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ARIA

AGED 17

T he music pulsates through the dimly lit house as I weave through the costumed partygoers. My skin-tight Catwoman costume shows off my curves, and I catch the eyes of a few jocks.

Lisa and Eva spot me and wave me over.

“Aria! You made it!” Lisa hugs me. “Happy birthday, girl!”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m so glad you guys are here.”

Eva hands me a red Solo cup. “Drink up! It’s your big night.”

I take a tentative sip, the liquid burning my throat. But the warmth that spreads through me is comforting.

“Where’s Kevin?” I ask, glancing around the room.

“Over there,” Lisa says, pointing to a group of jocks in the corner. “He’s been asking about you.”

I follow her gaze and lock eyes with Kevin. He grins and makes his way over to me.

“Aria, you look amazing,” he says. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Kevin,” I reply, self-conscious under his intense stare.

The three of us talk and laugh, sipping our drinks. I sneak glances at the jocks, their muscular frames and chiseled features captivating me.

The music thumps through the crowded house as the hottest jocks from my school start to converge around me. Nervous excitement floods me as Tyler, the star quarterback, saunters over, his muscular frame barely contained by his firefighter costume.

“Aria, you look incredible,” he says. “Want to dance?”

I glance at Lisa and Eva, who give me an encouraging nod. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I take Tyler’s outstretched hand and let him lead me to the makeshift dance floor.

His hands settle on my hips, pulling me close as we move to the pulsing beat. I try to ignore his hands dipping low, sending shivers through me. The attention makes me feel both excited and uneasy.

Suddenly, a tall, muscular figure in a skull mask appears beside us.

“Excuse me,” he rumbles with a deep, synthesized voice. “I’d like to cut in.”

Tyler looks annoyed but lets go of me.

The stranger takes my hand, pulling me into his arms. His tattoos peek out from under his costume. A gasp tears from my lips when he yanks me very close, his hard body pressed against me.

I’m mesmerized by his intense presence. His movements are confident, like those of a predator guiding its prey. The music fades as I struggle to understand who he is.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Someone who wants to protect you,” he replies.

“Protect me from what?” I question.

“From anyone who would take advantage of you,” he says. “You deserve someone who will cherish and care for you.”

I sink my teeth into my lip. “How do you know what I deserve?”

“Because I know you.” He leans closer. “Better than anyone.”

My heart races. How does he know me so well? Could it be... No, that makes no sense. Jared is across the country, and he doesn’t have tattoos.

“You’re mine,” he says, his grip tightening. “And for the next year, you better stay away from other men. In one year, I’ll come for you.”

His words are threatening, and that should freak me out. I should pull away and run back to the safety of my friends. However, I find myself frozen in fascination.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “How can you claim me when I don’t know you?”

“Deep down, you’ve always known.”

Always known.

“Stay away from other men,” he warns. “They’re not worthy of you. I’ll come for you in one year, and you’ll be mine.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my lips as he pulls me even closer, his masked face inches from mine. The music fades into the background, and all I can focus on is the intensity of his gaze through the red contacts he’s wearing.

He’s clearly unhinged. A person in their right mind would scream and push him away, but I can’t help but be captivated. Anticipation and excitement build at the thought of being his, of surrendering to this dark and dominant man.

As the music shifts and the moment is broken, I feel breathless and unsettled, my mind racing with a million questions. One thing is clear: this masked stranger has claimed me as his own, and I’m not sure I can resist him.