The neon pulse of the dive bar was beating through the veins of Mia like a living being, like a vicious crimson and sapphire heartbeat that was submerging the city roar in a wave of mayhem. It was the 10th of September, 2025, nine days since she had first fallen into this nest of leather, lust and predatory glances and the air still lingered on her flesh, a shroud of musk of whiskey, the smell of sweat and a lower scent that was almost whispering her name. Her crimson dress, a boldness on the previous night, clung to her curves like a lover, the stuff of which it was made a constant, tormenting reminder of the eyes which had scanned her--the obsidian gaze of Jace Wilder smouldering hottest of all, a fire that could not be put out. Her thighs were touching the hem of the dress as she pushed forward through the crowd, and the material flashed back the neon light in jagged, seductive glimpses, attracting the attention of the people whose faces were lost in a sea of hunger and purpose. Her heart beat was fast, a staccato beat which she could not quiet, as if the velvet growling of Jace, You know where to find me when you are through pretending, was still there in the shadows, a phantom touch that burned her skin and aroused an ill forbidden heat she could not name.The commotion of the bar engulfed her, the clatter of glass, the shouted words, the clink of glasses that clashed with the bass throb that was vibrating the sticky floor. Bodies bobbed and huddled and their warmth was a suffocating wave that made her feel naked and her bookish soul shuddering under the weight of it all. Her small purse was tighter and her fingers were trembling in a weak defense against the predatory energy that vibrated around her like a living creature. The air was laden with the smell of spilt beer and cigarette smoke, the poor light throwing sharp shadows which swung across the walls, reflecting the chaos in her head. Lucas strolled beside her, his presence a solid anchor in the storm, his hand a strong push on her elbow that pegged her in the storm. His warmth was oozing through her sleeve, and the cold of the bar was a sharp contrast to his, and she peeped at him, his hazel eyes in the neon light, worry in the lines of his chiseled jaw, but there was something there, something crude and naked, that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart stutter. His fingers were clenched on her elbow, there was an acquisitive air in the movement that sent a shiver scurrying down her spine, and she cursed the blush that rose on her neck, the manner in which her body betrayed her, with a heat that smoldered low in her belly. She nodded, and had to smile, which was stiff and brittle, but her mind was a battlefield, and was all in knots with the memory of Jace smirking, how his leather-clad frame towered above her on the first night, promising to bring havoc she both feared and desired with a desperation that terrified her. His words reverberated, like a velvet dagger, and turned with each word, and she was compelled to imagine that he was standing in the shadows, and his dark eyes had seen through the neon cloud to the cracks of her resolve. The crowd cleared, a moment of reprieve, and Lucas led her off to a corner booth, where a woman with a sleek bob and assessing eyes was waving them over, with a confidence that made Mia uneasy. "She works at your firm. Thought you two should meet." Sarah smiled in a friendly but calculating way and her eyes drifted across the dress of Mia with a tincture of amusement and settled on how the dress fitted her hips and the curve of her waist. You are the mystery girlfriend of Lucas, she teased, and her voice was full of inquiry that tightened the stomach of Mia in a sudden, sharp twist. The term girlfriend fell like a rock, the deception of dating fake slipping over into another person, and she had a sense that it was now pressing heavily against her chest, and she was not certain that she could bear the burden of it. She looked at Lucas whose face was hard to read and as hard to read as a mask of charm that concealed the tension she felt simmered beneath, but his hand was moving down her arm to her waist, and the warmth of his touch was burning through the thin fabric of her dress with an intimacy that made her breath hitch. Sarah was chattering away, and her talk was a torrent of a definite affair, hints of their relationship together, already swirling round the office like a storm in the offing, growing stronger with each hour. I want to know, Sarah laughed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Shut up Mia and the handsome Lucas--quite the couple. Even Emma has her claws out, she asks questions. The name Emma with her strong competitor made Mia shiver, the gossip was another burden she had not expected and a threat that was bigger than the shadow cast by Jace. Lucas squeezed his hand, his body came closer and she tasted the heat of him, the wall of his chest as solid as a shield against the tumult that was threatening to overwhelm her, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in, the closeness of it sending a spark through her that she could not ignore. The feigning was already something actual, a deadly advantage that made her heart rate soar and she asked herself whether he intended it--whether the deception was now more than a barrier between herself and Jace, a life raft that she was beginning to grasp. Sarah drew near and her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, her perfume a contrast to the harsh odor of the bar. The office is ablaze, you see. Everyone is wondering what happened to the quiet intern and her handsome boyfriend. The partners are even whispering. The sentence knot-tied itself in the stomach of Mia, the fact that it was a lie, and that it was said publicly, increased her vulnerability and she had to nod, play along, despite the fact that her thoughts were shattering under the pressure of it all. She despised herself to do it, to feel her body flushing all the way up to her chest, her nipples drawing in under the fabric of her dress, a response she could not control, a hidden disgrace that blazed in the low light. The neon light of the bar appeared to be taunting her, the beat of the rhythm a taunting whisper that she was already playing a dangerous game and was on the edge of something that she could not control. His hand went, his thumb tracing the line of her hip, and it was a shock that she felt, a sort of relief and perplexity, as she looked at him, and saw in his eyes the reflection of her conflict, the ease of his heat and the lure of the forbidden. The shadows on their faces are created by the dim light in the booth, a tension was built, a spring that was about to burst. The beat of the bar appeared to be in tune with her heart, a constant reminder of the mess she had gotten into and she was certain that this was just the start of it, a murmur of chaos that would soon turn into an earthquake that she may not even make it out of. Sarah laughed, and the woman pulled her back, unaware of the storm of her heart, and Mia was half-convinced she would see Jace come out of the neon fog, his leather-clad body. She could feel his touch, which was a lightning flash of a touch, as she remembered it, and she clenched her fists, nails in her palms to steady herself against the attraction of it. The hand of Lucas moved to the lower part of her back, a possessive stroke that gave her a shiver and his fingers followed the edge of the fabric with a tenderness that was so near to reality that it was frightening. Stay with me, he said in a low rumble that shook her, and she said yes, and her throat was tight with feelings she could not name. The noise of the bar swelled, a wave of sound that was threatening to drown her, and she wondered how long she could continue to do this, how long before the lie was turned into truth or Jace was whispering her into the abyss.
