Chapter 9 #2
Before I could respond, he tugged me forward with one arm. My breath hitched as I stumbled forward, landing flush against his cold hard chest.
My mouth had parted, prepared to give him an earful when his head dipped, his face brushing into my hair before he took a long, deep inhale. My words slipped away. A quiet exhale followed, like he was savoring something. I was racking my brain to remember if today was a hair-wash day.
“It makes it worth it,” he murmured, “when I finally get a taste.” His husky voice made my stomach flutter against my will.
A heavy, warm breath slipped through my lips, my pulse pounding hard against my ribs. Almost without thinking, my fingers curled against his chest. The muscle beneath my palms tightened, shifting under my touch.
I had the sudden, reckless urge to explore the muscles under my hands. Trace the lines with my finger tips and see how far that tension ran.
Supes always had unfairly perfect bodies, and this one was pressed right against mine.
His arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. Chest to chest. Legs brushing. Our hips moving together in slow, steady rhythm with the beat.
The crowd thickened without warning. Bodies pressed in from all sides, bumping into us, forcing us closer.
Heat climbed, making it uncomfortable since I was already hot from drinking. I glanced around, searching for an out, but then his cool hand slipped beneath my shirt, settling against the center of my back. The contrast sent a quiet shiver through me, easing something tight in my chest.
“Relax,” he murmured against my ear, his grip on my waist firming. “It’s just five dances, then you’re free of me.”
The music shifted—slower now, heavier, something that wrapped around us and wouldn't let go. Our bodies swayed in sync, locked together.
Even though my mind tried to remind me he was a vampire, someone that could hurt me, it was hard connecting those thoughts to the male in front of me.
Maybe the drinks were stronger than I thought. Or maybe I was just tired of fighting every instinct, every warning that told me to pull away.
Because for a moment… I didn’t want to.
Instead, I wondered what it would feel like to melt into this tall, hard, dangerous body. What would it feel like to have him underneath me, on top of me, holding me?
“And what happens,” I asked, my tone getting bolder, “if I don’t want to be free of you?”
He leaned back just enough to look at me. One corner of his mouth lifted, his gaze sharpening. Something darker and tantalizing flickering down at me.
Hunger.
And for once, I didn’t flinch. I held his stare, curious instead of afraid.
Even with no answer, we kept moving to the beat, unhurried. No pressure. No push for more. The words just hung there in the moment.
It was strange, the ease I felt with him, and I didn’t even know his name.
“What do people call you?” I asked, wanting to rectify that small insignificant detail.
He took that pause to spin me, pulling me back in tight before dipping me low and bringing me upright again. His forehead brushed mine, his deep midnight eyes filling my vision.
“You can call me Cal.” His tongue flicked lightly against one fang as he smiled, and something low in my stomach tightened.
“Via,” I said. That was enough. I was trying to be at least a little cautious about this.
“So, Via…” he drawled, easily guiding me back into the rhythm. “Are you always this set on causing dick-related trouble, or is tonight special?”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “We were celebrating.”
His interest sharpened, so I continued. “Something I built actually worked. Made me proud.” The words came easier than they should have. “Then John showed up and…” I tipped my head back, flashing him a sweet, dangerous smile. “We couldn’t help ourselves.”
The song shifted to the next ,which started slow, then built to a higher tempo.
Letting the music take over, I turned, and his hips followed the beat as I spun around in front of him.
His hands found my hips, steady and sure, drawing me back against him. He effortlessly matched my movement, guiding without forcing.
I leaned into it, into him. My arms lifted, settling around his neck like they belonged there. The lights pulsed around us, fading in and out as the music rose.
For once, I stopped thinking, stopped planning, and just let it happen.
The music shifted again, slipping between fast and slow, and he turned me in his arms. One hand cupped my cheek, the other resting lightly at my throat as his forehead pressed to mine. His breath came soft, uneven.
“It’s the fifth song,” he murmured, his thumb slowly tracing along my neck, unraveling my thoughts one stroke at a time. “Have you decided to ditch me yet?”
My heart stumbled.
Around us, the room pulsed, but the heat, the bodies, the noise, none of it felt real anymore. Not when I was pressed against something so cold and dangerous.
