Night Shadow

Will he give up his humanity for the Adonis before him?

The brilliant, shimmering lights of the New York City skyline always made my heart sing. There was something about knowing so many people were tucked up in their buildings around you. Each with their own lives—their own hopes and dreams. All occupying one large patch of earth. The churn of industry, economy, and life humming along—unstoppable.

From the window of my office on the twenty-first floor, the city spread out before me. I looked over my shoulder at a stack of papers on my desk. I only found the view distracting at night. When I wanted to be home rather than working late, but it was the first day of court tomorrow. A case I had been working on for months. Nothing exciting. Just a failed acquisition.

I turned my chair back to face my desk. I only needed to review a few more details so I wouldn't need to refer to my notes during my opening argument. It wasn't entirely necessary. I knew the details of the case as well as I knew how to breathe. It was just a precaution.

I sighed and flipped the file folder closed. My mind wasn't paying attention to what I was reading anymore. I was better off going home and relaxing for a bit before having an early night.

It was raining out, the drops splattering my windows, so I lifted my raincoat from the coat rack beside my door, slipped it on, and headed for the elevator. I rolled my eyes as the doors of the elevator closed. I had forgotten my umbrella.

Later. Much.

I popped the collar of my coat, protecting my neck, and headed through the main doors of the building. I was going to risk getting wet. It matched my mood.

Now that I was out of the office, I wasn't sure if I wanted to head home. It would be cold, dark, and empty, my boyfriend of nine years having moved out last week. It was going to take me a while to get used to being on my own again.

Perhaps a drink before I turned toward home.

I headed down a street I hadn't frequented often. It was darker than I would have liked but there was a light shining onto the pavement halfway down the street. There was a lineup of people gathered by the door, many of them matched with others of the same sex; a few of the guys stood arm-in-arm. My eyebrows furrowed. I hadn't heard of a new gay club opening. Perhaps this club was simply an accepting space. I walked toward it.

The first thing I noticed was that people were showing the bouncers what looked to be coins before they were permitted entrance. Those that didn't have one were turned away. There was no point in going any further. I looked ahead down the street. I would just have to see where it dumped me out and head for one of the gay clubs I knew already.

A glint on the wet pavement caught my eye. I searched in my pocket for my phone, retrieved it, and turned on the flashlight app. At my feet was a gold coin with a red rose emblazoned on its face. I reached down and picked it up. It was heavy and cold. It had been there a while.

I flipped it over. There was a red rose on the other face as well. I looked toward the line leading to the door of the club. Only a few people were standing in it now. Dark sultry beats, as steady as a heartbeat rippled out through the door. Not my style, but I pocketed the coin and went to take my place in the cue. I was game to try something new. If I was lucky, the coin I had picked up would be the one they were looking to see before I was granted admittance.

I was indeed in luck. They took a look at the coin then ushered me inside. It took my eyes a moment to adjust. The entrance was dark. A long hallway with burgundy, velvet curtains lining it. The hallway took a slight turn at the end and opened into a vast but intimate space; circular booths of crushed velvet scattered across the black marble floor. I wasn't sure which direction to go.

Seeing a long bar at the far end of the club, I headed for it. There weren't any patrons approaching it, but I was at a loss as to what else to do. There were only a few empty booths and I didn't want to take one up on my own. They appeared to seat six people, although some only had two. I perked up as I looked around. There were a few male couples making use of the relative privacy of the booths, locked together in passionate embraces.

I cleared my throat and spun back to face the bar. One of the men had pushed the other over onto the plush seating and climbed on top of him.

What kind of club is this?

I fingered the coin in my pocket. The fact it appeared to be a private club suddenly made sense. I shouldn't be here. I was intruding. I needed to get out of there.

The touch of someone's fingers on my elbow made me jump. I hadn't heard anyone approach. I hadn't sensed anyone at all.

"You look lost." Deep brown eyes tracked mine as I tried to compose myself. His fingers were still on my arm; the concept of personal space non-existent. Realistically, I should have been able to feel his breath on my lips, but there was none. It unnerved me.

"I seem to have made a mistake. I wandered in by accident." I moved to turn away from him but he kept his grip on my elbow.

"No one wanders in here by mistake."

He had a strange but sultry accent. One I couldn't place. Romanian, maybe. I lifted the coin from my pocket, holding it up. "Right … the coin. I found it on the street. I didn't know what kind of club this was. I was looking to have a quiet drink before I head home."

My captor released my elbow and signaled the bartender. He smoothed the fabric of my suit jacket sleeve with one hand from shoulder to cuff. "Let me surprise you with something."

