Page 23 of Bound By Crimson
As they moved, she glanced back once.
Eric stood frozen, fury and disbelief etched into his face. Rowan, a few steps behind him, stared between them, sadness flooding her wide eyes as realization slowly settled in.
Lyric turned away, still dazed and trembling, following the man who had just unraveled her world into the cool embrace of the night.
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A black car idled at the curb.
The same car that had pulled up outside the Velvet Cauldron.
The same driver. The one who had delivered the gilded masquerade invitation months ago.
But Lyric barely registered the vehicle.
He stopped beneath the streetlamp, turning her to face him.
For the first time, she truly saw him.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Built with the kind of effortless strength that spoke of danger and devotion all at once.
Dark hair, tousled like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration.
A sharp jaw, dark stubble. And a mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile—something darker.
And his eyes.
God. His eyes.
Molten gold trapped in smoke. Smoldering beneath thick lashes. So intense they pinned her in place. The same unusual shade as her own. She’d never met anyone else with eyes like that.
They didn’t just see her. They possessed her.
He was beautiful. Brutal. A sin carved in flesh.
And he looked at her like she was the only thing left in the world that mattered.
He had to be at least ten years older than her—and somehow, that only made him more irresistible.
There was something intoxicating about older men. The way they didn’t hesitate. The way they walked into a room like they already owned it.
However, it wasn’t just his age. It was the authority in his voice, the way he moved like the world bent for him. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be the next thing that did.
For a breathless moment, neither of them moved. The night hung between them, trembling.
Finally, he stepped forward. Slow. Deliberate. Predator and prey all at once.
“I wasn’t supposed to come,” he said, voice low and raw—like a rasp of silk over bare skin. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
Each word slipped into her bloodstream, making her pulse stutter.
“Why?” she whispered.
Instead of answering, he opened the car door and guided her inside with a rough tenderness that made her heart crack.
Inside, the scent of his cologne filled the space—masculine, intoxicating. Spiced amber and warm woods, familiar and addictive.
He slid in beside her. For a moment, he just watched her, eyes devouring every inch.
