Between sensuous beats of the music and the loud beat of my heart, I tried to decide what to do. Go home? Deal with my family's rejection in a healthy manner? Hastily, I wipe the tears off my face, hoping I haven't ruined my makeup.

Right as the beat dropped, I heard my heels tapping against the floor, walking in the table's direction. The stranger pushed himself off the bar and strolled towards me.

Gods, he was attractive. Ruggedly handsome, utterly human. Tall and muscled, with one of those sharp alert eyes that lost their childish naivety somewhere along the path of life. His every step was grounded and balanced. I've never seen a human move that way. This was the result of training, I realised.

We stopped each on our side of the table.

The stranger put his tattooed hands in his pockets, his voice muffled against the music, "Thought you might need a drink after a conversation with Darascu."

Alarms went off in my head. He knew Dorian? Why would he know Dorian?

I looked at the wine glass, "You're not trying to poison me, are you?"

The stranger squinted, "If I said 'no,' would it be more or less likely that I'm lying?"

I thought about it, "Probably more."

"Then yes," He grinned, "I am trying to poison you."

He had a beautiful smile, the kind that pulled his eyes up too, adding a touch of cuteness to his harsh face. I laughed and approached the table. As I clinked against his beer and brought the glass to my lips, I still sniffed the contents. Just wine.

Not that any human poison could kill me.

I watched his eyes slide over my body rather shamelessly as he drank his beer. Warmth followed wherever his gaze went, making me feel painfully self-aware. I was aware of my looks, but I was also aware that the lack of blood in my system made me paler than usual, my hair less shiny, my eyes dim. To an untrained human eye, I suppose I still looked good.

"How do you know Dorian?" I walked to the lounge and dropped in the seat.

As I crossed my legs, revealing more of my thigh, the stranger's gaze wavered a bit from my eyes.

"I used to work here. As a bouncer." He spread out his hand, the sleeves of his shirt lifting and allowing a good look at his tattoos. "I'm Jax."

Intricate swirls climbed up his strong forearm; tree branches, symbols, text, flora and fauna. Every tattoo seemed to belong in its place, all with some hidden meaning, impossible to grasp.

"Odette." I took his slightly rugged, but warm and pleasant hand. "How was it? Working here?"

He let out a humourless laugh, "Intense. Good money, but intense. Why? Were you trying to get a job here?"

I frowned, but still offered an amused smile, "Why would you assume that?"

Jax leaned towards me, "Well, it's either that or you're here because you're one of Dorian's girls, and if that's the case, I've terribly misjudged you."

His scent overwhelmed me to the point I barely registered his words. An earthy musky cologne, but also clovers and pine, and a rich undernote of his blood; smoky and sweet.

"I'm looking for a job." I answered, leaning closer to him.

I figured it wasn't that much of a stretch.

"What happened?" He asked, his dark eyes never leaving my face, making me feel like he could see through my every lie.

So, I opted for the truth.

"I almost punched Dorian in the face." I sighed. "I have issues with impulse control."

Jax laughed, "That's fine, I almost punched him in the face every day I worked here."

"Cheers." I clinked my glass against his beer bottle, our knees bumping as I scooted closer.

"How did he manage to piss you off that soon, though?" Jax asked and as I felt his breath on my cheek, I realised I came too close.

I moved slightly away, enough to look at him, "I knew him when I was younger."

Not a lie.

"Oh." Jax's eyebrows jumped up. "Was he always a douchebag?"

Something bit my heart at the question, brief, but sharp.

"Yes." I chuckled, drinking more wine. "I guess I expected more, though, like always."

"It's not your fault." Jax said, taking me by surprise. "If you knew him like I do, you'd expect nothing from that guy."

This made me look at him more purposefully. My first impression of him hasn't changed – he could have been a vampire hunter. He was in a bar run by vampires. He used to work here, which meant he knew at least how weird this place was. And he watched me crack the wine glass before with my bare hands.

However, he had no weapons on him. At least not nearby. Nothing that would prove his intentions.

The shirt and jeans he wore were loose enough to allow movement, but not loose enough to conceal a weapon. He had nothing in his pockets except for his wallet. While I checked for a weapon, my eyes escaped to the front of his pants, where I noticed his bulge.

"My eyes are up here, babe." He laughed, making me look up immediately.

We were close, way closer than I expected to find him. He leaned against the backrest and spread his legs. His hand rested on the seat, hovering right above my shoulder. Heat spread through my cheeks and my stomach.

"Sorry." I grinned, deciding to go with it. "It's just that you don't look like a bad bouncer, which means Dorian probably hasn't fired you. So, why do you hate him?"

Jax looked away, his eyes jumping to the club. By the way his jaw tensed, I knew I struck a nerve. Perhaps he knew Dorian was a vampire and tried to come up with a lie. Or he guessed that something about this place was off and didn't know how to explain it.

My heart beat rapidly while I waited for the answer, and I found myself hoping the man sitting by my side wasn't here to kill me.

"I quit six months ago, got a better opportunity." Jax looked at me. "Which you will too. There are better places to work at."

Though I wasn't here for a job interview, the next thing I said wasn't a lie at all.

"I've been without a job for six months." I swallowed another gulp of wine. "Like I said, impulse control."

"Hey, I'd been without a job for a year before Lion's Den." His knee bumped against mine, the rough fabric of his jeans feeling sensitive against my bare skin.

I leaned forward, "What did you do before Lion's Den?"

"Military."

Of course. He moved like a military man; with resolve, caution and alertness.

A small smile reached my lips, "Sounds like a promising career. What happened?"

He chuckled, "Impulse control."

"I'm sorry about that."

The hand that rested above my shoulder reached down and took a strand of my hair. Shivers spread through my body.

