Fighting Darius

Under the strobe lights, I feel warm hands touching my hips. When I turn, I’m met with a pair of dark-brown eyes, staring at me. I’m tipsy, but I can still tell that he’s a werewolf.

His eyes look hard and penetrating. Buzz-cut dark-brown hair, a nice, tall body with tattoos. One ear is pierced, and he has a lip ring.

The next thing I know, I’m feeling his piercing between my teeth and on my tongue. He exudes danger, but I am too drunk to be sensible.

I have the lip ring between my teeth. I suck on it. I love feeling the warm metal on my tongue.

His hands roam all over me. He tries to take over, to dominate the kiss, but I push him back against the wall and kiss him hard. He chuckles against my mouth and pulls me closer.

I nip at his bottom lip, and his growl is low, a sound that rumbles through his chest and into mine. His hands slip from my waist to my lower back, fingers pressing firmly.

His mouth leaves mine, and his lips graze my jaw. My head tilts back, exposing my neck, and I close my eyes.

He takes the invitation, his mouth trailing down to the sensitive curve where my neck meets my shoulder. His teeth nip my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair, and he makes a sound in his throat.

When he pulls away, I open my eyes—but the man with the lip ring is gone.

In his place is Darius.

He gazes at me intensely. There’s darkness to his stare. He smirks.

“You didn’t even want that guy, did you, Persephone?”

He’s the only one who calls me by my full name.

Angrily, I shove him off me. He stumbles, smiling. When I blink, he’s vanished.

The stranger with the lip ring looks at me, confused. “What did I do?” he asks, perplexed by my sudden shift in attitude. His voice is somehow wrong.

Hurriedly, I excuse myself, not bothering to apologize for my abruptness.

He’s a good kisser, but he’s no Darius.

With my pepper spray clenched tightly in my fist, I stumble back home.

I’m too drunk to drive.

I hear a shuffling sound from behind me and snap my head around, but there’s no one there. The wind whistles through the empty streets.

The sun will peer over the horizon in a few hours, but for now all I have is the flickering streetlights, ominously flashing on and off.

I’ve seen enough horror movies to know bad things happen around flickering lights.

While I live in a college town, I can never be too careful. There’s always danger lurking around every corner when you’re a woman. Even for us werewolves. My powers are limited at best. It’s not like I’m a lycan. If I were, things would be different.

Maybe I would be with… I don’t even want to think of his name anymore.

I push the thought away, trying to distract myself.

Over the past month, there have been several muggings in the area. The suspect is still at large. I’m usually unfazed, because I live in a house full of royal lycans. The crown prince himself lives in the house.

But right now, I’m alone.

At first, my heart calms when I spot the front door of my house just ahead. Then I notice the light in my bedroom is on. A shadow waits by the window, looking out onto the street below.

When I blink, the shadow is gone.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Or maybe I’ve had one too many shots tonight.

Wait a second. Didn’t I switch off my bedroom light before I left?

Perhaps one of the others turned it on.

I shake my head, trying to shed the paranoia.

It isn’t like I’ve got the best memory in the first place.

Inside, the house is dark but not too dark. They always leave the light by the staircase on, and the glow of lights from the swimming pool also keeps the house from being in total darkness.

Everything is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the filter pump from the pool. I can hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore from afar.

I pull off my cowboy boots and try to walk as quietly as I can across the tile floor.

As I make my way up the staircase, something doesn’t feel right.

My thoughts are all muddled. I need to take a break from drinking soon, straighten out my mind before I lose it.

When I open my bedroom door, a familiar, intoxicating smell fills my nostrils, sending my head into a frenzy.

“Persephone.” A tall figure rises gracefully, like a shadow, in the dim light by my bed. “Why is your lipstick smeared?”

He stands over me. His pale-blond hair is slicked back, and his icy blue eyes pin me in place. His red lips are the only warmth in his cool, flawless face.

It’s been three years since I last laid eyes on him. Since the night he shattered my heart into a million pieces.

Suddenly, here he is, standing in my bedroom, waiting for me.

Darius.

Slowly, he walks up to me. He grabs my face in his hand, pulling me in.

“I smell another man on you, Persephone,” he growls.