Meeting Shynai

Heya Everyone!

So the other day I was searching for... something... I don't remember what, but instead of finding that I stumbled upon some really old stories. They were written on paper, which means I've carted them around through 8 different houses, over six years, carefully protected in folders and boxes... and this one? Well, it's time to bring it back to life, switch it into the digital age and turn it from the skeleton it was when past me was learning how to bring stories to life into a fully fleshed out flowing story... at least, that's what modern day me is gonna say. Check back in in a few years and see how I feel about it then.

Hope you enjoy :)

“Sir, the ball is about to begin.” Crown Prince Michael frowned, adjusting his tie in the mirror once again. He hated these things, the endless line of balls thrown in the hopes that his aunt would find someone she could marry and make King of the country, someone whose children she could bear, create a real heir to assume the throne after her death.

He knew she hated these things more than he did, she’d never officially say, but he’d overheard her complaints when she’d believed herself alone in her office. She was barely a few years older than he was, but as every day brought Michael closer to 18 the pressure on her mounted. He knew that the crown she wore was rightfully his, and the advisors had no intention of ever letting it sit on his head.

His father had not been of royal or noble stock, as far as the advisors had been concerned he muddied the royal bloodline. Michael couldn’t prove it, but he knew it was one of them that ordered the assassination of his mother, father and himself. It was the most vivid memory he had of his childhood, his mother forcing him into a servant's arms, begging her to get him somewhere safe.

They never found the assassin nor the man who’d hired them. It was brushed aside as they summoned his aunt, just old enough to take the throne, and crowned her queen. She’d told him from the start that the crown was rightfully his, and that one day the crown his mother had lived and died for would one day be his own.

His aunt had named him her heir the moment she had enough power over the council to do so, and she had no intention of ever having heirs of her own. She was just as furious as he was about how the death of her sister and brother-in-law was handled. Even more so when she learnt that she was to be crowned Queen rather than Queen Regent. It was a slight against her family and all they stood for.

“Your highness, her majesty is waiting for you to arrive.” Michael lifted his hands from the tie, nodding to the butler as he held open the doors. His personal bodyguards already waiting in the hallway for him to be ready.

Damian and Raymond fell into step behind him as he started walking towards the ballroom, taking as much time as he could in an effort to waylay the start of the ball, knowing that until he was there to escort his aunt nothing would happen.

“Michael! Come along.” He was forced to move quicker by his aunt, watching as she impatiently struggled with a pristine ballgown and swore under her breath. “Damn stupid-” He chuckled as he stopped as close to her as he could get, the ball gown puffing out at her waist and trailing along the floor either side of her. “I am certain your mother never wore these stupid gowns. I swear they are getting more and more outrageous.”

“Then outlaw them? You are queen after all.” She pulled a face at him as he offered her his arm.

“I’d rather wear the stupid gown than deal with those stuffy old men.” The entire corridor failed to stifle their laughter at the Queen’s description of the board of elders, and a grin pulled up at her lips, only to be lost as laughter abruptly stopped.

“When you are ready your majesty.” Two men, one standing either side of the door, straightened up as an elderly man walked up. “Your guests are growing impatient.” He added, reaching out to smooth the fabric of her gown. His aunt quickly wrapped her hand around Michael’s arm, nails digging into his arm as the advisor got too close for comfort.

“I was merely taking a moment to speak with my nephew.” She defended herself, sidestepping his next attempt to ‘fix’ her dress. “There are several suitors waiting out that door, all ready to become king, and all growing impatient with your intent to keep them waiting.” He didn’t bother to hide his irritation at the way the young queen was acting, but he dared not glare at her, instead directing his anger at the prince.

“If they cannot find in them patience to wait for a few moments, then clearly they are not fit enough to become King.” Queen Penelope responded in kind, nodding to the two men. They opened the door, allowing Michael to lead her from the room before anything else could be said.

