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I’ve lost count, and getting drunk isn’t doing a damn thing to wash away the taste of her. Aria’s gasps and whimpers when I pound her senseless are the real music to my ears.

I thought a night out in town could distract me. Help me get her out of my head. Soon, I’ll see her again.

With a lust for blood in her eyes.

And all I want is to direct that lust at me. To show her it’s more. To show her it’s love.

How the hell do I plan to do that? God only knows.

I slam the glass down on the bar, harder than necessary. The bartender slides another shot my way without a word.

Smart.

He recognizes a man on the edge when he sees one.

The club is alive around me, full of rich men and glittering women. In the private corners, the city’s most dangerous players conduct business over aged scotch. This is my world. My territory.

So why does it feel like I’m a stranger to myself?

Because I no longer know who I am without her.

Because she’s out there somewhere, planning my destruction with those beautiful, deadly hands that know exactly how to make me lose my mind.

Because she’s coming for me with an army, and part of me can’t fucking wait.

What the hell have I become? She weakens me.

An hour in, a bombshell blonde slides into the seat beside me like a fucking whisper—legs for days, pout painted cherry red, cleavage strategically on display.

“You look like you could use some company.”

The voice is honey and silk, designed to seduce. My type once. The kind I’d use to forget the world. But tonight, she smells like the wrong perfume.

“Not interested.”

“You haven’t even seen me properly yet.” She leans over and traces a finger over my arm.

Against my better judgment, I lift my eyes. She is stunning in that polished, artificial way that once would have had me bending her over the nearest surface. Platinum blonde hair falls in perfect waves past her shoulders. Her dress—if the scrap of black fabric can be called that—leaves nothing to the imagination. Smoky eyes, curves that scream availability.

“See something you like?” she purrs, shifting closer until her breast brushes my arm.

I study her face, waiting for the familiar hunger to kick in. The predatory satisfaction of a hunt about to begin. The dark thrill of possession and conquest.

Nothing.

Worse than nothing. Looking at her perfect, empty beauty makes my stomach turn with something dangerously close to revulsion.

“What’s your name?” I ask, my voice flat.

Her smile widens, victory sparkling in her blue eyes. “Candy.”

Of course it is.

“Tell me, Candy,” I lean closer, watching hope bloom across her features. “Do you know what it feels like to want someone so completely that every other person on earth becomes a pale imitation? To crave a woman’s touch so desperately that even looking at another makes you physically ill?”

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I—what?”

“No,” I say, straightening. “You don’t. Because if you did, you’d understand why this conversation is over.”