Prolouge(2)

ARIA

When the man drops his hand, turns away, and disappears into the crowd behind him, panic surges through me at the thought of a chance lost. What if he was a route to finding some missing piece of the fractured puzzle of my life?

I would’ve at least liked to have found out who he was.

What I sensed as I looked at him was real, and I felt I knew him in some significant way. Maybe even… intimate. Could it be that? I might be damaged, but even I know it’s not normal to feel so aroused within seconds of looking at someone.

I don’t think he’d have such a powerful effect on me if I weren’t right on some level.

With that reasoning, I stand and move as quickly as I can. I take the stairs to my left and go up to the floor he was on. When I get there, I make my way around to where he’d been standing.

There’s a lounge area ahead of me surrounded by more dancing bodies and couples gathered on the plush leather sofas, either making out or talking and laughing. The volume of the music is much lower up here, so all I’m hearing is the disjointed cacophony of conversation.

Since the light is a little brighter by the bar area, I make my way over there and try to look around for him.

I scan the area, looking amongst the people sitting on stools around the small square tables by the glass barriers. When I don’t see him, I look over to the waitress carrying a glowing tray of drinks to the group of college guys leaning against the wall.

He’s not amongst them either, so I look over to the other side, where there are clusters of people standing together.

My stomach clenches in despair when I make my way further across the floor and don’t see him anywhere.

Damn it. I wasn’t quick enough to catch him, and clearly, he’s gone.

It’s not until I turn around to go back the way I’d come that I see him standing by the alcove in the shadows. And he’s watching me like he was before.

Dressed entirely in black, he almost blends in with the darkness.

He’s leaning against the wall with one solid black boot pressed against it, and his hands jammed in the pockets of his slacks.

Now that I’m closer, I’m nervous, and although I’m not exactly a shy person, he makes me feel shy.

Being closer, I can see just how gorgeous he is and tall. I’d say he must be at least six feet four, maybe six feet five, and the muscles I saw previously look more enhanced too.

Summoning bravery, I walk toward him, and as I do, that nearly there smile comes back to his handsome face.

When I stop a few paces away, he inclines his head, and a lock of hair falls over one silver-gray eye, making him look more alluring, dangerous. Sexy.

Sexy is what makes my nerves scatter, and suddenly I’m not sure what I’m doing here or what I’m going to say to him.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come,” he states in an accented voice. It’s slight but very much there. It sounds like Russian. More importantly, my interest in him piques even more because I know I’ve heard his voice before.

I… recognize it.

The acknowledgment of having recognized something makes me giddy and excited all at the same time. I’m almost weakened from the surge of elation and what it means. If I acknowledge that I’ve heard his voice before, it means something is happening in my damaged mind. Something good.

My lips part and I gaze intensely at those stormy gray eyes. I try to remember his face but can’t.

“Do you know me?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound foolish.

“Maybe…” The smile comes now, and I see the dark beauty of this man in full force.

That dangerous edge, though, continues to warn me away. Telling me this isn’t a man I should be talking to. My curiosity, however, gets the better of me.

“Maybe?” I prod.

He pushes away from the wall and inches closer to me until he’s a breath away.

“Dance with me… Aria,” he replies, saying my name, and I gasp.

“You do know me. How?”

“Come with me, and you’ll find out.”

When he puts out his hand, I take it even though I know I shouldn’t. The same warning bells go off in my head, and for some reason, I feel this man and I should never touch.

As if to confirm my suspicions, a zap of electricity sparks through me when he closes his large hand over mine.

I allow him to lead me up another set of stairs to the VIP lounge, where he ushers me over to the small dance floor away from the sofas. The area would almost be private if not for the bartender mixing drinks behind the bar.

The lounge, however, becomes all ours when my handsome stranger nods to the bartender, and he leaves. I watch him go, and the tension increases in the air around me.

