*~Mirabelle's POV~*
"Why are you following me, you creepy pervert?" I snapped.
Behind the mask, his golden eyes—yellow as a predator's—slowly scanned me from my head down to my toes. An electrifying wave surged through my body, a physical reaction I couldn't suppress.
Then, his voice brushed against my skin like silk over a blade. "Maybe we were destined to meet again, don't you think?"
I could swear there was a smirk hidden behind that mask. I took a shaky breath and scanned him back. He was terrifyingly handsome–not just movie-star handsome, but something more extraordinary . He looked like a fallen angel. His dark hair was shot through with silver streaks, and his massive frame seemed barely contained by the seams of his expensive suit.
Suddenly, the fear vanished, replaced by a reckless heat. I lowered my shoe.
"Have a seat, young lady," he said, waving a hand toward the stool. "Let's have some fun."
His aura was intimately hot, magnetic, and dangerous. Maybe this was the "big bad wolf" the bartender had warned me about. I slipped my shoe back on and sat down.
"What's your name?" I asked.
He shook his head slowly. "We don't give names here, young lady."
"Okay. Why are you wearing a mask?"
He turned to face me fully. "Are you really that clueless, or are you just pretending?"
"Pretending?"
Before I could react, he leaned in and pulled me close. The scent of him—something like ozone and expensive wood—filled my senses. "Yes, pretending. What are you doing here? And how the hell are you still alive, Stoneheart?"
His voice dripped with a lethal coldness, but I was too focused on his grip on my wrist. My skin felt like it was on fire, and for the first time in my life, I wanted more. I wanted his hands to move.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I stuttered.
"Really?"
"Yes. And I'm still alive because I have one more year left, if that's what you're asking." I let out a jagged chuckle and snatched the glass the bartender had just set in front of him. I drained half of it before slamming it back down, determined to lose myself before the grief could catch up.
He snatched the cup away before I could take another sip. "So you really have no idea?" his voice was dead serious now.
"I don't know who you are, and I don't know why you're here. I'm just here to forget everything."
He moved even closer, his face hovering inches from my neck. His hot breath against my skin made me shiver, and I had to bite back a moan. Was it the alcohol? It had to be. My body couldn't possibly be reacting this way to a stranger whose face I hadn't even seen.
Suddenly, he recoiled, jumping back to his seat as if he'd been burned.
"Yeah," he muttered, his tone shifting. "You're human."
"Yeah. A human who's dying soon," I chuckled.
He let out a short, dark laugh and stood up to leave. I reached out instinctively, grabbing his hand to stop him. He halted, looking down at our joined fingers.
"Not having fun anymore, stranger?" I asked, a challenge in my voice.
He shook his head. "Low blow."
"You came in here with that massive aura trying to seduce me, didn't you?" I teased, though my heart was racing.
He started to pull away again. "You should go home," he said, his voice grave.
I shook my head, a reckless, curvy smile playing on my lips. "I don't have a home right now. I want to have fun." I leaned in close, my lips almost brushing his ear. "With…. you."
He stared at me, his voice a low grate. "You're drunk." He stepped back, deliberately creating a vacuum of space between us.
"I'm not," I insisted, my voice sounding foreign even to me. "I've only had one glass. Maybe two."
I stood up, my balance swaying. Intentionally, I let myself stumble. As if on instinct, his arms shot out, catching my waist and pulling me flush against his hard chest. I seized his tie, loosening the knot with a reckless smile.
"Catch me if you can," I whispered.
I spun away, attempting to bolt toward the dance floor, but in a blink, he was already standing in front of me. He was impossibly fast.
"Oh, you're quick," I breathed, my heart hammering. "Exactly how I like it."
"What do you want?" he demanded.
I didn't blink. "Sex. I want us to have sex. Just for tonight. Nothing more." I leaned in, my courage fueled by the burning alcohol in my veins. "I want to experience lust. I'm dying soon, and no man has ever touched me. You touched me tonight, and I want more. I want to feel... something… everything."
Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. I searched his masked face for a reaction, but his eyes were the only thing I could see—piercing, and unreadable. I closed the distance again, my finger grazing the crisp fabric of his shirt where it peeked out from his suit.
"I want you, stranger. And you've been following me all day. Tell me you don't want the same."
"You are crazy," he said softly, his body tensing as if to retreat.
I pulled him back, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "Destiny, remember? Maybe destiny wanted us to meet again." The words were insane, things the old Mirabel would never have dreamed of saying.
"Are you sure you want this, young lady?" he growled. "I am a big bad wolf. I hurt people like you for a living. You're innocent. You're new. Someone who looks exactly like you should not be messing with me."
I licked my lips, the danger only making the heat in my blood rise. "Exactly how I like it. I want the risk. Safety has gotten me nowhere but a death sentence. I want the thrill. If you're really a wolf, you wouldn't care about my innocence. You'd just go for the prey." I looked him dead in the eye. "I am the prey tonight."
His hand tightened into a fist. Then, without a word, he swooped down and hoisted me over his shoulder. I gasped as he tossed a wad of cash to the bartender, who was watching in stunned silence. The bartender slid a key across the counter.
He gripped the key and marched deep into the shadows of the club. Hanging over his shoulder, my heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the music. I was terrified, excited, and dizzy with adrenaline. Why haven't I felt this before? I wondered. Did I really need a terminal diagnosis to finally start living?
He reached a heavy door at the end of the hall and unlocked it. Inside was a sprawling suite, the interior design sharp and luxurious. He dropped me onto the bed. I watched, breathless, as he shed his suit jacket.
Even through his shirt, I could see the lethal power of his build—the broad chest and the hard ridges of his abs. He walked toward the bed with a slow, deliberate stride. I crossed my legs, trying to look poised despite the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. I was a medical student who knew the anatomy of a body, but I knew nothing of the soul of one. I was ready to be devoured.
"You might want to take the mask off for that," he said.
I sat up, my hands trembling as I reached for the straps. The moment my fingers brushed the material, a shock of electricity jolted through my spine.
Why does it always feel like this with him?
I carefully eased the mask away from his face. My breath hitched, and the world seemed to stop.
"Oh my God..."