The bouncer's arms were thick as tree trunks, crossed over a chest that looked like it had been carved from concrete. His cologne was cheap, his shades were cheap, the kind that made his eyes invisible even in the dim neon bleeding from the club's entrance.
Silas Sibley had seen his type many times before, the kind of man who got off on petty power, on deciding who got to step into the light and who stayed in the cold.
Silas flashed his ID. The bouncer didn't even bother glancing at it.
"Not tonight."
Silas tilted his head and furrowed his brows. "It's valid."
"Don't care." The man's voice was a gravel pit. "You look like trouble."
Silas almost laughed. He was twenty-three, lean but not scrawny, dressed in black jeans and a worn leather jacket that had seen better days. His dark hair was a mess from the wind, his hands calloused from years of odd jobs.
Trouble? Maybe. But not the kind this guy was paid to keep out.
Silas huffed, pocketed his ID and stepped back, feigning defeat. The bouncer smirked, already turning to the next hopeful in line.
Five minutes later, Silas was slipping through the employee entrance, a door held slightly ajar by a wedge of crumpled napkins. The hallway within was narrow, smelling of stale beer and industrial cleaner. The bass from the main room vibrated through the walls, a pulse that matched the sudden quickening of his own heartbeat.
He followed the sound like a moth to a flame.
The club was a living thing, sweat and perfume, flashing lights that cut through the haze of smoke machines. Bodies pressed together, moving in time with the music, a sea of limbs and laughter.
Silas didn't dance. Not usually. But the rhythm here was different. Deeper. The DJ wasn't just playing tracks; he was weaving something, threading notes together in a way that made Silas's skin prickle.
"Hmm"
"That synth line wasn't there before."
The thought flickered through his mind, sharp and sudden. The song had shifted, just slightly, a layer added so seamlessly most wouldn't notice. But Silas did. He always did.
Music wasn't just sound to him, it was texture, weight, something he could feel in his bones. And right now, it was curling around him like a second skin.
He closed his eyes, let the beat drag him under.
When he opened them again, she was there.
Slender. Pale. Dressed in a sleeveless black dress that clung to her like ink. Her hair was dark too, falling in loose waves just past her shoulders, but it was her eyes that caught him, dark, abyssal and knowing, the kind of gaze that made him feel like prey.
She moved like smoke, weaving through the crowd without touching anyone, her hips swaying to a rhythm only she could hear.
Silas couldn't look away.
Then she was in front of him, close enough that he caught the scent of her, jasmine and something darker, something like old books and candle wax.
"You feel it too," she said. Not a question.
Silas didn't answer. He didn't need to.
She smiled, slow and secretive, and then she was dancing, her body a breath away from his. He should have stepped back. Should have asked her name.
But the music was too loud, too much, and when her fingers brushed his wrist, it was like a spark jumping between them.
They moved together, the crowd pressing in around them. The DJ's mix grew stranger, the bass dropping into something almost primal. Silas's pulse thundered in his ears.
Then, silence.
The music cut out mid-beat. The crowd groaned, a chorus of protests rising as the lights flickered on, harsh and unforgiving. The DJ, a wiry guy with a headset, was already scrambling off the stage, his face pale as he shoved through the crowd, his phone clutched to his ear.
The sudden quiet was worse than any noise.
Silas blinked, disoriented. The stranger, Gianna...though he wouldn't learn that yet, was still in front of him, her lips curved in a smirk.
"Wanna get out of here?"
Her voice was low, amused.
Silas didn't hesitate.
They burst through the front doors, the bouncer's head snapping up as they passed. Recognition flickered in his eyes, then confusion.
"Hey-!"
But they were already gone, vanishing into the neon-streaked night.