Page 20 of Seeking Shadows

People blur around me like fragments, like puppets moving in a room too big for them. That’s exactly how I see them—and no, I’m not delirious.

I scan the crowd. Paulina isn’t here.

The room is suffocating—thick with heat, alcohol, sweat, and perfume. The bass from the music thrums under my skin.

I lose sight of Zane for a moment, caught up in the sea of people, and when I find him again, my heart sinks. He looks so different here, like he's molded into the havoc around him, and I hate it. I miss our little bubble—just the two of us, away from all this.

He stands near the edge of the chaos, arms crossed, shoulders tense. He looks out of place, like the room doesn’t touch him, like he’s above all of this. But I know that’s not true. I know he feels it. I know he feels me.

I move closer, my lips curving. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

He frowns—that frown that should be illegal for being so damn beautiful. His gaze is dark, unreadable, like a storm held back by sheer will. “I told you I don’t dance,” he mutters, looking away.

“Actually, you said you couldn’t dance with me at that moment. And now…” I shrug. “We’re past that.”

He exhales sharply, irritated. “You’re annoying, Mia.”

I beam at him. “Is that a compliment?”

He gives me a look, half-impatient, half-something else.

“You always need attention, don’t you?”

“Not from just anyone.” I lean in slightly. “Only from the wrong person.”

His jaw flexes. “Then you admit I’m a mistake.”

I laugh. “Honey, you’re the best bad decision I’ve ever made.”

His fingers twitch, like he wants to drag them through his hair in frustration. “Why do you make everything a game?”

“Because if it’s not fun, what’s the point?” I say, watching him closely. “And because I like seeing you like this—trying to resist.”

“I’m not resisting.”

“No? Then ask me to dance.”

His eyes narrow, knowing any answer would be a trap. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, even more irritated.

“Well.” I turn away with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll just find someone who doesn’t find my company annoying—”

His hand catches my wrist.

His touch is firm, warm. A jolt straight to my spine.

Zane never touches me without reason. Never initiates contact unless he absolutely has to. And yet—here he is.

My heart stumbles.

He pulls me back, his fingers sliding to my waist—hesitant, conflicted. He holds me like he wants to push me away and pull me in at the same time.

“You don’t have to do this out of obligation,” I murmur, the tease still lingering in my voice.

He doesn’t respond. Just pulls me closer.

And suddenly, we’re dancing.

It’s slow, but the tension isn’t. His grip tightens without him realizing it. Every shift of his body is controlled, deliberate. My skin burns where he touches me.

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