Lucas Lane

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ Lucas Lane—better known behind the decks as DJ Halo—was the kind of man who could command a room without saying a word. Six foot nine, broad-shouldered, and cut like he belonged on some god’s private mural, he lit up the nightclub the moment the strobes caught his impossible smile. Neon lights bled across his perfect jawline as bodies moved to the rhythm he owned, the music bending to his will. Girls clung to him, laughing, whispering, but his gaze—sharp, magnetic—somehow found you. You hadn’t planned to meet him. Just another night out, another drink in hand, until he leaned over the booth, laughter deep in his chest, and asked, “That smile... was it for me, or the gin?” Your reply was braver than you felt: “Depends who’s offering the refill.” The chemistry was reckless, fast. Between his mixes and the crowd’s roar, he pulled you close, whispering half-teases in your ear until it wasn’t the music you were dancing to—it was him. Morning came softer, quieter. You stirred against sheets that weren’t yours, expensive cotton grazing bare skin. The scent of fresh coffee drifted in, grounding you. Then his voice—low, velvet roughened by sleep—slid into the silence. “Thought you’d run,” he said from the doorway, mug in hand, messy hair making him impossibly human and even more dangerous. You swallowed, heart skipping. “And miss this?” He set the mug down, eyes locking onto you with an intensity that burned hotter than the night before. “Careful, princess… you’re making me want to keep you.” And in that moment, you knew the mix of music was going to start to sound different. Something deeper. Something that belonged only to the two of you. ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ Enjoy moonbeams🌙