BLADE

CHAPTER 1

Arianna

The music was too loud.

Or maybe it was just inside my head.

It pulsed through me, through my veins, through the glass still clutched loosely in my hand as I laughed too freely, too easily—while the lights above blurred into streaks of gold and crimson, shifting with every movement, every turn, every careless step I took on the crowded floor. My body swayed without rhythm, without thought, guided more by the alcohol than the music itself, and for once, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel anything beyond the weightless high that kept everything distant, softened, almost unreal.

“Ari, you’re completely gone.” Noah laughed, his hands steady on my waist as I nearly lost my balance again.

I smiled.

Or at least, I think I did.

“Not gone,” I murmured, my words slightly slurred. “Just… better.”

He shook his head, amused, pulling me back into the rhythm of the music, but everything felt slower now, heavier, like I was moving through water instead of air. My fingers brushed against his shoulder, my head tilting back slightly as the lights flickered above us again—

And that’s when I felt it.

Not a touch.

Not a sound.

A gaze.

Sharp.

Still.

Unmoving.

My smile faltered.

Just for a second.

I turned my head slightly, my vision struggling to focus as I scanned the crowd, the endless sea of masks and costumes blending into one another—laughing faces, painted smiles, strangers pretending to be someone else for a night.

And then…

I saw him.

Or maybe… I didn’t.

A figure.

Standing still.

Not dancing. Not moving.

Just watching.

A mask covered his face, dark and unreadable, blending perfectly into the theme of the night, but something about him felt… different. Not louder. Not brighter.

Quieter.

Like he didn’t belong to the chaos around him. Like he wasn’t part of it at all.

Our eyes met. Or at least, I think they did. And for a brief moment, something in my chest tightened.

Sharp.

Unfamiliar.

Then…the lights shifted again. Someone bumped into me.

And he was gone.

“Ari?” Noah’s voice cut through the moment. “You okay?”

I blinked.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, shaking my head as if that would clear it. “I just… I need to go to the washroom.”

He raised a brow.

“You sure you can walk?”

I scoffed lightly, pulling away from him.

“I’m not that drunk.”

A lie.

But I didn’t wait for his response.

The crowd parted slowly as I pushed through it, the music growing duller with every step until it became nothing more than a distant echo behind me. The corridor outside felt colder, quieter, the sudden absence of noise making my head spin more than before. My heels clicked unevenly against the floor as I tried to walk straight, but the world tilted slightly with every step, the walls stretching and narrowing like they couldn’t decide where they wanted to stand.

I exhaled slowly.

“Just the washroom,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s it.”

Another step.

Then another.

And then…

I felt it again. That same presence. Not loud. Not obvious.

But there.

Following.

My steps slowed. My fingers curled slightly at my side.

I turned.

Slowly.

And there he was. A man. Mask still in place. Standing a few steps behind me.

Watching.

For a second, something should have clicked.

Some instinct.

Some warning.

But my mind was too clouded, too heavy, wrapped in the haze of alcohol that softened every edge, every thought, every sense that should have told me to step away.

Instead…

I just stared.

Trying to focus.

Trying to make sense of the shape standing in front of me.

“Do I… know you?” I murmured, my voice uneven, almost distant to my own ears.

No response. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there.

And somehow—

That stillness felt louder than anything else in the room.

I took a step forward. Or maybe sideways. The floor tilted again. My balance slipped—

And this time…

I fell.

But not to the ground. His arms caught me.

Firm. Steady. Unshaken.

Like he had been expecting it.

My hands instinctively gripped his shirt, my forehead brushing briefly against his chest as I tried to steady myself, my breath uneven, my senses struggling to catch up with the sudden closeness.

The scent of him sharp, unfamiliar, cut through the haze just enough to make my pulse stumble.

I looked up. The mask was closer now.

Too close.

For a second…

Neither of us moved.

Then…

His voice.

Low. Controlled.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

The words didn’t sound like a warning. They sounded like a statement. Like something already decided.

I blinked.