The tautness only eases when the warm hands of my handsome stranger brush over my elbows and pulls me to his granite chest. I’m petite next to him, but I manage to press my fingers to the beginning of his shoulder while he slips his arm around my waist.

His fingers flutter over the small of my back as I peer up at him, and we start swaying to the music. It’s an upbeat song, but we’re dancing slowly like it’s a song for lovers.

“What do you know about me?” I ask, eagerness taking over.

“Music. It’s a part of you. You play the violin like it was made for you,” he replies, capturing my attention.

“You’ve heard me play?”

“Many, many times.”

“When did you hear me play? Where?”

“Shhhh,” he whispers and moves closer to my ear. “No more, Printsessa, just dance with me. We didn’t dance last time.”

Printsessa, means princess in Russian.

I know that.

I know that… because he told me so. Although I can’t remember being told, I know it was he who told me.

When though?

He said we didn’t dance last time. When did I see him?

Where?

The scruff on his jaw tickles my cheek, snapping me from the reverie of him. We’re so close, his lips are inches away, and I almost believe he’s going to kiss me.

Our eyes lock, and I’m trapped in the storm of his gaze.

The push and pull of the force drawing me to him is so strong I have to fight against it to make my mind work.

I try, I do. God help me, I do, but when he leans in closer and closer, and his lips brush over mine, everything fades into the ether. All my worries, my thoughts, my wishes, my hopes.

What takes over is raw desire, and I’m lost in his kiss. His tongue swoops into my mouth and claims me.

I melt into his hard body when the kiss turns greedy and fills me with an insatiable hunger for him and that taste. That raw masculine taste of need and sex and everything I want but never knew I craved.

The kiss sings through my veins, and as he cups my face, a flash of memory sparks in my mind, and I see him. I see him clearly, not blurry, or vague like everything else that’s come to me. There’s no mistaking that it’s him.

I see him in my mind, touching my face and holding me. But I’m hurt. Something bad happened to me.

“I’m Lucca.”

His words come to my mind, and the intense blast of memory is so strong I pull out of the kiss, but he’s still holding me, holding my face to him.

“Lucca?” I whisper, and his eyes become sad for a fraction of a second.

“Yes, Printsessa, that’s right,” he answers, and as he rubs over the edge of my neck, something sharp stings my skin.

It makes me jump, but he holds me still.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Printsessa, maybe it’s best if you don’t try to remember me. I’m not here to save you this time. And there’s no one who can save you from me.”

My eyes widen with terror and fright that closes my throat.

The first thing I think of is Dad’s paranoia and overprotective nature. This is why he’s like that. It’s for this very reason. Danger.

My mouth opens to say something, anything, but the words don’t come.

I move out of his grasp, but the movement is too sudden and whatever he put on my neck makes my vision blur. And, damn it, I can’t talk. I can’t call for help even though I try my best.

The words just won’t come. I stumble backward, and he allows me to back away from him. I use the chance to look around for Bruno, but I can’t see him anywhere. The only thing I can think to do is to try and get away. Run and try to save myself.

Lucca watches me unfazed with the confidence of a man who knows he’s just caught his prey.

Panic carries me toward a set of steps in the corner. I take them, hoping they’ll lead me out of the club.

I move as quickly as I can against the darkness threatening to take over and send me to the ground.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and open the door, grateful it leads outside.

But when I turn the corner, I stop short right there in my tracks as my gaze lands on a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt, crouched over Bruno’s body. His knife is in Bruno’s heart, and dark red blood mingles with the silver moonlight as it gushes out of him.

I want to scream, but I can’t, and I only back away into the arms of the beautiful devil as he catches me when I crash into him.

I want to tell him to let me go. I want to run away and scream.

But I can’t do either of those things, and we both know it.

He touches my cheek, and I have that memory of him again.

How strange.

In two and a half years, my first memory is of this man, and I think he’s going to kill me.

The darkness comes, and I fall into it, allowing it to take me the same way I fell into that kiss of doom.