Chapter 27 Naomi #3
The music is a dull roar compared to the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.
Nyx’s touch, like Jaxon's, makes me feel alive, and the space between us vibrates with something electric. Here, with them, I’m unraveling.
Not because I want to, but because something about them beckons to me, pulling me in.
I’m suspended in a place that tastes like danger, desire, and quiet despair.
And as selfish as I am, I want to bask in it for as long as the night will let me.
Nyx’s eyes glint with mischief, that dangerous smirk playing on his lips again.
In the next breath, his hand slides down the line of my back.
His fingers graze the curve of my thigh, and in one breath-stealing motion, he lifts my leg, hooks it around his hip, and dips me low, sweeping me from one side of his body to the other.
My pulse rockets. Every inch of skin he touches ignites, and still—his eyes never leave mine.
Gasps ripple through the room, but they fade beneath the roaring silence between us. All I see is him—his smirk deepening, dangerous, because he knows the effect he has on me. And without warning, he pulls me flush against his chest in one sharp snap.
The music ends, its final note dissolving into stillness. The room hushes. All that’s left is the wild rhythm of my heart and the way he looks at me—like he’s daring me to fall, to unravel, to belong to him.
But I won’t.
I can’t... It is far too late for any of that.
He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t blink. Just leans in, close enough that I can feel the rasp of his breath at my ear as he murmurs, “You’re not slipping away that easily, Naomi.”
The way he says my name—a promise, a warning, a dare—leaves me awestruck.
Slowly, his hand glides up my leg, letting it fall back to the floor, my heel clicking against the tile.
It seems as if he contemplates letting me go, his fingers tracing small circles against my spine, holding me there, as if he wants this moment to last, too.
Finally, he lets me go, a slight, knowing smirk curving on his lips before his gaze shifts, sliding over my shoulder. And I follow it.
Christian doesn’t say a word, but his body speaks volumes—the tight set of his jaw, the way his shoulders coil with restrained fury. He’s holding himself back. Barely.
Nyx regards him with calm detachment, one brow arched in a lazy challenge.
There is a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as if daring Christian to step out of line, just once.
Without breaking eye contact with my fiancé, Nyx reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigarette.
Slipping it between his lips, he flicks his lighter open and ignites the end.
The ember crackles as he holds his gaze for just a moment longer.
I don’t even know if I should speak. Every breath feels like it might tip the balance, sending things spiraling further.
This is my fault.
I could’ve stopped it—I should’ve. But I didn't. And now, everything feels like it’s seconds away from breaking.
I could have told Nyx to fuck off the second he pulled me in.
But I couldn’t.
Because some reckless, aching part of me wanted to feel something—anything—that didn’t look like grief or regret. And I knew better. I knew nothing with him would ever be clean, or even remotely family-friendly.
Yet, I let it happen anyway.
Nyx exhales a steady stream of smoke that drifts in Christian’s direction, a silent, unapologetic taunt. His smirk only grows as he watches Christian’s face tighten, every inch of him bristling next to me.
Nyx leans down, his breath warm against my ear, his voice a low murmur.
“Thanks for the dance, Dollface.”
He pulls back just enough to catch my gaze, his smirk lingering as he lets his eyes roam over every curve of me, as if committing every detail to memory. And just like that, he walks off, disappearing into the crowd, and leaving me with Christian’s dark stare burning a hole through my head.
“What the fuck, Naomi?” Christian finally barks. His fingers dig into my upper arm, tugging me toward a quiet corner where fewer eyes can pry.
“Ouch, Christian. You’re hurting me.” I rip my arm from his grasp. “Stop it!” I lower my voice to an angry whisper, affixing a smile on my face as some guests walk by, eyeing us. “It was just a dance.”
“No, that was not a dance.” He whispers back, blooming his own fake smile. “You were practically fucking him on the dance floor like a goddamn whore.”
I blink, flashbacks of the night he hit me rearing through my mind, and I take a step back before I exhale the words that have been on my mind all night.
“Christian, I can’t—”
A loud bang disrupts my confession, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The room erupts into chaos, people screaming and ducking for cover. My heart lurches, and before I can even process what’s happening, Nyx is there, yanking me away from Christian.
Christian tries to tug me back, but Nyx’s grip is too tight. “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking her?”
“Naomi, we have to go,” he says urgently, his hand tight around mine, waiting for me to follow him, as he pins me with a look that says, him or me.
With a furrowed brow, I shrug out of Christian's grip. Nyx doesn’t miss a beat, pulling me through a crowd of fleeing bodies, keeping me pressed close to his side.
The screams rip through the air, footsteps thunder past, and the metallic stench of blood clings to the atmosphere.
Then comes another shot. I whip my head over my shoulder just in time to see Jaxon.
His eyes find mine for a split second, wide with something I can’t name, before he drops to his knees, collapsing a few feet away.
The world…my world feels as if it tilts on its axis.
My chest constricts as the noise around me fades, everything narrowing to him, crumpling to the floor.
