The bar went from a couple people here and there to half of the party congregating around at the call for shots. Drinks were poured and bottles were emptied. Blair was already two shots in when she noticed a certain dark, rough and tumble type make his way over to the bar. Given the whirlpool of new faces she might not have noticed him right away if it wasn’t for the bruises that tinged his face beneath the familiar nest of dirty blonde curls. She was so busy hitting on Mason and chastising her brother that she hadn’t even noticed him lurking around the party. She let her eyes wander in the direction he came from finding Sloane sitting alone at the bonfire. Was he just with her? Her gaze drifted back to the dark, unknown stranger, clocking the empty wine glass in his hand. He’s getting her a drink… cute.
Like a woman on a mission, Blair scooped up two shots of tequila, two limes, and one of the traveling saltshakers in one of her hands. The different objects pinned between her fingers in that weird coordinated way women could carry various items in one hand. She flashed her brother a little wink before leaving him to deal with the droves of alcoholic demigods. Her hips swayed as she sauntered around the bar, causing her rhinestone skirt to sparkle as it reflected the light from the bonfire. She managed to slip right in front of him before he could reach the counter and go for whatever drink he intended.
Ace’s stride faltered the moment she stepped in front of him. At first, it was instinctual. The flash of her. The dark hair, those eyes, the way she moved unapologetically. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, locked on her without truly seeing her. His brain stuttered, glitched. But no. The glimmer faded the second he caught her smile. The other girl had a quiet sadness in her eyes. No matter how brightly she grinned, something was cracked beneath the surface. This one had fire. Eyes too flirtatious. The resemblance was only skin-deep, just enough to twist the knife.
Ace exhaled hard through his nose and gave his head a slight shake. He’d seen her before back when he first arrived, limping around camp with his busted face. She’d looked him over then too, like a shiny new toy she wanted to play rough with. He should’ve stepped around her. Should’ve kept walking. Instead, he stood there. The phantom of her clung to the edges of Blair’s silhouette, a haunting reminder of what he lost and never could get over. Somewhere in that flickering bonfire light, with Sloane waiting behind him and Blair smirking like a devil in glitter, Ace couldn’t help but remember the way she used to do the exact same thing. Block his path, and make him forget everything that hurts.
"We both know you’re not a wine drinker," she said with a mischievous grin. Her free hand reached out and took the empty stemmed glass from him, making sure to let her finger tips lightly brush against his rough, calloused skin. Blair spun around and slipped her arm between two demigods to discard the glass somewhere on the bar. As she bent over her back arched, perking up her rear just right. The faint curved underside of her bottom was visible beneath the short hem, accentuated by the glistening edge of rhinestones.
Ace didn’t flinch when her fingers brushed his, though a muscle ticked along his jaw. He clocked the touch for what it was: Deliberate, and teasing. She reminded him of the rest of the girls in the Velvet Vixen, the kind of girl who turned rejection into foreplay and didn’t know the meaning of “off-limits.” Her scent hit him next, something warm and sugary, laced with tequila. His eyes flicked to the glass as she took it, then followed the line of her arm as she leaned forward, arching her back like she was posing for the gods themselves.
Ace didn’t look away. The way her skirt lifted, the barely-there curve of skin it revealed, Ace wasn’t the type to bother pretending not to notice it. If Blair was trying to provoke something feral, she wasn’t far off from success. Ace stayed still, as if he was carved from stone and shadows. When she turned back around, all hips and smug confidence, he met her eyes. “Yeah, wine’s not my thing,” he spoke, voice low but unsure if he whispered it or not.
She held his dark, piercing gaze while biting on her bottom lip and holding up her hand full of tequila offerings. First, Blair took one of the shots, and a lime, and placed them in his now empty hand. She took the other lime slice and held the rind against his lips. "Hold this for me," she instructed him with a little smirk and seductive glint in her eyes. Then without a warning or a word, her free hand snaked through his messy curls and grabbed ahold. Using his hair as a handle, she tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck for her like a vampire preparing to feed. "Good boy," she purred barely loud enough for only him to hear.
