching a brow.
No.
“Yeah,” I lied with a casual shrug, my body already drifting closer to Mason.
Just being near him helped me breathe a little easier.
He noticed and slid an arm around my waist without missing a beat in his conversation.
I leaned into him for a moment, taking in the comfort of his presence, the soft scent of his cologne. Seraphina wasn’t having it.
“Nope, c’mon, you’re not getting out of this. You’re dancing with us.”
Before I could protest, I was being dragged onto the dance floor.
“Ace, keep an eye on them,” Mason called out.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ace mumbled, already too busy with the girl on his arm to care.
The music pounded through my heels as I tried, and failed to match my friends’ energy.
Isadora and Seraphina moved like they belonged on the dance floor.
I swayed awkwardly and smiled too much, like a robot trying to blend in. Still, I was trying.
“You talked to your parents yet?” Isadora yelled over the beat.
I took another sip of the awful vodka. “No, you know them.”
Seraphina chimed in. “But why?”
‘’You know why, Seraphina.’’
“Mason is going too.”
Like that was going to fix everything. But still my father did have a weird soft spot for Mason.
The three of them—Isadora, Seraphina, Mason had signed up for a week-long trip at a resort just outside the city.
Some trip from their old school, and they wanted Ace and I to go with them. They’d been pushing for a month.
“Talk to your mom,” Isadora said, dancing like she wasn’t trying to convince me of something life-changing. “Your dad worships her.”
I chewed my bottom lip, thinking. It might actually work.
“I’ll try.”
Both girls screamed and clapped as if I’d just agreed to run for president.
“Now that deserves a toast,” Seraphina said, holding her cup up like it was a vintage champagne flute. “To us and to a legendary trip.”
“To us,” we chorused, and I downed what remained in my cup.
We danced more, we drank more, and somewhere in the noise and lights, I stopped caring about how out of place I looked or who was watching.
I let the alcohol warm my blood and blur my edges.
Mason reappeared beside me like gravity pulling me in, and I didn’t resist. His hands found my waist, mine found his shoulders.
I leaned into him, and we danced like the night was just ours.
But eventually, the heat and smoke became too much.
“I need air,” I murmured, lips close to Mason’s ear.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Stay with Ace. He needs more supervision than I do.” I smiled up at him. Mason looked like he wanted to argue, but then Ace waved a bag in the air, shouting something about weed.
“Water?” Mason offered.
“Yes, please.” I nodded. He kissed my cheek and I slipped away. The patio was a blessing. Quiet and dim. Cool night air kissed my flushed skin as I leaned against the railing, taking in the twinkling city lights below.
Finally. No pounding music, no drunk strangers spilling beer on my shoes, no expectations pressing against my spine.Just me.
If my father could see me right now—drunk, alone, and dressed like this, he’d have a heart attack. Or worse, he’d lock me up and swallow the key. Maddox King didn’t raise his daughter to stumble into forest-house parties in heels and short skirts. He raised me to shine, to lead, to be untouchable.
It was exhausted from trying to live up to it.
From being the perfect daughter, the golden girl.
From trying not to feel like a burden to Ace, or to Mason.
My fingers curled around the patio railing as I stared at the glint of city lights in the distance.
I needed to sober up, to think, to find my jacket wherever the hell it had disappeared to.
A low, husky voice sliced through the quiet.
I startled, spinning around, and crashed straight into a wall of heat and muscle.
A man stood too close, way too close, boxing me in between his body and the railing.
My back pressed against the cold metal, and behind me, nothing but black forest. His cologne was sharp and expensive.
He didn’t move or flinch. Just stared down at me, like he had every right to be there, smirking, like he enjoyed how uneasy he made mе.
Panic danced at the edge of my mind. My heels suddenly felt unsteady.
He had to be at least 6’3”—massive, muscular, and confident.
I looked like a little doll next to him.
But when I finally looked up at his face, the breath caught in my throat.
He was beautiful in the most terrifying way.
His jawline was sharp, lips curved into an infuriating grin.
