I blinked back my shock and turned away, hoping the professional gymnastics going on in my stomach were not evident on my face. A run-through of our last encounter flashed through my mind and I flinched.

"Seriously though." His voice was rough, as though he'd been shouting before he'd just appeared out of nowhere. "You were the last person I expected to see here tonight."

I took a hit of my vape and turned back toward him. He'd positioned himself a few feet away, leaning on the railing with his eyes trained on the lightning in the distance. Like the rest of the guests, he was dressed formally. A suit in an inky shade of blue made him barely recognisable from the thug he'd been at the bullet station, but his dark hair was just the same—wild and flopping in his eyes.

"How's the jaw?" I asked. The quip was spoiled by a wobble in my voice.

He chuckled, pulling a vape of his own from his pocket and pinning it between his lips. "It's fine—no thanks to you."

"Well, maybe it'll make you think twice before you try and mug someone again."

He grinned, putting his weight on one elbow and twisting to face me as he blew three neat smoke rings over my head. "Just as getting laser-shot might have taught you to mind your own business."

I bit down on the end of my vape as I put it back in my mouth. With a deep inhale, I dragged my gaze away from his in favour of the distant, flickering clouds. The thumping at the back of my head had competition—my heartbeat was thundering in my ears. I wanted so badly to make an excuse to slink away, but the draw of answers was too magnetic to escape.

"So, what are you doing here? he asked again. I could feel the unnatural blue of his eyes boring into my cheek. "Because something tells me, despite its beauty, you're not here to check up on my jaw."

A silent laugh escaped through my nose, making me expel a cloud of vapour like a dragon. I couldn't quite bring myself to meet his gaze. So I stared at my vape as I rolled it between my fingers. "I'm here with my dad."

He snorted. "No better offers on a Friday night?"

An indignant blush climbed my neck. "I could say the same to you."

"I'm here for work," he said flatly. "No one would choose to come to one of these things." There was a brief pause while he grinned to himself. "Well, most people wouldn't anyway."

"Oh really? And what is it that you do exactly?" I asked with venom, "Because unless you get paid to be mouthy to strangers, I don't see you getting much work done."

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth in a terrible attempt to hide his smirk.

Anger flared in my chest, but it was mostly directed at myself for not being able to take my eyes off his mouth.

"Security," he said after a moment. "I'm part of the security detail for the party tonight."

I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Security?"

He turned back to the rail and laughed. "Yup—and technically you're part of the party. So really I'm doing my job just fine."

"Riiight." I rubbed my forehead, willing back the throbbing that was starting to feel like my brain trying to ram its way out of my skull.

"You okay?"

"Just great," I said nodding, then wincing at how much the movement rattled my aching head. "Look, about the other day—"

The approach of clicking heels carried down the path and I swallowed the end of my sentence.

"Astrid, your father he's— Oh." Effie did a terrible job of hiding her surprise as she rounded the corner.

"He's what?" I asked, forcing a smile to cover how snippy I sounded.

The pitch of her voice changed. A new flirty undercurrent was suddenly woven through it. "He's looking for you," she finished and I realised that despite talking to me, she hadn't taken her gaze off the so-called security guard I was sharing the gazebo with.

"Okay." I wobbled over to the steps and stomped down them with little control over my legs. My head was spinning so wildly by the time I got to Effie's side that craning my neck to look up at her gave me vertigo. "You coming?" I asked weakly.

"I might stay out here a little while." She gave me the briefest sideways glance and winked.

I glimpsed back to where the dark-haired stranger was leaning against the gazebo rail. He seemed oblivious to the smouldering looks Effie was casting in his direction. His bright blue eyes were pinned on me, a look of thinly veiled amusement etched across his face.

"You don't look so good," he said with a tilt of his head.

Normally that kind of statement would have induced an eye-roll on my behalf, but he was right, I didn't feel so good. A queasy lump rose up in my throat and colourful dots spontaneously appeared in my eyes. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I burst into the bathroom, bundling myself into a cubicle and vomiting before I could close the door. The pounding in my head was threatening to tear open my skull. I heaved again, then slumped back against the concrete wall of the stall, panting.

Of all the nights to have a concussion.

I dug through my clutch and found a fresh pain-relief patch. The old patch got stuck in my damp hair as I pulled it off my neck and replaced it with the new one. After a few minutes, the nausea subsided—along with the pounding in my head. The muffled sounds of the party came into focus and I felt strong enough to get up.

I staggered to the marble sink, leaning heavily on it as I took in my reflection in the mirror. My face had gone a few shades paler, making my freckles even more pronounced, and there was a light sheen of sweat across my face and neck. I swept all my hair to one side to cover the new patch before rinsing my mouth in the sink. My throat was burning and I felt as though the life had been sucked from me.

I straightened and checked my reflection again. The colour was beginning to return to my face. After a couple of deep breaths, I decided I had better find Dad and see what it was he wanted.

The jumble of gala sounds intensified as I willed my wobbly legs out the bathroom door and down the hall towards the ballroom. I was halfway down the hall when I heard my name.

"Astrid." The rough voice was half familiar, but it didn't sound right saying my name.

I turned to find his bright eyes fixed intently on me as he pushed off the wall—as though he'd been waiting there.

"What?" I couldn't manage an insolent tone. I was too exhausted.

"Just thought I'd return this." He grinned, offering my vape. "It was on the path outside, near some... newly decorated shrubs."

I wiped my mouth self-consciously. That first wave of nausea had really snuck up on me and I'd been hoping the rain would wash away most of the evidence of my alfresco puke, but I guessed it hadn't.

His gaze went from me to my unclaimed vape and a concerned look grew in his eyes. "Um, don't you want it back?"

I snapped out of my daze and took it from him, realising that he had ditched his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. A tattooed forest scene climbed his left forearm, disappearing under the bunched sleeve of his shirt. My eyes followed the peaks of the inky pine trees to his elbow and I wondered how far up his arm they went.

"Thanks—" It occurred to me that he had picked up my name and I still didn't know his.

"Zaphron." He obliged, smirking. The vivid blue of his eyes flickered to where the patch was hidden by my hair. "Everything okay?"

"Never better," I lied with a heavy exhale. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my dad."