Lilia stood frozen, her mind a whirlwind as all eyes bore into her. The grand ballroom, once filled with chatter and laughter, now seemed suffocatingly silent. Every gaze was fixed on her, anticipation thick in the air. She struggled to steady her thoughts as a thousand questions raced through her mind. Should she accept? Should she decline? Could she even refuse someone like him?
Her body refused to move, her mind paralyzed by the unfolding situation. The tension felt almost tangible, wrapping around her like an invisible chain. Was it really a dance he wanted, or was there something more hidden in his request?
And not just that—who would even consider dancing with someone they had insulted mere moments ago? The irony of it all gnawed at her, twisting the situation into something almost absurd.
Before she could fully grasp what was happening, the words tumbled from her lips, unbidden.
"Of course you may," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her inner turmoil.
The moment the words escaped her, regret pierced her like a dagger. What was she thinking? What compelled her to agree? Yet as her gaze met his, she felt an inexplicable pull—an unspoken force that seemed to draw her in, as though he had cast some spell over her.
His dark eyes bore into hers, unwavering and intense, like an endless abyss that threatened to consume her whole. For a fleeting moment, it was as if the world around them had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in this charged silence.
Then, he smirked. That infuriating, confident smirk sent a wave of annoyance through her. It was as if he already knew what her answer would be, as though her hesitation was nothing more than a game he had mastered.
Without a word, he extended his hand toward her. His fingers were long and elegant, his grip firm yet strangely gentle as he took hers. The contact sent a shiver up her spine.
Slowly, deliberately, he led her toward the center of the ballroom, their movements drawing the attention of everyone present. Whispers rippled through the crowd like an undercurrent, but Lilia couldn't make out what anyone was saying. Her focus remained locked on him, and with every step closer to the center, her unease grew.
This was what annoyed her the most—that self-assuredness, that infuriating smirk that suggested he knew exactly what would happen before it even unfolded. For some inexplicable reason, she wondered how his face would look if he were wrong for once. The thought gave her a brief, fleeting sense of satisfaction.
The room seemed to hold its breath as they reached the center. The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the ball dance. A hush fell over the crowd as the soft strains of a waltz began to weave through the air, melodic and haunting.
Before she could fully gather her thoughts, his hand found its way to her waist, his touch firm yet careful.
He pulled her close.
Her breath caught, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a wild bird desperate to escape. The proximity was overwhelming—intimate in a way that left her disoriented. She had never been this close to anyone before, and the realization only heightened her anxiety.
Lilia's eyes darted around the ballroom, desperate for a distraction, a way to ground herself. That was when she noticed something peculiar.
They were the only ones dancing.
The realization struck her like a thunderclap. No one else had stepped onto the dance floor. All attention was on them, and the weight of their gazes pressed down on her like a physical force. Her stomach churned. This man wasn't just a guest—he was someone far more significant.
Her father's lessons on dancing echoed faintly in her mind, offering her a shred of comfort amidst the chaos. She knew how to dance; she could handle this. But this… this was different. Everything about him was overwhelming—his commanding presence, his calculated movements, even his scent, which was maddeningly intoxicating.
Her golden eyes flickered upward, catching his for the briefest of moments. His gaze was unreadable, dark and stormy like a brewing tempest. It was too much, too raw, and she quickly averted her eyes, biting her lip nervously.
To her dismay, he noticed.
"Are you scared?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the music like a blade.
Her cheeks burned, and she stiffened,
'Stupid' She cursed herself for her transparency. His tone carried an air of superiority, as though he already knew the answer.
"I'm not scared, Mr. Zethan," she replied, her voice steadier than she expected. She prayed it didn't betray the truth.
A single eyebrow arched in response, his amusement evident. His smirk deepened, and she could see the faint glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes.
The waltz carried on, and he began to guide her effortlessly across the floor. Each step was deliberate, precise, and she found herself matching his movements instinctively.
As he spun her gracefully, his hand tightened slightly on her waist, drawing her closer. The air between them grew heavier, more charged, and her pulse quickened in response.
"It seems you know my name already, so there will be no need for an introduction," he said, his tone casual yet laced with something deeper.
Lilia hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She decided to keep it simple, not wanting to reveal too much.
"Of course, I do. Everyone does," she said evenly, though her heart raced with every word.
