Annariel

The bass thrummed through the floor in steady, physical waves. Sebastian lifted his glass, letting the clink of melting ice echo against the rim before taking a measured sip. The Old Fashioned was sharp, smooth, just the way he liked it. At least something tonight was working.

Ominis and his girlfriend Annariel sat opposite him in the booth, perfectly in sync without even trying. They had been together for years. A perfect example for a solid, steady, annoyingly happy long-term relationship. Annariel leaned into Ominis as she laughed, her hand brushing his arm in that familiar way that made Sebastian feel like the third wheel on a ride going nowhere.

He sneered shortly over this public display of affection, exhaled slowly, and let his gaze drift to the dance floor in search for distraction.

Lights strobed across a sea of bodies. Glitter, sweat, skin. But no spark. No one who made him want to get up, cross the room, and lose himself in something, anything other than this haze of dull routine. He needed distraction. A pulse-raising moment. Someone worth the effort of getting up.

Annariel glanced at her phone, thumb tapping the screen, like she did countless times in the last hour.

“She should be here any minute. Cass is never late, usually she is punctuality in person,” she said, half to herself.

Ominis’ expression barely shifted, but Sebastian caught the slight twitch of his brow, the subtle tension in his mouth. Not quite disapproval, more like thinly veiled reluctance. He clearly knew this Cass, and from the look of it, did not care much for her.

His girlfriend did not seem to notice her man’s shift in countenance. “I told her to meet us here. You will like her,” she added, glancing at Sebastian with a knowing smile.

He doubted it.

Another friend-of-a-friend. Probably nice, probably forgettable. Like most of the night so far.

A breath of fresh air announced new guests entering the location as the curtains into the dancehall shifted slightly to the sides. Sebastian’s gaze wandered curious to its origin.

A woman dressed in a black leather jacket, an elegant blouse, and black jeans so tight they looked like they’d been poured on stepped onto the scene.

He titled his head slightly as to see better through the crowded space. Her presence cutting through the noise like a cold blade through fog. Her hair framed a face that was all sharp edges and calm confidence.

The ice cubes circling in his glass came to a halt as he watched her handing over her jacket to the guy at the coat check, revealing more of that candid blouse she was wearing.

Oh. That was definitely a sight to admire.

To his surprise, the woman didn’t vanish into the crowd afterwards like most newcomers did. No uncertain glances, no search for the bar. She was headed straight for their booth.

Sebastian blinked, just once, as realisation clicked into place. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Annariel waving, bright and enthusiastic, gesturing her over with both hands.

Well then.

So, this was Cass.

Maybe he'd been a little too quick to write her off. Friend-of-a-friend did not usually come with that kind of walk. Or that kind of attire.

Cass reached them, and as she leaned in to greet Annariel with a warm hug, Sebastian took the liberty of letting his gaze drop, just briefly.

The jeans were very tight, criminally so. Hugging every curve like they had been tailored in sin.

He sipped his drink again, slowly this time. How mad would Annariel really be if he took a closer look at her friend? Just out of curiosity, of course. A man could appreciate the view without meaning anything by it… right?

Probably. Maybe.

He grinned into his glass.

“Finally,” Annariel laughed, pulling back from the hug as Cass stepped fully into their space. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Cass brushed a hand through her hair with a small sigh. “Got stuck at work.”

“That tracks.” Annariel waved it off like it was nothing. “Come on, sit. You deserve a drink.”

Cass slid into the booth beside Sebastian, settling in without a word. Her movements were effortless, calm, but carried a subtle precision, like someone who measured every inch of their space before claiming it.

Sebastian’s eyes followed her as she sat. And lingered a beat too long on her cleavage. Cass did not look at him directly, but she reached up, fingers deftly adjusting the collar of her blouse, smoothing it down across her chest.

Shit. He got caught starring, wasn’t he?

Her eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. But she did not say a word.

Annariel, blissfully unaware or expertly ignoring his misstep, gestured between them. “Cass, this is Sebastian. Ominis’ oldest friend and most corrupting influence. Seb, this is Cass. My favourite person to cause trouble with – if she finds the time to do so, that means.” she added with a smirk.

Sebastian shot her a lopsided smile that he had once been told was disarming. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he said smoothly.

Cass met his eyes, briefly with a coolness that clarified that she was not a single bit impressed. “Is that so?”

