Page 3 of The Blood Moon Hunt

I turn and make my way through the crowded club, heading toward the dark hallway that leads to the bathrooms. The neon lights grow dimmer as I leave the main floor, the pounding bass fading slightly, though the beat still thrums in my chest.

As I reach the hallway, a chill runs down my spine. Something feels off. I glance behind me and freeze. One of the men from the dance floor is following me. He’s dressed the same as the others—black robe, skull mask—but there’s something feral about the way he moves, like a predator closing in on its prey.

I quicken my pace, but before I can reach the bathroom door, he grabs my arm, spinning me around. I gasp as he slams me against the wall, his hand gripping my shoulder painfully. His face is close to mine, his breath hot on my skin. There’s something wild in his eyes behind the mask, a hunger that makes my stomach twist.

“Let go of me!” I snap, trying to push him off, but he’s too strong.

He leans in, inhaling deeply, his nose almost brushing my neck. “You smell different,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Not like the others.”

Panic surges through me as I struggle against him, but he keeps me pinned easily, his hand moving lower as he presses his body against mine. “Stop!” I yell, but my voice is lost in the noise of the club.

Just as I think he’s going to cross a line, he’s suddenly ripped away from me, thrown to the side with such force that he crashes into the opposite wall. I stumble forward, breathless, and look up.

One of the men from the platform stands in front of me, his skull mask casting long shadows across his face. He’s tall, broader than the others, and there’s something almost regal about the way he carries himself. His eyes, visible through the mask, burn with a quiet intensity as he stares down at the man who had attacked me.

“Learn some manners,” the man says, his voice cold and commanding. “We don’t treat our guests like that.”

The attacker scrambles to his feet, his earlier bravado gone. He looks terrified, his gaze darting between the man in front of me and the exit. Without another word, he turns and bolts down the hallway, disappearing into the crowd.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart still pounding in my chest. The man who saved me turns to face me fully, his gaze softening slightly as he looks me over.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice still low, but there’s a gentleness to it now.

I shake my head, unable to find my voice. Up close, he’s even more striking. His jawline is sharp, his lips full, and though his face is partially obscured by the mask, there’s something undeniably magnetic about him. His eyes—dark and intense—seem to see right through me, like he knows more about me than I know about myself.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what... I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t?—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flicking to my lips before meeting my eyes again. “You can call me Damien.”

“I’m Selene,” I start to say, but he cuts me off again, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know.”

A shiver runs down my spine. How does he know my name?

The question is on the tip of my tongue, but the words don’t come. Instead, there’s a shift in the air between us. It’s almost imperceptible, but I feel it, like something tugging at me—drawing me closer to him. My skin prickles with heat, a warmth blooming from deep within me. The anxiety that’s been sitting heavy on my chest all night starts to melt away, replaced by something else entirely.

Desire.

It floods me unexpectedly, making my pulse race even faster. Up close, I can feel his presence like a force, wrapping around me, pulling me in. There’s a magnetism about him, something that reaches beyond just physical attraction. His gaze, dark and intense, locks with mine, and the space between us seems to shrink. I’m aware of every inch of my body—the way my breath hitches, the way my skin tingles where his eyes linger.

I can’t tear my gaze away from him, even as my mind screams at me to be cautious, to pull back. But I don’t want to. It’s intoxicating—the way my fear fades, replaced by this overwhelming pull. It’s the same feeling I had earlier, watching him from the platform, but now, standing so close, it’s amplified.

He steps closer, his breath warm against my skin, and I feel my body respond, the heat pooling low in mybelly. His presence is overwhelming, and yet, I crave more. I’m not used to feeling like this—so exposed, so vulnerable. But something about him makes me abandon those fears, even if just for a moment.

He leans in, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body, his lips just inches from mine. My breath catches in my throat, anticipation building with every heartbeat. I know I should pull back, but I can’t. I don’t want to. The world around us seems to blur, the music and noise of the club fading into the background.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow, barely able to nod, my body practically humming with the energy between us. There’s no mistaking it now—this pull, this connection. It’s like something is tying us together, something ancient and powerful. I feel it in my bones, in the heat building inside me.

His hand brushes against my arm, and even that small touch ignites something inside me. My skin burns under his fingertips, and I feel a wave of arousal crash over me. I can’t think clearly, my mind clouded with the overwhelming need to close the distance between us.

“I—” I start, but the words get lost as he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his voice a tantalizing mix of promise and restraint. “But soon.”

The anticipation is almost unbearable, and for abrief second, I think he might kiss me. My heart races, my entire body poised on the edge of something I don’t quite understand. But then, just as quickly as the moment began, it shifts.

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