The bass throbbed low in the underground club, heavy enough to rattle through the concrete floor, but Elena barely noticed the music. Her focus was on him, the stranger leaning against the far wall like the whole damn room belonged to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, his shirt undone enough to flash pale skin and a line of muscle, he had a presence that cut through the haze of noise and neon.
Damien. That was the name whispered in the shadows, the one the bartender muttered when Elena asked who he was. The one women leaned closer to say with a mix of warning and want. A vampire.
She told herself she didn’t believe in that kind of s**t. But when his eyes locked on hers, dark and endless, her body betrayed her —pulse spiking, thighs pressing together under her short skirt.
He didn’t smile. Di
