Instead of filling me with fear, Dorian's words evoked spite. I gripped his hand as he tried to pull away and leaned in for another kiss, on the opposite cheek.

"Good." I whispered. "Because I'm not leaving without a fight."

Dorian chuckled almost pleasantly, like his old friend reminded him of an anecdote. He shook my grip off, faced both of us, and plastered a smile on his lips.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your evening. The next bottle is on me."

He walked away, no rush in his step.

As I faced the lounge again, I found Jax staring at me, suspicion shining in his eyes, edged with a bit of curiosity. With a knowing smile, he poured us more drinks and tapped the seat next to him, inviting me. Swallowing my own harrowing suspicions, I sat down, the rebellious spark within me renewed.

Dorian thought I wouldn't play dirty. He thought I'd bow my head, tuck the tail between my legs and leave without a word. But I've had enough. They've controlled my life long enough.

"Just a job interview?" Jax put his hand on the backrest above me and pushed the liquor glass towards me.

"What do you mean?" I looked up, finding his smile inches away from my face.

"Call me crazy, but that seemed like a lot more." He said, the smile unwavering.

I crossed my leg, grazing his knee with my calf, and took the glass.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He grabbed the glass right as I tried to take a sip. His eyes cut through mine, telling me just how observant he was, and his smile flattened. Our proximity hit me without hesitation – a strong reminder that the game I played wasn't quite as harmless.

The red lighting still flashed over his face, emphasizing the black ink of his tattoos and the dark void of his eyes. There was something so utterly human about him; passionate, wild, indomitable. Aware of its short existence.

"Tell me what happened between you two." He demanded, holding the glass away from my lips.

Instead of taking the shot glass from his hand, I shifted in my seat, until both of my knees were on the lounge, allowing me to lift myself a bit. Jax watched me, his gaze jumping from my eyes to my lips to the tiny shot glass.

"Why do you want to know?" I lowered my lips to the glass and grabbed the edges with my teeth.

Once the grip I had on the glass appeared strong enough, I leaned my head back and let the contents fall freely down my throat.

Jax took the glass from my mouth, "I want to know if I'm brining an enemy to my bed tonight."

Surprise shot through me, stronger than the liquor. I fell back into the lounge and watched Jax pour another drink. Giddiness I haven't felt in years warmed my insides. Clear, concise, without double meaning – that was how humans communicated.

"And what if I say I used to be with him?"

It wasn't true, but I wanted to test his resolve.

Jax handed another glass to me, "I'd tell you I don't care with whom you used to be."

We downed more shots. His body came closer to mine with every passing second until his presence completely swallowed me. But I wanted to drown in him, consequences be damned. I leaned forward and brought my lips to his, hovering a word away from him.

"And what if I say I'm with someone else right now?"

When he spoke, his lips touched mine briefly, "I don't care with whom you're here, you're coming home with me."

Excitement twisted inside me; the undiluted thick need to follow this thread wherever it might lead. The humanity attracted me; chaos, carefreeness; muscles and tattoos; empty promises. I gave in with a smile, cherishing the loss of control.

Jax leaned in, his lips brushing mine again, his hand falling from the backrest to my hair. Before he kissed me, I grabbed his shoulders and turned us around, until I was straddling him. Jax laughed, his hands sliding to my hips.

"Let's go then!" I took his leather jacket jokingly and threw it over my shoulder, my heart thudding against my ribcage.

Jax shook his head, still laughing, his gaze sliding over my face, my dress, the hem that lifted up, revealing my naked thighs. I put the leather jacket on, grinning, and put my hands in the pockets as casually as possible. No weapons. He had no weapons.

Something cracked inside me, a dam broke, letting loose something dark and needy, that hasn't been touched or loved for too long. Jax noticed the change in me, and the smile died on his lips. Under the dim red light, his body covered with midnight-black tattoos, need glinting in his dark eyes, he looked bigger than life. A man carved out of something strong, and dark, and painful. Every line on his face, every tattoo was a secret, buried deep under layers of ink and anger.

His palms opened up against my hips, but he didn't pull me closer.

"Who are you?" I whispered, hoping the music would muffle my voice enough to take the question back. Unfortunately, he heard me.

He didn't blink as he answered, "Just a man trying to fix something broken."

Right the wrong. Take Dorian down? Expose my family? Kill all vampires?

I put my hands on his chest, feeling the impossibly hard muscles underneath. The grip on my hips tightened. I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, then his neck. The familiar urgency took over my body as I dragged my teeth gently down his neck. Jax's body stiffened underneath me and a small grunt reverberated in his throat. I traced his neck with my tongue until I reached his ear.

"You shouldn't play with broken things." I whispered in his ear. "You could get hurt."

