Chapter 24
Myssa
After closing the door, I lean against it and slowly slide down to the floor.
Letting out a deep sigh, I hold my head in my hands.
Why does he have to be so easy to talk to?
He’s so open with me, and it’s a breath of fresh air from what I’m used to.
It’s why I let my guard down. Those hazel eyes captivate me, and I get lost in the familiarity.
His proximity when we’re in the same room makes my body come alive, as if my heart only beats for him.
As if my soul knows him, has felt him, has loved him once upon a time.
And if all these things are true, then why does my intuition stop me from sharing everything?
Why am I so hesitant about sharing this secret about Lily—she’s a part of the Rebellion, after all, isn’t she?
Maybe he already knows about her. But if he did, wouldn’t he tell me?
All of this has been a lot to take in today.
For now, I need a break, a night where I don’t have to think of anything.
I’m tired of this little dance Zayne and I keep doing.
Thinking back to what Vix said, I lean my head back against the door, looking over at my closet.
Maybe it is to test her theory. I’m tired of wondering if he’s feeling the same way.
With a deviant smirk on my face, I get up and walk over to the closet.
And I just happen to have the perfect outfit for this tonight.
Maybe it’s time to take this game up a notch.
A small knock on my door echoes through the room, I hear Zayne’s voice on the other side.
“Hey, Myssa. I have to head to the club,” he says.
As much as I’d like to open the door and drink in whatever he’s wearing tonight, I restrain myself.
“Sounds good, I’ll be down later,” I say nonchalantly.
I hear the front door shut a few minutes later. Grabbing my phone, I open Spotify and just let it play. “The Everlasting Gaze” from Smashing Pumpkins starts and I turn in up.
Staring at the outfit laid out on the bed, I already know I’m out of my comfort zone. This is one hundred percent a Vix outfit, and I can’t help feel a little intimidated as it stares back up at me. My insecurities try to talk me out of wearing something so bold.
“NO,” I scold at myself. It’s time I own who I am—after all, I’m an Original, aren’t I? I laugh. Geez, I sound like I’m a superhero or something.
“Fuck it, let’s do this.”
Sitting on the bed, I lace up my platform boots and stand.
I make my way over to the mirror my gaze on the floor, not sure if I want to see what I look like.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and face the mirror.
When I open my eyes, for the first time in a long time, I smile at my reflection.
The sheer long-sleeved shirt ends at my midriff, exposing just a slit of skin.
And I can honestly say I don’t hate it. My long black skirt, looking seemingly plain, is anything but.
I move my leg, and the slits on each side expose the thigh-high fishnet stockings I have on.
I lean toward the mirror and tease my hair slightly, before checking my make-up one last time. My smokey eye shadow, with an under-shade of deep purple, make my green eyes pop.
I pucker my lips and dab them with a tissue. The combination of black eyeliner with a wine-colored shimmering lipstick gives them a depth that makes me feel bold.
Grabbing my silver rings and black beaded bracelets, I step back and take it all in.
The panic that normally tries to weasel into my thoughts attempts to seep in, but I’m not hearing it. Not tonight.
For the first time in a long time, I feel at home in my own skin. I’m embracing who I am for me and not for anyone else. And dare I say, I look fucking hot tonight.
What if he doesn’t feel the same way, though?
What if I’m reading his signals wrong? I take a deep breath and shake the thoughts out of my head.
Keep the faith, Myssa. A saying my dad always told me growing up.
At the very least, I’ll know where I stand, and hey, who knows, it’s gonna be packed tonight.
If Zayne doesn’t take interest maybe someone else will.
After grabbing my keys and putting them in my small clutch, along with my phone and my credit card, I walk out the door toward the elevator.
Once in the club, I scan the floor, hoping to get a glimpse of Knox or Zayne, but the place is already starting to fill up.
Walking over to the bar Vix is tending, I see a stool with a “reserved” sign.
While Vix is preparing a drink, she looks over, stops mid-shake, and her gaze slowly peruses me from head to toe, before her lips purse to whistle.
