I walked to the end of the bar, taking the seat closest to the window. The stool creaked under my weight and I glanced around, but the few patrons here weren’t paying attention to me.
The bartender glanced at me.
“What can I get you?”
My throat felt tight. “Just… tea for now.”
He nodded and came back faster than I expected with a ceramic mug and a container of sugar cubes. I pushed the sugaraway and wrapped my hands around the cup, mostly so my fingers would stop shaking.
I stared at the surface of the dark liquid, my reflection distorted by plumes of steam. It made me feel like a ghost.
Lily would have told me to get a grip. She hated melancholy. I used to too.
I glanced at the empty stool beside me, something about it making me feel even more lonely.
My throat ached with the threat of tears, making it hard to breathe. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have…
I cut my line of thinking, refusing to go there tonight. Instead, I reached for the pendant hanging around my neck and twisted it over and over while I focused on the hem of my red wool dress. With each passing second, the unbearable pain eased its viselike grip and I found solace in the solid metal of the pendant.
With a deep breath, I let it go and sipped my hot tea, letting it singe a path down my throat and into my belly.
Just then, a dark figure slid onto the stool beside me.
“Ouzo.”
I closed my eyes at the deep, low voice, something about it calming. I tilted my head and threw the man a side-glance.
He had a presence about him, and it was as overwhelming as his voice.
He was handsome, shockingly so, and it had nothing to do with the Armani suit that molded his muscles perfectly. There was an aura to him that screamed power and strength.
And then he turned and fixed his attention on me, his dark gaze slamming right into my soul. It was a force that hit me so suddenly and unexpectedly that I was momentarily frozen.
I tried to shake off the effect, but it was impossible.
Yes, he had beautiful eyes, but it was the loneliness in their depths that spoke to me—a reflection of my own.
“You shouldn’t stare at men like that, golden one,” the stranger said, and a sudden flush of heat coated every inch of my skin.
“Golden one?” I repeated, my voice coming out weaker than I’d like.
He tilted his chin. “Your hair.”
I blinked at him. “My hair is light brown…”
“Looks golden from where I’m sitting,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t buying his nonchalance.
I bit my lip, my eyes bouncing from his dark, almost black hair down to tanned skin that told me he spent a lot of time in the sun. He sported a straight nose and a square jaw that only compounded his masculinity.
I took another long sip of my tea, unsure whether ogling a stranger in my current state of mind was smart.
“I’m Lykos,” he said, extending his hand and making my decision for me. “Since we’re staring at each other, it’s only appropriate that we know each other’s names.”
I swallowed the laughter bubbling up my throat, shocked at how unfamiliar it felt. “Violet.”
His strong fingers wrapped around mine, and I couldn’t help but notice how much their size dominated my own. I met his eyes again, still shining with a quiet sadness. Or maybe I was projecting again.
“You can let go now,” I said slowly.
