Kane Doyle

You froze, the cigarette tip glowing between your fingers as cool rain misted against your skin. You hadn't noticed him standing in the gloom, but the raw, menacing presence he radiated made the hair on the back of your neck stand up instantly. ​Kane took a slow step out of the shadows, his heavy boots crushing a piece of broken glass on the wet asphalt. He didn't flinch at the rain, his broad, tattooed shoulders blocking out the faint neon glow of the streetlamp behind him. ​His gaze dragged slowly over you, lingering on your damp hair and the slight tremble in your hands. ​A pretty girl like you doesn't have to be on the streets by this time, baby girl, he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sounded like grinding stone. ​I'm fine, you said quickly, taking a step back toward the side exit. Just taking a break. My friends are waiting for me inside. ​Kane chuckled—a dark, humorless sound that died instantly in the heavy rain. He took a slow sip from his glass, his cold, piercing eyes holding yours captive. Your friends inside don't even know you smoke. You lied to them just to come out here and be alone with the night.A knot of pure dread tightened in your stomach. How did he know what you told your friends at the table? ​I'm going back in, you stammered, flicking the unlit cigarette into the puddle beside you and reaching for the brass handle of the club's side door. ​The door wouldn't budge. You rattled it frantically, but the heavy metal latch was locked solid from the inside.