Below them, everything was silent, the band ceasing their music as men and women alike bowed to the queen at the top of the grand staircase. They both waited a moment before starting the slow descent down, forced to take each step as Penelope struggled with her massive dress. A smile plastered on her face despite it all, and Michael knew he wouldn’t hear a word of complaint from her, at least, not until tomorrow.

Michael guided his aunt towards the first of those she would be forced to greet tonight, making his own introductions at his side until they could both escape and go their own ways.

They both did the moment they could, offering each other a nod as Michael turned towards the drinks, and her towards those in attendance that she called his friends.

He didn’t expect to crash into a beautiful blonde on his way there. Very few people ever visited the drinks table, especially when servants littered the room, catering to any whim they might have. But the blonde seemed to have been loitering there, stammering her apologies as her drink spilt all down his front.

“It's fine.” He reached around her to grab a few serviettes, offering her one before wiping away what liquid he could.

“No, I’m so sorry, I’m such a clutz.” She accepting the small piece of fabric, cleaning her drink off of the expensive necklace that covered her chest, before lifting it to wipe the liquid from beneath as well.

“It is certainly my fault, I should have paid more attention to where I was going.” He corrected, passing the wet serviettes to an awaiting servant.

“My father would insist that it would never be your fault my prince, but my own.” He finally got the chance to get a good look at her as she lifted her gaze to his.

Blonde curls framed her face, peaks of purple appearing in each of the twirled strands as they disappeared over her shoulder and ran down her back. Bright blue eyes were focused completely on him, even as his gaze dipped to the rest of her body, appreciating the way the strapless gown clung to her frame.

“Please call me Michael. After all, we are already well acquainted.” He motioned towards his wet shirt, a smile pulling up at her lips.

“Only if you will honour me by doing the same.” She countered, hand resting on the jewels around her neck as she glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid I do not know your name.” Her lips turned down into a frown, and he wondered if he’d misspoken, maybe this was someone he was supposed to recognise.

“Excuse me, my sister is calling.” Her hand rested on his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, walking away before he could apologise.

“Excuse me, your highness, another shirt and coat have been set aside for you. If you’ll follow me.” A servant distracted him from watching her for just a moment, and when he turned back again, she was gone.

After that, he only managed to catch glimpses of her. A flash of her hair as someone twirled her around the dancefloor, her soft voice as she spoke to someone who was nearby, but gone before he could escape his own conversation. It was enough to drive him mad.

He glanced around the room, trying to find her once more, only to land eyes on his aunt, shuffling slightly as she tried to make an excuse to leave the young man she was speaking with, only to fail. Her brown eyes landed on him, silently pleading for his help.

“Your majesty.” He complied, his hand resting on her elbow. The young man narrowed his eyes at him as the Queen made her excuses, and motioned for Michael to lead her away.

“Remind me never to allow him another invite, if I have to hear him prattle on about how rich and successful he is I will-” She grumbled quietly to him, a forced smile on her face as he lead her past lords and princes to the outdoor patio.

“Majesty.” A horrified female voice cut the Queen off before she could finish her threat.

“Shynai.” Penelope twisted out of Michael’s hold to pull the blonde haired woman into her arms. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Michael watched closely as the woman who had caught his interest interacted with his aunt like they were the oldest of friends.

“I couldn't deny you, Penny.” Shynai pulled out of the hug she’d happily returned. “So this would be him.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she pretended not to know the man she’d crashed into earlier.

“Indeed, Shynai, this is my nephew and heir, Crown Prince Michael. Michael this is Shynai Hunter, we meet at boarding school when we were younger.” Queen Penelope stepped aside to introduce her friend and nephew.

“Pleasure to meet you, my prince.” She bent her knees into a curtsey, straightening up just as quickly as she had dropped.

“Pleasure is all mine, Miss Hunter.” He recognised her last name, she shared it with his aunt's favourite lord and closest confident. The man she’d named her regent should anything happen to her before Michael reached 18. He thought he knew the man well, he and his family spent countless hours with him and his aunt. Yet apparently not well enough to have been introduced to his daughter. He knew his son and his daughter-in-law, but the blonde had never been mentioned.

