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“Flynn,” he echoed, licking his lips as if savouring the taste of it. “Where are you from, Flynn?”

Resisting a sigh, I said, “I was born in England, but I’ve lived in Ireland for the last ten years.”

I’d found myself repeating that same sentence again and again since I’d moved to London. It was usually followed by some comment about how pale I was, or my subtle accent.

“That explains your unique accent,” he said with a smile .

Called it.

“What’s your name?” My voice was already strained from shouting over the pounding music.

He smiled at me, pausing before finally saying, “Damien.” He leaned in, boldly tucking a lock of my dirty-blond hair behind my ear. His face came closer and closer, his hot breath tickling my skin. “And I look forward to hearing you screaming that name many, many times later.”

Holy shit.

If I had any lingering doubts about this guy’s intentions, they catapulted straight out of my mind. My skin buzzed with anticipation, and though part of me wanted to bolt for the door, a far larger part wanted to follow that dangerous smile wherever it led.

As Damien weaved through the crowd toward the bar, the shadows near the pillar shifted, resolving into a man I hadn’t noticed before.

His formal attire made him stick out from the crowd—precise angles and sharp tailoring, from his waistcoat to his sleek skinny tie—certainly a bizarre choice for this bar.

One arm held a bulky black coat. His dark eyes followed Damien’s every move, burning into him with an intensity that made my breath catch.

My stomach clenched. Of course someone else would want him. Everyone probably wanted him. But I saw him first. Sort of.

The overdressed guy locked eyes with me, spearing me with a glare that could have frozen Hell itself—deep frown lines etched themselves across his forehead. He folded his arms as if I had annoyed him somehow.

I pointedly looked away from him, and Damien returned, pressing a cold glass into my hand—amber coloured, smelling strong enough to strip paint.

“Cheers.” I clinked my glass against his and knocked back half the sour contents in one go.

It burned my throat, but the warmth spread through my chest, settling my nerves.

When I lowered the glass, pillar guy was still staring over—his entire body radiating a possessive tension that screamed “back off. ”

Tough luck, mate, I thought, even as doubt niggled at me. Did they have history? That would make sense. But did he really have to go out of his way to make me so uncomfortable?

Screw this.

Let the angry bloke at the pillar stare all he wanted.

I hadn’t escaped one suffocating town just to let another stranger’s disapproval cage me in.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just three weeks of crushing loneliness in a city of millions, but Damien’s attention felt like a lifeline.

Something real and tangible in this sea of strangers.

And if his interest came with an edge of danger?

Well, anything was better than another night alone with my thoughts, drowning in memories of home.

I drained the rest of my drink, grabbed Damien’s hand, and tugged. “Let’s dance.”

His eyebrows shot up, but he followed me willingly enough onto the crowded dance floor. Sweat-slicked shoulders and swaying hips enclosed us, a sea of bodies and sound and movement that made the rest of the world feel distant and unreal.

But the gorgeous man I turned to face was very, very real.

He smiled at me, and his attention felt like drowning in the sweetest way—the kind of surrender I’d imagined on nights when the Irish Sea had whispered promises of peace beneath my boat.

But unlike those gentle waters back home, there was something sharp and hungry in the depths of Damien’s smile, like jagged rocks waiting beneath a calm surface.

The bass thrummed through my veins like liquid courage.

I let my body move with it, years of private bedroom dancing finally paying off.

In a strange moment of disconnect, I became both dancer and audience, watching myself dance circles around Damien.

Watching the confident way I commanded attention, half wondering who this fearless stranger was and half thrilled to discover it was me.

Watching how I teased him with almost-touches until I finally caught his hands, guiding them to where I wanted them—one on my hip, one splayed across my lower back.

I pressed myself against him, grinding as hard as I dared .

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured against my ear.

Over Damien’s shoulder, a flash of movement caught my eye. That fucking guy from the pillar, now storming through the crowd like an angry thundercloud, shouldering people aside. His face was a mask of fury, gaze locked onto us.

Shit. I didn’t know why this guy thought he had a claim over Damien, but I wasn’t going to hang around to find out.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” I blurted, tugging at Damien’s sleeve.

