Chapter Four

Flashback–7 Years ago

Himera

The Apex house is throwing a party today. My best friend Wendy and her mate have asked me to go with them. I've never attended a frat party, so I'd much rather stay in my dorm room and read or scroll through social media, but Wendy doesn't give me that option. So now I'm in front of the dressing mirror, styling my hair into curls.

“Are you ready?” Wendy walks into my room without knocking. “Maxwell is waiting in the parking lot.”

“I am,” I say, spritzing perfume behind my ears, then dabbing some against my wrists. 

Wendy gives me a once-over and raises a brow when I stand up, and I slouch, knowing just what that means.

“I love your makeup and your hair,” she says, brow still raised. “Your outfit too. But those shoes are killing everything nice, babes. Take them off.”

“Wendy…” I begin, but she raises a finger and cuts me off.

She goes to my shoe rack, picks up the thigh-high leather stiletto boots, and hands them to me.

“These will do,” she says.

I don't argue because she knows better. She's been attending these parties since her freshman year. I trust her advice.

I kick the snickers off my feet and bend to put the boots on. 

“Uh-huh!” Wendy smiles, finally giving me a look of approval. “Now that's perfect.”

I look at myself in the mirror and silently agree with her. The tank top and mini denim skirt go really well with the boots–way better than the sneakers did. I can't be more grateful for her honesty.

I sigh, taking myself in one last time.

“Let's get going.”

“Not yet,” Wendy says, sliding her hand into her handbag. She pulls out two masks and hands me one. “It's a casual masquerade.”

I take the black-and-silver bat-shaped mask and slide it over my eyes, excitement bubbling in my chest as Wendy slips on her colourful butterfly-shaped one.

“Now let's get going!” she shouts.

We scurry out of the room and across the parking lot. I slide into the backseat of Maxwell's Honda Civic while Wendy takes the passenger seat.

The Apex House frat isn’t so far from our dormitories, so we get there in less than twenty minutes.

Wendy hooks her arm through mine, and we walk side by side into the frat house, Maxwell following behind us.

I let her drag me wherever she goes because I don't have any friends besides her. It's even harder to spot familiar faces around, what with the masks.

We grab ourselves some drinks, then join a bunch of guys and girls seated in a circle. I assume they're her friends, judging by how easily they create space for her and Maxwell. Both of them are seniors, and I'm a junior, so we don't run in the same circles. Or rather, I don't know their circles, given that I don't have one myself–just a few people I talk to in some of my classes. 

“Is there room for one more?” Wendy asks before sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor. “I brought my bestie.”

“There's always room for more,” one guy seated right across from her says, scooting to create space. “They say the more, the merrier, after all.”

Wendy nods toward the space he's patting, and I walk over and sit down.

“We're playing truth or dare,” the guy says, leaning closer to my ear to make himself heard over the chatter and the music booming from the main party room.

“I figured,” I reply, nodding my head toward the bottle in the center.

He chuckles. “What's your name?”

“Himera,” I say as someone spins the bottle. “What's yours?”

He tells me his name, but I don't catch it over the cheer that erupts from the circle. The bottle has landed on two girls, and everybody seems excited about that.

“Truth or dare?” The one at the base of the bottle asks.

“Dare,” the girl at the top says. “I'll always pick dare.”

“Well, I dare you to get your ass over here and kiss me,” the first girl says.

There's a stretch of silence before the other girl sighs. “I'll take the shot.”

Murmurs rise from the small crowd, and the first girl chuckles awkwardly, her cheeks turning rosy from the rejection. 

“Lucy is too straight to kiss a fellow girl,” the guy says into my ear, and I just nod, my eyes fixed on the girl who has just been rejected. She looks hurt, but she wears it like it's nothing.

“I didn't hear your name,” I say, finally turning my attention to him. 

“Ceasar,” he says. 

I nod and turn back to the center, watching as someone else spins the bottle. 

The game continues–people sharing truths and being dared to dance, sing, and show their boobs, among other crazy things. The entire time, I'm praying the bottle doesn't land on me.

Until it does.

My heart would be threatening to burst out of my chest if the base of the bottle were pointing at anyone else, but it's pointing at Maxwell. 

