Chapter 3 three

The bar shouldn't have let her in.

That was the first thought anyone would have had if they looked up. Dim gold lighting, low jazz humming from hidden speakers, wealthy people in silk dresses and tailored suits laughing over glasses that cost more than Ava's monthly rent.

And then her.

Soaked through, hair plastered to her face, her pale blue dress clinging to her skin and dripping onto their polished marble floors. Her cheap shoes squeaked with every step she took, leaving wet marks behind.

She stood just inside the doorway, shivering, trying to make herself smaller.

The bartender took one look at her and his frown softened. He was older, with kind eyes that had seen too many ruined nights.

"Miss, are you alright?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice low so no one else would stare. He reached under the counter and passed her a small white towel. "Here."

Ava took it with numb, freezing fingers. The fabric was warm, clean.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her voice cracked badly.

She perched on the very edge of a barstool, tucking her knees together, clutching the towel around her shoulders. She tried not to drip on the leather.

Behind the bar, bottles glittered like they belonged to another world. Amber, gold, crystal. All expensive. All out of reach.

She stared at them for a long second, her chest heaving.

"Can I have a whiskey?" she asked. Her blue eyes were glassy. "The cheapest one."

The bartender hesitated. "Are you sure, miss? You look-"

"I just need to forget tonight," she said.

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. It was just exhausted, broken, said so quietly he had to lean in to hear it. The pain in it was palpable.

He poured it without another word and slid it towards her. She closed both hands around the glass like it was the only warm thing in the world.

The first sip burned all the way down her throat and made her eyes water, but she welcomed it. It gave her something else to feel besides the humiliation still crawling up her spine.

The second burned less.

By the third, her hands finally stopped shaking.

_Good. Don't shake._

But the tears came anyway. Silently. No sobs, no scene. Just tears slipping down her cheeks that she wiped away quickly with the back of her hand, hoping the dim light would hide it. Her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to keep her breathing even.

Her whole life had just died in an apartment that smelled like another woman's perfume, and nobody in this beautiful, golden room had even noticed.

She stared down into her empty glass, her pale reflection staring back at her, ruined and small.

She was so alone it made her stomach twist.

Across the room, in the VIP corner that the staff kept empty without being asked, a man watched her.

*Damien*

Damien was already in a foul mood before he walked into Noir Lounge.

Family dinners always left him like this. His grandmother had spent the entire evening staring at him over her wine glass, her voice as sharp as ever.

"Damien, you are thirty, you are Alpha in all but title, you need to settle down," she had said in that tone that made even his father go quiet. "Stop brooding. Find a good girl. Stop working yourself into an early grave."

_As if it were that easy. As if anyone would tolerate me._

He had loosened his tie the second he left the house. Now he sat in the corner booth, his black suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his black tie undone and hanging loose. His sharp jaw was clenched, his grey eyes cold.

He had come here for silence, not for company. And his face made that clear.

It was the kind of face that made staff go quiet when he entered. Not just handsome - that would have been too simple a word. It was severe, carved, commanding. Grey eyes like a winter storm, a sharp jaw, dark hair slightly tousled like he had run a hand through it too many times. The kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

Several women in the lounge had already glanced over, whispering behind their hands. He ignored them all.

He was about to order when he caught her scent.

Rain. And something else underneath it. Something soft and intoxicating, like vanilla and heartbreak. Something that made his wolf stir, restless for the first time all night.

He turned his head.

She was sitting at the bar, completely soaked. Her dress was ruined, her dark hair dripping down her back. She was clutching a cheap whiskey glass like it was a lifeline.

And she was crying. Silently. No drama, no asking for attention, no looking around to see who was watching. Just tears sliding down, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to wipe them away with hands that still trembled.

His heart thudded.

Everyone in this room wanted something from him. A deal, a favour, his attention, his name, his money. They stared, they whispered, they leaned in the moment he looked their way.

She didn't even look up.

She had no idea who he was. And she didn't care.

_Who hurt you?_

He watched her finish her third whiskey, her small frame swallowing in the oversized towel. She looked so out of place here, in a room full of people who had everything.

Then he saw him.

A man in a grey suit, drunk, his tie crooked, his face flushed with alcohol and entitlement, stumbling towards her. He put a large, sweaty hand on her bare, goose-pimpled shoulder, fingers digging in.

