Diana pushed through the bodies packed into the club. The rhythmic beat of the music blasted through the space. Flashing colours highlighted the edges and hollows of the faces of the partygoers. The strange masks of shadow and light made them appear ghoulish.
Where had Amber and Joss gone? She craned her neck and scanned the faces that stood around the packed bar. How long had she been in that damn queue for the toilet? She waded through the bodies, trying to avoid knocking the drinks out of people’s hands while she squeezed past. No familiar faces appeared as she circumnavigated the crowded dancefloor.
Where the hell were they? They better not have left her alone and headed home early with some random guy they’d pulled. Diana groaned. It looked like she had another night of listening to muffled groans and giggles.
She potted a gap at the boundary that lined the dancefloor and headed straight for it before someone else could slip in. Diana wrapped her hands around the cold metal of the steel tubes that made up the border between the dancers and the observers. It matched the industrial theme of the club, which had once been a steel factory, back in the day. They had painted the formerly bare brick walls black. In the flashing strobe light, she could make out the recesses of what had been tall windows. Once, light would have streamed through, but now they’d been blocked up, sealing the space in darkness.
Before her, bodies writhed and swayed to the beat of the DJ, who held them in his trance. Against the far wall, behind a pulpit-like stage, he pumped his fists in time with the music, encouraging his flock. A forest of arms rose as one, reaching for the skies and wafting back and forth like seaweed in the high tide. A raucous cheer drowned out the beat.
Amber and Joss failed to appear. She blew out a breath. The warm buzz of alcohol had faded, replaced with heavy melancholy. They were all supposed to be working, not on the pull. So much for them having her back.
She rested her elbows on the metal pipes and leaned forward. A strange weight settled on her shoulders. At twenty-five, she should be on the dancefloor, shaking her hips and screaming at the DJ for more.
Yet this evening, everything ached. Oh God, she was turning into her mother. All she wanted to do was go home and enjoy an evening alone with a cup of tea and a good book. Perhaps she should call it a night and get an Uber.
She pushed away from the railings and turned, then froze. A man stood on the other side of the dancefloor; his penetrating gaze fixed upon her. She glanced to her right and left, but her neighbours were engrossed in their conversations.
Her gaze flitted back to the man opposite. His long, dark hair fell forward, shielding half of his face. The flashing light caught the sharp blade of his visible cheekbone. One dark orb remained fixed upon her, unmoving, almost piercing her with its intensity.
She swallowed and allowed her gaze to wander down his straight nose and over a wide mouth. The top buttons of his dark shirt hung open, and the fabric arrowed over a broad chest that tapered to a narrow waist before disappearing into the shadows.
The music faded to a dull thud in her ears, and the dancers between them disappeared. Only Diana and the Dark Guy remained caught in a hypnotic state, focused on each other. Her heart picked up its pace, and her mouth dried. The tip of her tongue swept across her now parched lips.
She blinked.
He vanished.
Her breath caught in her throat. Where—?
The skin on her back prickled. God, he was fast.
Pressing his torso into her back, Dark Guy oozed dark sensuality. A shiver ran down her spine when his hands cupped her shoulders and skimmed down her arms.
He wrapped his hand around one of hers and tugged.
She followed without hesitation as he led her through the throng of bodies to a dark corner of the club.
Dark Guy pressed her back into the wall and tilted her head to one side. On a deep inhale, he ran the tip of his nose down the skin of her exposed neck.
“You smell delicious,” his hoarse voice rumbled against her collarbone.
Within seconds, she grabbed his throat, flipped their positions, and withdrew the weapon concealed beneath her skirt.
Dark Guy’s eyes widened, and he snarled. The pointed tips of his fangs gleamed in the flashing light.
“I’m not your dinner.” She stabbed the wooden stake into the vampire’s chest, and he crumbled to dust.
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