He smirked, unfazed. “Most definitely. I waited the whole night for troublesome company.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” she said, fingers still casually brushing her collar into place.

Annariel snorted into her drink.

But he kept his cool and leaned back slightly, one arm over the back of the booth. Sebastian was not one to fold at the first bity retort.

“You know,” he said, glancing at Annariel, “I’m starting to wonder why you’ve been hiding this one from me.”

Annariel rolled her eyes. “Because I know you.”

Cass turned her head just slightly toward him. “She warned me, by the way.”

“Did she now?” Sebastian arched a brow. “Entertain me, what did she say?”

“That you’d try something.” she responded flatly. “She just didn’t say it would be this fast.” A smirk accompanied her quip.

That got a short laugh out of him. “What can I say? Never a dull moment with me.”

“Time will tell. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Oh,” he winked daringly at her. “Don’t worry. Just be careful not to make a deal with a devil you cannot handle.”

“Don’t take it personally. I just left a building full of men who think they’re charming. And believe me when I tell you, most devils forget to read the small print.”

Sebastian grinned.

She was sharp witted, charming, and clearly not here for anyone’s bullshit.

Just what he was waiting for. A challenge.

Cass shifted in her seat, glanced toward the bar, then exhaled. “I need a drink after the day I’ve had.”

She started to rise, but before she could push off the booth, he moved.

“I’ve got it,” he offered, already half-standing. “Let me at least try to make up for the... less-than-stellar first impression.”

Cass looked at him, one eyebrow arched, the same way it had earlier, like she was measuring him up.

“Fine.”

When Sebastian came back, he was balancing a tray on its middle a bottle of liquor. Four shot glasses clinked gently as he set it down on their table, the alcohol clear and unmistakable.

“Tequila?” Annariel asked, perking up.

Sebastian smiled mischievously. “Thought we could all use something to loosen up a little. Come on. It’s that kind of night. Let’s make it worth a while.”

Cass eyed the glasses, then glanced back at him.

“Bold choice.”

“Felt appropriate,” he replied, settling back into the booth.

Everyone grabbed a glass. They clinked in a quick, messy toast and downed the first shot.

Sebastian’s gaze lingered again.

She tipped the glass back like it was water, head tilting just slightly, throat working in one clean movement. The dark lipstick she wore didn’t smudge, didn’t crack, just stayed perfect, sharp against the clear glass.

The conversations shifted into a looser rhythm. Annariel was laughing more now, leaning into Ominis, her hand on his arm. He murmured something in her ear, and she giggled in response.

Sebastian kept drinking, kept talking. But every time Cass lifted her glass, or pushed her hair behind one ear, or leaned forward just slightly, his eyes found her again.

He wasn’t subtle about it.

And he was sure she noticed. But as before she didn’t say a word.

The nearly empty tequila bottle sat between them. Just containing enough for a weak round or two, and they all knew which direction this group would lean.

Annariel was curled up against Ominis, cheeks flushed, her fingers tracing idle shapes along his chest. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Ominis looked downright pleased with himself.

Sebastian downed another shot, watching them out of the corner of his eye. He’d seen Annariel like this before; clingy, giggly, a little too handsy when the alcohol hit just right. And Ominis, the lucky bastard was clearly enjoying every second of it.

He leaned back with a sigh and turned toward Cass again, who was eyeing their friends with cheeks tinted in an adorable shade of pink. The alcohol was clearly fulfilling its purpose.

He raised his glass slightly in her direction. “Well,” he said dryly, “looks like I’m officially no longer the only third wheel at this table.”

Cass gave a quiet giggle. “Is that a hint of jealousy I’m hearing?”

He laughed under his breath. “Maybe.”

She glanced toward the bar. Then she stood, smoothing her blouse again in that subtle, deliberate way he’d already come to recognise. “Alright. Since you handled the first round, I’ll get the next.” She declared descending the little step down their booth a little wonky on her feet.

Sebastian was up on his feed in a second ready to steady her. “You sure you can handle one more?” he laughed.

She turned slightly, mindful of keeping her balance, refusing to let him touch her. “Relax, I’ve got this. I’m not quite the lightweight you think I am.”

“Still. Just in case, make sure to fall my way, alright?” he quipped.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She answered absentmindedly her eyes already focusing the bar, “You coming, or are you going to sit here and watch them eat each other’s faces?”

As if on cue, a soft noise escaped from Annariel. Something between a moan and a giggle and Ominis was definitely kissing her now, hands tangled in her hair like they were alone in their own private world.

