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Something compels her to look at my wrist, and I know what she’s looking for—the dove. I’m surprised she remembered it. I never go out of my way to point it out, fearing that, from that one tiny tattoo, he will somehow find me. When her gaze latches on to it, I swear her eyes actually light up like a light bulb. She shrieks and throws her arms around me, clearly recognizing me. A wave of alcohol burns my nose.
How in the hell is she already this drunk? They just got inside.
I laugh to myself.
“Nikki! Hi. It’s Laura. I don’t know if you remember me. I used to go into your coffee shop with Jack all the time when I lived in Duluth.” Her words slur slightly.
Laughing in my mind, I smile as I feel Chloe’s arm brush against mine. She’s being the overprotective friend that she is, which instantly spreads warmth through my entire chest.
“Of course I remember you, Laura!” I do my best to shout over the music. “I couldn’t forget you or Jack’s cute little face if I tried.”
I laugh, and she cheeses. A flush sweeps over my body out of nowhere, and the gentlest tingle dances across the back of my neck.
Laura pulls my focus back to her. “Oh good! I was worried. I thought I was the only one. Oh my God, I love your hair.”
She laughs, and I question if she wanted to say all of that out loud.
“Thank you. I did that,” Chloe interrupts and smiles.
My hair has been pink the entire time I have known Laura, but I don’t know what else to do but smile. In my element, I could talk her ear off for hours, but not here, wearing a gorgeous dress in a club.
A deep voice cuts through the music. “Lu!” Alec, her fiancé, seems to part the crowd of people as he approaches.
And he is not alone.
I look away, putting my attention back on Laura, who is already wrapping her arms around Alec’s waist. He lifts her chin up and kisses her as if no one else were in the room. That tingling sensation burns the back of my neck again right before I find the breathtaking source. Pools of the deepest blue are locked dead on me, studying me, memorizing me. His face is hidden by a mask of golden feathers, the tips painted white. My seemingly perfect match for tonight.
The few people between us seem to slowly fall away as he makes his way over, his eyes staying glued on me. I’m unable to look away. Like the second he looked into my eyes, we froze, never to melt again.
When I begin to think this is where I will stay forever, Laura greets him, pulling me out of my stupor. “Cam, this is—”
“Ahh, hold on!” I cut her off as a wave of confidence washes over me, and she turns to me, looking almost offended. I lean into her ear. “Laura, do one thing for me. Super please, don’t tell him my name,” I say.
If I’m going to live tonight how I said I would, then let’s keep this going. I am not Morgan. I am not Nikki. I have no name, no rules, no boundaries. As long as this mask is on, I am free to just be. Although I don’t know if free is the right word because I do something that I would never do, not as Morgan and definitely not as Nikki. I am possessed—that’s the only explanation.
Pushing my shoulders down, I walk up to this blue-eyed sex god, getting a full look at him for the first time. Black button-up, rolled cuffs, with black tattoos wrapping around his left forearm and scattered tattoos on his right. A tattoo of a raven stands out among the rest, and I remember it. He came to my coffee shop before. I remember thinking how strange the tattoo was. The raven is missing an eye and a chunk of the feathers on its head. And all around the bird is smoke, like it’s emerging through it. It’s quite eerily beautiful. Slim-fitting black jeans outline his muscled legs.
He must be one of the hockey players.
Blue Eyes licks his lips before glancing at my parted ones. The air between us is thick, something I’ve never felt before, especially with a stranger. I think if we touched, we might electrocute this entire room. Although it could be from the fact that by his mere eye contact, I’m ready to go fuck him in the restroom.
He stays completely still, stalking my every move, every breath, every blink, until I’m on my tiptoes in these heels, my hands on his chest, my lips pressed against his ear, and a voice I recognize as my own says, “Dance with me.”
My heart thrashes in my chest, running off of the high of my confidence.
What the fuck has gotten into me? I laugh to myself. I just walked up to the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life and told him to dance with me, seemingly fearless.
Firm, rough hands fly to my waist, and Blue Eyes shifts his head, bending down slightly. His warm lips graze my jaw, moving up, and then he flicks his tongue against my earlobe. Then, the deepest, smoothest voice I’ve ever heard falls from his full lips. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Little Dove.”
Little Dove.
Squeezing my thighs together, I try to come up with something to say, something to knock him off his high horse. He has no idea what I can and can’t fucking handle.
But I can’t get a single word out before his hands slide lower on my back, bordering on the top of my ass, and he says, “Go find a good, nice boy to dance with, Little Dove. This is not the path you want to take.”
A growl of anger forms in my throat, but it doesn’t reach him because of the booming music. His hands start to slide off of me, which irritates me even more.
A good, nice boy. A good, nice boy!