Blood blooms across his crisp white shirt, and my legs move before I think, stumbling over broken glass and shattered plates.
My heart races in a frantic sprint toward him, louder than the bedlam.
“JAXON!” I can’t even hear my own screams over the beat of my heart. But an arm clamps around my waist, jerking me back.
Nyx’s grip is unrelenting, pulling me with terrifying strength. “Naomi, stop!” His voice is sharp, commanding, but I don’t care. I twist in his grip, clawing at his hand.
“Let me go! He’s hurt! Nyx, we can’t leave him—”
A shout cuts through the chaos—sharp, urgent—followed by movement in my peripheral vision. My heart seizes. Two men charge toward us, their faces contorted with intent, guns raised.
“Stay behind me!” Nyx roars, yanking me out of the line of fire as he pulls a Glock from a holster beneath his blazer.
The first shot cracks through the air, the muzzle flash illuminating Nyx’s face for a split second—cold, focused, lethal. One of the men jerks backward and drops, his gun skittering across the floor.
The second man fires back, and I scream, squeezing my eyes shut as Nyx shoves me against a wall, using his body as my shield. The sound of another shot, then another, deafens in the tight space. When I open my eyes, the second man is crumpled on the ground, blood pooling from his head.
Nyx turns to me, his breathing heavy, his eyes blazing. “You good?” he grunts, as if he didn’t just kill two people in under ten seconds. I can’t speak. My hands are shaking, tears streaming down my face as I catch a glimpse of their bodies.
Nyx tugs me by my jaw, his eyes boring into mine. “Naomi, focus.” His voice is sharper now. “We don’t have time for this. Move, or I’ll have to carry you.”
“Jaxon—” I choke out, my voice breaking.
“Naomi,” he whispers, his voice cracking just slightly. “We’ll get him. I swear to you, but you have to trust me. Please, let’s go.”
I shake my head wildly, sobs tearing out of me, my body trembling uncontrollably. My knees give out, but Nyx doesn’t let me hit the ground.
“No, no, no!”
The words tumble out of me, frantic and broken, my hands clutching at him like I can somehow force him to fix this if I beg hard enough. I shake my head, tears blurring my vision.
“We can’t leave him. Nyx, I can’t—”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish. With a low curse, he re-holsters his gun and snatches me up, cradling me close against his chest.
“Put me down! Nyx, put me down!” I scream, fists hammering against his chest. He doesn’t flinch.
We’re moving—running—crashing through the patio doors into the night. The air hits me, cold and slicing, sharp in my lungs. The screech of tires and more gunfire echo around us, but Nyx doesn’t slow, not for a second does he falter, not even for a breath.
“Nyx, we can’t leave him!” I cry. “He’s hurt!
But he doesn’t respond, just locks his arms around me tighter, like I’m precious cargo. He rounds the corner, and I see Cade and Xay by the open door of the Escalade, urgency all over their faces.
I thrash harder, screaming from somewhere deeper than my throat. “No!”
“Get her in the car!” Nyx barks the order, his voice clipped.
“No!” I scream, fighting harder. “We can’t leave him! We can’t just—”
“Naomi.” Nyx’s hand cups my face. His voice softens, but the urgency doesn’t leave his eyes. “Listen to me. Jaxon is still alive, but if we stay, we won’t be. Do you understand me?”
“Please, Nyx. Please...” For a moment, I think he might listen to me, but his eyes darken.
“Get her in the damn car, now!” Nyx roars, his voice like thunder. Xay grabs me, pulling me from Nyx’s chest and into the Escalade as Cade slides into the driver’s seat.
“Naomi, stop,” Xay says, gripping my arms as I thrash. His usual calm is gone, replaced by something raw, desperate. “We’ll get him back. But we have to go.”
The engine roars to life as Cade slams on the gas, the tires squealing as we speed through the gates, away from Jaxon.
My hands fist in Xay’s shirt as he holds me close against him. He murmurs something I can’t hear over my sobs.
“We left him,” I choked out. “We just left him like that.”
“We didn’t leave him,” Nyx says, his voice trembling with conviction. “He’s stronger than anyone I know. Trust me—he’ll be all right. He’ll be all right. He’ll be all right.”
His tone is sharp, but I see the way his fists clench, his knuckles white as he stares straight ahead. And I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or me. But his words don’t stop the image from burning in my head—all of my family, all of my friends.
“Aisha—” I start, tears blurring a clear sight of Xay’s face.
“You know I wouldn’t be here if she weren’t.” His confirmation only eases a fraction of my heartache.
“Thank you...”
“Breathe, Naomi. Just breathe. I’ve got you. I promise everything is going to be okay.” He looks at me as if I might break—and I just might.
The streetlights blur through the window as we speed through the city, leaving behind the party, the screams. Promises don’t erase the pain. My body won’t stop shaking, my mind racing with thoughts of my family, my friends, and if I’ll ever see Jaxon again.
God, please, I don’t ask you for much… let them be all right, let Jaxon be all right.