Marked for Darkness
Chapter 4- Rex

His eyes met the most stunning pair of dark, sapphire blue.

Captivating.

Mine.

He blinked, clearing that unwelcome thought as he took in the red-haired beauty standing before him. Her body was lean, with curves that made his cock stir to life. They stared at each other for long moments, and even the blaring music faded into the background.

Recognition bloomed inside him, but he couldn’t place when or where he’d seen her before.

Something deep within his chest urged him to move closer to her.

“Oi, pretty boy!” A coarse voice hollered. “Mind getting us another round?” Rex didn’t need to look to know it was the three bankers that came in every Friday night looking for gullible women to take back to their apartments. They didn’t usually bother him, but just now, as he snapped back into the world around him, he wanted to smash their heads in.

“I’ll be right with you,” he said to the woman who still stared at him, before turning to fill three more glasses with foamy beer from the tap.

He didn’t bother looking at the men or the cash they tossed onto the glossy table-top before he moved to stand in front of her. As if unsure of what to do with herself, she plopped down onto the nearest barstool.

“What can I get you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying any hints of his thoughts, like: What’s your name? Would you like me to lay you back on this bar and bury myself inside you?

Shit.

This girl was trouble.

He didn’t understand what it was about her that had such a profound effect on him. He just knew he wanted to wrap his fingers into her fiery red curls and taste the slender, porcelain column of her neck.

“Uhm,” she said, brows creasing, then straightening again. “What would you recommend?”

Her voice was pure silk, the sound caressing something primal in him that made his fists clench and his nostrils flare.

Get it together, Almstad!

He tried on a smile to put her at ease. “You look like the cocktail type. How’s your tolerance?”

She shrugged, eyeing the bottles lining the walls. He could tell she was young, but she didn’t have the typical lost look people had when they’d never been to a bar before.

“How about a Long Island iced tea?” he suggested.

She chuckled then, the musical sound going straight to his cock. “Sure.”

Rex’s smile widened at the way her smile seemed to make her radiate an ethereal light. He shot her a wink before setting to work making her drink. When he turned his back to her, he felt her eyes on him.

Spinning to face her again, he was once again struck by her otherworldly beauty as he set the glass in front of her. “What’s your name, lovely?”

Pink stained her cheeks and he fought a groan. Damn, she’s sexy.

“I’m Harlow.” Her plump lips wrapped around the straw as she sipped the potent cocktail. He forced his gaze away from her mouth.

“I’m Rex.” He extended his hand.

Her head cocked to the side as she slid her dainty hand into his. The warmth of her spread through him. All too soon, the simple touch was over.

“Do you own this place?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Used to be my dad’s.”

She looked around the pub with awe before training her striking blue eyes back on him. Then they narrowed. “You don’t look much older than me.”

Rex shrugged. “I’m twenty-six.”

Harlow nodded before bobbing her head to the beat of a Guns N Roses song as she pulled another long sip from her straw. The tense set of her shoulders had relaxed, and she genuinely looked at ease speaking to him.

Other people had begun to fill the vacant stools, and he hadn’t even noticed. Fortunately, Hayley had stepped up to fill orders. She was a sweet girl, only twenty-two, and though she wasn’t the most attractive girl he’d ever seen, her impressive rack brought her in plenty of tips, which of course made her all too happy to fill in while Rex chatted to Harlow.

“It’s my twenty-fifth birthday,” Harlow said over the cheers from a table close by.

Rex blinked, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. “Today is your birthday?”

She nodded, smiling.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” He’d said it jokingly, but her smile slipped.

“I just moved here…today.” She polished off the last of her iced tea and he set to fixing her another one.

“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but wonder why she’d moved on her birthday and why she was alone. As he set the new beverage in front of her he said, “I’ll be right back, you need something to eat.”

She didn’t protest, but he could tell the drink was beginning to work its magic because she danced in her seat. Suddenly images of her dancing on the bar in her tight black dress flashed in his mind, drawing a gravelly rumble from his chest.

He placed an order with the chef and swiped a basket of curly fries to take with him. When he reemerged, she looked down at her phone, lip syncing the lyrics to a newer song he didn’t know. He wondered if she was messaging a guy. A flash of something hot and ugly streaked through him, and he pushed it away. He’d never felt possessive of anyone in his entire life, and ten minutes in this girl’s company made him feel like he had some sort of claim to her.

No, it was more than that.

There was something tangible within him that linked her to him.

Which sounded crazy, obviously, because that’s impossible. But as he stroked that invisible thread, her head whipped up, eyes bright and wide. As if she’d felt it too.

He smiled tightly as he set the basket of fries down in front of her. “So, what made you move to this overcrowded city?”

Harlow stowed her phone and sighed. “I’m an artist. Well—I was an art teacher back in California and I hated it. So, yesterday, I packed up my crap and walked out.”

Rex leaned his forearms onto the tacky bar top, leaning close enough to breathe in her scent.

Something fruity mixed with perfume.

It was intoxicating.

A buzz without the alcohol.

“An artist?” he forced himself to say.

She nodded. “Do you like art?”

He didn’t, but the lie rolled from his tongue before his brain had the chance to catch up. “Sure. Paintings mostly, I’m not a sculpture guy.”