"Hey, pretty girl, why you crying alone? Come keep me company, huh?"

Ava flinched violently. Her stomach sank.

"I'm fine, please don't touch me-"

She tried to pull away.

Damien was on his feet before he realised it. His chair scraped loudly against the floor and several heads turned immediately. The air around him shifted, his Alpha aura rolling off him, cold and absolute.

In two strides he was behind her.

"Take your hand off her."

His voice was low, husky, but the command in it was absolute. The kind of voice that made lesser wolves bend their heads without thinking. The man in grey froze, his eyes widening when he saw Damien's face, his grey eyes now dark with warning.

The man's hand dropped as if burned.

"Sorry, Alpha, I-I didn't know she was-"

He didn't finish. He just backed away and disappeared into the crowd, pale.

Ava looked up then, really looked up for the first time. Her startling blue eyes, red-rimmed from crying and rain, met his grey ones. Our eyes met, my grey meeting hers - no, his grey meeting hers. And for a second, the noise of the bar vanished.

The pain, sadness and anguish that haunted hers were not something he could forget.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now.

She blinked, clutching the towel like a shield. Her lips parted.

He didn't wait for an answer. He pulled out the barstool next to hers and sat down. Up close he was even more intimidating. The scent of him hit her instantly - forest and amber and something distinctly male, clean and expensive, intoxicating.

The bartender immediately placed a glass of water in front of her without being asked. He glanced at Damien, then quickly looked away.

"You shouldn't drink alone," Damien said.

Ava let out a small, humourless laugh. It was barely a sound.

"Why not? Everyone else gets to be happy."

He studied her face. Not her dress, not her legs. Her face. Her ruined lip gloss, her trembling chin.

"What happened?" he asked.

Her throat closed up. For a second she wanted to lie. To say nothing. To be like all those composed women in this bar who never cried over men.

But the whiskey and the gold light and his grey eyes looking at her like he actually saw her, not through her, broke something inside her.

"My whole life just died," she whispered, her voice thick with emotions, "and nobody noticed."

His expression shifted. Just slightly, but she saw it. A flicker of something dark and protective crossing those grey eyes. His hand clenched on the bar.

She was drunk. God, she was drunk and broken and soaked and she shouldn't have been looking at a man like him like that.

But she did.

She turned on her stool, her knees almost brushing his, his jacket scent still surrounding her. Her intoxicating scent was stronger now, mixed with whiskey and rain.

"Make me forget him," she said.

The words slipped out, reckless, raw. Her blue eyes locked on his grey ones, begging.

Damien froze.

His entire body went rigid. His eyes flashed, darkening with carnal desire and something more - shock, hunger, restraint.

He never did this. He had never taken a drunk girl home from a bar in his life, no matter how beautiful she was.

He should say no. He should get up and leave her here to ruin herself alone. That would be the decent thing to do.

Instead, he looked down at her bare, goose-pimpled arms and her lips that wouldn't stop trembling, and his stomach twisted.

"You're shivering," he murmured.

Before she could answer, he stood and took off his suit jacket. It was warm from his body, smelling of him - forest, amber, Alpha - and huge on her. He draped it over her small shoulders, his fingers brushing her damp hair behind her ear, his touch sending sizzling tingles through her.

"Come with me," he said quietly.

It wasn't a command. But her body wanted to yield to it anyway. Her heart thundered.

She should have said no. She knew she should have.

But for the first time tonight, someone had noticed her. Someone had taken that hand off her. Someone was looking at her like she was not ruined, but ravishing.

She slipped off the stool, his jacket tight around her, and placed her small, cold hand in his much larger, warm one.

His hand closed around hers like he had no intention of letting go.

He led her out of the bar, through the golden light and the jazz and the wealthy people who stared now, silent. The staff opened the doors for them without a word.

They walked together to the elevators. The hotel lobby was empty, quiet, the rain still drumming against the glass walls.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding.

He stepped inside first, still holding her hand, and pulled her gently in with him.

Ava stepped in after him, his jacket swallowing her whole, her wet hair dripping onto his expensive fabric.

The doors began to close, shutting out the world, the gold light, the rain, everything.

Just as they closed, his grey eyes found hers again in the mirrored walls, and her breath caught.