His right hand gripped my hip and held me in place, pushed against his jeans, while his left hand tangled up in my hair. Fear and excitement coursed through my spine, while pain shot through my scalp. Jax pulled me against his lips, eliciting a moan in my throat. I could feel him against my inner thighs, the rough fabric scratching against my skin, but I cherished every harsh feeling like it fed my soul.

Hundreds of people mingled around us. Everyone could see. But they were just as lost as us, hanging by the edge of reason, balancing the fine line between a good decision and a bad mistake. And as the night ticked away, the scale tipped to the latter.

Jax's teeth scratched my lips. His fingers dug into my hip, my scalp, my soul.

Don't be a vampire hunter. My heart begged, forcing its will onto my body, which hung on his every touch. Please, don't be a vampire hunter.

At some point he put me down, his hand slid into mine and he led me away from the lounge. I followed, dizzy and flustered, with an aching need building inside me. We ended up in the hallway in front of the bathroom, against the wall, his hands all over my body.

"I like you." He whispered, his lips trailing down my neck. "Your hair, your smell, your anger."

His fingers slipped underneath the hem of my dress, touching my bare skin. I felt the bulge in his pants press against me, almost as if demanding attention. Absent-mindedly, I glanced up at the ceiling, and noticed the camera.

"You don't know my anger." I said back, running my palms down his tattooed muscles.

"I know it's raw." He kissed my neck. "And fine." My cleavage. "And explosive."

I looked straight into the camera. I hoped the bastard was watching. He wanted war. Well, he was going to get war. I was going to destroy everything he held dear.

For standing in my way.

For stealing my family from me.

For-

Jax pulled my dress up roughly, the fabric scratching my skin, and grabbed my butt with both his hands while his teeth bit my lower lip. I yelped as his finger slid underneath my thong, just above the crack between my butt cheeks and he tugged the fabric up. His bulge pressed at my front, causing pressure on both sides.

Two years without a male touch did its work. Pressure built up between my legs, every part of my body turning sensitive and needy.

"Here?" He asked against my lips, his voice low and rough.

I nodded, fire and desire curling in my gut, "Here."

I didn't care if anyone saw. I wanted to feel him, skin to skin, breath to breath. I tumbled with his belt as best as I could, because he wouldn't stop kissing me. When I finally unbuttoned his pants and pulled down, his wallet fell out and coins and cards scattered over the floor.

Bubbly laughter left my lips, "Sorry!"

"It's fine." Jax pulled away, his smile drunk and carefree.

Both of us tumbled to the floor, trying to gather his things through the drunkenness and euphoria. Jax collected all the coins, while I returned the credit cards in his wallet. Then, I noticed a black card peeking from the pocket within the wallet.

The symbol in the right corner almost made me fall on my butt, but I composed myself, pushed down the drunkenness and loneliness, and gathered the rest of his stuff.

"Sorry." I forced a grin to my lips and the pain down my throat. "I think that bottle is hitting me a little too hard."

Jax put his hand on my shoulder, "Are you okay? Do you want me to drive you home?"

His touch felt threatening suddenly.

"Whose home?" I grinned, the muscles in my face beginning to hurt, as if they knew the smile was fake.

Jax smiled, "You know, when I said I'd take you home with me even if you were here with someone else, I didn't mean it to sound pressuring."

My fake grin dropped, and pain returned to my throat.

"If you say no, this stops right now." He stepped away and put his hands behind his back.

A glint of disappointment appeared in his eyes, but not the kind that was malicious. The playful kind. My lungs constricted with bitter anger. The unfairness of it all hit me right in the gut, reminded me that hope was a fool's game.

"I'm drunk." I sighed. "And angry, and destructive. That's not the way I want..."

"This to begin?" He finished, adding another slash across the skin of my heart.

I nodded, swallowing the bile of emotions, "I had fun tonight."

"Let me walk you home." He took out his wallet. "I'll call us a cab."

"That's not walking." I noticed.

"I'd say drive, but I'm drunk too."

I chuckled, "That's okay, I'm not far from here."

Wrong, I needed to drag my sorry ass all the way back to Brooklyn.

He squinted, "I'm calling you a cab."

"No-"

"And calling one for myself, separately." He took out his phone.

Pain shot through my throat, making me swallow like a maniac, hoping it wouldn't spill from my eyes in the form of tears. Two hours. That was how long it took for this man to hurt me.

Jax called a cab, walked me to it, opened the door for me, and took my phone number. One word repeated in my brain, stuck in its infinite loop. Why?

The cab took me to Brooklyn right as the morning dawned on the horizon. Exhaustion and sadness followed me up the stairs to the creaky apartment. Before I entered, I crumbled on the floor. I needed to gather myself before I showed up inside. This was not about me and my loneliness.

The symbol on his black card flashed before my eyes.

A thin line slashing a circle in half. A stake and the sun. The symbol of vampire hunters.

Of course, the first amazing man I met in two years wanted to kill me.