Harlow laughed and took another sip. “Don’t worry, I don’t do sculpting. Here, I’ll show you some of my work.” She pulled her phone back out and tapped the screen several times before turning her phone for him to see.

They clearly weren’t real life paintings.

There were beaches with black sand, a blood red ocean and multiple suns. A forest with four moons shining through the rugged tree trunks. He noted with a flicker of something heavy in his chest the number of times she’d painted a dark, shadowy figure in various settings. All of her work was beautiful and so full of detail, it hurt his eyes.

“You have an impressive imagination,” he remarked, and she blushed again. “Do you have anything for sale?”

“I just finished one, but I don’t have a picture of it. I usually list them for auction. They always sell within the hour.”

Rex’s brows shot up his forehead. “How much do your paintings normally sell for?”

The color in her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck and stretching up to the tips of her ears.

“It depends. A couple thousand, sometimes more, but it’s always an anonymous buyer—” she cut herself off, as though she’d said too much.

The air thickened suddenly.

Great. It figured that a woman this beautiful and this talented would have fled her home, carrying secrets. Who knew if she was even unattached?

She cleared her throat. “So, you grew up here?”

Rex shook his head to clear it as he straightened. Don, the chef, called his order, but he didn’t move to retrieve it. “Yes, well, not here in New York City. I grew up a few hours north.”

Her eyes brightened with interest. “Really? Me too.”

This time Rex cocked his head. “Binghamton.”

Harlow’s eyes widened. “I went to West Middle School. I’d just started Binghamton High when my…” her gaze fell to her lap. “When my parents died.”

Rex sucked in a silent breath. “There was a car accident like ten years ago. A family was killed. I remember, it was a big deal. The car had caught fire and flipped off a bridge.”

Harlow’s pale skin became ashen. “Yeah, that was…how it happened. My sister and I left right after.”

Rex ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. “It’s weird, though, I was pretty sure the reports said four people died. The parents and two girls.”

Harlow blinked in confusion. “No, it was just my parents.”

He shook his head again. “Yeah, you’d know better than I would. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just can’t believe we have the same hometown.”

She gave him a small smile that did nothing to unknot the tangled mess in his chest. He remembered the article clearly. His uncle worked for the police station. His mother had cried for the two girls who’d died far too soon. Binghamton high had held vigil for the freshman girl and her older sister who’d recently graduated.

But he wasn’t going to press any further.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” he said then disappeared again. A single frosted white cupcake sat on a cream plate with a red candle speared in the center, unlit. Rex grabbed a lighter from his office and walked back out.

His heart sank when he saw Harlow standing as if she was about to leave. Her attention lifted to him, then shifted to the cupcake and her sad expression faded. Like clouds dissolving to reveal the brilliant sun behind.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she laughed, sitting down once more on the stool.

Rex shrugged. “It’s your birthday. I’m sorry again for being a dick. That was insensitive.” He set the plate in front of her and lit the candle with his lighter.

The flame danced on the wick as she closed her eyes for a moment. When he realized why, his lips split into a wide smile.

An artist that makes wishes on candles.

She was a bright and dazzling star compared to this dull city.

When her eyes opened, they seemed brighter. Then she blew out the candle, leaving a curling, writhing tendril of smoke in wake of the flame.

“Hey gorgeous, lemme buy you a drink.” The male’s voice snapped Rex from his trance, his eyes moving to the man that leaned next to Harlow. Way too damn close. He was lanky and dirty looking. He wasn’t even sure why he had been allowed into his bar.

Her lip curled, no doubt smelling the liquor on his breath. “No thanks,” she said disinterestedly.

The guy’s lips formed a sneer. “Aw, come on, babe, just one drink.”

Rex’s reaction was too quick to track, even for himself. Suddenly, he had the loser by the scruff of her shirt, hauled up onto the bar, their faces inches apart as Rex growled, “She told you no. Now get the fuck out.”

Harlow sat frozen as the guy in his clutches struggled drunkenly to get free. Rex released him harshly, making the scrawny man stumble back several steps.

“Whatever man, no pussy is that good.”

The words had him seeing red, but suddenly Harlow’s voice broke through the haze before he could move. “Stop! It’s fine.”

He focused on her; his fists clenched as if that would keep any accidents from occurring. Heat roared through his blood and his nostrils flared. The man shook his head as he headed for the door.

Harlow got to her feet and pushed away from the bar. Her eyes had shuttered closed, all brightness extinguished.

“I have to go, nice to meet you Rex.” She stalked away.

“Wait, Harlow, please.” He walked around the edge of the bar and followed her, catching her elbow just as she reached the door. A breath of the cool night air stirred her fiery red curls, pulling her scent up to him. “I can’t stand assholes that can’t take a hint, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head, “It’s fine, I should get to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“I’d like to see you again.”

Her lips parted, but she hesitated.

“Can I give you my number at least? It can be lonely being in such a massive city without knowing anyone.” He offered a smile, hoping to put her at ease.

It worked, and her shoulders relaxed. “Sure.” She pulled out her phone and Rex recited his number.

“Send me a text if you feel like it. I’m free tomorrow if you’d be up to dinner or something.”

Harlow smiled. “Thanks.”

He released her with great reluctance and with the door open, he whispered, “Happy birthday, Harlow.”

She turned and smiled.

Then she was gone.

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