“Please, call me Shynai. I do believe my brother was looking for you, my Prince, I promise to take good care of her majesty.” Michael glanced to his aunt, who waved him away, hooking her arm through Shynai’s and starting to walk further into the gardens.

Michael watched until the duo were out of sight, before turning to find James Hunter, maybe he could shed some light on the entire situation.

Kaelyn's Song

Heya Everyone, sorry I missed last week's post. I'm suffering from a massive case of writer's block that's being aided by my anti-depression medication. I'm currently in and out of appointments trying to find a work around, so please just bear with me, and my somewhat chaotic uploading schedule, as I attempt to get through this.

This was a song I wrote to go with one of my novels, Kaelyn is a twin, who watched her brother get shot dead in front of her. This is her favourite song and one that always makes her think of her brother.

Enjoy :)

When I think of Happiness, I think only of you.

When I think of Safety, I think only of you

When I needed protection, I went running to you

I wouldn’t be here without your firm attention

You gave me everything without saying a word.

You were always there for me, through thick and through thin

Now I’m here without you, supposed to carry on.

But here without you, I just don’t know how.

They say don’t cry, don't shed no more tears.

Leave the past in the past, move on and be free

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

When I think of strength, I remember the way that you smiled.

The way that you held my hand for always

When I think of loyalty, I remember your word, the promised you made

That you’ll never leave me alone

I never expected, I never would have dreamed, that one day I’d be here without you.

So lost without you by my side.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

Forced to Carry on, to carry your legacy,

to be the women that you’d always dreamed I’d be.

I'll live in your honour help and protect

Here without you, I'll never forget.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

So even without you, my heart will keep on beating,

So even without you, I'll keep on breathing.

I'll keep on breathing, breathing.

Dragon Rescue?

Heya Everyone, today I have two prompts that I combined. There might also be another part, but I'm still undecided on that, so let me know what you think?

Anyway, until next week. Enjoy :)

Prompt 1: What do spoiled and lazy monarchs do when they want to rescue a princess from their castle but don’t want to do it themselves? They hire you. Your company specialises in quick and efficient extractions for damsels in distress, for a price of course.

Prompt 2: Mumbling, the King looked away from his knight and muttered, “I need you to save the dragon… from my princess.”

Being the only child of a solo father was tough, tougher still when the young girl had been left motherless at birth, and even tougher when that solo father was also the King of a rather large kingdom.

Yet he’d embraced the challenge like it was nothing, juggling meetings with caring for his young daughter. Always making both his kingdom and daughter feel like they came first. He made it look easy, a role model for anyone else that faced the same challenge. He refused any extra help, turning down the child care experts that flocked to his palace. He only hired one young woman, someone to care for the child when he left the castle or attended late night parties, even then it was reluctant, his advisors forcing the help onto him. Every now and again he would need a child free night, stuck in meetings with foreign diplomats that would not stand for such a strong, free willed child running around the room.

As she aged he hired the best tutors for her, making sure she had the world at her fingertips. The king keeping her at his side while he dealt with basic day to day dealings, teaching her all she needed to know about the kingdom that would one day be hers.

She never lost the independence she gained by having a supportive loving father. Just as beautiful and clever as her mother. She had no need to sneak lessons with the training master, her father offering every opportunity that he would have given a son and heir.

So when a dragon threatened the far edges of their kingdom, neither royal hesitated to allow her to accompany the Army's best soldiers. She needed the confidence and learning that would come from a real battle, and her father had more than enough faith in her and the men and woman from his royal guard that accompanied her.

It was why we were so shocked to receive an urgent summons to the King's Palace. It was rare that we were called after a party had been sent out. We specialised in taking care of dragons on a kingdoms behalf, those that didn’t have the faith nor confidence in their own armies to take care of it. Though the commoners often call us on behalf of their lazy, spoilt monarchs who couldn’t bear the thought of parting with their own coins to rid themselves of a dragon. We are the best damsel in distress rescue company anywhere in the nine kingdoms.