The lime rind sat against his lips, the cold citrus biting faintly at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat pouring off her. Ace could feel the curl of her fingers at the back of his neck. The slow, firm tug that tilted his head just enough to bare his throat to her. She was bold. She was dominant. Power play usually would’ve earned someone a warning look, or worse. But Ace just stood there, dark eyes locked onto hers, half-lidded but sharp. His hand clenched slightly around the shot and lime she gave him, the glass creaking faintly under the pressure of his grip.
Blair’s head dipped down, aiming for the small valley where his neck, shoulder, and collarbone met. Her lips parted and her tongue made contact with his skin. It twirled in circles, covering the small bit of flesh with a warm caress and chilled moisture. After wetting her palette, she trailed her tongue up the side of his neck, along the edge of his sharp jaw and flicked the tip off of his earlobe before pulling away. Her intense gaze remained locked on his as she sprinkled the salt into the prepared crook of wet skin. "Don’t move," she commanded him again with sharp words and demanding eyes.
She pulled back her dark hair and held it out of the way. Her head then dipped down and her tongue once again came into contact with his skin, licking up the salt. Bringing her head back up, Blair immediately brought the small glass to her lips and downed the shot. She released her hair and found a handful of his. And like a well trained dog, he heeded her commands, letting her guide his mouth towards hers. She leaned in and bit into the lime, letting her lips caress his. Her lipgloss was like a magnet, attracting the supple skin of her lips to his and causing their mouths to cling to each other when she finally pulled away.. After sucking the juices from the fruit, she removed the rind from her mouth with a knowing smirk. "Now that’s a real drink." She dropped the fruit peel into her empty shot glass and discarded it somewhere on the bar. It wasn’t her problem, she wasn’t on clean up duty.
Ace still didn’t move. Not when her tongue dragged over his skin, not when the salt burned lightly along the trail she’d made, and not even when she bit into the lime and brought their mouths together with her calculated touch. But not because she said so. Ace could feel it building. Blair had the reins right now, and he let her take them. Her lips had ghosted against his, teasing the whisper of a memory he hadn’t asked for. Her.
No.
Not this time.
Ace licked the lingering bite of citrus off his own bottom lip, eyes never leaving her. Watching, calculating, judging just how far she wanted to go.
Turning her attention back to her current drinking companion, Blair slipped her fingers into his hand, a slow and sensual touch, before stealing his untouched lime. She tilted her head back and rested the rind against her neck, just beneath her chin, then trailed it down, down, down, until it nestled in her cleavage, hugged between her breasts. She held up the saltshaker, wiggling it in her fingers. "Where do you want it?" she asked, sex and innuendo dripping from her words.
Ace didn’t say a word. He just stared at her, head tilted slightly, jaw set, eyes glinting with something darker than amusement. Then, without so much as a warning, he threw back his shot. The glass hitting the bar with a sharp clink, echoing louder than it should have. Ace leaned in, closing the distance between them in a single step before he was on her. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other swept beneath her thighs, lifting her like she weighed nothing at all. Ace set her on the edge of the bar, paying no mind to who might have been around. His body pressed in close, slotting perfectly between her parted legs, gaze locked firmly. Still, he didn’t speak. He didn’t give her that smug grin of his. Ace just reached for the saltshaker, and without taking his eyes off her, poured a slow, deliberate line across the curve of her knee.
She watched him down the shot with a predatorial glint in his eyes. It was out of order and she had half a mind to tell him, but his aggressive stoicism left her at a loss for words. Blair singled him out because his eyes lingered on Sloane. There was part of her that expected him to turn her down or be put off by her forwardness. Instead, he was a puppet, unmoving unless guided by her hand, until he wasn’t. She unlocked something feral and hungry that festered beneath the bad boy aesthetic and false charm he flashed to everyone… but her.
One minute they were a foot apart and Blair had the reins… then she didn’t. His arms wrapped around her and for a brief moment she thought he intended to carry her away. But she should have known better. Nothing about his man said ‘gentleman.’ He wasn’t whisking her away to take her to his cabin and have his way with her. Rather he sat her on the bar, practically putting her on display for the whole party. Her mind raced somewhere between shock, slight embarrassment, and frankly… arousal? She briefly looked around catching the stunned glares of half the camp before looking back at him, watching as he poured salt along her leg as if he was lining up a bump of cocaine. There was something intimidating and incredibly sexy about his near emotionless focus on her. It was a glaring red flag but… fuck it.
