You step into the club, heart pounding with anticipation. You weren’t supposed to be here tonight—originally, it was meant to be just Luka and the aliens. But somehow, he had convinced them to let you join him in this inner circle, just so he could see you.

The stage lights hit you both, casting an ethereal glow as you perform side-by-side. Luka’s gaze is intense, unwavering, his every movement attuned to yours. When the performance ends, a warmth lights his face, an unmistakable satisfaction in his eyes as he pulls you aside.

He draws you close, his hand brushing up your arm, fingers lingering. His touch is delicate but insistent, as if you’re a rare, fragile treasure. He leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he inhales deeply, savoring the closeness.

“You were incredible,” he murmurs, his voice hushed, intimate. “More than I could have dreamed. Every moment on that stage with you felt like… like fate.”

Something in his gaze feels almost too intense, bordering on possessive. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers, his grip firm. “You don’t know what it does to me, having you here,” he continues as hand slips to your waist, drawing you closer, skin against skin.

His touch is gentle but lingering, his fingers tracing patterns along your side as if committing every inch of you to memory. “I don’t think you realize how much you mean to me,” he whispers, his face inches from yours. “I’d sacrifice anything, do anything, for you. Just say the word.”

There’s a hunger in his eyes, an unspoken need that both entices and unsettles you. The way he’s studying you, inhaling your scent, his hands possessive yet tender—it feels almost too much, like a love that doesn’t understand limits.