Page 66 of Declan

He also knows how much I love Killer’s music. The fact that he remembered? That he thought to include me in this night? Itfelt thoughtful. Unexpected. And I’m not used to that kind of consideration. Especially not from a man like Declan.

There was no way I could come without telling Jeanne. She would’ve killed me if I showed up to see Killer without her. And I wasn’t taking that risk. We also invited our friend Vivianne. She’s a little wild, a lot of fun, and fully obsessed with Killer. She’s the perfect mix of chaos and charisma, with a laugh that’s always a little too loud and a mouth that never backs down.

Wesley’s not her biggest fan. That’s putting it mildly. They’ve hated each other for years, and he’s always warning me to steer clear of her like she’s some kind of ticking time bomb. But tonight? I’m not here to make my brother happy. I’m here to have fun, lose myself in music and drinks, and maybe, just maybe, hang out with Declan.

The three of us make a beeline for the bar. Jeanne is already flagging down the bartender with that practiced wave of hers. She orders us a round of shots and margaritas, practically bouncing in her heels.

“To a night to remember,” Vivianne declares, raising her shot glass high, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jeanne and I lift ours in unison, and the three of us toss them back. The tequila hits hard, burning its way down, and I hiss through my teeth as I chase it with a sip of my margarita.

“Damn,” I mutter, feeling the fire spread through my chest.

“What time is Killer and his band supposed to get here?” Jeanne asks, leaning on the bar, scanning the room with wide, eager eyes.

I shrug. “No idea. I was just told they’d be here sometime tonight.”

Vivianne rolls her eyes and swings her gaze toward me. “As long as I don’t see your brother, I don’t care how long we have to wait.”

I laugh. “Same.”

We talk for a little while, nothing too serious, just the easy kind of conversation that happens when you’ve had just enough alcohol to relax. Then Viv grabs both our hands and drags us to the dance floor.

And we dance.

God, it feels good to let go, to move freely to the beat, hips swaying, hair clinging to my skin. Laughter bubbles out of me as Jeanne spins me in a circle and Viv wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

But even as I dance, even as I smile and pretend to be carefree, I’m scanning the room. Searching. Hoping.

Where is he?

Why invite me if you’re not even going to show?

I try to shake off the disappointment. Focus on the warmth spreading from the alcohol, on the music thrumming through my veins. But it’s hard. Because deep down, I want to see him. Need to.

Then it happens.

The air shifts.

It’s subtle at first, a prickling awareness along the back of my neck, like my body knows before my brain does.

I stop mid-step, turning slowly toward the bar.

And there he is.

Declan.

He walks in demanding attention. Shoulders back, steps confident, his gaze laser-focused. He’s not alone. The other guys from Shattered Souls are with him, looking like every single one of them could kill a man and then ask if you want a drink. They weren’t here a minute ago. It's like they appeared out of thin air.

My breath catches when our eyes meet.

Declan smirks. That slow, sinful curve of his lips that’s become dangerous to my self-control. And damn it, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I can feel my resolve start to crack. It takes everything in me not to run across the room to him.

But I stay where I am.

Barely.

He’s watching me like he can see through my dress, like he knows I’m already wet just from the look he’s giving me. My skin prickles, heat pooling low in my belly. I clench my thighs, pretending to keep dancing, but all I can think about is how he’s going to ruin me later.

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