The moment I stepped back onto the dance floor, I felt lighter, ready to forget the strange tension with Alex at the bar. Celine and Serena were already swaying to the beat, and I let myself fall back into the rhythm, losing myself in the music, in the thrill of the night. This was supposed to be a night to let go, to shake off the stress.
But as I spun and twirled, feeling the energy of the crowd lift me higher, a hand brushed my waist, and before I realized it, I was dancing with someone.
I didn't even glance at him at first—I just kept moving, feeling the music pulse through my body. He was close, not too close, but close enough to feel the warmth of his body as he kept pace with mine. His hands stayed at my waist, and I let him guide me, lost in the beat, just another face in the crowd.
But then something shifted.
A sudden prickling at the back of my neck. A heat, sharp and electric, coursed through the air. My skin tingled, and without even turning around, I knew who it was.
Alex.
And he was watching.
I glanced over my shoulder, and there he was—still by the bar, but no longer just watching. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, burning with an intensity that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. His gaze locked on me, but not on *me*. On the guy whose hands were still resting on my waist.
In that instant, I saw something I hadn't seen before in Alex Volkov. Something dangerous. Something possessive.
The guy leaned in, trying to shout something over the music, but I didn't hear a word. My eyes were still on Alex, and I saw it happen—his jaw clenched, his fists tight by his sides, every muscle in his body tensed like he was about to tear through the crowd.
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
The guy dancing with me didn't seem to notice the change in my body language, didn't notice that I had gone stiff. He grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing behind me, and leaned in even closer, his hands tightening around my waist.
But all I could think about was Alex. His eyes, seething with something raw and unfiltered. He looked like he was seconds away from tearing the club apart. I had never seen him like this—this cold, controlled man who always kept himself in check—was now radiating fury, and it was all directed at the man touching me.
And suddenly, I felt the heat of his presence. I didn't even have to turn around to know that Alex had crossed the room. I felt him, looming behind me, his aura washing over me like a tidal wave, suffocating and intoxicating at the same time.
The guy must've noticed something too, because he stopped mid-move and looked past me. His grin faltered. His hands slid from my waist in a hurried motion, and when I turned, Alex was there.
Towering.
His eyes were fixed on the guy, his jaw clenched tight, every muscle in his body coiled like a predator about to strike. His usual icy calm was gone, replaced by something dangerous, something wild.
"Move," Alex said, his voice low, barely audible over the music, but it was enough.
The guy backed away without a word, slipping into the crowd, his expression a mixture of confusion and fear. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
But then Alex's eyes found mine, and the breath caught in my throat again. He stepped closer, his body now inches from mine, the heat radiating off him like a furnace. His hand brushed my arm, light but possessive, as if to claim me without a word.
"You think this is a game, Emma?" His voice was rough, the control he usually held so tightly in check barely hanging on.
I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. "I was just dancing, Alex."
His eyes flared, and he took another step forward, closing the distance between us completely. "Not with him, you weren't."
I should've been angry. Should've told him off for acting like this, for being so possessive. But the truth was, I wasn't angry. My heart was pounding, and there was something dangerously thrilling about the way he looked at me. Like I was his and no one else's.
"Why do you care?" I asked, my voice a whisper, daring him to admit what I already suspected.
He stared at me for a long, tense moment, his chest rising and falling as if he was trying to calm himself down. But then, his hand slid from my arm to my waist, firm and unyielding.
"I *always* care," he said, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flickered with something I'd never seen before—something fierce, raw, and unmistakable.
My heart hammered in my chest. "Alex…"
Before I could finish, he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't test me, Emma. You know exactly what you do to me."
My skin burned where his hand rested on my waist, his grip possessive, but I couldn't find the words to stop him, couldn't make myself pull away. The tension between us was suffocating, thick, and electric.
For the first time in a long time, I felt completely out of control. And the worst part was, I didn't care. But then again, we are just friends, why is he acting all possessive, I like it though but, does he feel the same way I feel about him? Or is it just me