A slow smile tugged faintly at my lips—reckless, unthinking, driven more by the alcohol than sense.

“Am I?” I murmured.

My grip on him tightened slightly, not out of fear—

But something else. Something I couldn’t name. The corridor felt too narrow suddenly. Too quiet. And without thinking—

Without understanding why…

I moved.

My fingers slid down to his wrist.

And I pulled.

“Come with me,” I said, my voice softer now, almost like a whisper meant only for him.

There was no resistance. Not from him. Which only made it easier.

More natural. More dangerous.

I turned, stumbling slightly as I walked, still holding onto him, still dragging him along with me as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if this moment—this stranger, this presence, this pull—had always been meant to happen.

The door to one of the private rooms came into view.

I pushed it open.

Pulled him inside.

And the noise of the party vanished instantly.

Silence. Thick. Closed.

The door clicked shut behind us. And only then…

Only then…

Did something shift. Not in the room. In the air. In the space between us. But I didn’t step back.

Didn’t let go.

Because whatever I was doing…

Whatever line I had just crossed…

……..

The silence inside the room settled instantly.

Heavy.

Unforgiving.

I didn’t let go of him. Didn’t even think to. Instead—

I pushed him.

Not hard.

Not violently.

But with just enough force to guide him backward…until he hit the chair. And sat. Effortlessly.

Like he belonged there. Like the room had rearranged itself around him the moment he stepped in. One leg crossed over the other.

Relaxed. Controlled. Unbothered.

A king in a place that wasn’t his—and yet felt like it was.

My breath came unevenly. But I didn’t step back.

Didn’t question it.

Because something in me…something reckless, blurred, untethered pushed me forward instead.

Closer.

My hands moved without thought, brushing against him, steadying myself again as the world tilted slightly beneath my feet. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t move. Didn’t even speak. Just watched.

And that…that made it worse.

I lowered myself slightly in front of him, not fully aware of what I was doing, only that the distance between us felt too sharp, too real, and closing it somehow made everything easier to breathe through.

My fingers brushed against his shoe. A small, meaningless thing.

And yet…it held my attention.

Grounded me.

Or maybe…distracted me.

I adjusted it absently, my touch lingering a second longer than it should have, my movements slow, unsteady, like I was caught between intention and instinct.

Above me…his gaze never left.

I could feel it.

Heavy.

Measured.

Taking in every second. Every mistake. Every move I didn’t even realize I was making.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing.” he said quietly.

A pause.

Not mocking. Not amused.

Certain.

My fingers stilled.

Slowly.

I looked up. The mask. Still hiding him.

Still unreadable.

But his voice…his presence…

They weren’t.

“Maybe I don’t care.” I murmured. The words slipped out easier than they should have. Dangerously easy. Something shifted.

Subtle. But real.

His head tilted slightly. Studying me. Not like a stranger anymore. Like something already understood. Already claimed.

And for the first time…a flicker of something unfamiliar moved through me.

Not fear. Not yet.

But something close enough—that it should have made me stop.

It didn’t.

Because whatever line I had crossed the moment I pulled him into this room. I was already too far past it to see where it had been. The air between us had changed.

Not louder. Not sharper.

Just… heavier.

I swallowed, still crouched slightly in front of him, my fingers brushing absently against his shoe before stilling completely. My pulse had begun to steady—but not in relief. In awareness.

Of him.

Of the way he hadn’t moved. Of the way he was watching.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to him.

“Tell me…” I murmured, my voice softer now, quieter, almost careful despite the haze still wrapping around my thoughts. “What do you want tonight?”

The words lingered in the space between us. Not playful. Not light.

Dangerous.

He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at me.

Long.

Measured.

Like he was deciding something.

Then…he leaned back slightly in the chair, one arm resting with ease, his posture still relaxed, still controlled, but now more deliberate.

“You ask questions,” he said quietly.

A pause.

“But you don’t understand what you’re offering.”

My breath caught faintly. His gaze didn’t waver.