I smile as I step back to give her a better look, while flashing her my leg through the slit of my skirt.
She mouths “fucking hot”, and I give her a half-curtsy.
She points to the reserved sign, indicating that it’s for me, and I step over to sit.
She brings me over a shot and a bourbon on the rocks.
“You look fucking stunning,” she says, half-hugging me while leaning over the bar.
“You think it will get his attention?” I say.
“Oh, I’m pretty positive.” She leans over and whispers, “I just watched one of the cameras behind you on the wall move to point over here. He’s in his office. Don’t look, but trust me when I tell you, you have his undivided attention.” She winks.
I stifle a smile and decide to purposely sit in a way that exposes my leg well up to my hip.
I take the shot and down the bourbon, letting the liquor give me the warmth of encouragement I need.
I turn in my chair and watch the hustle of all the people in the room.
Couples huddled together, enjoying a night out.
Groups of people just hanging out, and I can’t help but wonder how many will hook up tonight.
How many will shoot their shot? How many people are here looking for their soulmate, their true love?
The hour passes quickly as I get into a small discussion about bands with the couple sitting next to me.
“Camera is still fixed on you,” I hear Vix say next to me.
I turn to look at her, and she winks before gesturing for me to go to the dance floor. I hand her my purse, and she stuffs it back behind the bar. It’s now or never. Throwing back the last bit of my drink, I let the liquor fuel my confidence.
I nudge through the sea of people to make sure I get a spot up against the rail, and in a direct sight line of a camera.
I smile as the beginning synths of “Vessel” by Nine Inch Nails starts to play through the speakers.
I close my eyes, letting the music take over.
Holding the banister as my hips sway, I drop down, the slits of the skirt exposing my thighs, then back up again as the rhythm takes over.
I look up in the direction of the camera, wondering if he really is looking at me.
I get my answer, though, as a few moments later, the same hands that had wrapped around me the last time curl around my hips.
The stranger who’d held me, the stranger who’d made me feel the safest I’d felt in months, was here again.
His divine scent of musk and man lingers in the air, the same scent I’d had the privilege of being intoxicated by just a few hours ago, when he’s gotten out of the shower. And now he’s behind me.
The memory of him standing in my doorway wearing only sweats sends tiny pleasurable pulses down my spine.
He follows my movements, and I trace my fingernails back and forth lazily up and down his forearms. This, this is how it’s supposed to be.
His body against mine, and mine molded into his.
Two halves of a whole, two souls that have been entwined since the beginning, finally finding themselves together again.
It’s like he senses what I’m thinking, because his grip gets tighter, and I can feel his hardness on my backside, igniting the flames inside me that have been left dormant for as long as it took for us to find each other again in this lifetime.
That desperate need to feel every inch of him overpowers me.
The urge to taste his sweet lips on mine, the primal need to mark him as mine.
His hands slide down, and I interlock his with mine.
The electrified intensity of my nerves sending pulses throughout my body makes my breath catch.
I feel the weightlessness take me again through the frequency, his body still holding on to mine.
The ash falling from the sky, and the illumination of the crimson mood, set an eerily romantic mood.
And right now, in this moment, I don’t care where we are.
I don’t care who sees. I don’t care if Jasper is around.
I only care about him, and this connection I never want to let go of.
I turn around to face him, and find his eyes, which are heavy with lust. My eyes drift between his eyes and his lips.
“It was you that night, wasn’t it?” I whisper.
The intensity of his gaze makes my body hum in anticipation.
“Yes,” he confesses.
“But how?” I ask.
“You brought us here, just like the last time,” he admits, and my brow furrows in confusion. I know he can shift through like I can, so I don’t understand what he’s saying.
Understanding the confusion on my face, he continues.
“I told you, you are more powerful than any of us. I didn’t push through the frequency; you pulled me with you. I had no control.”
Taking in his words, I don’t quite know what to say. Or what it all means.
“You have no idea the kind of grasp you have on me. The way I feel about you. I want to kiss you, feel you,” he declares.
“Me?” I ask again, needing confirmation.