The atmosphere is completely different from this morning, the crowd already beginning to flood the place in groves.

I stand behind the bar, feeling the panic kick in almost instantly with the amount of people in the place, even as their focus stays riveted on the platform in the middle of the room.

Still, that knowledge doesn't ease the anxiety, not when I know what crowd establishments like this tend to reel in. My eyes sweep over every face, narrowing on every tattooed hand that passes money between patrons, searching for one in particular even if I know he can't find me here, that Elijah promised he wouldn't know where I went.

I look over the crowd once more just for extra measure, only breathing a sigh of relief when no familiar face from my past pops up.

The faces I look at are unfamiliar and unremarkable, even if the place is so similar to what I grew up in.

With that thought comes the second guessing and I start to back away, promising myself I'll find another way to make money, another way to sustain myself and survive.

But I stop when a woman clears her throat, staring me up and down in a calculative way.

"You the new chick?"

I nod, "Noah."

"Didn't ask." She murmurs.

"Don't care." The words are out of my mouth before I can think but all the woman does is grin.

"I'm Candace, I run it back here. I'm here most nights and if I'm not here don't come looking for me." She turns then, beginning to make her way around the bar. "Spirits are kept here-" she turns to look at me then, eyeing me as if she doesn't believe I'm old enough to serve drinks.

She'd be right.

But she continues instead of calling me out, "ice, glasses, fruit and other stuff - you can use your eyes."

She then walks further back, pushing open a door. "This is the storeroom, if it's not out there-" she waves a hand to encompass the bar, "then it's in here and if it's not in here then we're out."

I nod, keeping my thoughts to myself and follow her around as she shows me the rest of the stuff before throwing a rag my way, "Start cleaning, take orders, make orders. Thats pretty much it, if you can't do that leave now."

My hand tightens on the rag, and I nod. "I can do it."

I need the money.

She doesn't look convinced but she also doesn't look like she cares, her slim shoulders shrugging. "Then get to it."

• • •

I'm almost three hours into my shift when I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, the deafening crowd quieting to a dull hum.

My fingers clench on the damp rag in my hand, holding it at my side as my eyes sweep over the crowd, stopping on a gap between the people as they part slightly, their gazes riveted on an entryway closer to the back of the building.

My gaze latches onto the focus of their riveted attention, sweeping down the figures of the two men.

They stand tall, dark eyes sweeping over the crowd as if they were dark lords and this was their army.

The slightly taller one narrows his eyes at the crowd, a darkness about him that causes a shiver down my spine, a warning blaring through my system yet at the same time has delicious warmth filling me.

Because obviously I haven't learnt my lesson on bad boys and all the problems they cause.

But instead of listening to it, I let my gaze travel the rest of the way over his figure, latching onto the tattoos I can see sweeping his arms, and peeking out of the collar of his shirt, almost reaching his sharp jawline.

His hair sits haphazardly over his eyes, dark inky black strands falling into equally dark eyes. A bruise mars his cheek, though it does nothing to disguise his deadly beauty, the purplish blue mark only seeming to aid him. He grins then, the smile anything but nice, almost as if he was a predator who had just found his prey.

And those blue eyes of his? They were locked onto me.

I look away from him, turning my attention to the man beside him, knowing they are related in some way. Possibly brothers.

The man captures my focus like a moth to the flame, his close cropped hair drawing attention to his sharp jawline and the even sharper knife between his fingers. He twists it like a trophy before it disappears behind his back, his eyes surveying the crowd. He has a softer look to him than his brother, almost angelic to the brother's devilish aura. Glasses sit atop his nose, perched precariously like a window on the edge of a hill but he lifts the same hand he was holding the blade with and pushes them up his face, sharp critical eyes sweeping over the bar.

Yin and Yang, they couldn't be more different yet somehow the same. Like two sides of the same silver coin.

A button up black shirt adorns his figure, the fabric untucked from his dark straight jeans, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing unmarked clear skin.

His fists clench by his side before his head turns towards his brother, following his line of sight to me.

Two matching pairs of glittering blues watch me, assess me. The one with glasses tilts his head at me, eyes sweeping down my figure but not in a judgemental way like the pretty idiot from earlier today. But in way that one would assess an unknown object, a puzzle.

The look has goosebumps pebbling my flesh.

I swallow at the feel of their eyes on me but push it away, lifting a glass with the pretence of cleaning it.

Though my eyes still lift to look at the two men, finding their attention off me and back on the crowd, drinking in the atmosphere like it's their favourite poison.