“Truth or dare?” He asks when the cheer dies down.

“Dare,” I say, avoiding the former because I can't afford to share any truths with all these strangers. 

Wendy whispers something into his ear, and he smiles. I fidget, wondering what crazy idea she’s just put into his head.

He clears his throat. “I dare you to confess love to your crush of all time.”

Fuck Wendy.

That's what she whispered into his ear. 

“Give me a shot,” I say, but the guy handling that lifts a bottle and wiggles it in the air.

“We have a problem,” he says. “The liquor is finished, but I'll go get some.”

“We can't wait for him,” one girl says. “The game must continue.”

“Which means we'll have to work with the only available option,” Wendy says, smiling. 

“I can't,” I say, and everyone begins to complain about how I'm killing the vibe.

“Come on, babes,” Wendy says. “You know he likes you too.”

“Fine,” I say. “Where is he?”

Wendy winks at me, cheering alongside everyone around the circle.

She jerks her chin to the side, and I follow her gaze. 

There he is.

Even behind his simple black mask, I can see how beautifully chiseled his jawline is. 

He's standing with his hands in his pockets, talking to the girls surrounding him. 

“Derrick Leonard?” Ceasar says. “That's the guy?”

I nod, my eyes still on Derrick.

“You don't have to do it, you know?” He adds. “He's not worth it. The liquor's here anyway.”

I ignore him. I stand up, grab the bottle from the guy who went to get it, and take a swig. 

“Do it! Do it!” Wendy begins to chant, and the rest of the crowd joins in, giving me just enough courage.

I walk toward him, almost chickening out the closer I get–but my legs keep moving.

“Derrick,” I say, stopping a few feet away, my voice louder than intended.

The girls around him look at me first before he tilts his head over his shoulder and turns.

He raises a brow, silently asking me to continue.

“There's something I want to tell you,” I say, locking eyes with him–those dark eyes almost piercing. “Something I've been meaning to say.”

“What?” he says.

I inhale, feeling strangely brave. 

“I… I like you,” I stutter. “I have since my freshman year. I like the way you carry yourself and how you look, more so the way you look at me. I think you like me too, and if I'm right… Maybe we could start something before you graduate college. We have a full academic year to try.”

I exhale, waiting.

A part of me is certain he'll say he feels the same.

I've seen it–in the way his gaze lingers, the way he watches me in the cafeteria, the way he sits in the front row every Wednesday during my figure skating practice, and during my performances. 

I know he feels it too.

My breath catches as he walks toward me, stopping inches away.

He cups my cheek, then slides his hand down to my chin and pinches it softly.

Our eyes stay locked. He's smiling.

My heart somersaults.

I want him to say something, but he doesn't. 

Instead, he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me, making the butterflies in my stomach erupt into a giddy frenzy.

Wow.

This is going surprisingly well.

Derrick Leonard is kissing me.

“I'm glad to know how you feel, Himera,” he says when we part slightly. 

He said my name. He knows my name.

Oh, Fates.

Cheers rise around us–everyone but the girls he was talking to, I bet.

“Would you like to get out of here?” He asks.

I nod, my cheeks burning.

He scoops me into his arms, and I let him carry me up the stairs, away from the noise, away from everyone.

Into his room.

He sets me down and closes the door behind us. My gaze wanders over the space, books lining the walls. Books. I wouldn't have expected that. From the outside, he looks like the type to have swords mounted on black walls, not shelves with pages.

He moves to a small bar in the corner, grabs a bottle of whisky, then comes to sit beside me on the bed.

He opens it, and we take turns drinking straight from the bottle, talking about everything and nothing–mostly about our packs.

I don't even notice when the talking fades.

When silence turns into glances.

When glances turn into kisses.

And kisses into something deeper.

We break apart only to tug at each other's masks and clothes, hands growing bolder and more certain.

He pauses for a moment, his cock hard against my core, and his gaze searches mine–asking without words.

I nod and shut my eyes, nervous.

There's a brief sting as he squeezes himself inside me, a sharp unfamiliarity that makes me tense, but it passes, melting into something warmer, something overwhelming.

A soft moan escapes me, my fingers tightening against him as I lose myself in the moment.

And just like that, I'm no longer the same.