Before I can answer, he’s already guiding me away from the bar, hand gripping mine like a leash.
“You’re not giving me much choice,” I murmur.
His gaze flashes like lightning. “That’s the point.”
The music hits. Heavy, pulsing. I lose myself in it, pressed to his chest, our bodies swaying like we’ve done this a thousand lifetimes before.
For a moment, I forget everything, who I am, what waits for me outside this club. There’s no pain here. No memories. Just the Devil and the girl he won’t let go.
The song shifts. Slower. Darker.
Then I feel it, that cold prick along the back of my neck. The sixth sense you can’t explain.
Someone’s watching me.
My eyes snap open. My body stiffens.
Karter notices immediately. “What is it?”
“I feel eyes on me.”
He scans the room, then chuckles darkly. “Of course you do.”
He jerks his chin to the far corner.
I follow his line of sight.
And freeze.
Wyck.
Standing still in a sea of chaos. Shadows clinging to him like smoke. His eyes locked on me like he’s seconds away from storming the floor and dragging me off.
Karter leans close. “That boy wants to skin me alive for touching you.”
“I should go to him,” I whisper.
Karter grins. “No. You should make himwatch.”
He steps back, fading into the crowd like a shadow himself.
The music changes again.
Something inside me snaps loose.
I don’t move toward Wyck. I stay rooted in place, center of the floor, bathed in blood-red light.
And I dance.
For him.
For me.
Slow. Hypnotic. Wicked.
My hands trail down my thighs, over the slits of my dress. Up my stomach. Over my breasts. I grab them. Squeeze.
Let my head fall back. Let my mouth fall open like a prayer.