I don't blame them, it was a heady feeling, basking in the crowd and the bloodshed from the fights.

I shake my head, pushing the feeling down and watch as the two men part, the crowd seeming to take a collective step back to leave enough space so they don't accidentally bump into them.

I can almost smell the interest and the fear in the room, the potency like a cologne, dark and alluring. It sinks into my skin like an oil, feeding the dark and dangerous creature inside me. The one I've tried so hard to bury.

Not enough.

The men step away and turn to a third person in their little group, as if looking at the unofficial leader.

I suck in a breath when those familiar grey eyes latch onto me and darken, the boy from the dorm looking at me as if I was a bug waiting to be squished beneath his boots, jaw ticking.

I look at all three of them then, knowing that I stare at three boys - not men, though they could be mistaken for men with the way they carry themselves and that they no doubt attend my new school.

Grey eyes lips curl like he just smelt something disgusting.

Great. I've made enemies and classes haven't even started yet.

Grey eyes stalks towards me, his steps eating up the distance between us before he turns his attention to the right. I follow his gaze, biting my lips when I meet Benny's worried gaze, the man who had hired me.

I know, then, that I was fired before I'd even gotten my first check. So much for an honest pay-check. My shoulders beg to slump but I straighten my spine, even as I feel a body sidle up beside mine.

Candace lets out a heavy breath, "How have you gotten on the wrong side of those three already?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I force the words out past my clenched jaw, cleaning the glass more rigorously.

"Really? Because Kade's face says differently, and he looks like he's planning your death."

I swear inwardly at the person - Kade - as Candace had called him, wanting to spit at him as he speaks to Benny, his grey eyes sweeping over to me before narrowing further.

"He really does not like you." Candace adds on, bumping her shoulder with mine. "Pity, I kinda liked your fire."

"Noted."

I feel her gaze on me, "Word of advice, don't get involved with those three otherwise you might find yourself a new home with only the dirt and the bugs to hear your pleas and stories. There's not much that can stop those three, especially the police in this town."

I look towards her, "you sound like you know from experience."

She scoffs, "Why do you think we hired you so quickly?"

"Desperation."

She doesn't say anything, just grabs a beer and pops the tab before shouldering past. "Take the warning, Noah."

I don't reply, turning my attention back to the glass in my hand, placing it back on the counter before reaching for another.

Might as well stay busy while I wait for my inevitable firing.

But it never comes, Benny and Kade's conversation cutting off abruptly when a body fills my sight, my eyes slowly travelling up the tattooed brothers chest to his dark eyes, finding them twinkling and stuck on me.

"What did you do to Kinkade to make him hate you already?"

I say the same thing I said to Candace, shrugging my shoulders and placing the glass down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His dark chuckle has my warning bells going off, yet he only looks at me as if I said something mildly interesting.

"Whatever you say, Rose."

"That's not my name."

He only grins, the action seeming to give him even more of a dangerous vibe as the atmosphere around us grows in volume and bloodlust.

"We'll be seeing you around." He nods at me then, his eyes sweeping down my body in a calculative way before turning his back and walking towards the crowd, the bodies parting for him like the Red Sea once more.

My eyes track him as he stalks closer to the fighting ring in the middle of the building, his muscles loose as he rolls his shoulders and reaches behind his neck, thick fingers adorned in silver jewellery hooking into his shirt and pulling it over his head.

My breath sucks in, eyes tracing over the intricate skull tattooed on his back, the artwork unfinished yet so hauntingly beautiful, stretching over muscles honed to perfection.

The skin not covered in the artwork is marred with bruises and welts, memories of fights in the past tainting his skin. Two oval shaped scars sit at his shoulder blades, large and angry, though long healed.

I watch as he lifts himself into the ring, the crowd roaring their praise, money passing between hands as they all place their bets, his muscles bunching as he warms them up, bouncing on his toes slightly before I find his head turning my way.

With a devilish grin, he winks and holds up a hand, his fingers pointed towards the sky before it slowly lowers to point at me. "This is for you, Rose."

I narrow my eyes at the strange boy, before looking out at the crowd as a few turn their heads to stare at me.

I ignore the probing looks and place the glass I'd been drying down.

Candace sidles up beside me, her eyes on the side of my face but I refuse to look at her. "I hope for your sake they forget you exist soon."

Me too.

I turn to her, waiting for her to tell me I'm fired but all she does is nod her head to the exit. "You're done for the night, I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't question her, nodding my head. "What time?"

She shrugs, "Eight till late?"

