Chapter 15
"You know you've been staring at me and giggling for five minutes." His thumbs brush along my temples as he checks my pupils.
I frown. Did I slip through a crack in time? Damn, this thing is strong.
"Should I be concerned or flattered?" he asks, half-amused, half-concerned.
"Flattered. Definitely flattered. You're a beautiful rainbow,” I say, painting shapes with my hand over his torso. "But mostly blue and magenta, especially around your heart. Your head's mostly yellow."
He blinks, then huffs a laugh, rechecking my eyes. "Goddamn it. What did my sister give you?"
We're still buried in the cushions, half-sunk into the sand, tucked a little away from everyone who's going wild at the party. Mara and Paul are nowhere to be seen.
"Let's dance." I get up abruptly. The music swells into EDM now—hypnotic. No, erotic. Every thump pressing against my ribs, whispering touch me, and I want us swallowed by it.
Ben pulls his brows together, thrown off, but then rises. "Fair warning. I've been practicing new moves."
His hands flash behind his head, hips unapologetically rolling forward like he's auditioning for a gigolo gig.
I roll my eyes, biting back my grin. "Is this what happens when I leave you unsupervised?"
"We've always danced badly. That's the magic," he says, miming a scoop at some invisible booty.
I burst out laughing and swing my hips in a fluid motion. "Speak for yourself. I've always been sensual."
One brow arcs up. "Sensual? Is that what we're calling your 'falling sideways while holding a wine glass' era?"
"It wasn't a fall," I snap, but it comes out playful. "I surrendered to gravity. Huge difference."
"Right." He smiles and steps closer, his hand landing on my hip. "Huge difference."
"Hey! Wanna play Naked Twister with us?"
The interruption floats in like sweet perfume—three girls in nothing but fearless skin and chrome sequins, breasts perkier than mine have ever dared to be. The kind of beauty that makes you want to sue Mother Nature for favoritism.
My high dips instantly, especially when Ben's gaze skims over their bodies while they stand there tempting him.
I know, I know… this place is for sharing, maybe even bodies, and I shouldn't be jealous because he isn't even mine—but that selfish scorch in my stomach? It doesn't share. Not his body.
Not him.
My hands twitch to claw him back, but I don't have to because his eyes settle only on me.
"What do you say, Miss Prude? Want me to make this night… interesting?"
My pulse spikes, but my face does the exact opposite. I roll my eyes. "Why are you asking me? Go ahead. Do whatever."
Something dark flickers in his eyes. "Do whatever? Trust me, you shouldn't give me that option."
"Yeah," I bite, annoyed at him for no reason. "It's your thing."
"Thing?" He snorts a laugh and looks at me curiously. His gaze dips down the front of his pants, then up again—full smirk. "That's what you call him? Couldn't you think of something more reverent? Or powerful?"
Groaning, I bury my face in my palms. "Seriously, Ben. Just—go."
He pries my hands away, then spins toward the girls who are waiting like hungry moths.
For one horrible second, I'm sure he'll go—become king of Aphrodite's heir club—but he says, "No. Not interested."
Oh. I stare at him because it's the most absolute, merciless "no" I've ever heard from Ben.
Back in the day, he didn’t mind a little flirtation, and now he's here, fixed on me like the rest of the world can go to hell.
"Are you sure?" one girl asks. "It's a lot of fun."
"Very sure," he says nonchalantly, drops his arm over my shoulder, and pulls me closer. Then he looks into my eyes. "Why would I go when I have my girl here?"
I blink as the girls scatter away. Did Ben just—? Or am I hallucinating again?
"Your girl?" I tilt toward him, craning my neck to meet his eyes.
He nods, calm as sin. "That's exactly what I said."
I'm tempted to shoot him another glare just for the sake of it, but he grabs my hand and my waist and presses me against him.
And then the two of us move to the rhythm of music, and there's nothing wrong with it—it's sweet, I swear, it's friendly.
We're swaying and turning and he doesn't just move with me, doesn't just lead—he makes me feel alive. I'm laughing and god, I haven't laughed like this forever.
And maybe it's not that friendly after all because when Ben presses his cheek on mine, I think of Richard for a second and he wouldn't like this very much, but I don't let go because Ben's smiling too and it's too precious to let the moment die.
Jonah somehow appears out of nowhere, his peacock feathers on full display as he walks toward us with a handful of silver rune tattoos. That temporary kind, adorning even his arms.
"Hey, hey." He nudges his palms toward Ben. "Pick some for your lady?"
I frown. What's up with everyone today?
"I'm not—"
Ben raises his brow at me. "Yes, Emma?"
My mouth shuts.
Alright, I'm his lady. For today.
No. For now. Just for now.
"Thanks buddy," he tells Jonah, plucking two tattoos.
A quick handshake and Jonah disappears in the thick pink fog again.
"Haven't seen those since third grade," I mutter, watching Ben peel the backing off one.
"Me neither," he says, eyes flicking from the paper to me. "Stand still."
He leans down, shoulders shadowing me and then his tongue—his tongue—finds my collarbone and drags up, making me feel the warm slick of it.
My eyes shoot wide, every nerve in my body flaring, sparks racing down my spine. My hand twitches with half a thought of pushing him away, but I don’t.
"What—what the hell are you doing?" I say, shaky.
