Page 58 of Unravelled
The words hung between them, sharp and edged. Mira stilled, glancing back just in time to see Tharion’s jaw tighten. Aelynn, utterly unbothered, turned her attention back to Mira, amusement glinting in her dark eyes.
“Might be best if your boy enters through the front door instead. That way, he can keep an eye on you without ruining the illusion.”
Mira inhaled slowly. Aelynn was right. If Tharion followed her through, it would shatter the role she had to play before it even began. She held his gaze, waiting.
“She’s not wrong,” Mira said gently. “If you follow me out, the illusion breaks.”
Tharion’s fists curled just slightly at his sides, not in anger, not in protest, but in restraint. With a stiff nod, he stepped back. Mira turned to the curtain once more. And without another word, she stepped through.
The bar stretched long and lush, its polished mahogany counter gleaming under the low, golden light of the chandeliers above. Bottles of deep amber liquors and exotic elixirs lined the shelves behind it, their glass catching the flickering candlelight, casting warm glows across the room.
Men and women tended the bar, their attire scandalously minimal, designed more for allure than function. Bare skin, silk ribbons, corsets meant to be loosened. They moved with an effortless grace, their smiles lazy, practiced predators as much as they were entertainers.
The room itself was draped in decadence, red velvet seating wrapped around the space, alcoves darkened by heavy, silk curtains, meant for sensual moments whispered away from prying eyes. Smoke curled lazily in the air, carrying the scent of sandalwood, wine, and something richer, headier.
At the center, a small stage stood elevated, designed for performances meant to entertain and entice. Tonight, it sat empty, but the air still hummed with the ghosts of laughter, of music, of promises exchanged in the haze of pleasure.
Mira moved toward the bar, forcing her movements to be unhurried, practiced, like she belonged. She leaned against the counter, fingers trailing along its polished surface. The woman behind the bar, a striking beauty wrapped in only crimson silk,blonde curls falling over bare shoulders, paused in pouring a drink, her gaze flicking toward Mira with knowing amusement.
"You must be our special entertainment for Dren."
Mira didn’t blink. "Am I that obvious?"
"The dark hair, the robe just waiting to be unwrapped. Absolutely," she said, lips curving as she leaned against the bar. "He likes that, though." She tilted her chin toward the far corner of the room. "He’s been watching the girls all night, but he didn’t touch them. He was told you were just for him.”
Mira followed her gaze. There. Tall, broad-shouldered, with windswept brown hair and sun-bronzed skin, the unmistakable look of a man hardened by years at sea. He sat alone in a shadowed corner, one hand lazily curled around his glass, the other resting against the armrest with confidence. And yet, the moment their eyes met, his confidence wavered. Mira saw it, the flicker of surprise, of intrigue. His mouth parted slightly, his grip tightening around his glass.
Her pulse beat steady and slow. Good. She let her lashes flutter just slightly, tilting her head, letting a slow, shy smile curve her lips. Play the game. She had meant to ease into it, take her time, let him look, let him want. But the way his expression shifted, fascinated, ensnared, hungry, made her push a little harder than she’d intended.
Mira picked up the drink meant for him, wrapping her fingers around the glass as she moved across the room, her steps unhurried, deliberate. The weight of his gaze dragged over her as she approached, his eyes darkening with interest. She stopped in front of him, holding out the drink.
“This is for you,” she said softly, her voice barely above the hum of the room. Then, after a slight pause, she bit her lip. Dren leaned forward and took it from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, lingering a second too long.
His lips moved into a slow smile as he studied her, head tilting slightly. "They told me I’d be pleased with someone special tonight."
Mira's stomach twisted. A flicker of panic shot through her. But before the moment could spiral, Dren exhaled, lifting the glass to his lips. "They didn’t tell me I’d be looking at something damn near divine."
Mira’s pulse steadied. The panic faded, replaced by quiet confidence. She let her lashes lower, exhaling softly as she sat beside him, just slightly closer than politeness allowed. Her voice dipping into something playful, teasing. "Careful, you don’t want to anger the Navigators."
Dren’s smile deepened. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even pretend to hold back. He shifted closer, his presence wrapping around her like a slow, deliberate snare. His arm draped over her shoulders, possessive, as though he’d already claimed her.
His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, "For a night with you, I would." He drained his glass in one slow pull, then clicked his fingers for another. The bartender moved without question.
Dren leaned in again, his lips curving with something dark, something wanting. "What’s your name?"
Mira didn’t even blink. "Selene.", She smiled effortlessly, the lie rolling off her tongue like silk.
He smirked, tilting his head. "Stunning"
The fresh drink was placed before him, but he didn’t reach for it. Mira’s gaze flicked to the blonde bartender, who lingered just within reach waiting, for the next order, for the next command.
Without breaking his gaze from Mira, his voice came low, smooth, certain. "We’ll need a private booth. Just me and Selene."
The bartender nodded once, a flicker of something, approval, amusement, maybe even curiosity, flashing in her eyes as she set down the drink, before she turned to make the arrangements.
Dren finally lifted his glass, taking a slow sip, his smirk deepening as he watched Mira over the rim. "Let’s find out just how divine you really are."
Dren took her hand, his grip firm but effortless, as if guiding her was his natural right. Mira let him, let herself be led, her steps smooth, practiced, every movement calculated. He drew back the curtain.