“And here we go.” He slid out of the booth and fell into step beside her, Cass already weaving through the crowd.

***

The bar was packed, a blur of bodies and noise, but they managed to wedge themselves into a corner near the counter where the bartender could see them. Cass adjusted her posture, her stance more secure now. Without hesitation she ordered two drinks of Whisky.

Attentive, indeed. He had to confess as much.

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, the way the coloured lights danced over her cheekbones, the way her jaw flexed slightly while she was observing the dance floor with a curious look.

Suddenly her arm snapped to her hips, and she watched him intently. “You always this obvious?” she asked him in a faux-stern voice.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning surprise as he placed a hand against his chest.

She tilted her head to the side and fixed him with a sharp, penetrating look.

“You really don’t tune down, do you?”

“Not once it starts working,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to the dance floor.

The party was in full swing; the dance floor packed to the breaking point. Bodies pressed shamelessly against one another in the pounding bass. Utterly unhinged.

Cassandra, however, didn’t even tap her foot. She stood there completely unimpressed, leaning casually against the bar. One might have thought she was above it all, above fun, above letting go.

But Sebastian wasn’t fooled. He caught the curious glance, the brief flicker of her pupils.

A soft clink announced the drinks being set down on the bar.

He reached for the glasses. His plan solidified. He would crack her.

After all, he was Sebastian Sallow, charming and persuasive. And alcohol would help.

He held out a glass to her.

“Cheers,” he said, raising it.

She took the glass, gave him a brief nod, then took a sip.

He leaned closer.

Her gaze lifted, wary, as if already preparing a verbal shutdown.

He didn’t let himself be deterred by her disarming look.

“So,” he began, “are you just here to drink, or do you actually plan on enjoying the evening?”

She frowned.

“I am enjoying the evening…”

“Oh, come on. You’re stiff as a board.”

“Oh? Am I?” she shot back.

He continued undeterred, his expression openly amused now.

“You know,” he said, stepping a little closer, “for someone who walked in like she owns the place, you’re taking your sweet time warming up.

Her eyes narrowed just slightly.

Hit.

“Maybe I just enjoy observing,” she replied coolly. “Not everyone needs to make a fool of themselves on the dance floor.”

Sebastian raised a brow and took a sip himself. The alcohol burned pleasantly, fuelling his courage.

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning in closer she could hear him over the bass. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d make a fool of herself.”

Her gaze slid back to the dance floor. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Or are you just waiting for the right moment?” he continued casually. “Or maybe an invitation?”

A brief, mocking smile tugged at her lips. “Is that what you think?”

He chuckled softly.

Setting his glass down, he turned fully toward her and extended his hand in invitation.

She studied him.

“Loosen up, Cass. We’re here to have fun.”

“You’re so obvious, it’s almost amusing.”

“One song,” he smiled. “Then I’ll hand you back to the bar. Promise.”

She raised an eyebrow. Then her lips curved into a daring smile.

Without a warning, she grabbed his outstretched hand.

And to Sebastian's surprise, she was the one who pulled him toward the dance floor.

Not that he was about to complain.

She guided them through the mass of bodies, beneath flashing strobe lights and the deep waves of the speakers. Her grip was steady, her steps purposeful.

Then, in the middle of the dance floor, she let go. She turned around and, without a second’s hesitation, began to move.

Sebastian stood there, stunned.

She surrendered to the music. Her body sank into the rhythm, carried by the beat. Her hips caught it, rolled with it, smooth and controlled, as if movement and music were one. Hands skimmed her blouse absentmindedly, traced along her arms, adding small, effortless accents.

She was completely in her element.

Sebastian blinked.

Then her gaze snapped to him, focused.

He swallowed. It dawned on him. He had underestimated her.

Without haste, still moving with the rhythm, she approached him.

Inch by inch, so close he could almost feel her. He was just about to place his hands on her hips when she turned, gave him her back, and closed the distance between them in one fluid motion.

Her hips moved again, closer now, deeper, perfectly in time, until he could feel her without her truly leaning into him.

Sebastian held his breath.

She tossed her head back, hair catching the strobe light, and looked at him over her shoulder.

“Who’s stiff as a board now?” she teased.

Cheeky little thing.

She kept moving against him, utterly natural. Controlled, deliberate, provocative and devastatingly effective.