I shook my head. "No. I really should go."

"Nonsense." He placed his hand on his chest, his handsome fingers playing the edge of his tie. "If you're here, you're meant to be here. My name is Dominique. I'm the owner of this club."

That stunned me. Dominique looked far too young to have his own club. He looked younger than me and I was still hanging on to the tender age of twenty-six.

Dominique set his hand on my lower back and guided me toward an empty booth. I felt obligated to slip into it. He was the owner after all. I didn't want to offend him by refusing his invitation. He slid in beside me and handed me a drink as it was delivered to the booth.

I lifted the crystal glass and smelled the dark liquid coating a ball of ice at its center. I didn't recognize the scent. "What is it?"

"It's our own special blend." Dominique sipped his drink. "A combination of Jamaican rum and a couple of secret ingredients." He hummed as he downed the remainder in his glass.

I lifted my tumbler to my lips. The sharp liquid tingled my tongue as it passed over it and warmed my throat. I could taste the rum but couldn't place the other components.

Dominique motioned to the bartender, then accepted the full bottle brought to him, and poured me another two fingers. He filled his glass nearly to the rim and proceeded to ask me a string of questions. My work, my childhood, my personal life … my love life. He seemed so interested, I didn't interrupt him by asking any questions of my own.

It was the most attention I'd had from anyone in a while. There was something about his eyes that kept me answering even the most intimate of questions.

The swoon hit me pretty early on. I wasn't usually a lightweight but there was a kick to what Dominique was serving me. I placed my hand over the opening of my glass when he moved to pour me a fourth drink. "I think I've had enough. I need to get home."

I shuffled out of the booth and struggled to my feet. I was thankful I was walking home. Driving would be impossible. But I wasn't even sure I could walk. My legs felt like jelly.

I gripped onto the table.

"I was hoping we could talk some more." Dominique laid his hand on the table, reaching for me. Without thinking, I extended my hand and touched his fingers.

I snapped my hand back.

What's gotten into you?

Dominque was out of my league. At 6' 4" and blond with handsome features and a body I was proud of, I was a catch for sure. But Dominque … Dominique was an adonis. He embodied beauty and desire—held it in his hands and played with it. He felt dangerous.

"I wish you would stay." Dominique looked around the club. "Is it too loud in here? Would you prefer to go somewhere quieter?" He rose to his feet and took a step away from me.

I fought to resist, but I felt compelled to follow him. I ran my hand through my hair. The alcohol had gone to my head; my impulse control on the fritz. My heart hammered in my chest as I trotted along the corridor he was leading me down, then ascended the stairs, staying within arm's length of him. I couldn't fathom not being able to reach out and touch him.

I shook my head to clear it. Everything felt fuzzy behind my eyes. I stepped into an office behind Dominique then followed him across the floor to a set of doors. Behind those doors, someone's living quarters. An elaborate seating area, baroque fireplace, and a massive, mahogany four-poster bed. It had to be Dominique's space. Who else would live above the club?

I wandered in behind him, marveling at the fact I could no longer hear the thump of the music from downstairs as he closed the doors. The room should have been serene, but Dominique stood in sharp contrast to the environment; his short, black hair, sharp features, and pale skin dominating the space. He was beyond gorgeous. The man had an allure to him I had never felt before.

It was near crippling.

"You look tired." Dominque approached and guided me toward a highback chair facing a roaring fire. I hadn't realized how cold it was in the room until he placed me in front of the heat.

"I'm feeling a bit woozy, to be honest."

Dominique brushed some hair off my forehead; his touch gentle—tentative.

"That won't do." He nudged a footstool toward my chair. "Put your feet up. Rest for a bit."

I set my feet on the footstool and relaxed; the warm buzz in my brain soothing me. I closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep because I was startled awake by Dominque rearranging the logs in the fireplace wearing a silk robe. He was facing away from me, but I could see by the way the robe hung, it was open in the front. Disoriented, I wiped my hand across my face.

The fuzziness was gone. My mind felt clear.

I sat up straight in my chair and reached for my phone. My raincoat was no longer on my body. I searched the room and saw it was tossed over the back of a chair. I rose to my feet. I must have passed out. Or surely, I would have felt him remove it. That had never happened to me before.

"How long was I asleep?"

Dominique turned to face me. A hot flush rose in my cheeks. If I thought his face was that of Adonis, I obviously hadn't seen his body yet. I grabbed the back of my chair. Dominique's nude form reflected the firelight, the golden light glistening off his sculpted muscular torso and thighs. His chest was expansive—noble, his abs sculpted as if from marble.

And his cock—his cock was a creation of art.