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“ R ory, you were amazing,” Lana gushes, her voice giddy. She’s smiling, cheeks flushed. “Your routine was so sexy, I could barely contain myself. My panties were soaked!”

We throw our arms around each other, laughing. She’s not wrong. That final routine was something else.

The Pavilion nightclub is dimly lit, with neon lights illuminating the space. The bass thumps through the air, and the dance floor is packed with energetic bodies. She raises a shot glass off the bar counter, and we clink our drinks, throwing back the shots. The tequila burns as it goes down, but I welcome the sensation.

“Babe! You killed it out there!”

I turn to find my best friend, Kyla, beaming at me. Her signature black leather leggings hug her legs, paired with a crop top that shows off her toned stomach.

Her edgy pixie cut frames her face, and her dark eyes, rimmed with thick black liner, sparkle with pride. Kyla used to be a Siren before stepping away when she became pregnant a few years ago. “I swear, the audience almost had a fucking orgasm.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “You were so badass! That knife throw, holy shit!”

“Thanks, Ky.” I laugh. “That last song was such a rush. I’m still shaking!”

Lana pulls us to the dance floor, and Kyla drapes her arms around my neck, leaning into my ear to shout over the music.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re getting married?! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. You know I’m your best friend, right?” She gives me a fake pouty look, and I roll my eyes playfully.

There is nothing to be excited about, and I don’t want to spoil my evening with the depressing reality of being forced to marry a stranger.

“Married to Axel Hawthorne. You lucky bitch. He’s so fucking hot, and he’s like Sovereign royalty,” she continues, her voice filled with excitement. I laugh, trying to play it cool, but inside, my stomach knots at the thought.

“What do you actually know about him?”

Kyla’s more involved in the Sovereigns’ business than most Servants, because of her son’s father. He’s high-ranking, they’re not together—he just wanted a son, and she was the Servant he chose to carry him.

“Well, the Sluts lucky enough to fuck him won’t shut up about him. He’s apparently hung like a horse and a god in the bedroom. I’ve never seen him at the Pavilion, though. He doesn’t seem like the type who would come here. He must have come tonight just to see you. That was some crazy shit, though.” She giggles. “I saw the way you looked at him. Like you wanted to devour him or murder him. Either one would have been hot. You guys gonna fuck before the wedding?”

I glare at her.

“What? It’s a legitimate question. I would if I were you.” She winks. “I heard he’s a kinky fucker, too. He probably has a ton of toys and shit.”

I roll my eyes. “Kyla, stop. You’re insane. This whole thing is bullshit, and you know it.” I take a sip of my drink. Clearly, this conversation isn’t going the way I hoped. “Can we talk about this later? I just want to have fun tonight,” I plead, not wanting to ruin the mood.

“Fine. But you owe me some deets,” she insists with a smile and a nod.

We dance for a while, our bodies moving to the beat. Kyla flirts with some Sovereigns, and I seize the opportunity to slip away to the bar. I desperately need another drink and some fresh air.

The bartender pours me a vodka soda. Leaning against the bar, I feel the combined effects of the shots and vodka, along with the exhaustion from the show.

Needing a moment to clear my head, I step out through a side door. A lone streetlight casts a dim glow over the parking lot, the darkness stretching beyond. The night air is refreshingly crisp. A cool breeze brushes against my skin, and I inhale deeply. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turn around.

“Quite the show you put on tonight,” Axe’s deep voice rumbles, his eyes dark and intense.

My breath catches in my throat, his sudden appearance sending my heart racing.

“It’s not often a Sovereign gets to feel the wrath of a Siren. Lucky me,” he continues, standing mere inches away.

I meet his intense gaze head-on, refusing to back down. His hair is tousled, and his stubble adds to his rugged appearance. Dressed in a fitted black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, his muscular forearms catch the moonlight, highlighting his tattoos.

“Next time, I’ll make sure not to miss,” I snap.

He leans forward, his face inches away from mine. “The last person who threw a knife at me, I cut them into pieces.”

“I’m not scared of you,” I whisper defiantly.

“Oh, Victoria,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I jerk away, pushing against him.

“Don’t touch me.”

His smirk widens as he presses me against the rough brick wall. My heart hammers as he invades my space. He leans in, his breath warm and unsettling against my ear.

“You reek of fear, little siren . I can smell it.”

I draw in a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling in my chest. “Axe, fuck off,” I hiss.

He grips my hips roughly, pulling me closer until his hard cock presses against my stomach.

“That’s not how you talk to your fiancé,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. Who the hell does he think he is?

“Go to hell. You’re not my anything .” I struggle to push him away, but his grip tightens, pinning me against the wall.

“We both know that’s not true.” His fingers dig into my skin, the pain sharp and immediate.

I grit my teeth, fighting not to flinch. Before I can retort, his lips crash into mine, the kiss fierce and demanding. I push against his chest, desperate to break free, but his hold is relentless. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, kissing me hard, his stubble scraping against my skin.

Desperate, I bite on his bottom lip, and the copper taste of blood floods my mouth. He pulls back with a growl, a trail of crimson dripping from his lip. He touches his lip, staring at the blood on his fingertips.

A wicked smile spreads across his face, his teeth stained red.

“Oh, Rory, I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Roughly gripping my throat, he squeezes, the pressure cutting off my airway. My hands fly to his, clawing at him, desperately trying to break his hold. His grip tightens, and the lack of oxygen causes my head to swim. “Next time you make me bleed, I’ll make you bleed.”

The world starts to darken. Then he suddenly releases me, and I crumple to the ground, lungs burning as I gulp for air. The taste of blood lingers bitterly on my lips.

Without another word, he turns and melts into the darkness.

Tears spill hot and unchecked, tracing streaks down my cheeks. The realization that in a few days, I’ll be married to him sinks in. Everything I’ve worked for, my entire life, will be gone. And there is nothing I can do about it.