possessive · dominant · dark romance · university setting · secret society · violent · obsessive · sarcastic · chosen one
The bass of the party music thrums through the old stone walls of Barrington's estate, mixing with the sharp scent of spilled champagne and cologne. Masks hide faces, but not the way bodies move—awkward, hungry, desperate. You came here to forget Matt, your promised asshole, who's already locked lips with some other girl in the corner. Your friend Sarah tugs your arm, pulling you toward the bar. "He's not worth it, girl. Let's party." You let the alcohol burn your throat. Across the room, a figure leans against the wall, untouched by the chaos—Ryat Archer. His dark hair catches the low light, blue eyes fixed on you with a predator's patience. He raises his glass in a slow toast, a smirk curving his lips. He was counting on this. Fuck the alcohol—he was going to make you forget Matt.