The Room of Requirement had transformed into the perfect party venue—dimly lit, warm-toned fairy lights floating above like a canopy of stars, casting a soft golden glow over the crowd. A thrumming bass filled the air, vibrating beneath their feet as charmed music pulsed through the vast space. Students filled every inch of the room, laughing, dancing, and drinking from goblets that never seemed to empty.

It was exactly the kind of night Victoria Newton had dreamed of for her birthday.

Lilith Nightingale stood near the drinks table, lazily swirling a goblet of something undoubtedly spiked as she scanned the crowd. The celebration had drawn in students from all houses—Slytherins dominated the room, but Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even a few Hufflepuffs had found their way inside. Dorian was among them, chatting animatedly with a group of Ravenclaw sixth-years, looking more relaxed than Lilith had seen him in weeks.

But none of that mattered. Not really.

Because he was here.

The moment she had stepped into the party, she had felt his presence before she had even seen him. And now, as the music changed, a familiar electric buzz shot through her spine.

"Why you lyin'? You won't fuck unless he's famous"

Lilith turned her head, almost like she had been pulled to do so, and there he was.

Elias Thorne, leaning against the far wall, drink in hand, his sharp hazel eyes locked onto her.

A slow, heated stare.

He looked devastatingly good. His white button-up had the top few buttons undone, revealing just a hint of toned chest, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. His hair was tousled in that perfectly careless way, and the dim light cast sharp shadows over his chiseled jawline. The air between them thickened, stretched impossibly tight, as if the entire party had faded away, leaving just the two of them in this moment.

Lilith felt her pulse quicken. She knew what she looked like tonight—how Victoria had insisted she wear the short black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, the delicate straps resting on her shoulders, the smooth satin clinging to her every movement. It was shorter than she usually wore, ending mid-thigh, her legs elongated by the sleek black heels she had reluctantly agreed to.

And Elias noticed.

His gaze traveled down her body slowly, deliberately, before snapping back to her eyes. The heat in his stare was unmistakable.

The song pulsed around them, each beat sinking deeper into her bones, making her feel reckless, untouchable.

"Do that little dance, without it, you'd be nameless"

He moved. Pushing off the wall, Elias weaved through the crowd, his attention solely on her. Lilith didn't move—couldn't move—as he closed the distance between them, every step drawing her deeper into whatever the hell this was between them.

The room felt stifling. The music, the heat of the crowd, him.

By the time he reached her, the air was thick with tension, a current of something unspoken passing between them.

He didn't speak. Neither did she.

They just stood there, inches apart, the space between them thrumming with something neither of them dared to name. The music pounded around them, bodies moved chaotically in every direction, but they were still, locked in place, staring.

Elias's fingers twitched at his side, as if fighting the urge to reach for her. Lilith's breath shallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She could smell him—something clean and warm, laced with the faintest hint of firewhiskey. It made her head spin.

"It's so obvious, I'm your number one"

Elias exhaled sharply, tilting his head slightly, his gaze flickering down to her lips for the briefest second before meeting her eyes again.

Lilith's fingers curled around the goblet in her hand, gripping it tightly, needing something—anything—to keep herself anchored. Because if he touched her now, if he so much as brushed his fingertips against her skin, she didn't know if she'd stop herself.

The lyrics pulsed in the background, laced with something almost taunting, as if they were daring her to move first.

"I'm your number one."

That was all it took.

Elias moved first.

His hand found her waist, firm, possessive, pulling her flush against him. Lilith barely had time to react before his lips crashed onto hers.

Heat exploded through her veins as she melted into the kiss, her hands flying up, threading through his hair, pulling him closer. His other hand found the small of her back, pressing her into him, and she gasped against his lips as his grip shifted slightly lower, fingers grazing the curve of her arse through the satin of her dress.

Elias groaned into the kiss, deepening it, tilting his head to claim her fully. Lilith clung to him, heat pooling in her stomach, dizzy from the way he tasted—like firewhiskey and something inherently him.

She had never felt like this before. Like she was on fire. Like she could lose herself completely.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, foreheads resting against each other, Elias smirked, voice rough. "Finally."

Lilith blinked up at him, heart hammering against her ribs, still drunk off the taste of him. "Shut up."

And then she kissed him again.

This time, slower. More deliberate. Less reckless abandon, more burning, steady need. Lilith pressed herself against him, her fingers slipping from his hair to rest at the base of his neck, her nails lightly grazing his skin. Elias groaned, low in his throat, his grip on her tightening like he was afraid she might slip away.

The satin of her dress was smooth under his touch, the curve of her waist fitting so perfectly beneath his hand that it made something primal stir in him. His fingers, bold and wanting, traced lower again, this time firmer, making Lilith gasp into his mouth. He swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, his lips teasing, demanding, as his hand splayed across the back of her thigh.

Her breath hitched, her body arching instinctively into him, like she was chasing the warmth of his touch. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to think, but she couldn't. Wouldn't. Not when he felt this good, not when the heat between them was intoxicating, overwhelming, pulling her under like a riptide.

The music around them throbbed, the bass shaking the floor, but all Lilith could hear was the sharp inhale Elias took as she fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands traced lazy circles down her spine before sliding back to her waist, his fingers pressing into her like he was mapping out every inch of her body, like he wanted to remember the way she felt against him forever.

Her head spun. The heat pooling low in her stomach was unbearable. And then his lips left hers, trailing down her jaw, barely brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lilith exhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut for just a second, and she hated—hated—the way her body responded to him so easily.

Elias, sensing her reaction, smirked against her skin, his breath fanning over her pulse point. "Didn't take you for the desperate type, Nightingale."

Lilith snapped her eyes open, the haze of pleasure momentarily cut by a sharp glare. "And I didn't take you for someone who talks this much while kissing."

Elias chuckled, but it was breathless, ragged, his hands still gripping her waist. "You drive me insane, you know that?"

Lilith smirked, her fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. "Good." And then she kissed him again, cutting off whatever teasing remark he had been about to make.

This time, neither of them held back.