Rhythms and Heartbeats

Victor's gaze landed on her, a laser beam cutting through the smoky haze of the bar, pinning her in place. Blair felt a wave of dizziness, as if the world had tilted on its axis, leaving only the two of them standing in a spotlight of shared tension. The cacophony of the bar—the drunken laughter, the clinking glasses, the pulsing bassline that had been her temporary escape—faded into a muffled background hum.

"You came." His voice, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her very being, was both an acknowledgment and a question.

Blair wanted to look away, to break the intensity of his gaze, to retreat behind the wall of indifference she'd so carefully constructed. But something held her captive, a magnetic force that defied her attempts at self-preservation.