The hum of distant string music vibrated beneath the hush of Arkyn’s demand. Sylith Ardenai, dark suit pressed immaculate, earpiece coiled against obsidian hair, wove through clusters of sequined bodies with feline precision. Her face—angular, impossible to read—betrayed nothing as she scanned the candlelight for weakness. Yet, as she passed Maelis’s wild, tumbling florals, her gaze paused on a smear of pollen clinging to her own knuckles. She ripped the earpiece cord, jaw flexing, and signaled her team for another sweep. Beneath her crisp exterior, chaos itched—a memory she would not name.

Maelis, sweat dampening the soft cotton at her collarbone, darted out of a service door, clutching a child’s sweater pressed deep into a tote. Her eyes, ringed faintly with exhaustion, devoured every shadow—her lips caught between bite and tremble. She collided with Renn in a service corridor, chest to chest. His medic’s uniform was already rumpled; his hair, always just a little too long, feathered into his eyes. There was worry in the set of his mouth, tenderness behind his searching gaze.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Renn whispered, glancing past her toward the hidden stairwell.

Maelis, chin high, met him with a spark of irritation, though her hands fisted tightly in the fabric at her side. “Is that an order?” There was a flash of something aching behind it, a plea for protection she would never voice aloud.

He softened, reaching as though to brush a stray petal from her neck, then dropped his hand. “I just want you safe, Maelis. And her.” His words were so soft she almost missed them, and for a moment the walls between them seemed paper-thin. But steps thundered closer, pulling them apart.

Leor, bowtie askew, slid between them with a tray of empty glasses, eyes flickering from Maelis’s clenched jaw to Renn’s rigid posture. “Are you two rehearsing a soap opera, or should I grab a mop for the sexual tension?” He grinned lopsidedly, masking the tightness in his voice. The laughter he forced quivered, hiding longing and fear both.

A voice buzzed over Sylith’s earpiece. “Suspicious movement near the service corridor.” She pivoted, eyes narrowing, and spotted Maelis vanishing into the kitchen’s steam. Sylith’s slow pursuit was a predator’s glide—measured, controlled, every inch a woman who had carved feeling from her marrow. But inside, desire warred against duty, old wounds blooming behind her ribs. She caught Maelis by the arm near the pantry, her grip firm but not cruel.

“You’re making my job difficult,” Sylith murmured, breath ghosting over Maelis’s skin. Their faces hovered a breath apart; Sylith’s eyes, usually glacial, burned tonight—something dangerous barely leashed.

Maelis swallowed, eyes flickering to the lips so close to hers. “Maybe you like difficult,” she whispered, reckless with fear and adrenaline. Sylith’s smile was a flicker—gone as fast as it came—but her hand did not release Maelis’s arm. Instead, thumb tracing a pulse point, her voice dropped to a threat-laced caress. “Darling, you have no idea what I like.”

Maelis’s breath hitched; she was trembling, helpless and defiant, caught in the web of Sylith’s scrutiny. Underneath it all, hunger throbbed—an ache to be seen, even by someone who might ruin her.

Suddenly, Arkyn emerged, a silhouette of wealth and power. “Problem here?” His tone licked with menace, eyes glassy with calculation. Sylith released Maelis, stepping between them, her face a mask again.

“No problem. Just ensuring our guests’ safety,” she replied, voice icy smooth. But her heart battered her ribs; the cost of this lie was visible in the pulse at her throat.

Arkyn’s gaze lingered, as if weighing secrets, and a thin smile broke across his lips. “Good. Because secrets never stay hidden in my house.” His words hung in the air, heavy as a threat.

Renn, watching from a shadowed nook, caught Maelis’s eye—the promise of protection trembling in his hands. Leor, silent now, watched too, empty tray pressed to his chest, guilt burning in his stare. For a moment, all their desires and fears tangled in the sultry, fragile dark.

Then Sylith’s radio crackled with a code she’d never heard—her own name spoken in a frantic whisper, just as the kitchen doors burst open and a security guard dragged a small, frightened girl into the light.

Seria.

To be continued...