Damien’s laugh rumbled against my chest. “You read my mind.” His fingers threaded through mine, and he pulled me toward the exit.

As we weaved through the crowd, I risked a glance back. The man had reached where we’d been dancing, his jaw clenched so tight he could shatter his teeth.

Damien yanked on my hand, leading me in a winding path through the club, past the main bar, then ducking into a service area.

We left through a fire exit, into a narrow alley behind the building.

The music became muffled, replaced by the distant sounds of traffic.

A single security light cast everything in harsh shadows.

My breath left my lungs as Damien backed me against the rough brick wall. My fingers curled into his shirt as he pressed closer. Our bodies aligned nearly perfectly, the slight difference in our heights creating just enough space for him to look down at me with those dark eyes.

His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat. Soft lips traced a burning path up my neck, each kiss sending sparks through my body.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured against my skin, his breath warm. “I wish I had more time with you.”

What?

My hands roamed across his broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his leather jacket. The spicy scent of him filled my senses, making my head spin. Or maybe that was the whiskey. Either way, I didn’t care.

His mouth moved higher, closer to mine, and my breath caught. I wanted—no, needed him to kiss me. To replace that last devastating kiss, to overwrite the memory that had destroyed me. To make me forget, even for just a moment.

But his lips stopped at my jawline, his hands sliding down my sides, fingers catching in the holes of my jumper, brushing against bare skin. I arched into his touch.

“Your place?” I gasped between ragged breaths. No way in hell did I want him in my dingy flat, with its paper-thin walls and nosy housemates.

He sighed as if something deeply pained him. “No need. This won’t take long at all.”

My hands froze against his shoulders. The bar for my first time wasn’t particularly high, but getting fucked in this dirty alley was possibly a step too far.

Before I could respond, Damien’s fingers curled into the front of my jumper. With one sharp movement, he ripped it straight down the middle. The wool tore with a sickening sound, exposing my bare chest to the cold night air.

“What the fuck?” I shoved against his chest, rage flooding through me. “Dude, that was expensive!”

He didn’t budge an inch. His smile had transformed into something predatory—sharp edges and dark promise. The security light above us flickered, casting strange shadows across his face. And fuck, his eyes! The black of his irises bled outward, swallowing the whites whole.

My pulse skyrocketed. Every instinct screamed that something was deeply, terribly wrong. The brick wall scraped against my back as I tried to push him away, but his grip was like iron.

Damien’s palm pressed flat against my chest, right over my thundering heart. The touch burned ice-cold through my skin, and I gasped. It felt like he was stabbing me with an icicle.

“Hold still, sweet thing,” he murmured, almost soothingly. “This will only hurt for a moment. ”

All those nights I’d lain awake back home, dreaming of escape—and now here I was, about to become another statistic, another cautionary tale. Katie would never forgive me. Mum would blame herself somehow.

Dread constricted my throat, and a horrible whimper escaped me before I could swallow it back. That burning cold spread through my chest like frost across a window, almost like something inside me was beginning to crack.

“Stop!”

The shout echoed off the brick walls. My head snapped towards the sound—it was that guy again. The man from the pillar. He stood at the entrance to the alley, holding something that glinted in the security light.

My brain struggled to process what I was seeing. Was that… a gun?! I’d never seen one in real life before.

“Get away from him. Now. ” The man’s voice carried deadly intent, his aim unwavering.

Damien’s hand remained pressed against my chest, that bone-deep cold spreading further across my skin. He turned his head towards the newcomer, that horrible smile still fixed in place.

“Ah. Right on schedule.” Damien’s voice dripped with amusement. “No matter. I’m finished here anyway.”

Damien pushed away from me, sending the back of my head cracking against the brick. One moment he was in front of me, the next he was halfway up the wall, climbing it like some sort of demented spider creature.

With a gurgled yelp of shock, I scrambled away from the wall just as a soft pfft sound cut through the air—the muffled cough of a gun.

Brick dust exploded beside Damien’s shoulder.

The man cursed and re-aimed, but Damien had already reached the roof, disappearing over the edge with a mocking salute.

I am going mad.

I am going certifiably insane .