“Look at you,” he continued, his voice lower now, slipping beneath my skin instead of over it. “You walk in, pull a stranger into a closed room…”

A slight tilt of his head.

“…and ask what he wants.”

Silence.

My heartbeat picked up again. Not from fear. Not entirely.

I shifted slightly, my hand pressing against the floor for balance as the room swayed just enough to remind me I wasn’t fully in control of myself.

“Then tell me,” I said, quieter now, my voice losing that careless edge, something more uncertain slipping in. “What should I understand?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

And then—he moved.

Not suddenly.

Not sharply.

Just enough.

His hand lifted slightly, not touching me, yet directing.

“Come here.” he said.

Not loud.

Not forceful.

But absolute.

Something in my chest tightened. Because it wasn’t a request.

And somehow…my body responded before my mind could.

Slowly, I shifted forward, my movements unsteady but deliberate, closing the small distance between us, drawn by something I couldn’t name and couldn’t resist in that moment.

Closer.

Until I was right there. Within reach. His gaze dropped briefly, taking in the distance I had crossed.

Then lifted again.

Satisfied.

“You don’t rush into something like this.” he said quietly.

A pause.

“You don’t step into a game you don’t know how to play.”

The word settled heavily.

Game.

My breath slowed.

Because suddenly…this didn’t feel careless anymore. Didn’t feel accidental. It felt like I had stepped into something already in motion. Something I didn’t understand.

And he did.

Completely.

His voice dropped slightly further.

“And once you do…”

A pause.

His eyes held mine.

“…you don’t decide how it ends.”

Silence wrapped around us.

Thick.

Unavoidable.

And for the first time… a flicker of something sharper than confusion moved through me.

Not fear.

Not yet.

But close enough…that I felt it settle deep in my chest. Because whatever this was…whatever I had just started…I wasn’t the one in control of it anymore.

His gaze didn’t leave mine.

Not even for a second.

Then…he moved.

His hand caught my wrist…firm, unyielding—and before I could steady myself, before I could even think—he pulled.

A soft gasp left me as my balance slipped again, my body falling forward…straight into him. Onto his lap.

Too close. Too sudden.

My hands landed against his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric instinctively as I tried to steady myself, but the world had already begun to tilt again, heavier this time, slower, thicker—and he didn’t let me move away.

One arm circled around me.

Holding.

Not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep me exactly where I was.

For a moment…I didn’t resist.

Couldn’t.

Because my mind wasn’t keeping up anymore. Everything felt distant.

Blurred.

His other hand moved—slow, deliberate—tracing along my arm, then higher, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, as if this moment belonged to him alone.

My breath caught.

But I didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop him.

A faint, careless smile touched my lips instead—reckless, unaware, my head tilting slightly as if I was leaning into the moment instead of questioning it.

“Still playing?” he murmured.

His voice was low.

Too close.

I let out a soft, unsteady laugh, my fingers gripping his shoulders tighter as the room swayed again, my thoughts slipping further out of reach.

“Maybe…” I whispered.

The word barely formed.

My head dipped slightly, brushing against him as I tried to stay upright, but the heaviness inside me was growing, spreading through my limbs, slowing everything down.

Too much.

Too fast.

His hand didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

Just continued, controlled, certain…like he already knew exactly how this would end.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said quietly.

A pause.

“And you still walked into it.”

The words echoed somewhere far away. Too far for me to hold onto. My grip loosened slightly.

The room blurred.

The edges of everything softening, melting into shadows that refused to stay still.

“Wait…” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure what I was asking for anymore.

My vision dipped.

Darkness pressing in slowly from the corners.

My body felt heavier…

Unresponsive…like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

His arm tightened just enough to keep me from slipping.

Steady.

Unmoving.

And for a fleeting second…through the haze—I felt it.

Not warmth.

Not comfort.

Control.

Absolute.

My head fell slightly against him, my fingers slipping completely from his shoulders as the last of my awareness faded, my thoughts dissolving into nothing…and the world went dark.