The atmosphere in the bar was one of rhythmic beat that appeared to be in step with the heartbeat of Mia, the air filled with the mixture of odors of sweat, cheap perfume and the bitter bite of tequila. The crimson and sapphire neon lights were dancing upon the walls, and had set a kaleidoscope of color on the people who hung and ground against each other, their movements a primal rejoicing of the night. The music was throbbing, a bassline that vibrated the floor and into the bones of Mia, which thrilled and numbed her at the same time. She was on the verge of the dancing floor, her black dress pressed to her flesh, and the material shone in the lights, and the hem rose high up on her thighs with each little movement. It was one day since Lucas had confessed in his apartment, the recollection of his lips touching hers and the black rose of Jace still tender, a duality that was fighting in her. The neon beat of the outside of the dirty windows was the rhythm of the mayhem in her head and she felt as though she was on the cusp of something she could not name and her heartbeat was a wild drum that would not still. Lucas came to her side and the warmth of those hazel eyes caught the neon light in a way that made her breath catch. He was dressed in a dark shirt, the sleeves turned up to show the corded muscles of his forearms, and his smile was a beacon, and it relaxed the tension in her chest. Dance with me, he said, and his voice was a deep suggestion that sent a shudder through her, and she said yes, and put her hand into his, and his callous palm touched her softness. The brush of skin created a spark of heat that ran through her and her fingers tingled as he ushered her into the dance floor and the crowd parted like water around them. The music changed to a slower, sensual rhythm and Lucas drew her into his chest and his hand was on her lower back and his touch was firm but gentle and he led her into the rhythm. Their bodies were touching, the hardness of his chest a stark contrast to the softness of her curves and she felt the heat of him through the thin fabric of her dress, a rush of desire shooting up her neck. The dance was an eye-opener, their movements as one with an ease that did not belie the deception and as she breathed Mia felt the friction of his thigh against hers, a burst of desire that shot straight to her heart. Her nipples puckled under the dress, she could not suppress this feeling, and she bit her lip, her hands sliding up his chest, the material sliding over her palms. You are good at it, she said, with a shaky voice, and Lucas laughed, his breath hot on her ear, his voice sending a shiver through her. He teased me, he said, I have practiced, and his hand was sliding down, his fingers brushing the curve of her hip, and the sensuality of it--feigned, no doubt, but still there--kindled a fire in her, and her thighs came together to douse the pain which throbbed there. The mob surrounding them dissolved, the lights of the neon fading into a smear, and in a second they were alone, the beat of the night holding them together. But the illusion was broken when a shadow appeared at the edge of her vision, a figure that she recognized going through the crowd. Jace. His leather jacket shone in the neon, the dark material a contrast to the tailored suit of the gala, and his obsidian eyes were fixed on hers with intensity that took her breath away. He was leaning against the bar holding a glass of whiskey and his smirk was a blade that cut through the intimacy she had shared with Lucas. She felt her heart beat faster, a glow in her chest, and the attraction, the magnetic attraction which had been working between them in the wet park. Lucas saw that she was off her guard, and as he pressed his hand tighter on her hip, he turned her a little, his body shielding her. Disregard him, he said, and his voice was harsh with tension, but the instruction was no more than a command and his gaze a silent challenge that made her giddy. The dance resumed, and the movements made by Lucas were conscious, and his hand was guiding her with a possessiveness that made her feel sparks. The very sight of Jace was a ghost, his recollection of the black rose and vowed promises, of a promise of what is to come, of a reminder of what was to come, filled her ears. She bent in to Lucas, and tried to find the security of his warmth, her hands reaching his shirt, the material clenching between her fingers as she struggled to resist the urge which throbbed in her. The music swelled, the beat was a heartbeat in itself, and Lucas dipped her a little, his face close to hers, his breath mingling with hers. It was the beginning of a kiss, her lips parted, and he was hovering over them, and a moan was uttered, which was lost in the music, but not to her own ears. Their attraction was electric, his excitement rubbing against her hip, a painful reminder of the attraction she had repressed, and she wondered whether he experienced the same attraction, the same conflict between obligation and desire. The spell was broken by a sudden push of the crowd, a drunken dancer bumping into them, and Mia fell, Lucas holding on to her with a steady grasp, his hands on her waist. The discontinuity brought her down to earth, the neon lights becoming still and focused, and she looked over at the bar, only to find Jace was no longer there, and his absence was a vacuum that made her shiver. Lucas took her out of the dance floor and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they discovered a quiet corner, with the music playing in the distance as a thrum. He is getting under your skin, Lucas said, and his voice was deep, and his eyes were searching her with a kind of concern and more. She nodded, her throat tight, her guilt of her response to Jace conflicting with the warmth of Lucas touch. I do not know how to stop it, I broke, and his hand was on her cheek, and his thumb on a tear that she had not known had come. On and on went the night, and the life of the bar was inexorable, and Mia sipped a drink Lucas had ordered, and the heat of vodka was a distraction to the tempest within her. A crowd of her colleagues at the company came, and their laughter was in a stark contrast with her distress, and Sarah came, her smooth hair flashing in the light. You are the gossip of the office, you two, and you should have been light, but so curious in her eyes, and Mia felt the burden of the lie, the social pressure which contributed to her discomfort. Lucas held her tighter, and his arm was a mute encouragement, yet the remark was arousing, and her body was deceiving her, as she thought of the gossip that was going on. The absence of Jace was like a shadow that would come back, and she was wondering how long she could walk this fine line, her heart pulled in both directions, one foot on Lucas and the other on Jace. Her body answered, a heat that was incompatible with the guilt of the Jace influence and she moved closer, touching her lips to his neck, the salt and cologne intoxicating. The pressing crowd, a wall of bodies, increased the intimacy and she was lost in the rhythm, the neon a smear of color. But something at the bar struck her eye--Jace once more, with his smirk a taunt, and her heart leaped, and the temptation was a live wire that was going to break. Lucas traced her eyes, and his jaw clenched, and he drew her deeper into his embrace, his lips close to her ear. You are mine to-night, he said, the possessiveness of it giving her a shock, and she said yes, and held him, and the night was a battlefield between her conflicting passions.
