Seraphina's Point Of View
The rum burned less this time. Or maybe I was simply getting used to the fire. By the fourth glass, it felt like liquid courage… or liquid ruin. Either way, it was working.
I exhaled shakily and stared at the dim lights of the bar as if they could answer me. "That's going to end tonight," I muttered, half to myself, half to the ghost of the woman I used to be. My voice sounded strange… hoarse, sharp, unfamiliar. "I'm getting laid."
The words tasted foreign on my tongue, but somehow... liberating.
I had always been the "good girl." The one who said no. The one who waited. The one who believed in vows, in patience, in being ready. I'd clung to the fantasy that love had to be pure before it could be passionate. But look where it got me.
Adrian hadn't waited. He hadn't cared. And Kara… sweet, smiling, conniving Kara, hadn't hesitated.
I laughed, bitter and humorless, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "So much for saving myself for someone who wouldn't even stay." The sound that left me wasn't a laugh anymore, it was a tremor, an ache wrapped in sarcasm.
The rum was almost gone. I poured another, ignoring the sting in my throat as it went down. My eyes caught my reflection in the mirror behind the bar… mascara smudged, hair sticking to my damp shoulders, lips trembling, but my eyes… my eyes were alive for the first time in months. Wild. Reckless. Broken in a beautiful, dangerous way.
I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and stood. My head spun slightly, but I steadied myself with a deep breath. "You'll have no opportunity to do this again, Seraphina," I whispered, clutching my purse. "So be reckless. For once in your life… just live."
I slipped off my jacket and dropped it on the seat. The cool air brushed against my bare shoulders, sending goosebumps racing across my skin. I was left in a strapless silk top that clung to my chest and a short black skirt that hugged my hips. My heels clicked as I stepped onto the dance floor, where bodies moved like shadows… grinding, swaying, losing themselves in the rhythm.
The bass hit deep, vibrating through my bones, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I closed my eyes, raised my arms, and let the music swallow me whole. My body moved on instinct, guided by rhythm, grief, and liquor. Every motion felt like defiance… a rebellion against pain, against disease, against every moment I'd spent holding myself back.
For the first time in forever, I didn't care who was watching. I wanted to forget that I was dying. I wanted to forget Adrian's name, Kara's betrayal, the doctor's pity. I just wanted to exist, raw, unfiltered, and untamed.
But then I felt it… eyes. More than one, piercing through the fog of the crowd, burning against my skin like a physical touch. My movements faltered. My breath hitched.
I opened my eyes.
Three men sat at the far end of the bar, all watching me with expressions that weren't lecherous or mocking, but intense. Curious. Dangerous.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
The first one… tall, broad, with hair as black as sin, had his arms folded, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked like he could command a room without saying a word. The second, leaner, with silver-grey eyes, tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. The third… My gaze lingered on him.
He was devastatingly beautiful.
Tall and lean, but his frame hinted at muscle, refined strength, not showy. His dark hair was tousled, partly tied back, but rebellious strands framed his face. There was something feral about him, like a storm restrained.
His eyes… storm-blue, or maybe violet under the dim lights, followed me with quiet intensity. Long lashes, sharp jawline, lips curved in a half-smile that looked equal parts amused and intrigued.
My heart stuttered, then quickened. My lips parted, breath uneven.
"Male escorts," I muttered under my breath, the corner of my mouth twitching. "They have to be."
Because no normal men looked like that. Not in real life.
Something reckless inside me stirred, an impulse I didn't recognize but didn't want to resist. I took another step, then another, until the music wrapped around me again, pulling me toward them like a siren's song.
Their eyes didn't waver. Not once.
When I reached them, I stopped just short of the one with the tousled hair. His gaze dipped, slowly, trailing down my face, over my shoulders, lingering briefly at my collarbone before meeting my eyes again. It was like being touched without being touched.
I could smell him… clean, musky, faintly woodsy. It made my head spin. My heart hammered in my chest, and every nerve in my body screamed at once.
I swallowed, voice trembling slightly but steady enough. "You've been staring."
He didn't flinch. "So were you."
I almost smiled. "Confident, aren't we?"
"Only when it's justified," he said, his tone low, velvet-smooth.
His friends, I assumed, exchanged knowing glances but said nothing. The one with silver eyes smirked faintly, sipping his drink. The other just leaned back, watching me, unreadable.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. "Are you… male escorts?" I asked bluntly, almost laughing as I said it.
The silver-eyed one chuckled. "Would it matter if we were?"
I tilted my head, considering. "Maybe not tonight."
He raised a brow. "And what kind of night is tonight?"
"The kind where everything ends," I said softly, almost whispering, though I wasn't sure if I meant my life, my pain, or my fear. "And maybe something new begins."
