Fake Date, Real Fate

At first, it was subtle.

Just a soft flush in my chest. A tingle spreading low in my belly, like warmth blooming beneath my skin.

I blinked and shifted my weight, assuming it was the heat of the room or maybe the sugar from those ridiculous little tarts. I’d barely moved from where Adrien left me. The music swirled overhead like smoke, rhythmic and slow.

But then—

A deeper thirst unfurled in me. I need water. Although, I’d already taken a sip from the glass of water a server passed by with, and it had done nothing. The dryness clung to the roof of my mouth, my lips.

I shook my head, confused. Why do I feel so thirsty?

I tried to focus on the swirling performers around me, the dancers with their lithe bodies weaving through the crowd, the air thick with music, perfume, and the scent of sweet things.

Five more minutes passed and I felt it again. A sudden spike of sensation. The soft lining of my dress began to itch — not uncomfortably, but sharply. Every seam felt like it was whispering across my skin. I shifted uncomfortably, running a hand over my neck.

The ambient lights, once beautiful and moody, now pulsed too bright. The walls shimmered unnaturally. Voices nearby stretched and warped, echoing like they were speaking through water.

I reached out to steady myself against a column.

Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by ɴovᴇl(F)ɪre.ɴet

What the hell?

My fingers trembled.