Jay's POV
If I was being honest, the whole night felt like one long, slow game of provoking a wolf.
And I was losing fear by the minute.
David and I slipped away from Section E after the "date" comment. I could still feel Keifer's stare burning a hole through my spine, but I didn't look back. Not yet. Not when he wanted it.
The DJ switched songs, lights pulsing gold and red, and David tugged me toward the center.
"Jay, you're actually terrifying," he muttered, laughing as he spun me. "Keifer's going to snap."
"Good," I said, smirking as I let the music take over. "Let him."
People were staring again. Whispering.
My dress did half the work, my confidence did the rest.
Guys I'd never even talked to came up — complimenting my dress, my hair, offering drinks, asking to dance.
And every time one leaned too close, every time someone looked at me too long—
I could feel it.
His gaze.
Like a blade sliding across my skin.
Like a warning wrapped in hunger.
I met Keifer's eyes across the room once — and he didn't look away.
He was sitting in the VIP area, jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear the crack. One hand gripping his drink until the glass looked close to shattering.
I held his stare for a second.
Then I smiled.
Slow. Deliberate.
Provoking.
His expression?
It went from dark… to lethal.
David leaned closer. "Jay, he's drinking like he wants to drown someone."
"Perfect," I said, taking a sip of my own drink.
And I kept dancing — letting my hair fall over my shoulder, letting my dress shift, letting the room's attention fall exactly where I wanted.
Every orbit, every step, every laugh…
I could feel Keifer unraveling.
---
Keifer's POV
I should've stayed home.
I should've ignored the message that she was coming.
I should've done anything except drag myself here like some animal responding to a whistle.
But the moment I heard Jay's attending—
I was out the door.
I dressed like an idiot trying to impress someone.
Black button-up, sleeves rolled to my forearm. Cold chain. Cologne she once said smelled "dangerous."
Pathetic.
And then she walked in.
Slow.
Every step cutting oxygen out of the room.
Black velvet hugging her body in a way that made my throat dry.
Leg showing, back bare, hair sleek—
And her eyes.
Sharp enough to slice me open.
I stopped breathing.
Everyone stared at her — the boys choked, the girls whispered — but she looked at me once, only once, and it felt like being punched.
Then she turned away.
Walked to Section E.
Smiled at them.
Let them shower her with compliments.
I stepped forward, ready to say something, anything—
But she went straight to David.
Hand on his arm.
"Let's go."
A date, she said.
With him.
I swear I tasted blood.
Watching her walk away with someone else?
It burned.
Every instinct in me howled mine — but she wasn't even giving me a glance.
I sat down with the others, pretending I wasn't seconds away from putting a bullet in the wall.
Drink after drink.
Trying to numb the storm.
Didn't work.
Because she was dancing.
And laughing.
And every guy with a pulse was looking at her like she was the only damn thing in the room.
I tightened my grip on my glass until it nearly cracked.
Whenever someone got too close to her, she flicked her gaze to me — just a little.
And smirked.
That smirk.
That challenge.
That do something, Keifer.
My jaw clenched so hard it ached.
David spun her, and her dress rode up—
Some guy handed her a drink and she leaned in to listen—
A third one asked for a dance—
And every time…
Every time…She looked at me.Teasing.
Cruel.
Beautiful.
The room blurred, but she didn't.
She was a fire in the middle of the club, and I was the idiot walking willingly into the flames.
I didn't take my eyes off her once.
Not when she danced.
Not when she drank.
Not when she smiled.
Especially not when she provoked me.
By the time midnight hit, I wasn't drunk.
I was possessed.
And she knew it.
Jay's POV — Teasing Him Further
It was addictive.
The way every flick of my wrist, every laugh, every sway of my hips sent Keifer deeper into that dark, dangerous place.
I could feel it.
Every breath he took was sharp.
Every stare was murderous.
Every second he didn't move toward me was a miracle.
So I pushed.
Of course I did.
I let David pull me closer during a slow song, my hands sliding up to his shoulders. Not romantically — but close enough for Keifer to misunderstand.
When David whispered, "Jay, he's going to commit homicide," I smiled.
"I know."
I angled myself just a little so Keifer would see the curve of my neck.
Let my fingers trail down David's chest slow enough to be obvious.
Laughed at something he didn't even say.
Then—the best part—
I turned my head and looked at Keifer.
Right at him.
Across the dance floor.
Through the crowd.
Through the low lights and the haze.
And I smirked.
Not a friendly one.
Not playful.
A come get me if you're brave enough smirk.
His reaction?
He went completely still.
Like a predator freezing before striking.
So I kept going.
When another guy came up asking to dance, I didn't refuse.
I let him pull me to the side, let the beat guide my movements, let my dress slide dangerously as I moved.
I wasn't touching him.
But I let him get close enough that Keifer's chest rose sharply.
My eyes found Keifer's again — always.
He was gripping the edge of the table.
White-knuckled.
Jaw clenched.
Chest heaving like he was holding back an explosion.
I tilted my head, let a strand of hair fall over my shoulder, and raised one eyebrow—
Do something. I dare you.
His eyes darkened so deep they almost looked black.
Another push.
I leaned toward the guy dancing with me as if he whispered something funny — even though he hadn't said a word. Let my hand brush his arm lightly.
Keifer stood up so fast his chair scraped.
David choked.Some of Section E froze.
But I didn't stop.
I let my fingers trail down the guy's wrist.
Lifted my gaze back to Keifer slowly, deliberately.
Held eye contact.
And then-I smiled.
Soft.
Slow.
Sinful.
