Chapter 78 IN MY EMBRACE.
\~~~DAMIEN.
I wrapped my arm around Serena's waist, pulling her close in the midst of the crowded ballroom. The air was thick with perfume and whispers, the soft hum of conversations blending with the string quartet's melody.
But all I could focus on was her, my wife, flushed and unsteady against me. Her blue gown clung to her body, the fabric shimmering under the chandelier lights, but her skin felt feverish through the thin material. She leaned into me more than usual, her curves pressing against my side in a way that was both familiar and alarming. This wasn't the poised Serena I'd left moments ago, something was off.
“Moonlight,” I murmured, my voice low for her ears only.
“Bastard,” she hissed back, the word slurring slightly at the edges, breathy and unguarded. It lacked her usual bite, coming out more like a plea than an insult. Her hand clutched at my jacket, and her fingers dug in as though she was anchoring herself. I scanned her face and her cheeks were pink, her eyes glassy, and lips parted. She was rubbing her thigh subtly against mine, an unconscious grind that sent a jolt through me. Neediness radiated from her, raw and unfiltered, like the walls she'd built were crumbling.
“Are you good?” I asked, holding her tightly, my palm flat against her lower back to steady her. Concern twisted in my gut because I knew this wasn't just the champagne talking. Serena was a tough lady who could hold her own in any room, but right now, she looked lost, confused by her own body.
She didn't answer with words. Instead, she kept rubbing herself against me, her hip pressing into my thigh with slow, and insistent movements. It was unknowing, like her body was acting on its own, driven by some internal fire. Her free hand rose to her neck, her nails scratching lightly at the skin there, leaving faint red trails. A soft groan escaped her lips, and she shifted closer, her breasts brushing my arm. The flush on her face deepened, spreading down her neck, and her breaths came quicker, shallow and hot against my collar.
I looked around quickly, my eyes darting through the sea of guests. No one seemed to notice yet as the gala was in full swing, and people were lost in their own deals and dances. But I couldn't risk drawing attention. Gently, I pulled her into a hug, enveloping her in my arms to shield her from prying eyes. Her head tucked under my chin, and she melted against me, her body molding to mine with a desperation that made my pulse race.
“Don’t tell me you’re drunk,” I whispered, my hand caressing her back in slow circles.
“I have only had two glasses. I feel so… hot,” she groaned, her voice breathy and slurred, the words tumbling out unguarded. She rubbed her cheek against my chest, nuzzling like she couldn't get close enough. Her hand slid up, fingers tracing my shirt buttons, pressing firmer than necessary.
The pieces clicked. I pulled her away gently, just enough to create space, and reached for the empty champagne flute on the table beside us. Lifting it to my nose, I inhaled the remnants of the faint fizz mingled with something sharper, chemical.
My frown deepened, skepticism turning to certainty. This wasn't right. The scent lingered, a telltale mix of alcohol and something illicit, something designed to disarm.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, my tone sharper now, eyes locking on hers.
“What?” She blinked up at me, confusion clouding her gaze. Her pupils were dilated, and she swayed slightly, even in my hold.
“This?” I raised the empty glass, tilting it so the last drops caught the light.
“The waiter… he brought it… I am so uncomfortable. I wanna pull off this fucking gown.” Her words slurred more, breathy and laced with frustration. She tugged at the neckline of her dress, her fingers fumbling, exposing a sliver of collarbone. The need in her voice was palpable and her body kept arching toward me as if seeking relief.
“Control yourself, Moonlight. We are outside.” I kept my voice steady, but my mind raced. Public place or not, she was unraveling, and I needed to get her out.
“Does it look like I care?!” she snapped, her tone rising, unguarded anger mixing with the haze. Her eyes flashed, but it was fleeting, replaced by another wave of heat that made her press back against me.
I looked around again, assessing the room. A few heads turned our way, but nothing overt. Tilting my head, I pieced it together fully. Her drink had been spiked.
I'd seen it before too many times in this world as the underbelly of influence and revenge. The signs were all there, the sudden onset, the disorientation, and the unnatural flush. But this wasn't just any drug, it was something that heightened everything. Her senses, her arousal, and vulnerability.
Her skin was burning under my touch, her movements needy and uninhibited. Whatever it was, it amplified desire, turning confusion into craving, making her body betray her mind.
Every instinct in me screamed for violence. Who did this? A waiter? Someone targeting her to get to me? My hands itched to find the culprit, to drag them into a dark corner and make them regret it.
I imagined breaking fingers, drawing blood, and ensuring no one ever touched what was mine again. My jaw clenched, rage simmering just below the surface. Not here, not now.
She had started to lean upward, her lips brushing my neck in a tentative kiss. Soft, hot, and desperate. Then she sniffed, inhaling my scent like it was oxygen, her nose trailing along my skin. A shiver ran through her, and she whispered, “Touch me,” the words breathy, slurred, and so unguarded it twisted my heart.
The arousal was clear now. The drug was making her overly sensitive, and every nerve alight. Her body trembled against mine, her hips shifting in subtle plea, and her breaths ragged. I wanted to give in, to soothe her the way only I could, but not here. Not like this.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I whispered back, my lips near her ear, voice firm but gentle.
“What is happening to me?” Her question was small, confused, the slur making it heartbreaking. She clung tighter, her confusion evident in the way her eyes searched mine, needy for answers amid the fog.
I didn’t say anything. Words wouldn't help, action would. Slowly, I turned around with her in my arms, one hand supporting her waist, the other ready to guide us through the crowd. The exit was across the room, past the dance floor, and toward the grand doors. I mapped the path mentally, avoiding clusters of guests, my body shielding hers.
But as I turned, they appeared.
Ryan and Lisa, weaving through the throng with practiced ease. Ryan's smile was wide, predatory, his arm loose around Lisa's waist. She waddled slightly, her pregnancy evident, but her eyes were sharp, and too curious. I stood still, freezing in place.
I am not about to let these two know what was going on with her.
Ryan had his own history with Serena,and Lisa was an extension of that mess, innocent on the surface but tangled in the web.
“Uncle,” Ryan said, his smile gleaming under the lights. He extended a hand, but I didn't take it, my arm tightening around Serena instead.
“Hey, Ryan,” I answered, my voice even, betraying none of the storm inside. I held Serena even tighter, her body still pressed to mine, warm and restless. She shifted, oblivious to the newcomers, her head lolling against my shoulder.
But Serena was so carefree in her haze, so unguarded, that she mumbled against my neck, “God, I wanna eat you.” The words were slurred, breathy, laced with that drugged arousal. Her lips grazed my skin again, a soft nip that made my blood heat despite the situation.
Ryan's brow arched, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Lisa gasped, palming her mouth in exaggerated shock. “Is something happening to her? She looks red!” Her voice carried concern, but I saw the calculation beneath the gossip fodder, perhaps, or worse.
Serena's flush was undeniable now, her skin glowing like embers, sweat beading at her temples. She rubbed against me again, unaware of the audience, her confusion deepening into a soft whimper. I pulled her closer, my stance protective, a wall between her and them. Rage boiled hotter and it was not just at the spiker, but at this intrusion.
Ryan's gaze lingered too long on her, and I met it with steel. Whatever game he was playing, I really had no interest. I need to get her out, find the truth, and make someone pay.
But for now, I stood firm, guarding her tightly in my embrace.