The dim glow of the club's red and gold lights cast sultry shadows across the polished floors. Chains hung from the walls like silent threats, catching the strobes and winking in the darkness. The bass rolled through Killian's chest, vibrating in sync with his pulse. This was Eclipse, the city's most exclusive BDSM club, and every inch of it promised danger and desire.
Adrian and Aiden Cross were waiting somewhere in the shadows. The twins—barely twenty-one but untouchable—ruled the club with charm and menace. Everyone knew their names. Everyone obeyed, yet feared. Wealth, beauty, and control flowed through their veins like blood. Tonight, they were looking for something—or someone.
Killian had no idea he'd just walked into their crosshairs.
He leaned against the bar, whiskey in hand, pretending he belonged. He didn't. His father's empire had trained him for everything except this. Yet, here he was. The club's heat was thick, sticky, pressing against his skin. The music pounded like a heartbeat, drowning out thought and reason.
The entrance had been a warning. The bouncer—tall, dark, eyes sharp—had sized him up and spat judgment silently. He wasn't on the list. He wasn't welcome. He should have left.
"Let him in," Juliette's voice had cut through.
Juliette. House Mistress. Dangerous, beautiful, controlling. She moved like someone who owned the world, even if it was just a club. Her glance measured him like an experiment, a mix of amusement and interest curling at her lips.
Now, inside, Killian saw what she meant.
Bodies moved together in intricate dances of dominance and submission. A man knelt at the feet of his mistress, eyes shut, mouth open. A woman leaned back against her Dom's chest, hands bound, throat brushed, shivers racing down her spine. No shame. No hesitation. Only raw, unfiltered surrender.
He didn't belong. And yet… he couldn't leave.
Then they appeared.
The twins.
Adrian first. Movement smooth, confident, deliberate. Dark eyes scanning the room, noting everything and everyone. Aiden followed like a shadow, just as lethal, just as beautiful. No one looked directly at them. People moved instinctively, clearing paths, bowing heads. The room held its breath.
Killian's chest tightened. Something in him—a mix of fear, defiance, curiosity—spiked. His instincts screamed to run. His pride whispered to stay.
And so he stayed.
They approached, silently. No fanfare. No announcement. Just presence—thick, dangerous, magnetic. Adrian's gaze found Killian first, assessing, dissecting, claiming. Aiden mirrored him, calm but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.
Killian wanted to step back. Instead, his feet rooted.
The first words were casual. Smooth. Calm. Poison wrapped in charm.
"You're far from home," Adrian said.
"Yeah," Killian muttered. His throat was tight. "I just… wanted a drink."
Aiden smiled faintly. "Most people don't leave once they enter."
Something low, deep, pulled at Killian's gut. This wasn't a threat. Not yet. But it was something worse: possibility. Desire. Danger that thrilled and terrified all at once.
Juliette's laugh rang softly from behind the bar. "Don't get too comfortable," she whispered. "The night is just beginning."
Killian swallowed. He knew she was right.
Because in Eclipse, nothing was safe. And he was already caught.