Keifer looked like he was about to rip out of his shirt and break through the crowd.
One wrong move… and he would.
I swayed my hips once more, turned my back to him, and whispered to David as I passed by—
"Watch. He's going to crack."
And oh, he was.
He was already halfway there and I was loving it.....
I didn't realize how much I'd drunk
— not until the room softened at the edges.
Not spinning.
Not messy.
Just… warm.
Light.
A little too floaty.
David noticed before I did.
"Jay," he murmured, leaning close, "you're getting tipsy."
"I'm fine," I said, swaying just slightly.
"You're not."
He glanced behind me — toward Keifer, who looked ready to massacre the entire male population.
"And he's about to explode."
I smirked. "Good."
David groaned. "This is how crimes happen, Jay."
But I just laughed, brushing my hair back, letting my fingertips skim the exposed skin near my collarbone — knowing exactly who was watching.
David swallowed.
"Nope. I am not dying tonight."
I blinked. "Huh?"
He took a step back.
Hands up.
Like he was surrendering his soul to whatever chaos I was conjuring.
"I'm stepping away," he said. "Keifer's looking at me like I'm committing treason just by breathing next to you."
I glanced behind me.
Keifer was standing now.
Shoulders tense.
Expression carved out of pure fury and restraint.
Eyes locked on me — and only me.
Yeah… he was seconds from snapping.
I turned back to David.
"You're really leaving me alone?"
"Alone?" David scoffed. "Jay, you're not alone. You're being hunted."
I burst out laughing.
David grabbed my shoulders, steadying me slightly.
His voice dropped to a whisper:
"Look — I know you're doing this on purpose. I get it. Vent, flirt, obliterate him mentally, whatever. But now you're tipsy, and he's—"
He cut himself off, eyes flicking to Keifer.
"—Jay… he's not blinking."
I looked again.
Keifer hadn't blinked.
At all.
Just stared, jaw clenched, breathing heavy, chest rising like a storm.
David backed away two steps.
"Okay," he said under his breath, "I'm done. I'm not dying for this level of sexual tension. I'll be with the others. Good luck. Or… God help you. I don't know which one you need."
And then he disappeared into the crowd.
Leaving me alone.
Tipsy.
Warm.
Barely balanced in my heels.
And directly in Keifer's line of fire.
I felt it when he started walking toward me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Dangerous.
Hunting.
And I?
I just smiled.
Jay's POV — The Final Straw
I shouldn't have done it.
I really shouldn't have.
But the music was loud, the lights were low, and some guy — tall, pretty, too confident — leaned in and said:
"Can I get you another drink?"
Before I could answer, my gaze flicked over his shoulder.
Keifer was watching.
Watching.
Jaw clenched.
Hands fisted.
Chest rising like he wanted to rip through someone's ribcage.
So I smiled at the guy.
A slow, sweet, lethal smile.
"Sure."
He grinned, walked toward the bar.
I didn't even care about the drink.
All I cared about was the way Keifer's eyes went from anger—
to warning—
to complete, homicidal blackout.
That was the moment I knew:
I'd pushed him too far.
And I still didn't stop.
I turned slightly, letting the slit of my dress reveal more of my leg, tugging a strand of hair behind my ear, flashing a smirk—
And Keifer snapped.
SNAPPED.
No warning.
No hesitation.
No "excuse me."
One moment I was standing there,
the next—
A hand wrapped around my wrist.
Firm. Burning. Claiming.
"Keifer—"
"Not. Here."
His voice was gravel, low and lethal.
He didn't drag
— dragging would've been gentle.
He handled me.
Out of the crowd, past the stares, down the hallway.
I stumbled once in my heels, but he didn't slow down.
He pushed open a side door, pulled me into a dim corridor, and snapped it shut behind us.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
He stepped in front of me.
Close.
Too close.
"You done?" he murmured.
My spine tingled. "Done with what?"
"Him."
His jaw tightened.
"All of them."
I laughed — tipsy, reckless.
"You don't own me."
He leaned in, whisper hot at my ear.
"Don't I?"
My breath hitched — infuriatingly.
I shoved him lightly. "You're drunk."
"I'm not."
His eyes dragged down my dress, slow and unforgiving.
"But you are. And you're playing a game you don't understand."
"Oh trust me, I understand perfectly," I said, stepping closer.
"I tease. You burn. I win."
His hand slammed against the wall by my head.
I flinched — not from fear, but from the sheer force of his restraint.
"You think this is funny?" he growled.
"Yeah," I whispered.
"Because you can't handle it."
His jaw locked.
"Say it again."
"No," I smirked, "you're already two seconds from—"
He grabbed my chin, tilting my face up.
"Do you have any idea," he breathed, "what it took for me not to tear that guy's arm off when he touched you?"
My pulse jumped.
I hated it.
I loved it.
"You don't get to decide—"
"I WILL." His voice cracked with control.
"I will — if it's you."
The hallway pulsed with tension.
He was furious.
I was tipsy.
We were inches from something dangerous.
My voice softened, barely audible.
"Let go of me."
He didn't.
"Jay," he said, like a warning, like a plea, "stop running."
I stared at him.
At the anger.
At the jealousy.
At the fear beneath it.
And I knew.
He wasn't snapping because I flirted.
He was snapping because he thought he'd lost me.
The music thumped faintly through the walls.
The party roared outside.
But here—
here it was just him and me.
Breathing too close.
Standing too close.
Feeling too much.
"Let go," I whispered again.
This time…
he did.
Only to say:
"But we're not done."
And I knew—nothing good was coming next.