The old mansion pulsed with a life of its own, a beast of brick and mortar throbbing under the weight of thumping bass and the collective desperation of a hundred lost souls. The air was thick with the sour tang of cheap beer, sweat, and the kind of reckless abandon that only a Saturday night could conjure. Lila Carver pushed through the crowd, her crimson lips curled into a sneer as she dodged flailing limbs and spilled drinks. She didn’t want to be here—God, no—but spite was a hell of a motivator. Her ex, that sniveling little weasel, had practically begged her not to show up at his precious little “exclusive” party. So, naturally, here she was, in a black leather skirt that hugged her curves like a jealous lover and a top that left just enough to the imagination to drive anyone mad.
“Move it, jackass,” she snapped, elbowing a guy who’d clearly mistaken her for a dance partner. He stumbled back, mumbling something incoherent, but Lila was already gone, a storm in human form cutting through the chaos. She was three vodkas deep, just enough to dull the edges of her irritation but not enough to make her sloppy. Or so she thought.
Until some lumbering idiot, all beer breath and zero coordination, barreled into her from behind. “Hey, watch it—!” Her words cut off as she stumbled forward, her stiletto catching on the uneven floor. She flailed, arms windmilling, and crashed through a half-open door she hadn’t even noticed. The world tilted, and then she was down, sprawled on a cold hardwood floor in a room that smelled faintly of old books and something darker, muskier.
“Perfect. Just fucking perfect,” she muttered, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and that’s when she saw him. A pair of polished black boots, attached to long, lean legs, and above that, a man who looked like he’d been carved from shadow and sin. He lounged in a leather armchair like it was a throne, one ankle crossed over a knee, a glass of amber liquid dangling from his fingers. His dark hair fell just so over piercing eyes that seemed to strip her bare in a single glance. Daiin. She’d heard the name whispered in the kind of hushed tones reserved for legends or monsters. Maybe both.
“Well, damn,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor. “Didn’t expect a goddess to fall at my feet tonight. I must’ve done something right.”
Lila snorted, scrambling to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster while her skirt rode up her thighs. “Save the poetry, Casanova. I didn’t fall for you, I was pushed. Big difference.” She dusted off her hands, glaring at him. “And for the record, I’m no goddess. I’m the devil in heels, so don’t get any ideas.”
His smirk widened, a slow, dangerous thing that made her pulse kick despite herself. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas, sweetheart. And I’m betting you’d look even better on your knees.”
“Dream on, creep,” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest, which only seemed to draw his gaze lower. “I don’t kneel for anyone, especially not some brooding wannabe with a god complex. What are you even doing in here, anyway? Hiding from the party because you can’t handle a little social interaction?”
Daiin chuckled, the sound dark and rich, like molten chocolate laced with arsenic. He set his glass down on a nearby table with a deliberate clink and stood, unfolding himself with a predator’s grace. He was taller than she’d expected, broader too, and suddenly the room felt a hell of a lot smaller. “I don’t hide,” he said, taking a step closer. “I wait. And looks like my patience paid off.”
Lila held her ground, even as her instincts screamed at her to back up. She tilted her chin defiantly, her hazel eyes flashing. “Oh, please. If you think I’m some kind of prize for your creepy little stakeout, you’re dumber than you look. Back off before I make you regret it.”
“Make me?” He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his gaze as he closed the distance between them. “I’d love to see you try, darling. Go on. Hit me. Scratch me. Bite me, even. I don’t mind a little pain with my pleasure.”
Her cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. Anger—and something hotter, something she refused to name—surged through her. “You’re disgusting,” she hissed, shoving at his chest. He didn’t budge. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it, his smirk growing as he caught her wrists in one large hand, his grip like iron.
“Careful now,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Keep pushing, and I might just push back. Harder.”
“Let go of me, you overgrown caveman,” she snapped, twisting in his hold, but his fingers only tightened. Her heart was pounding now, a wild drumbeat she couldn’t ignore, and she hated how part of her thrilled at the raw strength in his touch. “I’m not one of your little playthings. Touch me again, and I’ll scream this whole damn house down.”
Daiin tilted his head, studying her like a wolf sizing up prey. “Scream all you want, Lila. No one’s coming to save you. Not in this room. Not from me.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “But go ahead. I like the sound of a fight.”
Her breath hitched, and she hated herself for it. “You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” she spat, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and something she wouldn’t admit. She yanked harder against his grip, but he pulled her closer instead, her body flush against his. The heat of him was intoxicating, overwhelming, and she fought the shiver that threatened to betray her.
“And you’re a hellcat with a mouth that’s begging to be tamed,” he countered, his free hand sliding to her hip, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. “Keep talking, sweetheart. Every word just makes me want you more.”
“Want me?” she laughed, sharp and biting, even as her body warred with her mind. “You couldn’t handle me if I came with a damn instruction manual. Let go, or I swear I’ll—”
Her threat dissolved into a sharp cry as he spun her, pinning her against the wall with a force that rattled the shelves nearby. Her hands were trapped above her head, his body a cage she couldn’t escape. “No more games,” he growled, his eyes dark with something primal. “You stumbled into my den, little devil. Now you play by my rules.”
“Fuck your rules!” she screamed, thrashing against him, her nails digging into his wrists. “I’m not your toy, Daiin! Let me go, or I’ll make you bleed for this!”
His laugh was low, taunting, as he pressed closer, his thigh wedging between hers with a deliberate, maddening pressure. “Bleed for you? Oh, darling, I’d do worse. Beg me to stop. Go on. I want to hear it.”
“Never,” she snarled, even as her voice cracked, desperation seeping through her bravado. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind brute strength. I’ll never beg for you. Never!”
But his gaze held hers, unrelenting, a storm of want and control that threatened to drown her. “We’ll see about that,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, sending an involuntary shudder through her. “I’ve got all night to break that pretty little spirit of yours.”
Lila’s screams echoed in the small room, raw and defiant, as she fought against him, her words a mix of venom and pleas that only seemed to fuel his resolve. The tension between them was a live wire, sparking with every insult, every touch, setting the stage for a battle neither would easily forget.
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