1. Jess

"You can't wear that."

I rolled my eyes at Charlotte. "Why not?"

"Come on, Jessica. I know you haven't been out in a while, but you know that that," she gestured at my clothes, "is not appropriate attire for getting laid."

Fuck. Was I actually doing this?

I looked at myself in the mirror. Baggy shirt, loose pants. Char was right, I wasn't really trying. At least I'd done my makeup and hair. My curly brown locks were styled and springy. A minimal swipe of eyeshadow brought out the green in my hazel eyes. But the clothes were not sexy. Anti-sexy, if anything.

"Isn't this just a dive bar?" I was reaching for excuses now.

Char went through my closet with her back to me. She looked beautiful, as always. Long, straight blond hair that swished when she walked. Pretty blue eyes behind cute glasses. Her outfit was form-fitting but understated—black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

It didn't matter what she wore. People noticed her.

"Annabelle thinks it's a firefighter bar. She only went in to use the bathroom, but she said the place was full of men, all gorgeous and built."

"What if it's a gay bar? Annabelle has been known to be wrong."

"You're just nervous. And shit, if it's a gay bar, we'll still have a good time. You are going out, Jess." She pulled a shirt and a pair of jeans out of my closet and tossed them on the bed. "Change. You can do this. It's time."

I stared at the low-cut green top, but I didn't move. Was it time?

"Sweetie, it's been six months. Kevin was a douche. It. Is. Time."

He was a douche. A passive-aggressive jackass. Thankfully, we worked in different departments at the library, and I didn't see him much. But last week, I'd heard he was engaged. To the woman he'd cheated on me with.

I felt sorry for her. The thought of being married to Kevin made me shudder. Still, the break-up had done a number on my self-esteem. I wasn't as confident as I used to be.

My apartment was my sanctuary, my cozy hideaway. The idea of going out made me queasy. It was so much easier to stay home with a good book than try to start something new.

A bar full of hot firefighters on a Saturday night sounded like my worst nightmare. And that…didn't seem healthy.

Shit. It was time.

I picked up the shirt from my bed. "One drink. That's it tonight."

Char grinned. "Baby steps. Put it on."

"What does that say? Fated Mates?"

We stood in the quiet parking lot, both of us frowning up at the neon sign above the door of the windowless, cinder block building.

The bar was outside of town, on a country road without any streetlights, surrounded by empty fields and farms. There were a fair number of cars in the poorly lit lot, otherwise I would've told Char to turn around as soon as we got there. It was creepy.

"Annabelle said it was Fated M-something. She didn't remember. Hey, maybe it's an Australian bar?" Char laughed. "One drink. You promised."

I nodded and swallowed, putting on a fake smile for my friend. She'd been so supportive the past few months. I could give her this.

"Okay. Let's go in."

She pushed the door open, and I followed.

At first glance, it was a normal bar. Dim lighting, linoleum floor. Mix of tables and booths. Not too busy, but not empty.

Then several things happened at once.

Heads turned and looked our way. A game of pool paused. The buzz of conversation died. And somehow, despite the awkward silence that should have made me anxious, I became instantly and embarrassingly wet. My lower stomach fluttered, my nipples hardened, and I couldn't catch my breath.

I looked over at Char. Her eyes were wide.

The sound of a pool cue striking a ball met my ears. Guys sitting around nearby tables were talking again, not paying us any attention. It was as though I'd imagined the whole thing.

What I definitely had not imagined was the fact that the entire place seemed to be filled with male models. Annabelle was right, the guys here were built like firefighters. Most wore t-shirts that showed off bulging biceps and broad shoulders. Nothing but handsome faces with strong jaws and chiseled features, as far as the eye could see.

Gay bar. It had to be. If it wasn't, women would be swarming the place.

I relaxed. No one was going to try and pick me up here. I could just have a drink and chill, then we'd go home.

There was a scent in the air that made me feel restless, but I ignored it. My body's reaction was probably the result of all the testosterone in the room after I'd been in a dick drought. I felt safe. No alarm bells were going off.

Char started moving at the same time I did, both of us making a beeline for the bar. I leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Are we the only women here?"

She startled, like I was jarring her out of a trance. "Oh. Um, yeah. It looks like it. This place is a little strange." Her steps slowed, and she stopped, turning to look at me before we got to the bar. "Do you think we should go?"

"Ladies, can I buy you a drink?" The low voice rolled over us, heavy and deep.

Char went rigid, like a rabbit caught in the sights of a wolf. A blond-haired man stood next to her, a little too close. My gaze snapped to his face, and I blinked.

For a second, I thought his eyes glowed silver and his skin was a red color, sort of maroon. Even his features seemed to blur, then sharpen, before realigning into an attractive, non-threatening guy with brown eyes and perfectly normal skin. He smiled, showing off a dimple.

What the fuck?

If I had a drink, I would have thought it'd been drugged. Could there be something in the air in here? I looked around again, but nothing seemed off.

When I turned back, Char was physically leaning toward Mr. Dimple, the two of them already lost in each other's eyes. She hadn't had a relationship in a while. Lots of dates, lots of duds. And she was a romance novelist. If anyone deserved a good match, it was her.

But I couldn't ignore all the odd things about this place. I put my hand on her arm to get her attention back.