But of course, it was not within our policy to refuse anyone, not when innocent lives were at stake. So we raced over, sending our two best agents to assist her royal highness. I was one of them, and you, the other.

It seemed routine, we were raced up to the King's private audience room, servants and guards alike all seeming to be panicked and worried. The King pulled us out of bows before we could drop into them, waving off formality as he paced back and forth across the room.

That was when I heard the strangest thing I have ever heard in all my years of service, and I honestly don’t think you believed your ears either. It was barely more than a mumble that past his lips, getting lost in the crackling of the fire and soft breeze through the open window.

It sounded like he was asking us to save the dragon, from his princess. It took him repeating the request a few more times for either of us to fully understand. No one had ever asked us to save a dragon before. Normally they asked us to vanquish or rehome the giant creature, but saving one?

“Look, my daughter is... awesome, and head strong, and independent, but that Dragon is an idol to the villagers. A god of some sorts. If the Princess kills that Dragon we have a revolt on our hands. We need some sort of peace treaty between the Dragon and the crown, but to do that, you first must save the Dragon.” I quote, directly, I don’t think either of us will ever forget those words, the day when we were begged to rescue the very things we were trained to get rid of.

The Day You Sold Your Soul.

Heya Everyone, I found a prompt online and started to work on it, but the start’s turned up being really long, so I’m breaking it down into to two parts. Today, the day you sold your soul, next week will be the actual prompt, the day you get your soul back. See you then!

Enjoy :)

Prompt: You sold your soul to the devil years ago, today he gives it back and says, I need a favour.

It had been an easy decision, a tall handsome man approaching you at the bar, your favourite drink in hand and a smile on his lips. Handsome as sin, you should have known something was different about him. The choice he offered was one that you didn't hesitate to take. Your soul for whatever wish you could dream up. You didn't believe in souls, to begin with, and bargaining with something you didn't believe in for something that probably wouldn't happen to begin with.

You asked for some time to decide what your 'soul' was worth, and it was freely given. Him buying you more drinks while you thought about and tossed out each idea that slowly crossed your mind, idea's getting more and more ridiculous with each drink that crossed your lips.

"Have you decided yet?" You paused, your glass resting against your lips.

"I want the ability to go into any book and movie I want, and live as any character I choose." You answered, putting your glass down and turning your full attention to him. He frowned, his own fingers tapping against his glass. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all, just not one we normally get. Most humans ask to be rich, or famous, or get the love of their love. The rare time we get someone selling their soul to save the life of the loved one. Your wish is... different, but not impossible." He produced a file from his jacket pocket, and a pen, opening it, flicking to a page and writing down exactly what it was you wished for. "Just sign on the dotted line and it's done. You give me your soul, and I grant you your wish."

"Done." you took the pen from his hand and signed your name, sliding the paperwork back towards him.

"All done, when you wake up tomorrow you'll have your wish."

"That's it, kinda anticlimactic don't you think?" He frowned, glancing around the crowded bar, before turning his attention back to me.

"Can't draw any attention, this isn't a deal we like to make with just anyone, we like a certain calibre of souls. Your's fit the bill." He brought you one last drink, before ripping the paper you'd signed in half. The pages magically fixing themselves into two copies of the document.

"A copy for you, and one for us. Refunds are not allowed unless under dire terms, make sure you read the terms and conditions. There can be some nasty side effects if you don't follow the rules exactly." He stood, walking away without any more than a goodbye.

When you awoke the next morning, all that felt different was a raging hangover. Barely able to open your eyes, you stumbled towards the kitchen, hands blindly searching for the box of painkillers you'd thrown on the kitchen bench before heading to bed the night before.

You stopped when your hands fell on a heavy stack of papers, opening your eyes wide enough to read the blood red cursive across the top, 'Soul Contract'.

Your search for painkillers was forgotten as you sat down on a stool and pulled the stack of paper towards you. It couldn't be real could it? Souls didn't exist, so how could you have sold yours? Did that mean you had whatever silly wish you'd asked for? It was easy to believe that it was a dream, your alcohol inhibited mind making up some strange story as you slept off the hangover you'd caused yourself by getting way too drunk.

