Page 54 of Shattered By Grace

Victoria lingered by the door, her breath catching as Taylor’s laughter faded into the night. The air seemed to thicken, suffocating with an unspoken weight. She reached for the lock, but a sudden shift in the shadows stopped her. A figure standing beneath the streetlamp, watching her.

Tristan.

Her heart stumbled, and her breath hitched as her gaze locked onto him. His dark hair, artfully tousled, framed his sharp, angular face. His jaw clenched as though holding back something dangerous, and his slightly parted lips exhaled a breath of heat even from across the street. His eyes, black, intense, almost too dark to be real, bore into her with a force that made the ground beneath her shift.

It wasn’t just his looks that stopped her breath, it was the way he was. He didn’t just stand there, he loomed, the air around him heavy, like a storm about to break. The soft glow of the streetlamp illuminated his silhouette, and in his hand, he held a single red rose, its red petals stark against the light. His gaze never wavered, locking onto hers with a quiet, terrifying intensity that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

Oh damn, I’m in trouble.

When Taylor’s car finally disappeared down the street, Tristan moved slowly and deliberately across the pavement. Each step was a pulse, a promise. His broad shoulders tensed, every movement controlled, the weight of him undeniable. The air crackled with every step closer he took, wrapping around her like a warning. Her feet didn’t move. They couldn’t.

He stopped at the foot of the steps, standing there, still as a predator watching its prey. His eyes raked over her, dark and stormy. A flicker of something dangerous passed behind them. He didn’t have to say a word but when he did speak, his voice slid across her skin like steel-laced velvet.

“You’ve been on my mind all night,” Tristan said, his words rough, dragging through the air like they were pulled from some deep place within him.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t comforting. It was the smile of a man who knew what he wanted, and wouldn’t hesitate to take it. His thumb brushed over his bottom lip, slow, deliberate, a motion that was almost too intimate to bear.

The distance between them felt like it was closing in, his presence suffocating, filling the space, as if the world around them ceased to exist. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, yet she couldn’t tear herself away from him.

This was wrong. He was wrong.

But the pull of him—the power, the raw hunger in his eyes—was undeniable. Dangerous. And she was drawn to it, even knowing it could be her undoing.

“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice trembling, fighting to hold onto some semblance of control. “What are you doing here?” She wrapped her arms around herself, but it was more a gesture of surrender than defense, as though trying to contain the storm of desire he had stirred inside her.

His gaze darkened, raw and hungry. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his voice rough and velvety, as if the words were dragged from some hidden place. “You’re dangerous, Grace. You make me forget who I am.”

He stepped closer, the heat between them unbearable now, until every inch of air around her felt charged. His eyes dropped to the rose, then flicked back to hers, burning with a ferocity that stole her breath. “Come with me to the masquerade ball,” he said, his tone commanding.

He extended the rose toward her, but when her fingers grazed the stem, his hand caught hers, firm and steady. Heat bloomed where their skin touched, and she froze as he turned her palm upward. Slowly, his lips grazed the center of her hand, warm and unhurried, his breath a soft whisper against her skin. Her chest tightened, her breath hitching as his gaze lifted, holding hers with a quiet intensity that left her unsteady.

Victoria’s mind raced with questions.How does he even know where I live, much less about the charity fundraising ball?But she didn’t let those questions ruin this one moment. Instead, she focused on the electricity between them, the way his touch ignited a fire within her.Will he stay this time?The uncertainty of his previous disappearances lingered, but for now, she was too lost in the moment to think beyond the now.

“What if I had a date already?” she teased, arching an eyebrow as she looked up at him, daring him to respond.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He took a slow step closer, his presence consuming the space between them. “If he knew what was good for him, he’d stay the hell out of my way,” he said, his voice low and smooth, almost too calm, yet charged with an edge of danger. His words hung in the air like a warning, dripping with intent. “But if he doesn’t… I’ll make sure he learns just how far I’ll go to keep what’s mine.”

Mine.

Victoria’s heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t ready to let him off that easily. She leaned in closer, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Are you jealous?”

Tristan’s expression darkened, the air around them growing more charged with every passing second. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur, laced with seduction and menace. “I’m not jealous, Grace. I’m territorial.” His gaze scorched her, his intensity searing straight through her. "Jealousy is yearning for what’s not yours. Territorial is protecting what’s already mine."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, the possessiveness in his tone stirring something deep within her.Mine.The word echoed in her mind, and despite the thrill it gave her, it also made her heart race with uncertainty. But that uncertainty was quickly swallowed by the overwhelming desire that pulsed between them.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “And what makes you so sure I’m yours?”

Tristan’s smirk widened, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because I see it in your eyes, Grace. You want this as much as I do. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”

The confidence in his voice, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, it all made her heart flutter. But she wasn’t going to let him have the upper hand so easily.

“Well, maybe you’ll have to prove it,” she challenged, her voice daring him to make the next move.

Tristan’s eyes darkened, his gaze flicking down to her lips. “I intend to.”

Tristan stood impossibly close, so close she thought there couldn’t be a fraction of space left between them, yet somehow he still managed to close the distance further. His hand slid around her waist with a firm, commanding grip, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body seeped into hers,intoxicating and undeniable, every taut line of his frame radiating tension and barely restrained desire.

His head dipped, lips hovering just above hers, close enough for her to feel his breath teasing her skin, but he didn’t move further. It was a deliberate torment, a tantalizing game of restraint that made her pulse race.

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