Their eyes flickered with something… curiosity, maybe concern, or maybe amusement. But I didn't care. I wasn't here to be saved.
I looked back at the one with the tousled hair, the one who hadn't looked away once. He was so close now, I could see the faint pulse beating at the base of his throat. My voice came out quiet, almost fragile.
"Beautiful," I murmured.
He blinked, slightly taken aback. "What?"
I smiled faintly, tracing the rim of his glass with my finger. "You're beautiful."
The air between us tightened. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, but I didn't back away. For once, I wasn't going to retreat.
My voice was steady when I finally spoke again, barely above a whisper, but enough to cut through the music, the laughter, the noise.
"Spend the night with me."
The air between us crackled with something electric, something dangerous. His storm-blue eyes locked onto mine, a lazy amusement dancing in their depths, a taunting glint that made my stomach twist. He stepped forward, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell the intoxicating mix of cedar and something darker, something wild.
"It seems you don't know who we are," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety purr.
I lifted my chin, my voice sharper than I intended. "You're escorts."
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, dark and knowing. He leaned in, the closeness making my breath hitch, my pulse stutter. "We'll pass."
The words hit me like a slap. My face burned, humiliation curling in my chest. "I'll pay you," I blurted out, desperate, reckless. "Any amount. Name your price."
His smirk only deepened. "Not interested."
Defeat crashed over me, heavy and suffocating. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'll find someone else."
I turned, my cheeks flaming, my heart pounding with embarrassment. God, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I took a step, my heels clicking against the floor… and then his hand was on my wrist.
His grip was firm, unyielding. "I'll have their heads before they even breathe close to you, princess."
I gasped, my eyes flying to his. Is he insane? Who in their right mind says something like that?
"You said no," I snapped, yanking my wrist free. "And I want to find someone willing to spend the night with me."
He pulled me closer, his fingers wrapping around my wrist again, his touch sending a jolt through me. "I was just a little bit concerned for you."
I scoffed, my voice trembling. "Concerned? Why?"
His chuckle was dark, sending a shiver down my spine. "Because I'm not sure you can take us."
My eyes widened. Us?
"I chose you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curved into a smile that was all teeth. "That's the thing, princess." His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over my pulse, his storm-blue eyes burning into mine. "You didn't."
The air between us was thick enough to choke on.
His fingers, long, elegant, calloused in a way that suggested he knew exactly how to use them, still wrapped around my wrist, not tight enough to bruise, but firm enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere unless he allowed it.
His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over my pulse, and I could feel it… every beat, every erratic flutter, like he was counting the seconds until I broke.
I should have been terrified.
I should have run.
But the way his storm-blue eyes darkened as he studied me, the way his lips curved into something between a smirk and a threat, sent a traitorous heat pooling low in my stomach. My breath hitched, my thighs pressing together instinctively, as if that could ease the strange, aching tension coiling inside me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper, as I repeated. "You said no."
His chuckle was dark, velvety, the kind of sound that slithered under skin and settled in bones. "I did." He leaned in, his breath warm against the shell of my ear, his scent, wrapping around me like a promise. "But I'm reconsidering."
My pulse spiked. "Why?"
His lips brushed the sensitive skin just below my earlobe, and I shuddered. "Because, princess," he murmured, the word a caress and a taunt all at once, "I'm not sure you can take us."
A shiver ran down my spine.
Us.
The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
I tore my gaze from his and let it flicker to the other two men, my mind racing. The one who had stepped forward, God, he was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at. Like a blade sheathed in silk. His pristine black shirt was buttoned all the way up, silver cufflinks glinting under the dim bar lights, but there was nothing prim about him.
His dark brown hair was slicked back, revealing sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, and his piercing gray eyes gleamed with something far too knowing, far too hungry.
His lips curved in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes, because his eyes were too busy undressing me, memorizing me, owning me before I'd even agreed to anything.
"If you want him," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "then that means you want all of us."
My breath caught.
I forced myself to look at the third man, the one who had been silent until now. He was still seated, one arm draped over the back of the booth, his posture deceptively lazy.
But there was nothing lazy about the way his dark eyes burned into me, like embers in the dead of night. Tall, broad-shouldered, his tailored black shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease the toned planes of his chest, he exuded a cold, lethal magnetism.
His features were sharp, symmetrical, devastating, like a sculpture carved from shadow and sin. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. The weight of his gaze alone was enough to make my skin prickle, my nerves alight with something dangerously close to fear.
And excitement.
The first man, the one holding me, tilted my face back toward him, his fingers tangling in my hair just enough to sting. His lips were a breath away from mine, his voice a rough purr. "So. What's your choice, princess?"