Chapter 1: Sparks in the Dark
The neon lights of the underground club pulsed in rhythm with the bass, a heartbeat of sin and sweat. Raven, a woman with a body carved from midnight fantasies and eyes that could cut through steel, leaned against the bar, her leather jacket slung over one shoulder. She sipped her whiskey, the burn matching the fire in her gaze as she scanned the room. She wasn’t here to play nice—she was hunting.
Across the crowded dance floor, she spotted him. Jace, all sharp angles and cocky smirks, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease the ink on his chest. He caught her stare and grinned, a predator recognizing another. Raven didn’t flinch. She tilted her glass in a mock toast, her lips curling into a challenge.
‘Looking for trouble, sweetheart?’ Jace’s voice sliced through the noise as he sauntered over, his tone dripping with arrogance. He leaned in close, the scent of his cologne mixing with the heat of the room.
‘Only if it’s worth my time, pretty boy,’ Raven shot back, her voice a low purr, sharp enough to draw blood. ‘You think you’ve got what it takes to keep up?’
He laughed, a dark, hungry sound. ‘Oh, I’ve got plenty, babe. Question is, can you handle it?’
She stepped closer, her chest brushing his, the air between them crackling. ‘I don’t handle anything. I take what I want. And right now, I’m deciding if you’re worth the effort.’
Jace’s eyes darkened, his smirk faltering into something raw. ‘Keep talking like that, and I’ll show you just how worth it I am.’
Raven’s hand slid up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as she yanked him closer. ‘Words are cheap. Prove it.’
They didn’t waste another second. The crowd parted as they moved, a storm of lust and defiance, straight for the shadowed hallway behind the bar. Her back hit the wall first, the cold brick biting into her skin as Jace’s hands gripped her hips, hard and unyielding. She didn’t yield either, her nails digging into his shoulders, her breath hot against his ear.
‘You’ve got one chance to impress me,’ she hissed, her lips grazing his jaw. ‘Don’t fuck it up.’
His growl was primal as he pressed against her, the evidence of how horny he was unmistakable through his jeans, his cock straining for her. ‘Trust me, darling, I’m about to blow your damn mind.’
Her laugh was wicked, her thighs parting just enough to let him feel the heat of her, already wet with anticipation. ‘Then stop talking and start moving.’
Their mouths crashed together, a battle of tongues and teeth, as hands roamed with ruthless intent. The world narrowed to the grind of their bodies, the panting breaths, the dripping need building between them. This wasn’t just a spark—it was a fucking inferno, and they were both ready to burn.
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