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Before two months ago, Austen had never been to the ballet.

Now he made time for nearly every performance.

Only if Rain Agafonov was a lead, of course.

He rarely had much clue of what was going on.

It still wasn’t an art he understood. Austen could give two shits about anything except following Rain’s every move with his gaze.

He was tiny, beautiful, and pure grace. His every move screamed control.

Blond hair and bright green eyes. He was fucking flawless.

Rain also killed people. Austen shouldn’t know that, but—in his profession—Austen had met a lot of killers.

It wasn’t his place to judge. Austen was a doctor.

He kept people alive. Whatever they chose to do with those lives was on them.

But Rain wasn’t his patient, and Austen shouldn’t know his secret.

They had met very briefly through a mutual friend—one who was married to a criminal he knew well.

That friend had later dropped the bomb. Austen was infatuated with a murderer. He didn’t know how to stop.

Rain floated across the stage, looking as if he defied gravity.

Austen sat in the front row and ate the man alive with his stare.

For a moment, Austen thought Rain noticed him.

The glance was over too quickly to hang on to it.

When his phone buzzed with an incoming text, Austen knew it was all he would have for the night.

Only emergency calls and texts could reach him after hours.

He ground his back teeth and checked his phone.

Sure enough, one of his longtime patients had od’d.

They had been NARCANed back from the edge of death, but Austen would have to check on the situation.

The rich were fucking exhausting. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t be content.

As he stood to quietly make his way toward the exit, he cast one last longing look Rain’s way.

For a second, he swore their gazes met. He knew it was likely wishful thinking.

No doubt Rain couldn’t see anyone’s face clearly from the spotlights blasting him.

But in an instant, Austen was back to that singular dance they’d shared.

His friend, Kylo, had asked Austen to go with him on an errand.

They had ended up at a small dance studio he had never noticed before.

Inside, he found the most breathtaking tiny dancer he had ever seen.

Rain had silently swept him into a dance.

It had been an odd moment, but Austen had also been immediately ensnared.

Longing struck like a bitch. Now here he was again, staring into those same eyes that kept bringing him back for more.

Then Rain looked away, setting him free.

Disappointment sat on his chest as he headed for the door.

Some things weren’t meant to be. Austen understood this was one of those things.

To him, Rain was a case of limerence. He was stuck somewhere between the obsession and frustration stages.

Austen didn’t know how to move on to the resolution stage.

Maybe he never would. He didn’t know how to let go.

Somehow, Austen made it through checking on his patient.

No one understood how tired he was. He had been going all hours of the day for a while now.

While driving home, he searched his mind for ways to slow down.

It was a familiar discussion with himself.

Austen couldn’t exactly hire help. His patients ranged from weapons dealers to drug lords and everything in between.

Austen had patched up more bullet and stab wounds than he cared to recall.

He did so with his mouth shut and got paid more than any other doctor could dream.

There were patients he saw who weren’t criminals.

Athletes and such. Maybe he could shift those patients to a new doctor.

The problem with that was they might still stumble upon something they shouldn’t.

He could close his practice completely and retire, but he wasn’t sure if that would get him killed.

Austen's mind stayed locked on the issue as he went through his nightly routine. Maybe if he went to bed right now, he could grab a few more hours of sleep than usual. Austen’s shoulders fell.

Who was he kidding? His dad had always told him nothing good happened after midnight.

He’d been right. Most of the worst calls came in the middle of the night.

He stared at his reflection. In only pajama pants, he studied himself.

When had he gotten so old? One day, he had been a college football star, riding his best years through a scholarship and fighting his way toward this future.

Now, there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and some gray threading his blond hair.

He imagined he looked better than most people his age.

That wasn’t him being vain. He could afford to stay looking good.

Soon, though, even that wouldn’t help him, and he would still be alone.

Austen angrily turned off the light. His mind drifted to Rain again. No doubt Rain was too young for him. But if Austen had time to pursue him the way he wanted, maybe he would actually have a shot. He’d never know.

An image of Rain filled his head. He remembered every detail of the intense way Rain had stared at him with those light eyes.

Austen’s cock stirred. He could already picture those eyes turned up at him while Rain got on his knees.

A shaky breath escaped him. He stared into the dark and fought the urge to shove his hand in his pants.

Austen was tired of stroking himself to only the dream of Rain. He was tired of being alone.

The slightest sixth sense of being watched overcame him.

An odd glow of light reflected from the wall where Austen’s gaze had been locked.

It moved slightly. In a flash, Austen rolled.

A black-clad figure stood over him. The guy bolted the second he was spotted.

Austen snatched his gun from the nightstand and went after him.

He knew the house better than any intruder.

Austen cut through the dining room and beat him to the door.

The guy froze. He wore one of those electronic masks.

The one that used LED lights to transform the face. The face looked shocked.

“Stay where you are.”

The guy took a step back.

Austen snagged him before he got away. He was tiny and light as a feather.

Austen wondered if it was a teenager. He didn’t want to shoot a kid.

The moment Austen held him, he went still.

The eyes on the mask turned to pink hearts, confusing the fuck out of Austen.

In his moment of surprise, the guy slipped from his arms. Austen tried again to grab him.

The guy pulled some acrobatic move, completely dodging Austen.

He tried several times to catch him, but it was as if he was made of rubber or some shit.

Austen had never seen anyone bend and twist so quickly and effortlessly.