“Relax. That’s how it works.” His voice is threaded with smile. He presses the tattoo paper to my skin and pulls his bottom lip in, like he's tasting something sweet.
“No, it's not—” I start, but the protest dies when his mouth moves again, claiming the other side, and this time he's thorough—his tongue trails even higher.
He stops at my jaw, his breath flooding my ear for a beat and my knees threaten to give.
And then he's gone.
A whisper of cool air across the spot as he blows on my skin, and he straightens, impossibly tall, impossibly in control.
It takes me a breath to force out, "Stop acting like you own me," but my chest's heaving too hard for the words to sound defiant.
"Too late." His eyes don't waver. "You let me lick you. Now you're mine."
No smirk, no teasing wink—just the quiet certainty of someone stating a truth he already believes.
I stare at him, my brain trying to catch up. I don't know him like this.
This is not even fun anymore. Everything in me is blooming against my defenses, and the devil inside? She's smiling, winning. She knew all along what she was doing with every yes, every touch. She always does.
But this is where I have to draw the line.
I take a step back. "Thanks for tonight. I'm going to sleep. I'm really tired." I pretend to yawn. "The high dipped."
His brows pinch and he studies me intensely, knowing I'm lying, but in the end he just nods. "Okay. Wait here."
He disappears into the crowd before I have a chance to say anything, and I just stand here in the aftershock.
Then a black bike glides into the glow, a silver lightning bolt down its frame like it was made for him, and Ben rolls back into view, eyes locked on me.
"I'm not letting you go alone. Get on."
Instinct takes over and I climb on behind him, hands wrapping around his waist without thinking.
The wheels catch the sand and we're moving through the lit-up night.
I press my ear to his chest, and listen to his heartbeat, inhaling when he does, and letting the song under his ribs soothe me as my lullaby.
But as all beautiful things do, it ends too soon, and we roll to a stop.
I slide off the bike and purposely avoid his eyes as I head straight for my tent. "Thanks. Go back. Have fun. Good night."
"That's it?" His voice behind me stops me.
I turn—not as reluctantly as I should. "Yeah. What else?"
Ben swings off the bike, crosses to me and his arms open right in front for me. "Not even a hug? For bringing you home safe?"
I just shake my head, smiling like he's not turning me inside out.
He raises a brow. "Come on, Emma. You're acting like I'm dangerous."
Because you are.
"Ben, I have to go," I mutter. "It's either bedtime, or existential reckoning."
I turn away, ready to take another step from him when a moan rips through the night air—urgent, loud, and unmistakable.
Mara.
Ben freezes. Then his hands drag down his face like he could scrape the sound out of his memory and he paces back. "Nope. Can't. Won't. I swear I'll kill them. Both."
My nervous laugh bursts out, muffled by my hand. "Oh my god. I can't go inside now!"
"You shouldn't." He shakes his head and stills, eyes flicking to me. "Come to mine."
When he sees my hesitation, he smirks. "No expectations. Just until it stops."
I nod right as Mara moans again.
Ben's hand finds my wrist and suddenly we're running down the row, past the firepit that is long cold.
We stop down the path in front of a white tent that's twice the size of ours, it's pointed roof cutting into the sky. Ben yanks the flap open and—
My mouth drops and I step in. "What the actual hell?"
The inside throbs with light and bass from the desert, pushing against the white walls.
Gold electric lanterns glow on the ground, red lights sway from the ceiling like bleeding stars over scarlet and golden rugs.
In the middle of it: a bed. An actual sandalwood bed, the scent of it lingering in the air, and black blanket already rumpled, waiting.
Ben strides in, rinses his hands in a silver bowl on his bedside table, kicks off his shoes, and drops on the bed, hand laced under his head. "Welcome to my kingdom."
I huff. "Okay? Where's your genie?"
"You're looking at him. I plan."
"This isn't planning. This is a pact with the devil."
His mouth curves. "Call me whatever you want."
I smirk. "How did you even get this bed in here? And when?"
"I volunteered last year as a medic," he says casually. "And the year before. Jonah and the rest of the crew helped me with building this one. You like it?"
"Do I like it?" I echo. "You literally just ruined every future sleepover for me."
His face instantly lights up and I realize I said something stupid because his look gives it away.
"I mean, it's not an actual sleepover. You get my point," I say quickly, trying to save myself.
"Sure," he says knowingly. "I told Mara you should sleep here while I'm gone, but you obviously didn't listen."
"Yeah, and now I regret it." I give him a smile, then pause when it hits me. "Wait, did you say you volunteered last year as a medic? And the year before?"
"Yeah. Just the last few years," he says too fast, then nods his chin at me. "You planning to stand there all night? Or just admire me from afar?"
"Ehh... undecided."
His grin spreads low. "Want me to grant your wish?"
I give him an unimpressed look. "Yes please. I wish you'd shut up. You're not that irresistible."
Oh yeah, like him laying here under those red lights on black fur isn't literally my wet dream made flesh.
He tsks, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "So hostile. After I gave you my sanctuary." He turns to the side, running a hand over the sheet and his voice comes out purposely cold. “You don't deserve this. Stay there."
I glare at him, then scan the room for some neutral ground, but there's nothing.
Just me, him, and the bed—waiting.