It couldn't be real, but still, your fingers ran across the pages as if you could smug the lettering off or prove it wasn't real.

Does this mean you could jump worlds whenever you wanted? Take the place of your favourite characters and live the way they could? What happened if you died as one? Would it affect you here, would you die in both worlds? How would you even change worlds, to begin with? How would any of it affect you?

You pulled the book closer towards you, flipping open the first page. He had said it was the terms and conditions, surely it would have to hold some of the answers you sought. You paused before reading, looking out over the counter to grab the painkillers. You'd need a clear mind to even begin trying to understand what was going on, and that meant coffee, and a notepad.

You didn't notice the passage of time as you read, hand alternating between scrawling notes across the note page and lifting the cooling coffee to your lips. Forced to try make sense of everything you saw before you before even daring to try it out. You didn't believe it could be true, but you liked your life far more than to just try without researching first. But the book held nothing more than a long list of warnings that could void the contract, and cost you much more than just the soul you'd sold.

That meant it was up to you, you had to figure this out for yourself. You put the contract aside, getting up to pick up your favourite book from the shelf where it had pride of place. Automatically opening it to your favourite scene, the one where the heroine realised her feelings for the person she'd sworn never to fall for. Where she decided to throw away everything she thought was right, and everything she'd worked so hard for to give love a chance. It didn't bother you that it was near the end of the book. You'd read it so many times, imagining your life if you were in her situation, imagining things you'd do differently, dreaming someone could one day inspire a love in you to do what she had.

If there was any world you wanted to live in, it was this one.

You glanced down at the book, eyes scanning the first few lines, wondering if that was how the thing started. But reading the first few lines did nothing, nor did the next few paragraphs. You tried something different, letting your eyes fall closed as you imagined the entire scene as you knew it played out. When you opened them again, you were still standing in your apartment, staring at a bookshelf packed to the brim with stories you'd loved and read countless times.

You sighed, putting the book back on the shelf and turning back to slump on the couch. This was all some elaborate prank, someone taking advantage of the face you were a sucker for a pretty face. One of your friends hiring a cute actor or model to approach you at the bar, buy you a few drinks and trick you into thinking you'd sold your soul for some awesome deal. You loved magic tricks, always falling for them, and no doubt that was what the contract ripping thing was about, a clever illusion tricking you into thinking he'd achieved some impossible feat.

You closed your eyes, now you'd wasted an entire morning reading a fake document and being excited about powers you didn't have. No proper heroine would ever fall for that, especially not-

"Sarah?" Your eyes snapped open, the soft velvety voice that spoke didn't speak your name it spoke hers, your favourite heroines.

This time it wasn't your apartment you opened your eyes, instead, it was a bedroom. A red feature wall on the opposite side of the room, highlighting the dark wood four poster bed, that had matching red drapes hanging from it. A plush shaggy black carpet running all the way up and underneath the bed. You reached out, hands brushing against black silk sheets, before falling onto a red duvet.

You knew this room, it was one you'd always imagined, but never quite been able to capture.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?" You glanced down, and it wasn't your body you saw. Long fingers had been perfectly manicured, a similar shade to that which coloured the wall behind the bed. Legs far longer than yours were curled underneath the long shirt you wore, and you couldn't help but run your fingers up perfectly shaved legs, before gripping onto the pure white shirt that covered just enough, buttons undone just one too many, cleavage fully on display.

You didn't remember this part of the book, Sarah would never let herself be this undressed, not in his company. It was strange, out of character, and you had no idea how to react.

"Seriously Sarah, I said the blue room, you know this room is where that scene's going to happen later on. You can't expect me to keep a straight face, not when I've seen you dressed so-" He stopped talking, hand waving towards you as if he'd forgotten word to describe your undressed state.

