Marked by Three

ChapterTwo

KIRA

Damon, we just… in a supply closet…”

“I know.” He helped me fix my scrubs, surprisingly careful. “And I don’t regret a second. Do you?”

I should’ve said yes. Should’ve set boundaries, said this could never happen again. But looking into those pale eyes, all I got out was, “No.”

“Good.” He kissed me again, soft this time. “Answer your page before they send a search party.”

Trauma alert. Multi-car pileup.

“I gotta go,” I said.

“I know.” He stepped back, raking a hand through his dark hair. For once he actually looked a little wrecked. “Kira?”

“Yeah?”

“My office. After shift. We need to talk.”

That wasn’t a question.

The ER was pure chaos when I entered, there were six criticals already, two more en route. I threw myself into it, trying to ignore the ghost of his fingers, and the cold press of his body.

I basically staggered out of Damon’s office an hour later. Lips puffy, whole body still buzzing like I’d mainlined caffeine straight to the veins, brain totally fried.

“Not tonight,” he’d said, even while his hands were busy learning every inch of me through my clothes. “When I finally have you, it won’t be on a desk in my office. I want somewhere I can take my damn time.”

Then he kissed me stupid and basically shoved me out the door.

I was so caught up replaying every second, every word, every slide of his fingers, that I didn’t even see Jazz until she was right in my face.

“Kira?”

I yelped. “Jesus, Jazz! You trying to give me a heart attack?”

She was still in scrubs, surgical cap hanging from one hand like a sad little flag. Her eyes did that instant doctor scan: flushed cheeks, wrecked hair, death grip on my bag.

“Oh honey. What happened?” She grabbed my arm. “Did Volkov chew you out? I saw you go in there and now you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. What’d he say?”

“No, he didn’t…”

“Because if he’s being a d**k I swear I’ll march right back in and…”

“Jazz. Chill.” I sucked in a breath. “He didn’t yell at me. I’m okay.”

“You do not look okay. You look…” She tilted her head, squinting. “Wrecked. When’s the last time you actually slept more than four hours? Or, like, breathed outside these walls?”

“I relax,” I mumbled.

“Double shifts aren’t relaxing. Cramming for certs isn’t relaxing.” She folded her arms. “When’s the last time you did anything just because it felt good? No hospital, no flashcards, no guilt?”

I opened my mouth… and nothing came out. I legit couldn’t remember.

“Thought so.” Her face softened. “Kira, you’re my person. I love you. But you’re sprinting toward a breakdown. You need a night off from your own head.”

“I’m fine…”

“Nope. Not hearing it.” She snatched my hand. “We’re going out.”

“Right now? Jazz, it’s almost one a.m.”

“Exactly. Perfect time. There’s this new spot downtown, Inferno. Everyone’s saying it’s unreal.” She grinned big. “Come on. When’s the last time you danced? Or wore anything that wasn’t scrub-proof?”

“I don’t know if I’m up for…”

“Please?” Puppy eyes, full force. “I’ve been dying to check it out but I’m not rolling up solo. Just a couple hours. Couple drinks. You get to unwind, I get to pretend I’m still pulling guys under thirty-five.”

I snorted. “You’re thirty-two.”

“Ancient. So? Pretty please?”

I pictured going home to my quiet apartment. Crawling into bed. Replaying Damon’s voice on loop until I made myself sick wondering what the hell “when I have you” actually meant.

Maybe a distraction wasn’t the worst idea.

“Fine,” I said. “But I gotta change first. I’m not clubbing in hospital jeans.”

Her whole face lit up. “Yes! Meet me there in an hour? I’ll text the address.”

“An hour,” I agreed.

She hugged me fast and basically bounced toward the parking garage. I stood there shaking my head, half smiling, half losing my mind over Damon.

An hour and a half later, because apparently nothing in my closet screamed “club” anymore, I was standing outside Inferno thinking, okay, this place is actually kind of stunning.

Dark wood, soft glowy lights, that black sign that looked like it was burning from the inside. Long line behind velvet ropes, but Jazz was up front waving like a maniac.

“Finally! Thought you ghosted me.” She gave me a full once-over and let out a low whistle. “Okay, damn. Look at you, hot stuff.”

I’d dug out this black dress I bought forever ago on clearance and never had the guts to wear. Shorter than my usual, way more cleavage than I normally show. But the way Jazz was grinning made me feel less ridiculous.

“Bouncer’s already half in love with me, so we’re skipping the line,” she said, grabbing my wrist and dragging me forward.

Sure enough, the giant at the door lit up when he saw her. “Dr. Chen. Good to see you.”

“You too, Daniel. This is Kira.”

Daniel had these weird amber eyes that seemed to catch every light. When he looked at me I got this strange feeling he was seeing straight through the dress, the makeup, everything. “Enjoy your night, ladies.”

Inside was next-level. Huge space, multiple floors, iron staircases curling up like something out of a gothic movie. The bar glowed, bottles lit from behind in reds and oranges that honestly looked like real fire. Dance floor already packed, bass thumping so hard I felt it in my ribs.

“This place is wild!” Jazz yelled over the music.

We shoved our way to the bar, ordered mojitos, and found a little pocket against the wall where we could watch everyone lose their minds on the floor.

“See?” She clinked her glass to mine. “This is what I’m talking about. Look around. Everyone’s alive. When’s the last time you felt alive, Kira?”

An hour ago when Damon had me pinned against his desk, I thought. Didn’t say it.

“Feels good,” I admitted instead.

“Good? That’s all I get?” She laughed. “Come on. Dance with me.”

