Chapter Seven: Warehouse Lights

The warehouse party pulsed with life downtown, far from the polished ice of the arena. Converted from an old industrial space, the venue had soaring ceilings strung with colorful LED strips and projection mapping that splashed vibrant queer art across brick walls. Bass-heavy music thrummed through the air, deep techno mixed with groovy house, while bodies moved on the makeshift dance floor. Modular lounge pods offered quieter corners for conversation, and the scent of sweat, cologne, and sweet cocktails hung heavy.

Elias and Elara arrived fashionably late, both dressed casually sharp: Elias in fitted black jeans and a sleek silver button-down that hugged his lean skater’s build, Elara in a bold crop top and high-waisted pants that let her move freely. The invitation had promised a low-key queer night, but the energy felt electric, safe, freeing, and exactly what Elias needed after days of rink tension.

“This is perfect,” Elara shouted over the music as they grabbed drinks from a glowing bar. “No hockey gorillas, no homophobic bullshit. Just us and good vibes.”

Elias laughed, sipping his cocktail. The alcohol warmed him quickly, loosening the knot in his chest. They danced for a while, Elias letting the rhythm carry him like he did on the ice—fluid, confident, graceful even in street shoes. Several guys checked him out, offering smiles and light flirtation. He enjoyed it, but nothing sparked. His mind kept drifting to sharp eyes and a towering frame he couldn’t quite place.

Meanwhile, across town at an upscale steakhouse, Jax Thorne sat rigidly at a large round table. The restaurant oozed old money: dim lighting, crisp white tablecloths, and the quiet clink of expensive silverware. His father, Marvel Thorne, presided like a king, laughing too loudly with Mr. Jeremy and his wife while their daughter, pretty, polished, and clearly uninterested, sat beside Jax.

The engagement discussion had dragged on. Marvel kept steering the conversation toward “building strong alliances” and “securing the family legacy.” Jax forced smiles, nodded at the right moments, and barely touched his steak. His mother, May, shot him sympathetic glances but stayed quiet.

Halfway through the main course, Marvel excused himself. “One moment, gentlemen. Business never sleeps.”

He stepped outside for a quick call. When he returned minutes later, he wasn’t alone. Walking beside him was Peter Noir, Elias’s father, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, exuding the calm confidence of someone used to high-stakes rooms.

Marvel clapped Peter on the shoulder with forced warmth. “Everyone, allow me to introduce Peter Noir. One of my top investors—sharp mind, excellent returns. We’ve been working together on several key projects.”

Peter offered a polite smile and shook hands around the table. “Pleasure to meet you all. Marvel speaks highly of the Jeremy family.”

Marvel gestured grandly. “Peter, join us for a drink at least. And why don’t you bring your family over to the house sometime soon? Informal dinner, get to know each other better. Business and pleasure, right?”

Peter nodded easily, ever the diplomat. “We’d be delighted. My husband Dave and our son would enjoy that.”

Jax froze mid-sip. Son. The word hit like a check into the boards. He kept his expression neutral, but his grip tightened on the glass. Elias’s father. Here. In the same room his own father was pushing an engagement. The irony burned.

The dinner continued with surface-level chatter, but Jax’s appetite was gone. As soon as it was polite, he made his excuses, citing an early morning practice, and left. His father shot him a warning look, but May quietly supported the exit.

Jax drove straight to the warehouse party. He told himself it was just to blow off steam. Nothing more. He wouldn’t even go inside fully.

But once there, the pulsing lights and crowd pulled him in. He stayed on the edges, nursing a drink in the shadows, hood up, watching.

He spotted Elias almost immediately.

The figure skater moved with effortless grace on the dance floor, laughing with Elara, body loose and confident under the shifting lights. Jax’s chest tightened. That same elegant line of shoulders, the way Elias tilted his head when he smiled, it was the same man from the club. The one whose moans still echoed in Jax’s nightmares and fantasies.

Jealousy flared hot when a guy approached Elias, leaning in close to say something that made him laugh. Jax’s jaw clenched. He shouldn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Yet he found himself moving closer, weaving through the crowd until he was only a few feet away in a dimly lit corner near the lounge pods.

Elias turned, sensing the shift in energy. Their eyes locked.

For a moment, the music faded. Recognition, fragmented, electric, passed between them.

“You,” Elias said, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the beat. He stepped closer, anger and that confusing pull mixing on his face. “What the hell are you doing here, Thorne? Come to ruin my night too?”

Jax’s smirk was automatic, defensive. “Didn’t realize princess needed permission to breathe the same air. Or is this your turf for twirling?”

Elias’s eyes flashed. “This is the one place I don’t have to deal with your bullshit. Walk away.”

But neither moved. The air crackled. Jax’s gaze dropped to Elias’s lips, then back up. The memory of the hotel room slammed into him, hands on skin, heat, surrender.

“Make me,” Jax growled.

Elias shoved him lightly, but Jax caught his wrist, pulling him into the shadowed alcove between two lounge pods. The move was rough, instinctive. Their bodies pressed close, chest to chest, breath mingling.

“What is your problem with me?” Elias demanded, voice husky. “You don’t even know me.”

Jax’s control frayed. “I know enough.” His free hand came up, fingers brushing Elias’s jaw almost against his will. “You’re everywhere. On my ice. In my head.”

Elias’s breath hitched. The pull was undeniable now. Before he could think, Jax closed the distance.

Their kiss was angry, teeth and heat, frustration and denied want colliding. Jax’s mouth claimed Elias’s with bruising force, tongue demanding entry. Elias kissed back just as fiercely, hands fisting in Jax’s hoodie, tugging him closer even as he hated how good it felt.

It lasted only seconds, raw, desperate, hate-laced passion, before Jax jerked back like he’d been burned.

His eyes were wild. “This never happened.”

He turned and shoved through the crowd, disappearing into the night before Elias could respond.

Elias stood there, lips tingling, heart hammering. The taste of Jax lingered. The eyes… those intense, familiar eyes.

Elara appeared moments later, concern etched on her face. She had seen enough from a distance. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

Elias touched his mouth, dazed. “I… don’t know. He was here. We… kissed. It felt like…”

Elara pulled him into a hug, protective as always. “Breathe. We’ll talk in the car. That asshole is more complicated than he lets on. But if he hurts you again, I’m handling it.”

They left the party soon after, the vibrant lights fading behind them. Elias’s mind spun with questions. The stranger from the club. The bully on the ice. The man who had just kissed him like he was starving.

Fragments of memory teased at the edges, heat, hands, pleasure, but nothing solid.

Across town, Jax sat in his car in the dark parking lot, forehead against the steering wheel. His lips still burned. His father’s dinner, the fake engagement talk, the sudden appearance of Elias’s dad, it all pressed down like weight on his chest.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Pushing Elias away was supposed to protect his secret. Instead, it was making everything worse.