His smirk widened, his amusement only growing. He seemed to enjoy watching her squirm, and it infuriated her.
"When you entered, the screen displayed your name," she added quickly, surprising even herself with her bluntness.
For a moment, something flickered in Zethan's eyes—something she couldn't quite place. He hadn't expected that answer. Most people would have feigned admiration or awe, but not her. She had simply told the truth.
"You're brave, little loris," he remarked, his voice calm but with an edge of teasing.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Loris? Had this man just called her an…animal?
"I suggest you call me by my name, Mr. Zethan," she said, her tone measured but firm. "I am not a pet."
Something told her to tread carefully, that this man was dangerous, but even so, her golden eyes blazed with unmistakable annoyance.
Zethan chuckled lowly, the sound rich and velvety, sending a warning bell ringing through her mind.
"That's the name I choose to give you," he said simply, his tone calm yet final.
"But that is not the name I choose to take," she retorted, her voice steady even as her nerves threatened to unravel.
Their gazes locked, his dark, stormy eyes meeting her fiery golden ones.
His chuckle deepened, and as he swung her in perfect time with the music, her feet moved instinctively to match his pace.
'So Proud'
"One brave loris," he murmured again, his tone laced with amusement.
This time, Lilia chose silence, biting back a sharp retort. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
"I see you can dance perfectly," he remarked after a moment, his tone light yet somehow still condescending.
"My father taught me," she replied curtly, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.
To her surprise, his expression softened slightly.
"Then I must say, your father did an excellent job," he said smoothly.
Despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips. His compliment felt genuine, and she couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude.
"Thank you, Mr. Zethan," she said softly, her voice sincere.
But even as she spoke, unease lingered at the edge of her mind. There was something about him—about this moment—that felt strangely familiar. It gnawed at her, elusive yet persistent.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Zethan leaned in slightly, his lips hovering close to her ear.
"Careful what you bite on if you don't want them to feast on you instead," he murmured, his tone both cryptic and unsettling.
Lilia's brow furrowed slightly. What kind of parable was that? She hadn't heard it before, but something about it sent a chill down her spine.
Before she could fully process what was happening, his hand shifted, brushing lightly against the back of her neck. The touch was brief but deliberate, sending a jolt through her body. Her eyes widened in shock.
Her heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching once more. Wait. That wasn't part of the dance.
Zethan's other hand remained firm on her waist, holding her securely in place. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to her ear.
"You're really bold, little one," he whispered, his tone both teasing and unsettling.
Lilia froze, her body tensing as his words sank in. She wanted to step back, to create space between them, but his grip was unyielding, anchoring her where she stood.
"Mr. Zethan," she said firmly, though her voice trembled slightly, "I don't think this is part of the dance. I would like you to follow the rules and stop what you're doing."
Her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and defiance, but she refused to lower her gaze. She wouldn't let him think he had complete control over her.
For a moment, his expression remained unreadable, and then his smirk deepened. His dark eyes glinted with amusement—and something far more unsettling.
"One thing you should know, Loris," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, "I don't follow rules. I make mine."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications.
The music swelled, reaching its crescendo, and as the final notes faded, the lights flickered back on, illuminating the room in a warm glow.
Zethan stepped back slightly, his hand sliding from her waist. For a fleeting moment, the absence of his touch left her feeling unsteady. His expression remained composed, but his presence still felt overpowering, suffocating.
"It was nice dancing with you, Miss Winslow," he said smoothly, his voice rich with charm.
Lilia inclined her head politely, her lips parting as she searched for a proper response. But before she could gather her thoughts, he reached for her hand.
Her body stiffened as his lips brushed against her skin—a kiss that was soft yet deliberate, lingering just a moment too long.
It wasn't like Lowell's earlier touch, which had filled her with unease. This… this was different. The sensation left her breathless, stirring something deep within her, something she couldn't quite name.
"It was nice having a dance with you too, Mr. Zethan," she replied, her voice soft but steady.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and for a brief moment, his dark eyes glinted with something potent and unreadable. The air between them shifted, charged with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe.
Lilia's body went still, her mind spinning, clouded by a strange, undeniable sense of familiarity.
No… no way, she thought, her eyes widening in shock.
This is the same feeling.
It was unmistakable—the same oppressive presence she had felt that night. The night she was certain someone had been watching her.