“I’m not really…”

Too late. She was already hauling me out there.

I’ve never been a dancer. Foster care doesn’t exactly come with ballet classes or prom money. But the beat was stupid catchy and Jazz was having the time of her life, so I let go a little. We danced two songs and… shockingly, I was actually kind of into it.

Then I felt it. Eyes on me.

I turned, scanning faces, and locked onto this guy leaning against the far end of the bar.

Tall. Warm bronze skin. Dark hair with these copper streaks catching the lights. Dark jeans, black button-down, sleeves rolled up. Effortless, but sharp.

And yeah, he was staring right at me.

When our eyes met he gave me this slow, lazy smile that hit me straight in the stomach.

“Kira,” Jazz hissed. “That man is stunning and he is locked on you.”

“He’s probably looking at…”

“Nope. Coming this way. Oh my god he’s coming over.”

He moved through the crowd like it opened up just for him. Up close he was even better, golden-brown eyes that practically glowed, and this warmth rolling off him like he’d been standing next to a bonfire.

“Hey,” he said, voice smooth and low, little rough edge I couldn’t place. “I’m Zane.”

“Kira,” I got out.

“Kira.” He repeated it slow, like he liked how it felt. “Dance with me?”

I should’ve said no. I’d literally just left Damon’s office with his taste still on my lips. But something about Zane’s easy smile and the way he looked at me, like I was interesting, not just another body in the room, made my mouth say stupid things.

“I’m kind of terrible at dancing,” I warned.

“Good thing I’m not.” He held out his hand. “One song. If it sucks, I’ll disappear. Promise.”

Jazz was behind him doing wild “say yes” hand signals.

“One song,” I said.

His hand closed around mine warm, so warm it almost startled me after Damon’s constant chill. He pulled me deeper into the crowd, found this weird little pocket where it wasn’t total chaos.

The next song slowed down. His hands settled on my waist, gentle but sure, and that heat sank right through my dress.

“So, Kira,” he said while we moved. “What brings you to Inferno tonight?”

“My friend decided I work too much and needed to remember how to have fun.”

“Is it working?”

I glanced up. He was taller than Damon, eyes softer even with that spark in them. “Starting to.”

He smiled for real, not cocky. “That’s what this place is supposed to do. Let people breathe for a minute.”

“You come here to breathe too?”

“Actually… I own it.” He spun me once, smooth and easy. “Opened a few months back.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You own Inferno?”

“Guilty.” His hands tightened just a fraction on my waist. “But it’s looking a lot better now that you’re here.”

I laughed despite myself. “That’s a hell of a line.”

“Only a line if I’m lying.” His eyes held mine. “I see a lot of beautiful women walk through that door. You’re… different. I can’t explain it yet. I just know I want to.”

We kept dancing. Song after song. He was funny, told me about the guy who tried to propose with a glow stick ring, the woman who insisted the DJ play nothing but 90s boy-band remixes. When I said I was a nurse his whole vibe shifted.

“You save people,” he said quietly.

“I try.”

“That’s…” He looked at me like I’d surprised him. “That’s really something. Why’d you choose it?”

I usually give the safe answer. But he was looking at me like he actually wanted the truth.

“Grew up in foster care,” I said. “Bounced around a lot. Never had anyone looking out for me. Figured I could be that person for other people.”

His face went soft. “That’s beautiful, Kira.”

“What about you? Why a club?”

Something dark flickered in his eyes, gone fast. “Wanted to build somewhere people could feel like they belonged. No matter what. Just… safe.”

There was more there. Way more. But he didn’t push, so I didn’t either.

“Dance with me again sometime,” he said. “Or let me take you out. Real date. Dinner. Not just my dance floor.”

I hesitated. “Zane, I…”

“You’re seeing someone.”

“I don’t even know. It’s… messy.”

“Messy can be good.” He studied my face. “I’m not asking for forever. Just a chance.”

Jazz popped up beside us. “Kira, hate to kill the vibe, but I’ve got an early surgery. You ready to bounce? Or…?”

“I’m coming,” I said fast.

Zane stepped back, hands dropping away. “Was nice meeting you, Kira.”

“You too.”

He smiled, that warm, heart-kicking smile. “Hope I see you again.”

Outside, Jazz pounced. “Okay, spill. Who was Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Owns-the-Whole-Vibe? And why don’t you have his number?”

“He’s Zane. He owns the place.”

“He was looking at you like you hung the moon. The chemistry was ridiculous.”

“Jazz…”

“I know. Complicated. But maybe complicated isn’t the worst thing. Maybe you deserve someone who looks at you like that too.”

I thought about Damon who was cold, intense, promising to never let go. Then Zane warm, easy, asking for one chance.

Two different men. Two different kinds of fire.

We hugged goodbye in the parking garage.

“Thanks for dragging me out,” I told her.

“You needed it.” She squeezed me. “You actually smiled tonight. Like, real smiles.”

I drove home in a weird haze. Crawled into bed around three, mind spinning between ice-cold hands and golden-brown eyes.

Phone buzzed.

I grabbed it, figuring Jazz checking I got home okay.

Wrong.

Unknown: Hope you had fun tonight, Kira. First drink’s always on the house at Inferno. Next time I’d like to buy it for you myself. – Zane

How the hell did he get my number?

Before I could even freak out properly, another text landed.

Damon: I can’t stop tasting you. Sleep well, Ki. Dream of me.

I dropped the phone like it was on fire.

Two men.

Two messages.

Two completely different kinds of danger.

What the actual hell am I doing?