"Scene?" What did he mean scene, and why was he so comfortable with Sarah? They were supposed to hate each other's guts, be working against each other with seemingly opposite endings to near the end of the novel when they realised they were working towards the same goal, when Sarah's feelings of love overwhelmed and they acknowledged what was growing between them. This... this wasn't anywhere in the novel.

"You know, tomorrow morning, when you 'sneak' in here to steal some information and I 'catch' you in the act. Come on babe, we have precious few hours hidden behind the chapter break, you're wasting it with these questions." Your eyes widened as he stepped closer, he was shirtless, abs seeming to glisten in the bedroom lights. Black pants wrapped around his legs, bare feet sliding through the carpets.

His hand was not as soft as you imagined, callouses on his hand brushing against your wrist as he pulled you upright, his other hand wrapping around your waist. His lips pressing down against yours, your eyes closed, kissing him back before you realised what you were doing.

This was so strange, it wasn't supposed to happen. Sarah was supposed to hate his guts, not show up in his bed, barely dressed and wanting more from him than was ever written within the book.

So you pulled back, hands pressed against his chest and forcing him away. He barely moved, loosening his grasp so he could look down at you.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" His hand came up to stroke down your cheek, tangling in your hair as he leant down to rest his forehead against yours. "Is this about that fight? I know you hate pretending to hate me, but it's what makes for a good story. It's what we were created to do." You moved your head off of his, pressing your head against his chest, eyes squeezing shut. This wasn't what you wanted, nor what you had expected. You never imagined that the characters would have a life of their own outside of the story, that they would be aware of what was going on. This wasn't right.

"The creator is going to be so pissed if you don't stick to the plan love." His lips pressed to the top of your head, arms wrapping securely around your waist.

You started falling forward, eyes opening wide to find yourself back in your apartment, forced to catch yourself before you smashed down face first onto the floor. Everything had been so much different than you'd expected, you still had no idea what to think nor plan. You had expected to find yourself in a scene you knew well, planning to play along with what was going to happen with what you'd read.

If this was what the rest of your life would be like, you’d have to adjust, and quickly.

The Mission:

Heya Everyone!

This chapter is Jester-dies-laughing approved! Aka, my beta reader likes it! So I hope you all do as well. It was a little bit of a challenge to do, but apparently, I pulled it off!

Enjoy!

It was one of the simplest missions they’d ever been given, but it was the hardest. Faced with conditions they’d never seen before. It would test them, force them to their very limits of strength and endurance. Not that you’d think that from the briefing they’d been given.

The pair were the best of the best, always in high demand due to the efficiency and quality of their work. Their handlers were in charge of choosing which missions they took, and which were delegated to other members within the organisation.

She handled the finer side of things, taking great care of the intricate little details. Whereas he lived for the bigger picture, taking a step back to see everything. His weaknesses were her strengths, her weaknesses were his strengths. They complemented each other perfectly and had since the moment their rival agencies had offered them the exact same job. Since they were forced to work together.

Everyone always just pretends that it was smooth sailing from the start. It’s easier that way, to forget the screaming matches that could have been heard miles away. The friction that accompanied the first few times they’d been forced to work together to meet the same end. Each doing it ‘wrong’ according to the other.

It was much easier just to remember the day they officially started working together, that he left his agency for hers. They never asked for help, never needed assistance. They were stronger together, anyone else would ruin their patterns and methods. They'd been forced to try it once, to work with a bigger group to get a much larger job done. It hadn't ended well, the pair getting rid of everyone else until they were the only ones left to complete the task, earning a reputation around the agency. They were the elite, they worked alone, and no one messed with their assignments.

But today, today was different. He broke first, overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the simple task they'd been assigned. She was forced to swallow her pride, admit that they would be forced into their first defeat and beg more help from anyone willing to listen. It was sheer bad luck that everyone else was on assignments of their own. That every single person the agency had was busy.

They were left, with only each other, facing an enormous task. Unable to see how they could accomplish it. They were used to impossible tasks with improbable odds, but this was different. It was the easiest mission yet, not one they'd usually be assigned. One that had stumped them where they stood and left them staring up at the top of the building.