Then, Ace dropped to his knees. His hands gripped her thighs, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of her skirt as he leaned in and dragged his tongue across the salted skin. Rough to smooth. Slow, intentional, and possessive. But he didn’t stop there. No, his tongue continued, licking its way up trailing fire along the inside of her thigh. He left no inch untouched, every stroke of his mouth deliberate, claiming her one heated breath at a time. Ace stopped just shy of where he knew she needed him, his breath hot and heavy against her skin, lips brushing the place her thighs met. “You taste better than the tequila,” he murmured against her skin, voice dark and low.
Blair knew exactly what he was doing. She wasn’t naive. Yet the way he fell to his knees and gripped her thighs made her heart race. When his tongue found her skin her hands dropped to the counter, knocking over various glasses and liquors… and, ironically, a specific bottle of red wine which went tumbling over the edge and shattered on the ground. Knuckles turned white as she gripped the lip of the bar. Her breath hitched in her chest. Warmth rose up her neck, across her cheeks and swelled between her legs. His tongue kept inching higher, hot breath caressing her skin as he got closer… too close. Blair’s hand grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled his face back so she could look down into black eyes. "Careful," she mused. What Ace was doing was hot. He knew it and she knew it. But there was a limit to her PDA. Exhibitionist was where she drew the line.
Then, he rose slowly, his body gliding up hers. Torso grazing her thighs, his chest brushed hers until he was standing between her legs again, towering, dominant, but somehow more intimate than before. His eyes flicked to the lime still nestled between her breasts. He didn’t reach for it with his hand, instead he leaned in. His lips brushed the curve of her cleavage, mouth hot and unyielding as he bit into the lime, his teeth grazing the soft swell of her breast in the process. He lingered there, close, until he made her breath hitch. Finally, he lifted his head. Lime rind still between his teeth, pressing his mouth to hers. It wasn’t a kiss, officially, but with firm lips fed her the taste of everything they’d just done. When he pulled away, he dropped the rind back into the empty shot glass without even looking. But Ace didn’t pull back, instead leaned closer. His mouth hovered just inches from hers, close enough she could feel his breath, warm, ghosting over her lips. That teasing swagger he wore like a second skin was stripped away. Something rawer, colder, buried just beneath the surface was all that remained. Ace made Blair sit in it, his heat, his weight, with an unshakable stare that dug into her and waited.
“You licked your lips when you first saw me...” He spoke, low and flat, emotionless. “Question is, was that enough for you?” He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing the corner of hers. “Or you lookin’ for a real taste now?”
With his mouth so close, Blair couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t a kiss. Just her tongue closed the distance, flicking lightly against his upper lip. "Are you?" Blair asked, spinning his own question back on him. "Big talk. Can you back it up?" she challenged him, cocking her head slightly to the side. Her gaze trailed down his body, following the contours of his slender but muscular frame and lingered on a special place just below his belt. Her smirk grew, blinking slowly before looking back up at him.
Ace’s body was still firmly locked between her legs, dominating and unrelenting. She wasn’t going to ask him to move, nor did she think he’d forfeit the space. She pushed off the bar, scooting closer to the edge of the counter, pressing her body firmly back against him. The soft curves of her form molded to the sharp ridges of his and heat from their epicenters converged like a fire between her legs. Then she scooted even closer until he had no choice but concede space or support all her weight. Her hope was for the former and to spare themselves a fraction of the judgemental gazes. But with him? Who knew.
Her body was pinned between his and the edge of the bar for a moment or two before finally slipping through the tiny gap and off the surface. Blair’s chest remained pressed to his as she slowly slid down until her feet found the ground. "It’s Blair, by the way," she whispered close enough that her tequila tainted breath warmed his face and her glossy lips just barely grazed his with every word. Her right hand reached behind her, grabbing whatever bottle her fingers found first. As brought the liquor before her, the green liquid caught the corner of her eye. Absinthe. She pressed the glass bottle against Ace’s chest, a silent demand for him to carry it. "Wouldn’t want you moaning the wrong name."