"One drink?" I raised an eyebrow in question.

She shook her head as if to clear it and focused on me. "Yeah, a drink sounds good." Her eyes dragged back up to the man looming next to her. "You're buying?"

His smile was blinding. "Sure am." He motioned us ahead to a few empty stools at the bar. "I'm Ryoch, by the way. What's your name?" He took the seat next to Char.

Clearly, he was only talking to her. I contemplated the liquor selection on display behind the bar while she gave him our names.

That scent I'd noticed earlier was stronger here. Maybe they had a kitchen in the back and it was wafting in from there? Although, if it was food, I didn't recognize it.

"What can I get you?"

Holy. Fuck.

Had I felt wet before? Aroused? It was nothing compared to how my body reacted when the bartender's silken, resonant voice thrummed along my skin.

He stepped into my line of sight, but he was tall. I was only at eye level with his broad chest, so that's what I stared at. His muscular torso. The tight, navy blue button-down shirt he had rolled up to show off his sexy forearms.

I worried that if I pulled my eyes up to his, I'd come. Was that even possible?

The scent surrounded me. It had to be coming from him. Cologne. Something musky and salty and spicy that made me feel breathless. When I started to see black dots floating in my vision, I realized I'd actually stopped breathing.

Be cool, Jess.

I forced myself to breathe normally, like a non-insane, non-weirdo. It was just a voice. Just some cologne. My gaze inched upward, past his open collar and bitable neck. Over his firm jaw, up to his short, straight black hair as he casually brushed it back from his face. Finally meeting his bright, glowing silver eyes.

No. Not silver. Green. Very pretty, but still normal, green eyes. My heart raced as those eyes widened in surprise, just for a second, before he seemed to collect himself.

He leaned over the bar toward me. I thought he was getting closer to hear me above the noise. But then he…sniffed me. I could see a shiver ripple across his shoulders.

At this point, I should have been running for the door. The eyes and the sniffing should have been freaking me out. But I did. Not. Move. Because the only direction I wanted to go was up and over the bar as I threw myself on the bartender. And since that was both insane and weird, I stayed put. Breathing like a fucking normal person.

"Gravod? Hey, Gravod?" It was the guy next to Char, trying to get the bartender's attention.

Wait. Ryoch? Gravod?

"Those are unusual names."

Yes. That was the first thing I said. Something about that little detail prodded me into speech.

Both men turned to me and simultaneously said, "Scottish."

"You're both Scottish?" They didn't have accents.

Ryoch ignored me and turned back to the bartender. "I'm buying for these lovely ladies." He held up some cash.

"Oh, no." I dug into my purse and pulled out my credit card. My brain was starting to function again, and something strange was going on. If I was paying, we'd be more likely to keep to our one-drink limit and go. "We'll both have a cocktail. Cosmos, or whatever you have that's easy. Use my card, please."

The bartender—Gravod—took my card and swiped it before making our drinks. He marked it as an open tab. I was just about to tell him to close it when his cocktail skills distracted me.

I noticed the way he angled himself, as though he didn't want to turn his back on me. He grabbed more bottles than I expected, mixing and shaking. It was elaborate. And it gave me the opportunity to stare at his flexing arms and large, strong hands.

He got out two cocktail glasses, rubbing lemon peel along the rims before filling each of them with a pink drink and setting them on coasters in front of us. Then he filled a pint of beer for Ryoch.

"Cheers." He was watching me closely. Ryoch grumbled as he handed over the cash for his own drink.

"Is this a Cosmo?" I hadn't seen him use vodka.

He shook his head. "Scofflaw. It has rye, vermouth, lemon juice, and grenadine. Let me know if you like it."

Char swiveled on her stool to clink glasses with me, her eyebrows up to her hairline as she took a sip. I was about to lean in to whisper, but when the tart drink hit my taste buds, I momentarily closed my eyes. I might have moaned. That was a good cocktail.

When I surfaced from my little moment, Char was an inch from my face, looking a bit panicked.

"There's something weird about Ryoch's eyes," she hissed under her breath.

I carefully set down my glass as I nodded, matching her volume. "Gravod's too."

"I feel… I don't know. Out of control. I don't like it."

Char's discomfort was obvious, and it was contagious. Tendrils of unease started to creep over me. None of this was quite right. We needed to leave.

Behind Char, Gravod and Ryoch were leaning close, talking low. Just like we were. They were distracted.

"Let's go," I said.

She nodded. We both got up and started walking toward the door at a casual pace. No one seemed to notice.

We made it halfway across the bar before I heard Ryoch's voice behind us, deep and commanding. "Charlotte. Wait."

It was like he had some kind of power over her, because Char paused her steps. My heart rate skyrocketed, real fear threatening to make me freeze, too.

Fuck that.

I grabbed her hand and pulled Char forward, and she snapped out of it. We sped to the door, then full-on ran to the car once we were outside.

As Char peeled out of the parking lot and onto the quiet country road, I glanced back. Ryoch was standing in front of the building, watching us. His expression wasn't angry or frightening at all. He looked gutted. Pained.

I turned back around in the seat. Char and I were both panting, and she had the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

"What the hell was that?" she said.

"I don't know." I blew out a long breath. Gravod's cologne still clung to my skin. My panties were soaked. "I don't know."