"Don't be." He spun the hair strand around his finger, "Turns out I was right for not having my impulses under control."

The sentence both comforted me and unnerved me. Perhaps I was right for not having my impulses under control with Dorian too. Perhaps he deserved my lashing out, even if it meant I wouldn't get what I wanted.

Still, Jax's answers weren't answers at all.

When I behaved that vaguely, it meant I was lying.

I raised my hand and traced one of his tattoos with my finger. His skin was warm to touch and his eyes never left mine. He grabbed my hand before I reached the spider web hugging his bicep, and brought it to his lips. My stomach flipped upside down.

As he placed a kiss on top of my hand, I became acutely aware of how long it's been since I've been touched. Two years. Two years of excruciating loneliness.

"Don't work here." He said against my hand, the music muffling his words. "It's not worth it. Find something else."

A lump formed in my throat. One could find another job, but one could not find another family. My eyes welled up. Jax noticed and took both my hands between his, covering them completely with his large palms. Such a sweet, intimate gesture took me by surprise. I wanted to tell him everything. I needed someone to know.

Even if it was a vampire hunter whose sole intent was killing me.

"I've been there." He leaned so close I could smell beer on his breath. "You don't need to tell me anything for me to understand. But don't accept anything just because you think you don't have any options."

"You're right." I forced a smile to my lips and pushed the tears down. "Lion's Den won't hire me anyway, not after how I've treated Dorian."

It was always Dorian. Always the gatekeeper. Always the asshole standing in my way, playing his games, torturing me.

"He deserved it, trust me." The soft expression vanished form his face, leaving behind a ruthless gaze that cut through me with ferocity.

The change threw me off and I almost gasped.

No, this was not just a job and Dorian wasn't just a douchebag. Jax hated him for a legitimate reason, one he wouldn't share with me.

Perhaps he truly was a vampire hunter. Or he simply suspected something shady was going on in Lion's Den. Either way, if he hated Dorian, he could help me take him down. If Dorian was no longer an issue, Libby would have to take the seat on the Council. And my sister would let me talk to our father.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

An amused glint edged the corners of Jax's eyes.

"Drinking beer."

"If you hate Dorian so much, what are you doing in his club?" I clarified. "Why are you giving him money?"

Jax scooted closer, the side of his leg leaning against mine. The hand he kept on the backrest slid over my shoulder and he pointed to the bar. His scent and warmth enveloped me.

"See that bottle?"

I followed the direction he pointed in, but I could already guess. In the middle of the highest shelf, kept behind glass, stood a lion-shaped bottle. My stomach twisted into a knot.

"I'm going to buy it. Right now."

I felt Jax's gaze on my cheek, close enough to see the changes in my expression. I forced it into neutrality and faced him, aware of our lips, mere inches apart. Jax's hand slid from my shoulder down the side of my arm as his gaze jumped from my eyes to my lips.

"What is it?" I asked against his lips, forced to keep my breath short.

"He said I'd never be a man enough for that drink." Jax's hand dropped off me and he moved away. The lack of his proximity felt poignant. "It's called pălincă. A drink from Bulgaria or Hungary or wherever."

Romania. From Dorian's village. He sold it in all the bars he owned and sent the money back to the makers. Whenever someone bought the bottle, he would get up here as the owner and personally greet customers that bought it.

"Oh." I breathed out.

Dorian shared the idea once upon a time – when we were still kids, when we still shared things with each other, when his family and my sister were still alive. Before he turned into a backstabbing psychopath. This small redeeming quality he possessed wasn't enough to persuade me anymore. I knew him better than anyone. I knew him like the back of my hand.

"Do it." I brought the wine glass to my lips. "He can have a taste of his own medicine."

Jax laughed shortly and stood up, leaving me alone in the lounge while he bought the bottle. My heart thudded like a war-drum with nervousness, anger and the need for revenge. Dorian thought he could stop me from talking to my own father? Fine. I didn't need him. I could do this thing all by myself.

He was too big of a coward to leave this wretched world. I wasn't. I left and survived without them.

My phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

Get the fuck out of my club.

I laughed out loud, then looked at the camera in the corner and saluted it. I could picture Dorian on the other side, bored out of his mind with his latest toy, wishing he had never stepped on my toes.

Once Jax returned, he put the bottle on the table. The next minute passed by in a blur. Jax kept smiling with certain satisfaction and I had to slap myself on the wrist to stop the urge to bite my nails. The drink was strong, urgent, all-consuming. It burned my insides all the way to my stomach.

Dorian Darascu appeared in front of us; step determined, a serene smile on his lips, and not even a hair out of its place. Nothing would ever give his nervousness away. The drink refused to slide to my stomach, burning my heart and my lungs until I coughed.

"Good evening." Dorian stopped in front of the table. "Welcome to Lion's Den, I hope you enjoy your drinks."

Jax stood almost as tall as Dorian. Feeling small and hidden, I jumped to my feet as well. Anxiety rippled through me as the two men stood face to face. The atmosphere closed in on them, like they had enough mass to attract the particle in the air. They pulled me in too, and I felt trapped, confused, scared. They could either shake hands or kill each other. There was no in between.

"Thank you." Jax offered a hand. "It's good to be here."

"As always." Dorian accepted, smiling.

Then, the bastard turned to me and offered a hand, which I took, not expecting the hard grip almost breaking my bones and the harsh pull in his direction. As elegantly as I could, I moved closer and let him bring his lips to my cheek, my heart beating in my throat.

His other hand sneaked behind my waist, holding me closer than necessary. He could snap my spine in half, break my hand, cut my throat – and none would be the wiser.

Right as his cold lips grazed my cheek, he whispered, "This means war."