Carefully, he placed his hands on her hips, testing how far he was allowed to go.

He made no assumptions. She was in control. For now.

His fingertips traced over the sinfully thin fabric of her jeans. Heat prickled beneath his touch. It took every ounce of willpower not to grab her, hard and possessive.

Sebastian exhaled.

She leaned into him even more, the roll of her hips intentional, pure provocation. She knew exactly what she was doing. And that he felt every second of it.

Damn it. She was playing with him. And he loved it.

He leaned closer, let his movements match hers. Not a sheet of paper could have fit between him and those goddamn tight jeans.

He felt the heat rise inside him.

His hands slid a little higher, from her hips to the hem of her blouse, then along her arm.

He bent close, letting his breath brush her neck.

A satisfied grin spread across his face when he felt the telltale goosebumps on her delicate skin.

She was enjoying this just as much as he was.

He chuckled softly, his fingertips wandering higher from the edge of her blouse, inch by inch. How far would she let him go? He wanted to find out. He was hooked.

Then she reached back, tangled her fingers in his hair, and pulled him closer. She pressed her back against his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath.

Enough teasing.

He let her hold him for one more heartbeat, her closeness, the heat she was deliberately keeping between them. Then he made his move.

His hands slid firmly to her hips, this time without hesitation. With a smooth, decisive motion, he turned her to face him, perfectly in time with the beat, as if he’d only been waiting for this cue.

They stood facing each other.

So close there was no room left for doubt. No space for implication. The bass rolled through them, vibrating between their bodies as the song surged toward its climax.

Sebastian held her.

Her hands found his chest, fingers brushing over his shirt.

Her gaze met his, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed.

She was breathing faster. So was he.

Damn.

Their faces were only inches apart, breath brushing breath, warm and tangible. He saw the slight twitch of her lips, the fleeting moment where everything was possible.

Now. Or never.

Sebastian lowered his head slightly, not enough for a kiss, but close enough that she would feel it. That she would know what he was thinking. What he wanted.

The final beat of the song rolled across the dance floor before it faded into the next track.

She grinned.

And took a step back.

Sebastian stood there, right in the middle of the dance floor, heart pounding, head still half inclined toward her, completely flabbergasted.

Fuck.

Had he gone too far? He had thought he’d handled it smoothly.

He blinked, running his tongue to wet his lips. To prepare to apologise for his move.

He searched for her gaze, already bracing himself for a furious verbal shutdown.

Instead, all he saw was that grin. That cheeky, daring look.

While he tried to read her signals in the packed dance floor chaos, someone crashed into her.

An elbow rammed into her shoulder. 

Cassandra stumbled.

Straight into him.

Sebastian reacted instinctively. His arms closed around her, caught her, held her steady before she could even register what had happened.

She landed in his arms, chest to chest, her hands pressed against his torso once more. Her lips were only a breath away from his again.

He felt her. Her warmth. Her breath. Her body leaning into his again for just a moment.

The bass kept pounding around them. Lights flickered. People pushed past.

Sebastian looked at her. The proximity would have allowed him to pull her even closer, to close the last remaining distance between them. His brain worked overtime.

It would have been easy to use the moment to his advantage.

But he decided against the impulsive thought. He liked to win his battles fair, and certainly not without consent. That much of a moral code he still upheld.

So, he simply looked down at her, still in his arms.

“You alright?”

She looked up at him.

And in that moment, something in her expression shifted. He caught it.

Her lips curved into a smile.

“Come,” she said curtly.

Before he could react, she slipped out of his arms, grabbed his hand again for the second time that evening, completely unexpectedly, and pulled him with her.

No room for objection.

Not that he had any left.

Sebastian nearly stumbled from the sudden tug. His gaze flicked reflexively over her shoulder toward the bar, to the glasses still standing there. Completely forgotten.

He had no time to dwell on it.

Cassandra guided them through the club. She dodged bodies, slipped through gaps, dragged him along behind her, her hand clasped firmly around his fingers.

He let himself be led.

He wasn’t entirely sure why.

Maybe because his mind hadn’t quite caught up yet and was still stuck on the dance floor. Maybe because he could still feel that tingling under his fingertips. Or maybe because something was unfolding that he had no desire to resist. At least, he hoped so.

She was heading straight for the exit. The music grew duller the closer they got to the club’s back door. Cold air hit them as they stepped through it out to the club’s back courtyard.