Then and only then Blair finally closed the remaining distance between them. Her left hand slid up his chest and hooked behind his neck, guiding him down to her level. Their mouths met, deep and hungry, like they were dying of dehydration and the kiss was water. Lips locked then parted as their tongues caressed, needy and yearning. Ace met her kiss head on, his free hand sliding to the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t a breath of space left between them. His mouth moved with a feral kind of hunger, tasting her, devouring her. Her right hand slowly ran down his chest until it found where the hem of his shirt met his pants. Blair broke the kiss, trapping his bottom lip between her teeth while her fingers hooked around his waistband. A low growl rumbled from his throat when she bit down. "Let’s get out of here," she said after releasing the tender bit of flesh. Ace licked his bottom lip where her teeth had broken the skin, tongue flicking over the sting and the faint, coppery taste of blood. His smirk curled lazily, gaze darkened with the kind of focus that could melt steel.
Blair turned and headed toward the southern end of the field, her grasp still tight on his waistband, leading him like a dog on a leash. Her original destination was her cabin but as they stepped onto the path a new solution laid before them, one that involved less distance and quicker release. Rather than walking around it like she did most days, she directed him toward the stables. Under normal circumstances Blair would have avoided this place. After Pandora’s box she had an aversion when it came to horses. Her right shoulder still bared the scar from her run in with the cannibal mares, the pain seared into her memory whenever she caught sight of it in her reflection. But her physical needs outweighed her fears, at least this once.
She opened the door with a bump of her hip and dragged Ace inside. Blair spun around and stole another kiss, deep and breathy. He met her halfway, letting his hands slide over her curves in worship. Her fingers ran along his arm and slipped the bottle from his hands. She removed the cap and took a long sip before passing the electric green liquor back to him. Even tipsy and on hay, she managed to walk backwards in heels like a pro, pulling him along while her fingers nimbly started unfastening his pants. They passed several horses in various stages of grazing and sleeping, she hardly noticed them and them her. Then, at the far end of the stables was an empty stall, clean and filled with a few hay bales. Perfect.
When Blair broke away and took a long sip of absinthe, Ace's gaze locked on her throat as it moved, swallowing the fire like it was water. The green glow of the liquor caught the low barn light, glinting against her glossy lips as she passed it back to him. Ace took it without a word, tipped it back, and let the heat burn down his throat with a sharp hiss between his teeth. The way she moved, confident and sensual even in a barn full of sleeping horses and hay covered floors, stirred something in him. The sway of her hips, the smirk on her lips, the way she never once stumbled, even tipsy, reminded him of the girls at the Velvet Vixen. More polished, but just as chaotic. Ace’s tongue flicked across his bottom lip, still tender from where she’d bitten him, and he tasted the ghost of blood and absinthe.
Blair’s hands hungrily grasped at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. She let the fabric fall wherever. Out of sight out of mind. There was no tact or patience now that they were out of sight of prying eyes. Her body was aching and in desperate need of sweet sexual release. She dangled the bait before him and Ace bit with feral fervor that left her weak in the knees and ravenous for more. Blair didn’t know what it was to him. She didn’t care. It was just sex. She needed it and so did he. That was enough for her.
Ace barely registered the moment his shirt left his body as it was torn away by her hands, and he let it fall without a second thought, uncaring where it landed. He was too focused on the look in her eyes, the hunger in her touch. But when Blair's gaze dragged over his now-bare chest, Ace stilled, just for a moment. The air in the stable felt colder against his warmed skin.
Across his chest, a snarling crimson wolf came alive in the low light. Its teeth bared mid-snarl, eyes gleaming with fury, with engine pistons crossed beneath its throat like bones in a warning sign. The fur was stylized fire; sharp, angular strokes licked toward his shoulders, a suggestion of speed and danger. Smoke curled up from the wolf’s jaws, winding around his collarbones, where metallic, fractured wings spread outward, etched like the rusted remains of something once divine, now broken and rebuilt in steel. Ace saw her eyes travel lower where the names of his fallen brothers lived. Inked in rough, jagged, lettering like they'd been burned in with a blowtorch. Each one was a ghost he carried with pride and pain. They could never be hidden, or forgotten.
Pausing just above his navel sat another tattoo that read: NO ROAD BACK. The letters were gothic, bold, like something off a crumbling tombstone. Below it a cracked and winding road faded down, inked with such detail it almost looked like someone could follow it with their fingertips. The road split, breaking into twisted roots that curled around his hip bones, grew from a gnarled, blackened tree that seemed to claw its way up from his pelvis. The branches reached, thin and skeletal, like hands begging.
