~LENORA'S POV
I gave a final tug at the hem of my mini black gown, smoothing the fabric down my thighs. The silky material clung easily, like it had been made for my body, and I told myself that was the point. The dress was a choice, it was intentional, confident, a little dangerous. It showed just enough to feel daring without crossing into ridiculous.
At least, that had been the plan.
A sliver of pale skin peeked from the neckline, catching the light when I shifted. I adjusted the fitted bodice once more, then stilled, my hands lingering longer than necessary. Excitement fluttered low in my chest, familiar and welcome.
But it wasn't alone.
There was something else beneath it. A quiet tension I hadn't been able to shake since earlier this afternoon. Not fear. Not exactly. Just a sense of being… slightly off, like my thoughts weren't lining up the way they normally did.
I pushed it aside.
My nails, painted a deep glossy black, tapped against the fabric as I studied my reflection. Knee-length boots added a bit of height, the leather creaking softly when I shifted my weight. The devil horns perched on my head completed the look, playful, ironic, nothing serious.
Still, my gaze lingered on them longer than it should have.
For a brief moment, my reflection felt delayed. Not wrong. Just slow enough to make me frown. I tilted my head, and the image followed a fraction of a second later.
I laughed quietly under my breath and looked away.
Skye, dressed as Harley Quinn, let out a low whistle. "Girl, you look fierce!" she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the din of our room.
"Thanks," I said, meaning it.
We left the dorm together, the hallway buzzing faintly with distant music. As we walked, I caught myself glancing at the reflective surfaces we passed, the window at the end of the hall, the polished floor near the stairs and each time, I saw only myself.
Still, my shoulders didn't quite relax.
The party hit us all at once.
The party was bigger and more budget-friendly than last year's, it seemed. The decorations had taken on a life of their own, transforming the drab college hall into a twisted fantasy world.
It felt louder than last year. More crowded.
More alive.
People moved around us in costumes, masks obscuring familiar faces, and elaborate makeup turned the crowd into something almost... unreal. Everything blurred together, devils and angels, villains and monsters, silhouettes layered over one another until individuality dissolved.
But even as the chaos and color washed over me, I felt it, a flicker of unease beneath the excitement, like a shadow slipping across the edge of my vision.
I felt eyes on me that weren't part the crowd.
I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.
Then I spotted Jason, his Joker costume bold in the crowd. His eyes locked onto mine, and a slow smile spread across his face as he made his way toward me.
Without a word, he reached out and pulled me into a kiss, his lips demanding and insistent. The music and laughter faded into the background as I melted into the kiss, my hands tangling in his hair, and the world narrowed down to just the two of us, the only sound that I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my chest.
When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes were on mine, but for some reason I couldn't help but to feel I had just done something inappropriate. It wasn't the first time I'd feel this way, but tonight's sensation was different - close.
"Happy birthday, babe." He whispered against my lips.
I danced with him, the pulsating beat thrumming through my veins, lights flashing kaleidoscopes across the sweaty crowd. Perfume, cologne, and the sweet tang of spilled drinks mingled in the air.
But then, I lost him in the crowd. Skye was nowhere to be found too. The party that had felt alive now pressed in like a living thing, overwhelming, and isolating.
It reminded me of the silence in my dorm earlier today and the shadows I didn't know if I was actually seeing or my mind was imagining.
I needed a drink.
I pushed through the crowd toward the bar, bodies pressing in reluctantly before parting. The bartender, dressed as a warlock, raised an eyebrow when I ordered a vodka cranberry, then turned away without comment.
As I waited, that feeling returned.
Not fear.
Awareness.
Like pressure building just behind my thoughts.
I scanned the crowd, my eyes searching for any sign of who might be watching me, but everyone was too caught up in their own little worlds to pay me any mind. Still, the feeling persisted, growing stronger with every passing moment.
I told myself it was nothing. Crowds did this. Noise did this. Lack of sleep did this. Still, my skin prickled, a slow crawl tracing the back of my neck.
The drink arrived, cold against my palm. I took a sip, hoping the burn would ground me.
It didn't.
The sensation intensified instead, focused now, deliberate. The hair on my arms stood on end.
