The moment the redhead posed her question, some of the others gave her strange looks—equal parts concern and disbelief, like she'd poked a sleeping dog with a stick made of bacon.
Arias swept the group with a lazy glance. But that glance triggered something else again.
His aura gaze.
It wasn't intentional. It never really was. But for those who recognized him—and even those who didn't know every detail but had heard enough—the effect hit like a dropped elevator.
Breaths caught. Spines stiffened.
For some of the dancers, their legs nearly gave out.
It was instinctual. Anyone who'd spent enough time around the dark corners of the superhuman world knew when something dangerous walked into the room.
They could feel it. A prickling in the nerves. That subtle electric buzz that said "don't move."
Ash wasn't excluded. For all her bravado, her heart thudded louder, and a tightness settled in her chest.
