"Careful what you wish for," he warned, though his eyes told a different story—one of suppressed heat and centuries of discipline ready to crack. "Once you know, there’s no going back to the dark."
The bass intensified, a thudding "boom-thud" that felt like a heartbeat. Amala moved with it, a subtle, hypnotic sway that drew his gaze and refused to let go. She wasn't just dancing; she was daring him to break his composure.
"I didn't call you here for a report on the grid," she said, her eyes trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw. "I’m restless. The kind of restless that doesn't go away with a drink or a dance."
"I was never good at science," she laughed, a short, melodic sound. "I prefer hands-on experience."