The Heat was really kicking in now. Every nerve ending was alight, waves of light rippling through her skin. There was nothing but the music and the need to move, to never stop moving, and in that moment Phoebe thought she might never be cold again. Not when she felt this alive. She could feel the curl of magic at her spine, filling every crevice of her, burning away the shadows. 

Ashlyn had disappeared somewhere, probably to dance with her beau, but there was no shortage of partners. Touch was something else entirely—shit she had forgotten how [i]good[/i] it felt to burn with someone else. There were no words, but Phoebe didn’t mind. Everything was smoke and flame, every light a spark and she felt as though she might ignite herself. She tipped her head back, a purr rolling about her throat. Her pulse matched the bass, straining against her ribs. She had the mad impulse to crack them open, to let it escape, but the thoughts melted away before she could make sense of them.

Phoebe had no idea how long she’d been dancing. Did it matter? Nothing could compare to the flood of sensation. Someone grabbed her shoulder and it was like being branded. Sparks flooded her vision, shivers rolled down her spine and she let herself be turned, laughter bubbling in her throat. He was so much taller, and her brain filled in the blanks for her, lips twisting into a grin.

“Aeron!” Except the mediwizard was a bit taller than this man, and a lot lankier. Not Aeron, then. His voice was deeper, a bass that she wanted to wrap around herself and drown in. She knew that voice, but it was so hard to remember where she had heard it. Phoebe’s brows furrowed. For a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating. But he was so [i]solid[/i]. She sucked in a sharp breath. No. No, this wasn’t—

“Jus… Justin?” She could barely breathe as she choked out his name. It couldn’t be him. He had [i]left[/i]. He wouldn’t just show up out of the blue at some club nearly ten years later. That was pure madness. But now that she looked, how could it be anyone else? Once upon a time, she had known that face more dearly than her own. There were new lines on his face, hard living and long nights, but she knew she had them too. She took a step backwards, taking in the sight of him. Someone knocked into her back, igniting every inch of skin they had touched. Her pale fingers went to her forehead, trying to steady herself against the euphoric rush. Beneath the fog, there was a spark, fury building in her chest. The Heat coursing through her veins fanned the flames, swept over her. Her hazel eyes flashed like molten steel, a snarl threatening to rip from her throat,

“What the hell are you doing here?”