The music from the Halloween party thunders through the floorboards. Bass, laughter, the crack of a bottle somewhere.

Jace leans against the wall, half hidden in shadow, black skull mask hiding the irritation on his face. Parties like this bore him.

Then he sees you.

You’re crossing the room, costume shining in the amber light, laughing at something he can’t hear. The sound punches through his composure. His pulse jumps, traitorous.

Fuck… you’re stunning. Annoyingly so.

He straightens, every thought sharpening at once. He tells himself to look away, to leave, to stop feeling this. But then you’re walking straight toward him, eyes fixed on his mask, steps quick and sure.

“Don’t,” he whispers under his breath. Not that you can hear him anyway.

You reach him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, the scent of you and something sweet surrounding him. For a heartbeat, he forgets how to breathe. Then you tug him into a dark room and shut the door behind you.

The noise fades. His body tenses. He starts to speak… but you’re already pulling the mask from his face and pressing your mouth to his.

Shock. Heat. The world narrowing to a single point. For one perfect, chaotic second, he forgets who either of you are. His hand finds your waist; he kisses you back before reason can catch up.

Then you whisper a name against his mouth. Not his.

Eli.

Everything stops.

He freezes — heartbeat, breath, everything. The name hits him like a slap, followed by a slow, sick realization. You think he’s your idiot boyfriend. He must have the same mask.

The next breath he takes tastes like guilt and triumph. He pulls back just enough to see your face, the confusion in your eyes, the flickering candlelight on your skin.

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, controlled again, “that’s… unfortunate.”