Page 14 of Savage Reign

“We thought you’d chicken out,” Daria admits, “but we’re glad you didn’t.”

I push down the flicker of guilt threatening to rise up. The reason Sam and the rest of my guards trust me is that I’ve never pulled a stunt like this. It crossed my mind, but it always seemed like too big of a risk. And if anything ever happened to me, Liza would be distraught.

Alex leans forward in his seat, his eyes bright. “And tonight, we have even more reason to celebrate.”

A grin spreads across my face. The rush from my performance and the standing ovation still hum through me. I’ve done plenty of live shows, but tonight was electric. I felt powerful, confident—like everything finally clicked. The audience was with me every step of the way, and I was already craving that high again.

The best part was after the recital, a scout from the Berlin Contemporary Dance Company came backstage, and offered me an audition with their artistic director in a few days. It’s a rare opportunity for a new grad, and I’ll be there, come hell or high water.

But it also means a lot of hard work in my future. After four years of busting my ass, tonight might be my last chance for me to let go, to be reckless and wild before I’m consumed by the demands of my passion once more.

I turn to my friends, excitement buzzing through me. “Tonight, I’m all in. Let’s make it count.”

The lineup in front of Soundsystem stretches a full city block—not surprising if it’s the place to be, as Alex claims. Despite a flicker of nerves, I’m doing my best to look like I fit in as we approach the massive bouncer guarding the door. Daria shows him something on her phone, probably our passes, and after a few flirty words from her, he nods and lets us through.

I follow my friends down a hallway into the cavernous, warehouse-style space already packed with hundreds of young partygoers, here to cut loose and forget everything outside these walls. The air in the club is thick, and the electronic music is loud—the perfect setting to disappear into the crowd, as anonymous as anyone else in here.

“Should we hit the dance floor?” I have to shout to my friends, even though they’re right beside me.

“We need a few shots first,” Daria yells back, motioning to a roped-off area on the other side of the room. “VIP is over there.”

Alex and I follow her. I have no intention of getting wasted, but a few drinks won’t hurt.

The VIP section is almost as busy as the main club, but at least you can get to the bar without being trampled.

“First round’s on me,” I announce. “Any requests?”

“How about a Blow Job?” Daria asks with a wicked smirk.

I laugh. “Really? Is that an actual shot?”

“Yes, and it’s delicious,” she assures me, “but if you’d rather not ask for something so scandalous, ask for a Kamikaze.”

“Oh, I like those,” Alex adds, but he’s barely listening, his stare glued to a sexy guy across the room who’s definitely eye-fucking him back.

I head over to the bar, catching the attention of a bartender who looks me up and down, not bothering to hide his appreciative stare.

“What can I get for the most beautiful woman in the club?” he asks, leaning on the bar and taking a not-so-subtle glance at my chest before flashing a grin.

He’s good-looking, with tousled dirty blond hair and sharp features, but he has major fuck-boy energy.

I brush off his flirty opening. “Three Kamikaze shots, please… on second thought, make it six.”

What the hell. We’re celebrating. The faster we get a few drinks in us, the faster I can hit the dance floor and shake off all this pent-up adrenaline.

“Anything else I can get you?” His tone drips with suggestion, and I fight back an eye roll.

“Nope.”

He winks as he turns to make my order. Daria and Alex’s teasing about my lack of one-night stands echoes in my mind. This guy would be an easy option, sure, but if I’m going to take a risk tonight, it won’t be with him.

“Think that line actually works for him?”

A deep, amused voice catches me off guard. The scent of musky cologne fills my senses, and a shiver traces down my spine before I even turn. But when I do…damn. The man beside me is the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome, with thick dark hair and black-framed glasses giving him a Clark Kent vibe. Masculine energy radiates off him, and I take a slow, deep breath, trying to stop myself from staring.

Under the dim lights, I can make out strong cheekbones, full lips, and a chin with an enticing indent—enough to send a spark of heat through me. Jesus, I’m a sucker for a chiseled jaw, and his is nothing short of perfect.

“I’m sure he flirts with all his customers,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “He must be working for those tips.”

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