Chapter 1: Introduction
I can't remember exactly what propelled me toward that dimly lit bar on a nondescript, rainy Tuesday night. The clinking glasses, the low murmur of conversation, and the twangy notes of a saxophone mingled in a symphony that could only summon itself in an Oslo establishment just after business hours.
As soon as I entered, the smell of stale beer mingled with sweet, sticky vanilla—an olfactory cocktail that would have soured anyone else's night.
But I can't resist the allure of dark, cozy environments in which the weight of the world can be left behind. A siren's song beckoning to me through the thunder and rain.
The bar stool offered a view of the stage where musicians in black suits crooned through brass instruments, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of perfectly manicured fingers on the ivory keys of a piano. I was content to nurse my half-empty pint while musing over recent events in my life, but fate seemed determined for my quiet evening to follow another track.
With the cool weight of the chilled glass against my fingertips, I felt that electric tingle that precedes an unexpected encounter.
A man, who looked to be my age, materialized beside me. He was breath-taking. Short black hair, green eyes possessing an enigmatic allure, and a muscular build that whispered of both adventure and stability.
"This seat taken?" the stranger asked, his voice a low murmur that felt both confident and cautious at once.
His green eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't help but feel a subtle shiver run down my spine.
"Be my guest," I replied, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip from my glass. Who was this man that thought he could just waltz over and insert himself next to me, displacing the comfortable bubble I'd built around myself?
As he settled onto the stool, I inhaled the scent of rain-dampened wool. It told tales of a recent walk in the storm, perhaps seeking shelter in orchestrated timing with my wayward feet.
Unbidden, an image of him, hair slicked back, laughing beneath the deluge, flashed through my mind. I pressed my lips together in a thin line, willing the inappropriate—and inexplicable!—imagery away.
Void laced his fingers together, the cords of his forearms flexing pleasingly, and leaned against the bar. "There's a wicked storm tonight," he started, scanning my face in a thorough perusal.
His observation was unnecessary—the sheets of rain beating against the windows was difficult to ignore—but the way his gaze lingered on my features made me feel as if we were the only two people in the room.
"Takes a lot to chase people from their favorite spots," I noted, returning the scrutiny with careful neutrality.
Something unspoken flashed in his eyes before he offered me a faint smile, a dimple indenting his left cheek.
"Some call it dedication.
Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment," I responded, my voice wavering between flirtatious and sarcastic. There was something about this strange man that ignited a spark, and that spark tickled my nerve endings, sending anticipation skittering down my spine.
Void's gaze swept over my face, lingering on my lips. "There's always a fine line between pleasure and pain," he agreed in a low voice that resonated like a caress.
My core tightened, anticipation curling low in my belly.
Our conversation continued, and I found myself entranced. The way his voice sent shivers down my spine, the way his eyes lit up as I shared a new detail about myself—I was unraveled.
Inhibitions lower after that fifth drink, and the whiskey brought courage I hadn't known I possessed. "You know," I began, my gaze flitting between his beautiful lips and the glass in front of me.