She licked her bottom lip and tucked it between her teeth as she took in his tattooed body. The waist of his pants barely clung to his sides, unfastened they threatened to slip off with any movement. Her hands rested on the bare skin of his hips. Her fingers caressed his skin, slowly trailing up his torso, dipping in the crevices between his abs. Blair looked up into his eyes as her hands slowed as they came to rest on his chest. Then with a mischievous grin she pushed him backwards, forcing him down onto a bale of hay. She took a step forward and lowered herself down onto her right knee. Then she slowly brought her left leg around to the other side of his waist and straddled him. Her body lowered slowly until her hips were pressed against his, chest to chest, lips teasing a kiss but just out of reach. Then, her right hand reached up behind her back unfastening the little clasp that held up the top of her dress.
Ace let her push him back with that sly little grin of hers, the one that said she thought she was in control. And maybe, for a second, she was. The hay crunched beneath him as he landed, his body relaxed but his eyes razor sharp tracking her every movement. Watching her lower herself onto one knee, then straddle him with slow, sensual ease nearly undid him. Every brush of her thighs against his hips, every deliberate shift of her weight was pure fucking temptation. Ace had never been the kind of man to stay beneath anyone for long, though.
Ace’s hands shot to her waist gripping her tight as he suddenly twisted, flipping her in one smooth motion. The hay rustled beneath them, and the air shifted with the movement. Blair was now beneath him, her back pressed to the scratchy bale, her legs still wrapped around his hips. For a moment, he just looked at her. Not with lust. Not with hunger. But something else entirely. The liquor burned through his bloodstream like gasoline warping the edges of his vision, softening them. Her face blurred for a moment. For one agonizing breath, it wasn’t Blair staring back at him, it was Jordan. His ex. Same dark hair. Same piercing eyes. Same defiant fire. His jaw clenched, but his hands betrayed the softness inside. He brought one up slowly and brushed his knuckles along her cheek, then cupped her face in his calloused palm with unexpected tenderness.
“My name is Ace… and you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmured, voice raw, stripped down to something too honest. His eyes searched hers, trying to anchor himself in her reality and not the ghosts swirling in his mind.
Lying beneath him, his weight pressing down on top of her, Blair was surprised to see softness in his face or the brush of his hand along her face. She held his gaze as heat rose to her cheeks. It could have been the alcohol… Or it could have been the way he no longer looked at her like a piece of ass but took her in and studied her, just the way she was. It was the alcohol, she told herself. She inhaled a shaky breath as she looked back and forth between his eyes. "You’re already getting laid," she whispered to him, trying to ease the heaviness of his intense, piercing gaze. "You don’t need to seduce me."
“I’m not your prince charming, Blair,” he continued, his voice steady, “I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m not here to save you. So if you’re lookin’ for someone to tell you you’re better than this, or that you deserve more, that ain’t me…”
His thumb lingered along the curve of her cheekbone, gentle and reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of her. But then, slowly, the softness in his eyes receded and faded like smoke in the wind. In its place returned the same detached, unreadable, stare he’d worn all night. Cold, guarded, and distant. Whatever piece of him had slipped through had just been sealed off again. “This is your only out,” he whispered in her ear. “Right now. Before I make you forget your name.”
As the softness faded from his eyes, Blair’s walls slid back into place, quickly repressing the raw intimacy of his gentle touch. It was sex. Just sex, she reminded herself. She had to be on top of her emotions, on top of their interaction… on top of him. "Ace," she purred. "Do I look like I need saving?" Her foot hooked around his leg and hands pushed against his chest. In one swift movement, Ace was rolled to the side and off the bale of hay, landing on his back on top of a soft bed of straw.
Blair tumbled over with him, landing above him once again, straddling his hips. She took hold of his neck in her right hand as she sat upright. With nothing to hold it up any longer, the top of her dress fell, the fabric hung around her waist revealing her naked body in all its splendor. He looked up at her with that dark, cunning grin while calloused fingers roamed her soft, porcelain skin. "All I need from you is to fuck me until my legs shake," she demanded with a strong dominance in her tone and gaze. With one hand still on his throat, the other slowly slid between her legs and into his boxers… searching. "Can you handle that?"
