Dominic's pov
I noticed her the moment she thought she was invisible. Elena. The moth bold enough to circle the flame without fear, daring enough to think she could observe me without consequence. At first, it was subtle—a glance when she thought no one noticed, the way her hand brushed her lips, a small smile when our eyes met, fleeting but deliberate.
Weeks passed. She returned night after night, always in the same seat, always the same timing, always watching. I didn't move. I didn't acknowledge her. I let her believe she was clever, unseen. But invisibility doesn't exist in my world. Every shadow answers to me. Every whisper, every flicker of motion is cataloged. She left trails, and I followed each one.Curiosity became interest, interest became calculation. I began learning everything. Her childhood as an orphan, the foster homes that shaped her, the streets she navigated alone. Her routines, the café she favored, the job that paid her bills, even the friends she trusted. Every detail, every subtle behavior mapped. She thought she was hunting me. She had no idea the predator had already read her entire history.
Then came her boldest move. Spiking my drink. Neutralizing the bartender with a quiet, precise injection. She thought she had weakened me. That she had control. I drank anyway—not out of ignorance, not out of weakness, but because I wanted to see her fully, desire untamed and raw, daring me even under the influence of her own aphrodisiac.
Tonight was the night I would respond. The club pulsed with music, bodies, smoke, oblivious to the predator and the moth circling each other. I sat at my table, glass in hand, eyes scanning the crowd until they found her. She froze, heat rising as she realized ,my man guided her to the booth. She had not approached me. She had been summoned.The world around us seemed to blur—the bass, the lights, the moving crowd—everything fading into the background of tension that thrummed between us. She slid into the booth across from me, flushed, trembling slightly. Perfect. Every pulse, every tremor noted, cataloged, understood.
"You've been watching me," I said softly, letting the words hang in the air like a blade. Not a question—observation.
Her lips parted, hesitating, the aphrodisiac making every nerve sing, heightening desire and audacity alike.I reached toward the glass she had spiked, tilting it slightly so the amber liquid caught the light, and pushed it toward her. "Drink," I commanded, voice low and lethal. Not a request.She lifted it with trembling fingers, letting the liquid brush her lips. Every swallow a surrender, every drop a tiny acknowledgment that she was no longer fully in control. Her pulse thrummed beneath my thumb as I rested it lightly on her wrist.
"Here's what you don't understand, Elena," I murmured, locking eyes with her, "I'm the one who decides what burns in my veins. Not you. Not your little vial."
Her pupils dilated slightly. Heat and audacity burned in her gaze, trembling under the aphrodisiac's pull. She thought she controlled the fire. She didn't—not yet.
"You wanted to play with poison," I whispered, brushing my lips near her ear, "but poison only works when the prey has teeth."
Her body shivered. She pressed, leaned, dared. The moth radiated dominance even under the aphrodisiac. But I had traced her history, her fears, her moves. Every step, every daring glance anticipated.
The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Elena leaned forward, daring, fingers brushing my arm, teasing with confidence that came alive under the aphrodisiac.I let her. Not in surrender, but to watch, to map, to savor. Her smirk, her soft laugh, every subtle motion amplified by the chemical she had introduced into both our systems."You think you can control this?" I murmured, voice low, threaded with amusement and steel."I already am," she breathed, bold, pressing closer, letting the fire of the aphrodisiac push her dominance outward. "The moth leads tonight.""I allowed her the illusion. Every movement, every subtle press, every sigh cataloged. She thought she guided the flame. She didn't—not yet."You're bold," I said, smirk curling, "even with the fire you think you hold, you dare challenge the predator."
Her laugh, soft and teasing, brushed my ear. "The moth doesn't wait for the flame to notice her. She makes the flame see her."Her fingers traced my chest deliberately. I let her, noting every pulse, every nerve. The predator watches. The moth believes she leads. Desire and audacity collided, neither willing to surrender .The elevator doors opened, revealing the penthouse. Elena stepped in first, deliberate, confidence radiating, nerves alive under the aphrodisiac."You ready?" I murmured, voice low, teasing."Always," she whispered, smirk curling, stepping closer. Aphrodisiac-fueled dominance radiated from her. She was intoxicating, bold, unaware that I had read her entirely—her history, her patterns, her daring.
I let her assert herself, pressing, teasing, daring—but never fully surrendering. Every subtle motion, shiver, touch, whispered dare cataloged.
"You feel that?" she murmured, lips near my ear. "The moth taking control. The flame… following willingly."
"And yet," I whispered back, lips brushing her ear, "I'm still aware. Still reactive. Still the predator, even when the moth leads."
The penthouse vibrated with tension. Aphrodisiac-driven desire flared. Moth and flame circled, tested, burned. She thought she commanded the night, but I had anticipated every pulse, every tremor, every bold step. Desire and dominance collided.
Her fingers traced my chest, pressed against me, lips brushing mine with teasing force. I countered with gentle pressure, not to stop her, but to mark the rhythm, the tension. Every move, every gasp, every teasing touch mapped into my mind. She believed she dominated; I knew she was dancing to the tune I had orchestrated, entirely aware, fully in control.
The night stretched, taut with fire and desire. The aphrodisiac had fueled her dominance, but my awareness, my preparation, my patience turned every daring move into a map I read and responded to. The moth had circled the flame. Now she burned willingly—and I guided every flicker, every pulse, every daring note.