Sera Blake didn't want to be here.
The bass of the club pulsed like a heartbeat she couldn't control, every beat reminding her she was alone, abandoned, and wearing a dress two sizes too bold for her usual self.
"You need this," her best friend Talia shouted over the music, shoving a drink into her hand. "New dress. New lashes. New ex. We're celebrating your rebirth, babe!"
Sera tried to smile, but the shimmer on her lips cracked at the corners. She hadn't healed enough to be reborn. She'd barely survived the breakup with Josh — three years, gone like smoke. She wasn't ready to flirt. She wasn't ready to dance.
But then he walked in.
Across the club, the crowd parted as if sensing danger. Or maybe desire.
Lucien Cross stepped inside like he owned the night — tall, sculpted, dressed in black. His shirt clung to his chest like sin itself, unbuttoned just enough to show the curve of muscle and the deep shadows between. Eyes like midnight storms swept over the room… and stopped on her.
Sera's breath caught in her throat.
She tried to look away — failed.
He didn't smile. He didn't blink. He just watched her with that intense, magnetic stare. Like he knew her. Like he wanted to ruin her. Like he could smell her heartbreak and wanted to taste it.
Talia leaned in, fanning herself. "Holy. Shit. He's walking this way."
Sera panicked. "What? No. Talia—"
"Just breathe," her friend whispered. "Or don't. You're about to forget how anyway."
Lucien moved like a predator among prey — slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore. When he reached them, he didn't look at Talia. He looked only at Sera.
"You don't want to be here," he said, voice smooth and low, like the first sip of something dangerous.
"No," she admitted.
"Then let's pretend we do."
She didn't ask his name. He didn't ask hers.
He offered his hand. She took it.
His palm was warm, calloused. Power hummed through him like static in the air. He didn't lead her to the bar. He didn't lead her to the dance floor.
He led her to the shadows.
Back near the VIP lounge, behind velvet curtains, they stood in silence, the music dulled, the heat between them sharper than ever. Lucien leaned in close — not touching, but close enough that her skin ached for it.
"You shouldn't be here alone," he murmured.
"I'm not," she whispered, eyes meeting his. "You're here."
Lucien smiled — barely. "You have no idea what I am."
But her body already knew. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her throat tightened.
She wanted him. She didn't know why. She didn't care.
And when he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, Sera swore she felt claws behind his fingertips.