Then warmth brushed my back.
Not a touch.
Just closeness.
I told myself not to turn.
I did anyway.
He stood there, taller than the surrounding crowd, broad-shouldered and completely still. It struck me immediately how little he moved compared to everyone else, like motion was optional for him.
His eyes found mine without hesitation.
He emerged from the sea of bodies, tall and impossibly poised, eyes black as a bottomless pit. My stomach dropped, my legs threatening to give way. The air around him seemed to thrum, charged. I wanted to move closer, but my skin prickled with fear as much as fascination.
He wore just black, compared to the rest of the room. His shirt clung to his frame, the open buttons revealing a glimpse of skin that felt distracting in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. I tried to catalogue details, a grounding habit.
Black pants hugging his thighs, but it clung to a frame that seemed sculpted rather than real. The demon horns atop his head were flawless, like a shadow had been given form. His hair, a stormy wine-red, fell carelessly, perfectly messy.
The longer I looked at his face, the harder it became to place him. He was handsome, undeniably, but not in a way that invited familiarity. His features were too precise, his expression too composed.
It felt like he was watching me react.
I was holding myself back, my fingers curled into fists to resist the urge to reach out and touch his demon horns, which seemed to sprout from his temples like an arched sinuous branch. The person who had applied his makeup had done a fantastic job - the horns looked almost...real. I wondered how they had managed to attach them so seamlessly to his skin.
The thought arrived quietly, without panic. Just an observation. Like noticing something slightly out of place and not knowing why it bothered you.
I smiled, hoping it passed for normal.
"Your costume," I said. "It's… convincing."
As I spoke, his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded me with an amused, almost... predatory interest.
He laughed softly, low and resonant, the sound settling somewhere beneath my ribs.
"Zephyr."
The name didn't echo.
It sank.
I felt it register before I understood why. A subtle sense of alignment clicked into place, like something that had been hovering just out of reach had finally settled.
I stood there transfixed with my heart hammering in my chest as he towered over me, his presence seeming to fill the space around us.
The music, laughter, flashing lights - they all blurred and faded. All that remained was him and me, suspended in a moment that felt both fragile and charged.
My eyes tracked his silver tongue piercing which glinted in the dim-light as he licked his bottom lip. A small detail, almost careless— but still stirred something low in me.
Can this man get any hotter than he already is?
The name Zephyr suited him perfectly. He moved, spoke, and breathed as though he was made of power and beauty.
"You good?" he asked, leaning closer. Even the smallest movement brought him almost brushing against me, a subtle pressure I hadn't anticipated.
I looked up, and met his gaze. For a moment, I thought I saw crimson flicker at the edges of his irides. It was a flash that was gone in a millisecond. Am I imagining that? I wondered, trying to stay grounded.
Must be the drink.
"Uhm... yeah. Everything's g-good," I stammered, my voice barely audible over the loud music being played. His smirk widened, sly, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.
"I'm Lenora," I whispered with my eyes locked on the plane of his chest, where subtle strength showed through beneath the fabric of his shirt. I was drawn to this man in ways I didn't understand.
And that disturbs me.
His hand wrapped around mine, large, warm and grounding. Sparks shot through me from fingers to heart, tingling in a way that felt both familiar and terrifying.
He lifted my palm to his lips, brushing a tender kiss over my skin. Sparks again, but deeper this time as it felt like I've finally grasped unto something that had been out of reach for me.
If a hand kiss could make me feel this way, what would a lip kiss do?
'Wait, no, no Lenora. You can't think like that. There's Jason, your boyfriend who loves you so much, and here you are, having lewd thoughts about a man you just met.' I internally scolded myself, pulling my hand from his. I felt my actions were a little bit rude but Zephyr doesn't seem to mind as his grin never faltered from his face.
"I haven't seen you here before," I spoke, trying to make the situation less awkward for me. I gulped my drink, my eyes scanning the crowd for a green-haired buzz cut figure.
Where could Jason have gone to?
He didn't even announce his dismissal to me, he just vanished without a word.
And Skye…..
"Are you new here?" I added, curiosity and caution tangling in my chest. This was a small college, and I would have seen posters, photos, rumors…or at least heard something, because someone like him couldn't have gone unnoticed by these needy college girls who would've started some sort of fandom.
