Rival moved with swift, purposeful strides, dragging the limp figure of the girl who had been dancing just moments before beneath his pulsing beats. He brushed past other clubgoers without a care, ignoring the sharp curses and annoyed shouts that tried to halt him. His eyes flicked toward the bar, catching sight of Laura entwined with the quiet young man who had clung to the girl now in Rival’s grasp. They were too lost in their own heat to notice Joey wincing nearby, bleeding slightly from the nose. The androgynous bartender or lucky bastard.
The girl behind him let out a soft whine, muttering under her breath as his broad shoulder intentionally nudged her. His pace quickened, a predator undeterred, until he reached the empty men’s restroom. Fortune favored them: the space was deserted.
