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The music shifted, becoming slower and more sensual. The chants became haunting, and the drums nearly pulled the heathen from each and every one of us.
Bodies around us moved with a new rhythm, and I felt the stranger’s hands tighten around my waist. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, his voice husky and low.
His hands slid down to my ass, gripping me tightly as we moved in time to the music.
I knew that I was crossing a line, that I was playing with fire, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was lost in the sensations, in the throbbing beat of the music, in the heat of my desire. For the first time in a long time, I was out of my head. And I liked it.
The stranger’s hands glided up to my breasts, kneading them through the fabric of my dress, and I moaned softly, my head falling against his chest.
The man growled softly again, and I could feel his arousal pressing against me. He was no longer a man, but the wolf.
I was drunk on the heady mix of desire and danger, and I knew I wanted more.
But then guilt attacked my very core. This was Locke’s business. His.
He’d hate for me to act this way.
He’d be livid.
And I actually cared about how he felt.
The combination of desire and guilt were a heady mixture.
It was only when Fiora’s hand landed on my arm, her voice barely audible over the music, that I snapped back to reality.
“Storee, Locke is here,” she said, her gaze darting across the room.
I felt a pit form in my stomach as I turned around, scanning the crowd until I saw him. He stood on the fringes of the dance floor, his piercing brown eyes locked on me and the stranger I was dancing with.
Locke didn’t wear a mask.
He didn’t need to. He appeared more beastly than all the men in this room combined.
I froze, unsure of what to do. Fiora squeezed my arm, pulling me closer to her.
“Just go with it,” she said, her voice low. “Pretend like he’s not even here.”
I tried to follow her advice, but every time I moved, I felt Locke’s gaze burning into me. The stranger’s hands were still on my hips, and I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life.
I pulled back, panting heavily, and saw Locke marching toward us, his face contorted with rage. My heart sank, knowing that I had just made a grave mistake.
“Storee,” he snarled as he cleared the distance between us. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The stranger stepped back, but I remained frozen in place, my mind blank. I had no answer for him, no excuse that he would accept.
His eyes were like daggers as they cut into me.
“Locke—” I tried to explain, but he cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he growled, his voice tight with anger. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? I specifically told you that I never wanted you inside The Vault. I trusted you to respect my wishes.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me over the booming drums. “It’s not what you think.”
Locke’s eyes narrowed as he considered me. His hand was still on my arm, and I could feel the tension from where his fingers dug into my skin.
“Fiora and I were just—”
