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And I especially know it now as we wait our turn in line, exchanging pleasantries as if we both don't know how this night will end. How most of my nights with near-strangers end—recent memories of dirty bathrooms and foggy mirrors still lingering at the forefront of my mind.
While I pretend to listen, a cold chill trails down my spine. An awareness that makes my skin sing. I spin around, my eyes wild as I scan the street behind us. The area is crowded but I see nothing out of the ordinary.
And I refuse to admit who I thought might be staring back.
“Are you okay?” Mark asks. Or was it Mike?Ugh.Let’s just call him Mark.
I plaster on my fakest smile and face him. Mark has been a regular at the pub for a while now. Always flirty, always cheeky. He can never tell when I’m feigning kindness for tips or when I’m genuinely interested. Tonight is no different.
Or maybe he doesn’t care to tell the difference as long as he gets to fuck me by the end of the night.
“Um, yeah I’m okay…” I force out a tight laugh. “I thought I saw someone I knew across the street. No biggie.”
I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to appear casual, relieved he can’t see my heart pounding in my chest. He looks puzzled for a moment but quickly shakes it away, taking my hand and dragging me inside when the bouncer finally waves us in.
Cloakroom is packed with writhing sweaty bodies. It’s a multi-level bar, with numerous dance floors peppered around the place and a rooftop patio. There’s no dress code and caters to the early twenties crowd. The decor is non-descript. It’s the blaring music and patrons that makes this place attractive and popular. Perfect for the kind of night I need.
Deciding to stay on the first floor we take a few shots at the cramped bar before I take my date by the hand and lead him to the dance floor. I weave around dancing limbs and find a small opening for us to share. The room is in a state of drunken osmosis, skin on skin heat from total strangers yearning for the same release as us.
My chest vibrates along with the bass bouncing off the walls and I can feel Mark’s hands slowly slide across my hips, pulling me closer. I give in, eager to forget the feeling of Byzantine’s eyes on my body as I lean into his touch and wrap my arms around his neck.
Mark’s gaze locks with mine. A slow, sensual smirk forming on his face. We grind our bodies together in time with the beat, swaying back and forth. I allow myself a moment of surrender, letting his hands travel down to my ass, his fingers digging into my shorts. Shivers snake down my arms, head rolling back on my shoulders as I lose myself in the moment.
Suddenly, the same chill as before tunnels its way through the hazy bubble I’ve created on the dance floor. I straighten abruptly, my arms dropping from his embrace, nearly pushing him off of me.
His eyebrows raise up and he cocks his head as if to sayis everything okay?I try to shake the feeling and salvage the moment, waving away his concern and laughing, my voice barely audible over the music.
I point to the women’s bathroom and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving him on the dance floor, hoping he won’t read into my sudden change in behavior. Maybe I’ll sneak in a shot or two before finding him again.
Pushing through the crowd, I stumble to the bathroom. Luckily there’s no lineup and I walk right in. I face the mirror, trying to catch my breath. Noticing my flushed cheeks and my mascara a little smudged, I turn on the faucet and splash some water over my face and neck. After fixing my makeup, I inhale deeply and try to re-center.
I have no proof that Byzantine has followed me here but somehow I know he’s here. What would I do if I did find him staring back?
I don’t let myself answer that thought and make my way back to the dance floor instead, only to find Mark missing. Thinking he might have gone to the bathroom as well, I dance on my own, easily slipping into the gentle sway of other peoples bodies, sweat trickling down my spine.
He never comes back.
After fifteen minutes, I roll my eyes, slightly miffed and decide to see if he’s held up at the bar, thinking maybe he’s busy buying us another round. But I can’t find him anywhere. I scan the club trying to make out any glimpse of his hair or shirt, but nothing.
Wow.
Did he just ditch me? What a douchebag. I mean, I know I was acting a little strange and distant but does it justify him leaving me like this?
With my ego a little bruised, I now feel even lonelier than before. Unwilling to stay at the club by myself, I reluctantly make my way to the exit, defeated and a little hurt. I thank the bouncer on my way out, and head down the block, rifling through my purse to find my phone and call a taxi.
I’ve only managed half a block when a hand curls around my elbow and yanks me into the alley.
I yelp, stumbling and attempting to regain my footing. My blood runs cold when I find smoldering green eyes staring at me, the street lights overhead reflecting his fiery gaze, his lips curled and taunting.
“Y—you…” I stutter. My brain screams at me to run while my body ignores the warning, pulled by his incandescent stare instead. I find myself taking a small step forward, the pull as strong as the tide.
Byzantine seems to respond to the same force and steps forward at the same time.
When I finally realize what my body is doing, I jump and scurry against the brick wall. Unfazed, Byzantine advances on me. Silent. Hunger radiating from his stare as he slowly peruses my body, devouring me from the inside out.
I’ve seen this look on others before. But seeing it on him alights my cold skin with fire. Heat pools low in my stomach as I continue to press against the wall.
He raises his left hand close to the column of my neck. Slowly. So fucking slowly, until finally his fingers curl around my throat and I gulp against his palm. His hand squeezes, his touch firm yet gentle. Then, he leans closer, his breath a feather across my jaw. My ear. My neck.
