CHAPTER ONE
The club smelled like sweat, whiskey, and bad decisions. Just the way Briar liked it.
She leaned against the bar, swirling the ice in her drink with one manicured finger, scanning the room for distraction—not trouble. Trouble had a way of finding her, even when she wasn’t looking. Especially when it had piercing golden eyes and a smirk that promised nothing but sin.
He was here again.
She didn’t need to see him to know it. The moment he entered the room, something in her body reacted—a prickling awareness sliding over her skin, an itch she couldn’t scratch. A pressure at the edge of her senses, hot and unrelenting.
And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, her gaze found him.
Kade Mercer stood at the opposite end of the bar, his broad frame cutting through the neon haze like a shadow made of muscle and intent. The club’s dim lighting carved out the sharp edges of his face—the chiseled jaw, the wicked curve of his lips, the golden eyes that locked onto her like a predator sighting its prey.
A slow, deliberate smirk curled his mouth. He had the audacity to look amused.
Bastard.
Briar clenched her jaw, forcing herself to ignore the way her pulse picked up. He was too tall, too broad, too damn sure of himself. The kind of man who took up space and knew it—who never apologized, never asked, never hesitated.
And she wanted nothing to do with him.
Liar, Briar.
Her fingers tightened around her glass as he pushed away from the bar, stalking toward her with a lazy, predatory grace that made her stomach twist. The kind of movement that said he had nothing to fear in this world. That he owned whatever room he walked into.
Including this one. Including her, if she let him.
He stopped just close enough that the heat of his body curled into her space, though he didn’t touch her. Not yet. Instead, he let the tension stretch between them, palpable, electric.
“You again,” she muttered, lifting her glass in a mock salute. “What a coincidence.”
His smirk deepened. “What can I say? The city’s got a shortage of good bars.”
“Or you’re stalking me.”
“If I were stalking you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have seen me.”
A shiver traced her spine. His voice—low, smooth, laced with something dangerous—was the kind that could turn blood to molten heat.
She masked her reaction with an eye roll. “Charming.”
“I can be,” he said, voice dipping into something darker.
Then, he moved.
Bracing a hand on the bar beside her, he leaned in, caging her without touching, his body a wall of heat and dominance. The scent of him hit her like a drug—pine and leather, crisp air after a storm, and something darker, something primal.
It made her mouth go dry. Made her thighs clench before she could stop herself.
What the hell was wrong with her?
“You’re Briar,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question.
She exhaled sharply. “And you’re in my personal space.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Get used to it.”
Something about the way he said it—like a promise, like inevitability—made her stomach flip. She hated that she reacted to him. Hated that her body refused to listen to reason.
“Cocky much?” she shot back.
His smirk widened, flashing the barest hint of teeth. Sharp canines, just a little too long.
“You have no idea.”
She should have walked away. Should have shoved past him, tossed back the rest of her drink, and disappeared into the crowd.
Instead, she stayed.
Not because of his words. Not even because of that infuriating smirk.
It was his scent.
God help her, it was intoxicating.
Something deep and primal curled low in her stomach, urging her to lean in instead of push away. The pull was maddening, a whisper in her blood that made her dizzy, reckless.
She shifted her weight, clearing her throat, trying to shake it off. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”
His gaze dipped, dragging over her body like a slow caress before locking onto hers again.
“That’s cute,” he murmured.
She stiffened. “Excuse me?”
His grin widened, like he found her irritation adorable. “You’re lying.”
Briar scoffed, even as her pulse betrayed her, hammering against her ribs. “And what makes you think that?”
Kade lifted his hand slowly—deliberately—and before she could react, his fingers traced the side of her throat, just over the frantic flutter of her pulse.
A barely-there touch. A warning. Or maybe a promise.
“This,” he murmured, golden eyes darkening. His fingers stayed there, resting against her skin, feeling every unsteady beat. His gaze flicked between her parted lips and the pulse that gave her away. “You want to run, don’t you?”
Yes.
She swallowed hard. “Maybe I just don’t like pushy men.”
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, breath warm against her skin. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what kind of man I am.”
A delicious shiver rolled down her spine, but she forced herself to stay still. Forced herself to think.
She didn’t even know his name.
Didn’t know why the hell he had been watching her for weeks, why he always happened to show up wherever she was.
And yet… she wasn’t scared.
No—what scared her was the fact that she wanted him closer.
“Tell me your name,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Kade pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again, his fingers still resting against her throat like a silent claim.
His smirk was gone now, replaced by something darker.
“Kade.”
The way he said it sent another unwanted wave of heat through her body, like it was more than a name—like it was something final.
Something inevitable.
Briar clenched her jaw. She was in trouble.
Big. Fucking. Trouble.