A place one retreated to either to smoke a cigarette in peace, start a fight, or—

Cassandra didn’t let go of his hand until they had put a few steps of distance between themselves and the exit door and withdrawn into a brick-walled corner.

His heart was pounding wildly. Partly because of the heated moment on the dance floor, partly because he had no clue what kind of situation was to unfold before him now.

She stopped and released him from her firm grip.

He looked at her, searching for an explanation, for a clue written on her face, for anything basically, that would help him understand what to expect from the woman standing in front of him.

Usually, he was the one pulling unexpected moves. It was part of his charm, or so he always told himself.

But this evening wasn’t following his usual routines.

That much, he had to admit.

He waited for any reaction, but as she made no move, said no word, he lowered his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So,” he said, “you craving a cig, or am I’bout to catch a hand?” He tried to pass it off as a joke, hoping it masked his nerves.

She merely raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his cluelessness.

“You’d like one?”

“Neither, to be honest.”

She giggled.

He was still absolutely oblivious, unable to read the room.

Gods. Where had his self-confidence gone?

Sebastian cleared his throat.

“Look,” he began, shifting his weight, suddenly very aware of how close she still stood, “about back there… I might’ve misread the moment. I didn’t mean to—”

She didn’t interrupt him.

He glanced up briefly, then back down again, rubbing the back of his neck once more.

“I mean, I thought we were on the same page, but if I pushed too far, that’s on me. I just—” He let out a small breath. “I don’t want you thinking I was trying to pull something.”

The seconds stretched.

She watched him with open amusement now.

“You weren’t?” again her eyebrow quirked.

“Maybe… I was. Sorry.” He confessed.

“You’re apologising,” she said at last.

He looked up. “I am.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Didn’t thought you’re one to apologise. Nor let an advantageous moment pass…”

He huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. “Did I really make such a bad first impression?”

“To be honest, yes, you did,” she replied lightly. “But I might have been wrong. I kind of like this version of you.”

His brows knit together. “Which version?”

“The one who looks like he’s about to talk himself into a hole. Bashful.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A smile tugged at his lips, reluctant but genuine.

“Glad I can be entertaining,” he muttered.

She took a step closer. Just one little step but enough to cut his next thought clean off.

“You didn’t misread anything,” she said softly.

His breath caught. “I didn’t?”

“No.” Her gaze held his. “You just assumed I’d let you lead.”

“And you didn’t,” he said quietly.

She smiled.

“I didn’t.”

She took another step towards him. Now she was fully within his space, so close that he could smell her perfume.

“For the record,” she added, voice low, “if I hadn’t wanted you that close, you wouldn’t have been.”

“Good to know,” he murmured.

She stopped right in front of him.

Then, before he could say another word, she reached up, fingers brushing the front of his shirt.

His pulse spiked.

“I dragged you out here because the dance floor was getting crowded,” she purred. “And because I was done watching you overthink.”

He swallowed.

“You enjoy that, don’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Another pause.

She leaned in even further, close enough that her words brushed his ear.

“And because I don’t like to snog in the middle of a dance floor,” she continued.

She pulled back just far enough to look at him again, to study his shifting expression.

And his expression shifted, indeed.

Gosh. That woman didn't play by any rules. None he knew by now at least.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Is that so?”

She nodded once. “If you’re still interested…”

The corner of his mouth curved into a smile.

Her fingers drifted over the buttons of his shirt, slow and deliberate, tapping them one by one.

Sebastian’s heart pounded wildly in his chest.

He moved before he could overthink it again. One hand came up to her waist, firm now, pulling her closer until there was no space left to question anything. The other slid to her jaw, thumb brushing along her cheek as he tilted her face up to his.

“Still interested,” he breathed.

Her answer was immediate.

She closed the distance herself, lips meeting his with intention.

Sebastian groaned softly against her mouth before he kissed her back properly, the heat inside him flaring as he deepened it. His grip around her waist tightened, anchoring her against him, palms roaming over her sinfully tight jeans.

His tongue found hers and the faint taste of whisky still lingered on her lips.

Her fingers curled into his shirt in response, no longer teasing, holding him just as insistently as he held her. She pressed closer, and he followed without restraint.

When he finally pulled back a fraction, his breath was uneven, his pulse loud in his ears.

“So,” he murmured, lips still brushing hers, “definitely not catching a hand?”

She smiled against his mouth.