Then his feet were swept from beneath him.

He hit the floor. While it knocked the wind from him, he had somehow landed on a mountain of pillows that should have been on the couch.

He stared at the ceiling. Austen knew without looking his nighttime visitor was gone.

He rolled to his knees. Forty-three was too old to lose a fight.

He pushed to his feet. The front door stood open.

Austen looked out, even though he knew he wouldn’t find anything.

The security lights flared to life, making Austen wonder how in the hell the guy had gone out this way and not done the same.

A single rose in a crystal vase waited for him.

Austen blinked. He moved slowly. Even Austen didn’t know why he was hesitant to grab it.

Once he had it in his hand, his confusion shot to the heavens.

It was real crystal. Austen had a lot of money and liked nice things.

It was a very expensive vase. He eyed the front lawn and driveway.

His gaze slid up and down the street. Nothing stirred.

He had no clue what had just happened, but he prayed a patient hadn’t decided he knew too much.

His gaze dropped to the rose. Maybe it was a warning of his upcoming death. What was he supposed to do now?

Dr. Austen Flowers truly was beautiful. From Rain’s experience, there were a lot of gorgeous men in the world.

No one had ever struck him as so flawless.

It was the way Austen looked at him. His stare always held more than adoration.

Pure obsession poured from Austen’s eyes each time their gazes met.

Rain just wanted to see him. Look at him.

He hadn’t expected to get caught. No one had ever snatched him from his feet before he could get away like that.

Austen had been fast as fuck when he realized he wasn’t alone.

Of course, once he had been caught, Rain’s training had kicked in.

He had known he would have to take Austen down to get away.

That was why he had grabbed a cushion each time he dodged Austen.

He needed Austen to have a softer fall. Still, he felt guilty.

He never meant to scare him. Rain had only meant to drop off a gift.

But longing had gotten the best of him and Rain had to see him.

He wanted to kick himself for his carelessness.

“Where have you been? You sure as fuck had better not been doing a job without us again.”

Edge was always so fucking quiet. Rain hadn’t noticed him sitting in the corner chair, reading, as he came through the door. “Hey. I didn’t. I just needed a break.”

Edge’s light-brown gaze dropped to the mask Rain held. “A break.”

Rain refused to acknowledge his gear. “Yes.”

A loud sigh cut through the air as Edge snapped his book closed. “Off-the-books jobs are becoming a bad habit of yours.”

While Rain hated to answer to anyone, he understood Edge’s concern.

Everything each did affected the others.

They couldn’t have unexpected dead bodies leading to them.

That hadn’t stopped Rain from making a problem disappear for his friend Kylo.

He got why Edge worried. “I promise it was nothing like that.” He held Edge’s stare so he could see his honesty.

Edge gave him a sharp nod and re-opened his book. “I hear your performance was perfect tonight.”

“Isn’t it always?”

The corner of Edge’s mouth lifted, taking some of his natural darkness away.

Assuming they were through, Rain jogged up the steps and fled to the safety of his bedroom.

He tossed his stuff on the chair next to the bed and stripped.

Rain had rushed straight from the theater to Austen’s place after the performance.

He hadn’t had a chance to shower. Plus, he just slept better after steaming himself clean.

Rain’s mind was never at peace. He needed all the help he could get.

Standing under the deluge of hot water, Austen played through Rain’s mind.

He had been watching Austen for a while.

The night he had unexpectedly shown up at Rain’s dance studio, Rain had been in a bad place mentally.

His friend Kylo had appeared with Austen in tow.

Rain’s gaze had kept sliding toward the man.

While their meeting had been short, Rain’s mood had lifted just being in his company.

Still, Rain had let the moment go. Then Austen had turned up in the front row of his next performance.

At first, all of Rain’s alarms had blared.

In his business, there was no such thing as coincidences.

The moment he had been freed from the theater, Rain had done what he did best: hunted.

For a while, Rain thought Austen knew Rain was onto him and simply pretended to live a boring yet exhausting life.

Finally, Rain had been forced to accept Austen came to his shows for him.

He knew it was for him. Austen’s eyes never left him.

He did something to Rain’s chest. Rain’s body stirred as he pictured those blue eyes and the way he stared at Rain with longing—like a drowning man.

Crazy could be hot as hell. Rain slid his hand down his stomach.

He ached to have that insanity unleashed on him.

Rain bet good money Austen was an intense lover.

He needed that. Rain dragged out the anticipation.

He lightly stroked himself before he tightened his grip.

Behind his closed eyelids, Rain saw Austen and the things Rain could do to his body.

He understood Austen was older than him, but the numbers didn’t matter.

Rain wanted that experience. He felt in his bones Austen would fuck him hard.

Rain practically felt Austen pounding him.

He stroked fast. His hips rolled, riding his palm.

An orgasm struck hard and fast as he pictured Austen whispering his name.

Rain dropped his gaze and stared down the line of his body.

Emptiness washed over him. He was still alone.

That was safer for both of them. He should let Austen stay a fantasy—the way he did every man that caught his eye.

His hands rose. Rain stared at his palms. His vision blurred.

Austen’s hands saved lives. Rain’s took life.

Sometimes his mind was a terrifying place.

He should forget Austen. Rain wasn’t good.

A howling wind whipped through him where Rain’s conscience should be.

He couldn’t change. He had to let this go.