Sweet Hatred-Chapter 237: Awkward...

ARIA

I stormed, well, more like stumbled, back into the ballroom like some deranged ex-royal who just got bent over a fucking throne.

God.

My legs weren’t cooperating, my thighs were sticky, my heels were clacking at a traitorous rhythm, and my dress felt like it had a vendetta against me. The silk still clung to my body like second skin, except the part Kael had half-destroyed and fixed again with that maddening gentleness.

My hair was falling out of its style, clinging to my cheeks with sweat and sin. His jacket hung over my shoulders, heavy with his scent.

Fucking hell, he smelled so good. He tasted even better. No, no, focus.

I didn’t even wait for him when those guards stopped him behind me, asking about some breach or whatever. Of course, they went straight to him. He was practically their god. But I couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when I could still feel him inside me, even though he wasn’t.

Not when I could still feel his cum sliding down and—

"Fuck you, Kael," I muttered under my breath, heat crawling up my neck in embarrassment.

"Oh?"

A voice stopped me cold. That infuriatingly smooth, amused voice.

"You look..." Sylas drawled, "dealt with."

I froze. Spun.

And there he was, leaning against the wall like a movie star who’d just wandered into the climax of someone else’s tragedy. His golden mask was pushed up on his snowy head, hair tousled and glinting under the warm lights. His suit was slightly undone at the collar. One hand lazily held a drink. The other slid into his pocket. He looked half-drunk and fully entertained.

I turned sharply away. I didn’t even want to see what my face looked like right now.

"Don’t." I raised a hand in warning, trying to walk past him.

"Oh, don’t?" he chuckled, pushing off the wall with that slow, prowling grace. "Aww, come on. You disappeared. Left me stranded at a party full of politicians and creeps."

"You’re not helpless," I snapped, weaving through the crowd with all the grace of a possessed mannequin. "Go find another sad girl to bother."

I heard him follow behind me.

"Were you with Mr. Grumpy Pants for that long?" His voice dipped teasingly low as he caught up. "He always looks like he’s five seconds from committing murder, but hey... I didn’t know murder turned you on."

"Shut up, Sylas," I hissed, tripping slightly over my hem. My heel caught. "Shit—"

And then hands.

Big, warm, far-too-casual hands caught me around the waist, yanking me back before I could fully faceplant into a couple sipping champagne.

He steadied me like with ease, then leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Why are you running from me, sad girl?"

I shivered. Goddammit.

"I’m not," I lied, breathless, pulse jumping. "You just happen to be everywhere."

His hand was still at my waist.

"You’re warm," he murmured, clearly enjoying this too much. "And flushed. Looks like someone had a little fun. And he even left you his suit."

My entire body locked.

I could feel Kael’s jacket wrapped around me. His scent. His cum. My undone hair. My smudged lipstick.

I shoved lightly against his chest, scowling up at him. "Don’t flatter yourself. My heels just hate me. And stop calling me that."

He grinned lazily, eyes dragging all over me as he sipped what was left in his glass. "Tsk. The bastard really didn’t hold back, huh?"

His gaze dipped down my body for a beat too long, then flicked back to my face.

There, just there, I caught it. A flicker of something... darker. A frown. The smile slipped, but he caught it quickly and smoothed it back into place.

I narrowed my eyes. "What was that?"

He tilted his head, played dumb. "What was what?"

Before I could interrogate him further, he handed his glass off to a passing server and took my hand again, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on," he said, tugging me gently. "You missed the best part of the night."

I blinked. "What? What best part?"

That’s when it happened.

BANG.

A shot cracked through the air like a whip.

The music cut off. Gasps. Screams. Champagne glasses shattered on marble. Everything slowed down as chaos burst into color around us.

Screams. More shots. The crowd scattered like a wild stampede.

Sylas didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my hand and yanked me into the nearest corridor, ducking past a crashing sculpture and toppling guests. We slipped into a side utility alcove just before another deafening bang rang through the air.

He slammed the door shut behind us, locking it quick with a sliding bolt, and suddenly, we were pressed together. Chest to chest. Breath to breath.

The space was small. Too small.

"What the hell—" I gasped, trying to adjust my footing.

"You good?" Sylas asked, voice quieter now, but still edged with adrenaline.

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just... shaken. What the fuck is happening?"

His jaw tensed. "I’ll check. Could be—"

"No." I grabbed his arm, yanking him back down before he could even move. "Are you insane? You don’t even know what’s going on out there!"

His brows rose. "So bossy."

"I’m serious."

He stilled.

Then actually... listened.

I blinked. "Did you just obey?"

"I can follow orders when they’re given by someone pretty enough," he muttered, resting his head lightly against the door. "Besides, your grip’s scary when you’re pissed."

The tension simmered into a quiet lull. Or maybe it just got... different.

We were still tangled in the dark closet-sized room. My back pressed to the wall. His body... tall, broad, lean, pressed right into mine. I tried to angle myself away from him, but every time I moved, something else bumped—elbow, thigh, hip...

That’s when I noticed his face.

Flushed.

Sweaty.

Breathing a little heavier than before.

"You okay?" I asked slowly, eyes narrowing. "You don’t look scared, but... what is it?"

Sylas’ lips twitched.

"It’s not what you’re thinking."

I tilted my head. "And what exactly am I thinking?"

He looked away. His jaw flexed.

I shifted again.

And that’s when I felt it.

Oh.

Oh

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