"You could say that," he replied, flicking his pierced tongue over his lip. Amusement danced in his eyes.
"Do you want to dance?" His words came as a whisper in my ear, making goosebumps flare along my spine.
I hesitated, thinking of Jason, of what this might mean, but Zephyr's gaze was so sharp, so magnetic. I nodded, "Yeah... sure."
He led me to the dance floor, his broad shoulders and chiseled features drawing eyes to us, and I couldn't help but feel a primal pride within me, knowing that he had chosen me to dance with.
I started grounding lightly to the beat, aware of the subtle connection circling around us. Then the music shifted, and I tried to shake off the feeling of being watched as I swayed my hips to the rhythm, my body moving in sync with the music.
Zephyrs gaze burned with a quiet intensity that made me feel as though I had found a missing piece of me.
My eyes stayed glued to his horns and I couldn't resist reaching out to touch them, but I paused midway, thinking my action was rude.
"You can touch it," he whispered, nodding toward his horn. My fingers trembled as I traced the base, feeling the texture of the makeup.
He chuckled, deep and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine.
"Who was the makeup artist? I could really use their help next time." I joked, tugging at my own horns to act casual.
"My mum helped with this," he gestured to himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "My dad helped too, but my mum did most of the work."
A warm flicker of humanity crossed his expression before his raw intensity returned.
The music changed again, and I started dancing sexily, swaying my hips with Zephyr pressed firm behind me.
I started grinding against his crotch and my heartbeat picked up faster as I felt a long, hard thing poking my bum, I couldn't help but think,
'I couldn't have caused that,'
I pressed closer, moving my hips to the beat. My body grinding lightly and his hardness pressed subtly against me.
I gasped inwardly in disbelief, because no one else has ever... Not Jason. Not any guy I'd been with was able to stay erected, and even if they did, it goes flaccid almost immediately.
Zephyr's hands on my waist tightened like a vice as he leaned close, his breath whispering across my ear. "Careful little dove, You wouldn't want us to give your little friends a show hm?"
A wave of heat pooled low in my belly at his words. That nickname also, did things I couldn't control, but for some reason, it felt awfully familiar.
Dove…
He lowered his head to my neck, taking a long sniff, and I felt my eyes flutter closed as he groaned, "You smell so good," I felt his lips curled into a smirk on my neck as it brushed against my skin.
I was lost in the moment, my fingers crooked at the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into my neck, feeling his warm breath on my skin. But then, I felt it - a gaze on me.
My eyes darted around the swarm of people and everyone was lost in their own little worlds but I could feel the weight of a stare which feels like a physical touch, making my skin prickle with awareness.
I tried to process the sensations, but my thoughts were a jumbled mess, as Zephyr's tongue darted out to lick a stripe from the crook of my shoulder to my earlobe. His piercing felt like a cold, wet kiss, making my eyes roll back and a soft moan escaped my lips.
Zephyr's hands tightened around my waist, owning without needing words as his lips continued to assault my neck. I closed my eyes, curling fingers at his nape, pulling him closer.
Then it hit me again.
Cold. Piercing. Unwavering.
I opened my eyes to meet an icy blue gaze staring right at me, his midnight-black hair sleeked back as his eyes burned with an insane fervor that seemed to measure from afar. Each step he took drew a taut, drinking me in like he was memorizing every inch of me.
"T-that guy..." I whispered.
Zephyr let out a hum, a gentle vibration that seemed to say, 'go on, I'm listening.'
"He's staring," I breathed, eyes locked on the stranger's smooth, deliberate approach.
"You like the idea of being watched, hm?" Zephyr murmured against my ear with his hands flexing around my waist possessively and intimately, as if staking a claim I didn't understand.
The air shifted, as if the room had suddenly contracted, and my pulse was hammering when the stranger got to us.
"This is Lucian," Zephyr said, his voice dropping octaves lower.
The name didn't carry threat. It carried gravity. Awareness. Something unspoken.
I didn't know who this man really was. I didn't understand any of it. But I knew one thing: I would remember him.
And I was already caught.