All they had was each other, their supplies and one burning question.

How the flying fuck were they supposed to clean an entire mansion in an hour?

Another Vegas Love Story

Heya Everyone,

So last year when I was studying I started this as a film, and as my learning grew I noticed glaring errors in what I had already done, however, I couldn’t figure out how to fix the problems I had. So today I’m rewriting the start in novel form, what I’m comfortable with, to try and find some solutions that staring at a script can’t provide.

Also, I paused in writing to watch the America’s Cup, and huge congratulations to Emirates team New Zealand, it’s been an awesome race to watch, and you all made it look so easy. To Oracle team USA, you all did your best, you made it an amazing series to watch, and you really made it a hard one to win. It was a huge, nerve-racking ordeal that left all us sailors, fans and hopeful human beings yelling at our t.v. panicking at every other moment. You all did so amazingly, putting your heart and soul into it, and leaving them out there on the water.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, the beautiful woman sitting alone at the bar, waving off any guy who dared stray too close to her.  A tight tank top wrapped around her slender frame, giving way to pants that seemed to hug her frame before tall heels hooked into the bar stool. She was nursing a drink that he hadn’t seen her drink since he’d noticed her, playing with the amber liquid in the small glass rather than lift it to her lips.

His own friends couldn’t keep his attention, nor could any of the girls that fell all over him, snuggling into his side and pleading for a moment of his attention. It would be easier, much easier, to simply turn his attention to them and take one of them home, keep up his image as a playboy taking advantage of all Vegas, and his father's vast wealth could offer.

But they couldn’t hold his attention, their short dresses that rose too high as they sat down and plunged low at the front, barely held in place as they danced, taking advantage of the VIP area they’d been hand picked to join. Normally he’d be out there dancing, his friends pressing more drinks into his hand as the night progressed, but not tonight. Not when the brunette at the bar was sitting there.

He shook off the two blonde’s leaning against him, ignoring their complaints to move over to the bar. He didn’t pay the surprised brunette any attention, taking advantage of the space next to her to lean over the counter and order drinks, forced to yell to be heard over the loud bass heavy music to be heard.

He felt her eyes on him, scanning down the white button up shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck into the black jeans he wore. She was judging him, firstly for daring to step into her space, and then for who he appeared to be.

“Like what you see.” He knew how to spin this, raising an eyebrow as he half turned to face her, his arm still on the bar. She didn’t bite, rolling her eyes and turning away, but not before he caught the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

“If you ever decide to drink that drink and need another, come find me.” He winked at her, taking the drink he’d just brought and moving away. It wasn’t the usual way he picked up women, but he knew she was different, and if he wanted her to come home with him at the end of the night, he’d need to do something no one else that approached her had.

“I have been drinking.” Her soft voice was barely loud enough to hear over the music, but he caught it, turning back to face her.

“You haven’t taken a sip from that glass since I arrived.” He motioned with his own glass to hers, watching her gaze flip down to the glass she was still absent mindedly twirling. “Something on your mind?” He watched as she lifted the glass to her lips and downed it all in one go.

“Nothing worth wasting time on.” She stood, taking a step closer to him. “And something you could distract me from. You dance?” She didn’t hesitate, taking his glass from his hand and emptying that too.

“I’d let you tempt me.” He took the glass from her hand, leaning around her to put it back on the bar before resting his hand against the small of her back. She glanced at him, shifting slightly, almost uncomfortably, before letting him lead her to the dancefloor.

They didn’t leave each other's sight for the rest of the night. No other female came close to stealing a moment of his attention when the brunette haired woman was dancing with him, letting him buy her any drink he desired. He was powerless to resist her when she whispered in his ear about going for food, waving off his friends, not needing to make excuses. His hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the packed club and into the cool night air. One of his bodyguards handing him a jacket as soon as they stepped outside, he quickly rested it over her shoulders before she could feel the full impact of the cool wind.

If either of them knew what was good for them, they would have parted ways then and there, but she was looking for a distraction, and he was trapped under her spell.