"Works for me." I drop the rag beside the glass and begin to make my way past the bar when Candace calls back out.

"I'm serious Noah, be careful."

"Don't worry, I'm not here to make friends or memories. I'm here to learn and leave, that's all."

Candace nods, "get home safe."

"You too." I mumble feeling my chest tighten at the words. I don't think I'd ever been told to get home safe in my life. The words leave a foreign feeling in my gut.

I turn, slipping the rest of the way past the bar and between the crowd, making my way to the exit before stopping and sliding into a pocket of shadow, turning my attention to the ring, unable to stop myself from watching the current fight, or the way the tattooed boy seems to dance across the platform before striking out like a snake.

I let the fight currently taking place fuel me, breathing in the pain that's being inflicted.

A minute passes, then two and I slip back out of the shadows, reaching for the door.

My head lifts at the last second, gaze snagging on a pair of blue ones framed in black glasses, looking at me curiously, his head tilted.

I raise a brow, but all he does is stare,
his lips lifting slightly at the left corner, a dimple appearing on his cheek. But his eyes don't move from me, content to watch me back.

Ignoring his gaze, I push my way out and into the cold night air, breathing in a sigh of relief.

My shoulders drop and I make my way down the back alley, dreading the walk back to the academy as the cold night air assaults me.

It'll only get worse walking along the winding tree lined path leading to the Academy entrance.

I mean, I could've driven the car Elijah had let me take but I knew he knew what it looked like. I didn't want to take the chance that one of his cronies will recognise it and all my planning would be for nothing.

I wasn't going to let him find me.

Blowing out a deep breath, I look around the alley, stopping on a bike parked off to the side, nestled between another bike and the brick wall. But my eyes aren't just on the bike but the keys dangling from the ignition.

It was practically asking for a new owner.

And who was I to deny fate?

Deep in my gut, I know I'm being stupid, asking for trouble but I also can't stop myself from walking closer.

One little ride won't bring him all the way here.

My hands slip around the handlebars, the rubber warming under my grip as I flick the stand up and begin to wheel the bike backwards from the bar, my eyes lifting to survey my surroundings to make sure I'm not being watched.

I let out a breath when I see no one before righting the bike and throwing my leg over it.

With the twist of my fingers, the engine purrs to life under me, the vibration rolling through my legs a welcome feeling. I grab the helmet and slip it over my head, a woody scent enveloping me.

Wind whips past me, whispering in my ears with reckless abandon and I grin, lips stretching.

Half of me begs to go straight back to the academy but the other half? The other half wants to live a little longer.

I take the winding road, speeding up and slowing down with glee filling me.

Moments later I hear the roar of an engine and then I'm not the only bike on the road, a matching bike slipping beside me. Matching me speed for speed until we slow to a residential street and I let the engine dim to a purr.

The person turns to stare at me and I can practically feel their gaze through the tinted visor.

They rev their engine, gaining my focus and flick their chin and I know then, that this is who I stole from or at least, they know the person.

Slipping to the side, I kick the stand down, still feeling the rumble beneath me as I refuse to turn the bike off, turning my attention to the man beside me as he gets off his bike and stalks closer, his body tense.

He lifts his hands, slipping the helmet off his head.

I blink when the man from the bar comes into focus, short cropped hair and smirk in place, though his glasses are gone.

"That's very reckless, stealing from one of us."

"I didn't steal it." I instantly say, "merely took it for a ride." I shrug.

His raises his brow, "so you were planning on returning it?"

"Yes." I lie before giving him a look, "besides the keys were in the ignition it was practically purring for me to take it."

He chuckles, the sounds slipping past his lips like a melody, almost sweet sounding even as the look he gives me is anything but.

"I'm sure Malac will agree." He says, raising his brow.

"Who?"

"My brother, since he's whose bike you borrowed."

"Well, I'll be sure to thank him for the ride."

His lips quirk then and his eyes slip down my body before coming back up and stopping on my face, "I doubt that's really the ride he wants to give you."

"Sorry, this bike is the only thing I'll be straddling." I shrug my shoulders, "but I'll be sure to leave it all warmed up for him when I return it."

The man pulls back and walks for his bike, "don't worry bout it, you look better riding it then my brother anyway. Keep it."

I narrow my eyes, "you're letting me keep it?"

He turns his engine on, the sound slicing through the neighbourhood with a roar. "For now." He mutters so lowly that I can just make it out over the noise.

I watch as he straddles the bike and takes off, his muscles stretching the black button up shirt he wears.

I watch him until he's a speck in the distance and then I head back to the academy.