Page 133 of Toxic

"Right. Apparently, any torture can be endured with the right mindset," he mumbled.

"Is looking at me torture for you?"

"Not looking. It’s that I can’t do anything more than just look."

I allowed myself a small smirk under my breath. Why the hell was I acting like this? Why was I inflaming this whole thing? This wasn’t fair—to Skye or to Liam. I was just setting myself up for even more trouble.

So, I went quiet, promising myself not to say anything that would complicate things more.

We reached the first floor and then walked down the stairs to level -1. Skye was following behind me, and I knew exactly what he was staring at. I let my hips sway a little as I strode forward. God, why couldn’t I just stop?

We already heard the music from a distance, and I felt my blood pumping faster. I picked up the pace. The room was dark, but strobe lights were flashing everywhere.

There was a decent-sized crowd already swaying to the music—a lot of couples, but also plenty of people dancing alone.

"Finally," I muttered, turning toward Skye. Of course, he was staring at me.

"I'm going to dance alone for a bit. I need to loosen up."

"Sure, whatever you want, Soren. I'll grab us some drinks," Skye replied, heading toward the bar while I moved to the center of the floor. The song playing was one of my favorites, and I started dancing, slowly finding my rhythm. The music wrapped around me, and I closed my eyes. The beat picked up, and I moved with it, letting myself go, trying to release all the tension in my body.

But the way it was coming out wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped. My movements, without even meaning to, were filled with sensuality. I danced mostly with my hips, running my hands over my body like I was imagining they were Skye's hands on my skin. I must have looked like I was dancing in a strip club, not just at some hotel disco.

I caught a few glances from the guys dancing nearby, especially alphas and betas, but I must have had a major bitch face because no one dared to approach me.

Tuning out my surroundings, I danced through three songs before realizing I was thirsty. I scanned the room and found Skye leaning against the wall, holding two glasses—one he was sipping from, and the other, I assumed, was waiting for me.

I swaggered over to him, my hips swaying, a strange grin spreading across my face.

"For me?"

"Sure."

I took the drink and sipped it, looking at him over the rim of the glass. His face showed a totally different expression from mine.

Torment.

Skye wasn’t enjoying this night out as much as I was. His eyes were sad, and his jaw was clenched tight. But there was nothing I could do to help him with his misery. Not yet, anyway.

I downed the drink, which tasted like some vodka and juice mix, and said to Skye in a pretty cheeky tone, "Be my waiter tonight. Keep the drinks coming."

In the flickering light, his eyes looked almost black and… sorrowful. I felt stupid, but really, what could I do? This was an impossible situation, and I still didn’t believe we could ever work out. Maybe for a while, but eventually, it would all go wrong.

Liam was my anchor, my only hope for a stable life without drama (and without passion). Gosh, how I hated this dilemma.

"Of course, I’ll get you drinks," Skye replied. "As many as you want."

His voice sounded hollow, like he'd shut off all his emotions.

For a moment, I froze and stared at him. The lights were dancing on his chiseled face, his eyelashes casting shadows thatkept shifting. But in his eyes? Still the same, persisting emotion—suffering.

"I know them all by heart, you know," he breathed out.

"What?"

"All your emails, Soren. I memorized them. Every single one."

There was this moment of silence, right in the middle of the club. It was like a bubble of stillness surrounded us.

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