Page 66 of Vengeful Melodies
He doesn’t answer, just flicks the ice in his glass. Bash laughs, loud and reckless, leaning back. “At least I can’t accuse anyone of being subtle.”
Takoa mutters under his breath, “Observing. Not subtle.”
And then she’s back.
Dreya steps into the room, and it’s like someone lit a fuse. The black Sleep Token shirt she’s wearing is impossibly tight, clinging to every curve, cutting dangerously low across her chest. One shoulder slips free, revealing the delicate line of her collarbone and neck, and I swear I hear all three of them audibly catch their breath. Her hips sway slightly with every step, hair tumbling in wild curls, eyes sparkling under the suite lights.
She stops for a moment, glances at us, and the entire room seems to inhale. Her presence steals our air. My hand tightens around the whiskey glass.
“Whiskey?” I offer, lifting the bottle.
She grins, sliding onto the couch beside Kaiser. Her thigh presses lightly against his, and he doesn’t hide the way he watches her, fingers drumming against the armrest like he’s counting seconds until he can reach for more.
Bash claps his hands suddenly. “Alright, adults. Professionals. But idiots stuck in a suite with tension so thick you could cut it with a drumstick. Truth or dare?”
Takoa raises a brow, pouring himself another drink. “Seriously?”
“Deadly,” Bash adds, tossing a bottle cap like a coin. “We need an icebreaker before we combust.”
I settle on the floor beside her, leaning close enough to feel her warmth, scent of vanilla and something darker curling around me. “Halfway there already,” I murmur.
Dreya raises her glass, eyes sparkling. “Fine. But don’t expect me to go easy on any of you.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, letting my gaze drift over the way the shirt rides slightly with her every small movement, the fabric teasing the swell of her chest, the curve of her hip, the tantalizing glimpse of thigh as she shifts.
The first round starts tame — a few truths, a few dares — but even those are loaded, each one a spark waiting to ignite.
Bash leans forward, blue eyes glinting. “Truth — ever thought about someone here… in a way you shouldn’t?”
Dreya tilts her head, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. “Depends on your definition of ‘shouldn’t.’”
Kaiser groans dramatically, stretching an arm across the couch back. “Darlin’, don’t play coy. We’ve all felt it.”
I chuckle, swirling my whiskey. “Alright, dare — Dreya, lean against me for one minute. No talking.”
Her lips twitch with mischief. “One minute? That’s cruel.”
“You can handle cruel,” I say. She slides down until her shoulder brushes mine. The warmth radiates between us, subtle but electric. Every inhaled breath tastes faintly of vanilla and something darker she’s wearing, and I notice all three of them—Bash’s chest rising a little faster, Kai’s smirk faltering, Takoa’s jaw tightening—reacting to the same brush of her skin.
Bash smirks. “My turn. Dare — I want to brush your hair behind your ear. Just once. Slowly. Don’t flinch.”
Her head tilts, letting him do it, the curl of her hair grazing his fingers. The sound of her laugh, low and amused, hangs between us, and I swear the air itself seems to thicken.
“Truth,” Dreya says, pointing at Bash. “Why do you always have that smirk?”
Bash leans back lazily. “Because I know exactly what effect I have. Especially on you, Little Songbird.”
She laughs, a breathy, teasing sound that makes the room seem smaller, hotter. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love it,” he murmurs.
Kaiser shifts, one arm stretching along the couch behind her. Not touching, just close enough that when she moves, her thigh brushes his. The proximity alone makes the pulse in my ears thrum. “Truth — who here do you think you could beat in a game of dares?”
Her eyes dart between us, mischief and challenge sparkling. “Depends on the stakes.”
The dares grow bolder — trace a line along her arm, whisper a word in her ear, hold a gaze for ten seconds without blinking. Each action is a tease, every touch lingering just long enough to pull the air tight.
We all react. Bash lets out an audible sigh when her hair brushes his hand. Kai’s smirk falters when she leans a little closer. Takoa’s fingers linger a beat longer on the glass he hands her, tension coiling in his jaw. I catch her glance, sharp and knowing, daring me to act, daring all of us.