Aurora Lane wasn't supposed to be here—not in this club, not in this mood, and definitely not in this dress. The slinky red silk clung to her hips like it knew her body better than her ex ever did.
"Take another shot, babe," Fiona purred beside her, tossing her blonde hair back and winking at the bartender. Aurora obeyed. Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to forget. Ethan. His lies. His fake promises. And worst of all—the video. Fiona moaning his name like it belonged to her.
Aurora swallowed hard.
Her pulse buzzed like electricity through her veins, louder than the bass that shook the walls of The Crimson Den. But that wasn't the music. It was… him.
He stood in the shadows, leaned against the bar like sin in a leather jacket. Tall. Dark. Eyes like polished obsidian. Watching her. Zayne Kingsley.
She'd heard the rumors. Rich. Dangerous. His ex vanished after falling in love with him. No one could prove anything. But when his eyes met hers, Aurora's skin lit up like fire under her dress.
"Careful," Fiona whispered with a laugh. "That one devours virgins and spits out sinners."
Maybe that's exactly what she needed.
Zayne didn't walk over. He stalked, slow and smooth, like a wolf circling prey. "You dance like someone trying to forget something," he said, voice deep, smooth, and British as hell.
Aurora's lips curved. "And you watch like someone who's already forgotten how to care."
He chuckled. "Touché."
One second later, they were dancing. Two strangers in sync, hands on hips, lips close enough to taste. The air between them grew thick with heat. When his fingers brushed her bare back, her skin shivered—but not from cold. From awakening.
Then he leaned in and whispered, "Do you want to be kissed… or claimed?"
Aurora's breath caught. Her heart screamed run. But her body moved closer.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
His lips crashed into hers.
And in that moment—hot, intense, messy—something cracked open inside her. A pulse. A whisper. A scream.
The curse had been awakened.