Page 17 of Whispers of Ruin

“A man with such wisdom, please—tell me your name!”

At that exact moment, Mira’s eyes meet mine. The strain in her look, the hardening of her lips, tells me everything I need to know—she knows.

She recognizes my black leather mask.

I take Julian’s hand with a fierce, unwavering hold, never breaking my stare with her.

“Hayes. My name is Xan Hayes.”

The audacity of this man—whose identity is no longer a mystery—knows no bounds. How dare he walk up to us, insert himself even further into my life, as if he had not already invaded every part?

He challenges Julian, that much is obvious. But more than that, he reminds me—shows me—that he is in control of thesituation. Even here, in a place that does not belong to him, he owns the moment.

“Would I be so fortunate as to steal your enchanting creature for a dance?” he asks, his tone dripping with something mischievous and amused.

I seize Julian’s arm firmly.

“No, thank you. My boyfriend doesn’t like to share.”

Xan drags a hand through his tousled hair, laughter rolling off him with infuriating ease.

“If I had you at my side, I wouldn’t like to share either,” he says, each word measured. “In fact, I wouldn’t ever share at all. I would keep you to myself—forever. Just to make sure no one else could ever lay claim to what should only be mine.”

I laugh. "Wow, that sounded exactly like something a guy with women locked in his basement would say."

I catch the subtle narrowing of his eyes.

"I might. What is it to you? Want a room?"

I turn to Julian, expecting him to intervene, to put an end to whatever this is. But he says nothing. He looks everywhere but at me.

“You know what?” I hear myself say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I accept.”

Xan darkens behind his mask. He steps in, so close I can feel the heat of him as he murmurs just for me—

“Good girl.”

The moment his hand clasps mine, a bolt of electricity surges, flooding my veins, sharp and instant, just as the first languid notes ofEarned ItbyThe Weekndpulse through the air. He is unshaken, grounding me, as if I belong there—no, as if Imustbe there with him. He pulls my arm onto the dance floor with a charismatic drawl, his gaze never wavering, never releasing me.

I have, at any point, felt like the only person in a room before. Not like this. Everything around me blurs, the world slipping into slow motion. The music drowns out all other noises, weaving around my senses, intoxicating me. The moment I step into the spotlight at the center of the floor, I feel their eyes—hundred of strangers subtly watching, glancing, whispering.

I am seen. I am alive.

Xan tugs my hand, and in one swift, commanding movement, I crash against his body, our forms molding together as though we were always meant to be one. His hand glides down the curve of my spine, igniting a trail of heat in its wake.

Just as it nears the edge of something forbidden, he stops—hovering, teasing, testing the limits of restraint. The unbearable anticipation coils in my core, leaving me breathless with the unspoken promise lingering between us.

It is almost surreal, watching him move like this, understanding now what had seemed impossible in the library's event. He had told me he was a gentleman, and I had scoffed at the absurdity of the statement. But here, beneath the dim glow of chandeliers and the burn of his presence, I understand the gravity of his words.

A rogue strand of hair falls against my cheek. He brushes it back and leans in, his voice a murmur against my skin.

“Can’t you see how beautiful you are, Mira?” His breath is warm, honeyed, dangerous. “Every look in this room is on you. The women, envious. The men, hungry.”

A flicker of panic sparks in my chest. I look around—he is right. They are watching. Their stares are sharp, dissecting. I tense. My body reacts before my mind does, trying to pull away.

Xan won’t allow it.

His grip tightens—not harsh, but unyielding, as if he is anchoring me, as if he knows I am teetering on the precipice of something vast and consuming. He leans in closer, his cheek brushing mine, his scent wrapping around me like smoke.

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