Eyes dark green, almost black, locked onto mine like a laser.
A scar slashed across his right eye, climbing toward his forehead, and it should’ve made him ugly, but it didn’t.
Somehow, it made him more threatening and magnetic.
His hair was dark, messy, shaved short at the sides, the longer top falling across his brow just enough to tempt touch, but not enough to hide that scar.
Everything about him screamed danger, and yet there I was shamelessly staring.
“Ever heard of personal space?” My voice came out sharper than I felt.
He didn’t flinch. Just kept smirking.
“Can you, like, back the fuck away from me?”
“Just enjoying the view,” he said, voice like smoke and gravel. But he wasn’t looking at the skyline.
“Enjoy it from somewhere that’s not inside my personal bubble.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He raised a brow. The scar twisted slightly with the motion.
The scar twisted with his raised brow, and God help me—it made him hotter.
I glanced toward the far end of the yard. A few people were out there, too drunk to notice a thing. If this guy decided to push me off the railing, no one would notice until morning.
“You always this good at terrifying strangers?” I snapped.
“In my experience, they tend to enjoy it.”
His gaze slid down my body, slow and shameless, making my skin feel suddenly exposed, even with clothes on. The heat of it made me want to cross my arms, or hide behind something, but I didn’t.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I muttered, stepping sideways.
Finally, a sliver of air between us. He took the opportunity to shift with me, leaning casually against the railing at my side like we were old friends.
He didn’t touch me, but he was still too close.
The kind of close that felt intentional.
“You could be full of me too,” he said smoothly, “just ask nicely, dollface.”
My mouth dropped open.
I blinked. “Did you—did you just—?”
His grin was infuriating. Confident and dirty, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin. I scoffed, cheeks burning.
“Yeah, no thanks. I have no interest in fucking a stranger at some shitty party.”
He chuckled. He wasn’t fazed in the slightest. His eyes raked over me again, lingering on my bare legs. I crossed them instinctively, feeling that same heat pool in my stomach again.
“You look like you don’t belong here,” he said eventually, spinning the ring on his finger. His voice had gone quieter, more curious. I hated the way my eyes drifted to his hands.
Ugh. Get it together, Athena.
“No one asked for your opinion,” I snapped.
“Such a filthy mouth for such a pretty face,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue like a challenge.
“If you didn’t bother me, I wouldn’t be insulting you.”
“If I bother you so much, why haven’t you left?”
Damn him. I could’ve walked away the moment I slipped from under his shadow—but I didn’t.
“Because I was here first,” I said, arms crossed. “You should leave. Not me.”
He tilted his head, amused. Then he laughed. A real laugh. The kind that sent vibrations straight to my core. I shouldn’t like that laugh. But I did.
Before I could say another word, he grabbed my hand and lifted it to his lips.
My knees buckled, his eyes stayed on mine the whole time.
Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to the back of my hand, slow and intentional.
My breath caught. Still holding my hand, he stepped behind me, his body flush against mine, his chest pressing against my back.
His breath fanned across my neck, and I froze.
Every inch of him was pressed against me.
Too close. Too intimate. Too much .
“Enjoy the view, dollface,” he whispered against my skin, and kissed just below my ear. By the time I breathed again, he was gone. I stood there, stunned, gripping the railing like it might keep me from falling into the forest. When I finally turned around, the patio was empty.
No trace of him, just the echo of green eyes and the ghost of lips on my skin.
I touched the spot where he kissed me, and it burned under my fingers.
I stumbled back into the house on shaking legs, scanning the crowd, but he was nowhere.
Just laughter, lights, and the smell of bad vodka.
Mason spotted me first, and his expression softened as he pulled me into his arms.
“What took you so long?” he asked, worry in his voice. “I was looking for you.”
“The view was… distracting,” I mumbled.
He kissed the top of my head, and I should’ve felt comforted, but I didn’t. My skin still burned where another man’s lips had been. I raised a cup and drank, and when I closed my eyes, scarred green eyes followed me into the dark.