I almost laugh at the line, but I let it slide. “Often enough. You?”
“First time, actually. Friend dragged me out.” He gestures vaguely toward the dance floor with his drink. “Said I needed to get out more.”
“Smart friend,” I say, letting my gaze linger on him a little longer. Up close, he’s even better looking. Strong features, clear eyes that hold mine without flinching. There’s an ease to him, confidence that doesn’t feel forced. My interest sharpens.
He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe. Jury’s still out.” His eyes flick down to my neck, where I know the edge of my tattoos is visible above my collar. “You fight?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What gave it away?”
“The bruises,” he says, nodding toward my face. “And the way you move. Like you’re ready for someone to swing at you.”
Perceptive. I like that.
“Underground circuit,” I admit. “Nothing fancy. Just enough to pay the bills and keep things interesting.”
“Interesting,” he echoes, his smile widening. “I bet.” He shifts, turning to face me more fully. “I’m Chanyoung.”
“Yujeong.”
We shake hands. His grip is firm and warm. The contact sends a little thrill up my arm. This is going well. Better than I expected. He’s not backing down, not looking away. He’s holding his ground, meeting me as an equal.
I lean in a little closer, close enough that the noise of the club fades just slightly, close enough that the space between us feels deliberate. His scent is stronger here, that clean alpha edge cutting through everything else. It makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
“So, Chanyoung,” I say, dropping my voice just a fraction, “what are you drinking?”
“Vodka tonic,” he says. “You?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
“Straight to the point. I like that.”
“I don’t see the point in complicating things,” I reply, holding his gaze. The air between us feels charged, the kind of tension that promises something if you’re willing to push it.
He leans in too, mirroring my posture. We’re close now, close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his eyes are dark and intent. Close enough to test the waters.
I let my pheromones slip, just a little. A controlled release, nothing overwhelming. Just enough to see how he reacts, to gauge whether he’s the kind of alpha who can handle another alpha pushing into his space. It’s a test. A game I’ve played before, usually with disappointing results, but I’m hoping this time will be different.
For a second, nothing happens. He’s still looking at me, still smiling.
Then I see the shift.
His eyes widen, just slightly. His smile falters. His shoulders hunch inward, his posture collapsing like someone pulled astring. He takes a half step back, his head dipping, his gaze dropping to the floor.
No. No, no, no.
“I—” His voice comes out stammering, uncertain. “I mean, whatever you want. I can—I can do whatever you want me to do.”
The words make my stomach turn. The confidence, the easy charm, all of it is gone. He’s shrinking beside me, his body language screaming submission. His scent has changed too, losing that sharp alpha edge and turning softer, almost placating.
Fuck.
The disappointment crashes through me, heavy and bitter. I straighten, pulling my pheromones back in, locking them down tight. It doesn’t matter. The damage is done. He’s already folded, already shown me exactly what he is underneath the good looks and the smooth talk.
Just another alpha who can’t handle a challenge. Just another guy who talks a big game until someone actually tests him.
I turn away without a word, leaving him standing there by the bar. I don’t look back. There’s no point. Whatever promise I thought I saw in him is gone, evaporated the second he couldn’t hold his ground.
The crowd swallows me again as I push back toward the booth. The music is too loud, the lights too bright. The buzz from the fight has worn off completely now, leaving behind a hollow, restless feeling that gnaws at my insides.
