The Scent and The Siren

sixteen

The red neon laser lights bounce in the darkness, sweeping across the dance floor packed with people gyrating to the loud remixed beats of the 2000s hits. 

I am in the center, alone, dancing without a care in the world with my eyes closed and arms in the air. My feet and hips sway in sync with the rhythm of the music. 

The couple of pure tequila shots I've knocked back have helped me be in my own element, where I can be the master of my own universe, far away from everything that bothers me. 

The element, though, is only temporary. 

I freeze when my eyes meet with a chilling sapphire stare, which makes my heart thump harder. 

The music, the people, and the heated scent of pheromones surrounding me... all of it fades, and my stomach somersaults.

Shit. He's here.

The chiseled perfection of his face bears no expression, and it remains tightly veiled as ever. His shimmering gaze fixated on me makes me feel like I am pinned to a wall, absolutely rendered immobile by sharp daggers and arrows. 

Magnificent is a word too weak to describe him as a whole.

He has discarded his tie and jacket that I saw him wearing in the picture. The elegant tailoring of his crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, emphasizes rather than hiding the pure muscle perfection of his chest and biceps. His rolled-up shirtsleeves reveal the powerful muscles of his forearms flexing as his arms encircle me.

It would have helped if I didn't know that underneath the polished royal lies a predator of Neanderthal magnitude who has the tendency to remain unstirred by the propulsion of any volume. Knowledge does things to me.

It takes me a while to realize why he's here. 

He's here because of my drunken phone call! 

What have you done, Juliette?

His long, powerful legs chew up the distance between us as he brings his strides toward me with a natural grace that reminds me of a lion on the prowl. 

An alarm rings so sharply in my mind and warns me to run away, but my body is in no mood to comply. 

It's as if I am hard-wired to become completely smitten with his presence and everything he brings me, including pain, and no amount of restraint would help me not do it. 

I am a rocky world, an asteroid, being wrenched by the fierce magnetism of a giant galactic black hole ready to devour me up as a whole.

I detest myself for feeling so ramshackle every time I see him, but it does nothing to stop the sight of him packed with warmth rippling through my skin and moving like a lover's caress all over my body in slow, delicious strokes.

His strong, muscled forearm circles around my waist and yanks me from my position and straight into his hard, male chest. 

"We meet again, Duchess." His deep, sexy husk rings close to my ear, too close for my senses.

Mr. Testosterone-on-legs does justice to his name by looking like a forbidden dark force of nature standing under the dim lighting with the insane potency of intimidating clinging to his air, making me shift uncomfortably in my position. 

The fluorescent lasers in the darkness being cast upon him add to his fierceness and diabolic dark appeal. 

He reminds me of the fables of the fallen angel, the beautiful one. What resembles the still calmness of a sea on the surface is a subterfuge that enshrouds a colossal tempest capable of swallowing up everyone around.