His hold wasn’t tight. Not trapping. He wasn’t forcing me to stay, and that almost made it worse because if I stayed, then it was my choice.
Am I really going to spend the night with a supe?
A familiar voice, the one that usually kept me safe, stirred in the back of my mind, reminding me what men like him were capable of.
Vampire. Predator. Danger.
But it sounded distant, faint, like it was already losing. Another thought slipped in, quieter… heavier.
What’s the worst that could happen? I could die, but was that really the worst thing possible in my life at this moment?
With Manshu breathing down my back and Alto and Lark being used as collateral, death didn't seem like that bad of an outcome. At least the people I loved would be safe and Manshu would have to go back to being a shitty rich boy wannabe.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening slightly against him.
“After this song…” I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
His thumb stilled. My pulse jumped.
“…let's stop this.”
The words settled between us, heavier than they should’ve been.
His mouth tightened just slightly, like he hadn’t expected that answer. Something dark and satisfied curled in my chest at catching him off balance.
I rose onto my toes, leaning close enough to feel the shift in his body, the tension coiling tight beneath his skin.
“And find somewhere to finish the night. Together.”
There it was. The line was crossed, and there was no taking it back now.
Something in him snapped.
He surged forward, kissing me like he’d been holding back the entire time. The press of his lips said he’d been waiting for permission, and I’d just handed it to him.
His hands pulled me closer. My body was on fire as we caught our breath, but my brain was trying to catch up.
God, this was a mistake. I knew it, yet I still leaned in, clutching at his shirt like I was prepared to climb him.
“Fuck,” he breathed against my skin, his voice rough, unsteady in a way that sent a dangerous thrill through me. “You’re going to drive me insane. I just know it.”
The words pulled me deeper, and I began to frantically turn my head around, scanning the crowd until I found Lark. Her eyes went wide the second she saw me, jumping between me and the man I was wrapped around.
I pointed at him, mouthing that I was leaving with him.
Even as I did it, something twisted low in my stomach. This was where I was supposed to stop. This was where I should walk away. Where I expected my best friend to be my person of reason.
Lark’s mouth dropped, and she did a double take before she mouthed, get it, girl, then pulled out her phone and wiggled it at me. Telling me to text her.
I nodded, and she gave me a thumbs up. With Lark's official stamp of approval given, the last thread holding me back snapped.
“Let’s go,” he said low against my skin, lips trailing down my shoulder.
Didn’t hesitate when I nodded against his chest, not wanting him to see the panicked lust in my eyes.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly, arms secure around my back.
I closed them, keeping them locked tight as the air shifted, rushing around me, fast and disorienting, until suddenly, everything stopped.
He put me on something soft, and I realized the sounds of the bar were far away.
I opened my eyes to sleek lines and polished surfaces. A winged emblem gleamed faintly in the low light. My hand ran down the seat, savoring the soft lush leather that met my fingertips.
The other door opened, and the words fell out before I could stop them.
“Don’t tell me this is an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera?”
He slid into the driver’s seat, that same easy, dangerous smile pulling at his mouth before he pushed the button and the engine purred to life.
“This?” he said, glancing at me as he shifted into reverse. “It’s not even my favorite.”
I stared at him, at the car, marveling at the situation I had just willingly stepped into with a slacked jaw.
This was insane. I was insane.
And still…
As the car pulled into the night, one reckless, traitorous thought rose above the rest: I really want to get my hands on the wheel.
***
I barely remembered the drive to his place.
All I could think about was the choice I’d made to go home with a supe. To let go of the caution that had always ruled me, to ignore every warning, and just… jump.
If I was crossing the line tonight, I wasn’t stopping halfway.
Deciding to be ballsy like Lark, I let my hand drift into his lap as he drove. His eyes flicked down, then toward me in surprise. Resting my head against the seat, I slowly licked my lips.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured, not looking the least bit disappointed by the fact.
I let my hand slide up and down his thigh, testing, teasing. His jaw tightened.
“It’s my first night with a supe,” I boldly answered. “You better make it worth it.”
His head snapped toward me, eyes sharp, searching, like he was trying to decide if I was serious. Then a second later his foot hit the gas.
The rest of the drive was a blur.