The club reeked of sweat, spilled booze, and broken promises. Athena loved it.
She should've gone home hours ago. But the apartment was quiet, too quiet, and her thoughts were always louder when she was alone. So instead, she sank into the noise. Let the music and the heat crawl under her skin like static.
She moved through the crowd like a knife—tall, red-skinned, horns gleaming in the dim light. Her tail curled lazily behind her, brushing against strangers without apology. Leather creaked as she walked, the sharp scent of it mixing with the sulfur that clung faintly to her skin no matter how many showers she took.
Most people knew better than to touch her.
The ones who didn't learned fast.
She slid into her usual corner booth—deep in the shadows, far from the dancefloor. A place where she could watch without being watched. The bartender sent her a nod and poured something dark without asking.
Whiskey. Burned all the way down. Just how she liked it.
Athena lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled smoke in a slow stream through her nose. She was fire-born, sure, but the burn of tobacco still calmed her nerves. Or maybe it just gave her something to do with her hands when she wasn't setting things on fire.
Which she hadn't done in weeks. She was proud of that. Mostly.
Her fingers itched sometimes, though. Like the heat inside her was building with nowhere to go. Like she might explode just from breathing too hard.
She stared down at her hand. Calloused, strong, a little singed at the edges. Her magic always lived too close to the surface. Like it had a mind of its own, whispering more when she least needed it.
She hated it. And she needed it. Just like everything else.
A familiar laugh broke through the music—a sharp bark from across the room. One of the regulars, already drunk and trying to impress someone new. Athena rolled her eyes. Same shit, different night. She'd been part of that cycle once, but lately... things felt dull. The fights, the flirting, the fast highs and faster crashes. None of it stuck anymore.
None of it felt real.
She pulled out a feather from her jacket pocket. Small. Purple. She didn't remember where she'd found it—maybe on the street, maybe stuck to someone's coat. She just liked the way it felt between her fingers. Soft. Fragile. Out of place in a world full of sharp edges.
She twirled it once, then tucked it away again.
Maybe tonight she'd find something worth remembering.
Or maybe she'd start a fire just to feel something.
YOU ARE READING
Fire & Ashes
RomanceIn the underbelly of Hellbourne, where magic simmers beneath cracked pavement and desire is as dangerous as fire, Tiefling enforcer Athena lives by a simple code: burn the past, don't get attached, and never let anyone close enough to see the scars...
