#Chapter 2: A Familiar Face

[Elara’s POV]

The dim, pulsing lights from the ceiling above made my eyes swim with a confused haziness. My head was already fuzzy from all the alcohol I’d ill-mindedly consumed. My personal pity party had surely come back to take its vengeance.

I squinted my eyes, trying to see through the blurry haze and visually make out the man who had caught me from hitting the floor.

My mind was racing with each physical feature I was able to take in. His sharp, sculpted jawline and cheekbones looked as though it was carved from marble. His strong, dark brows matched the wavy mess of hair that curled behind his ears.

...And those dark honeyed eyes...Oh, my God...There’s no way...

A vague flicker of recognition drove me to only one possible conclusion.

He looked just like my father’s friend, Killian Knox. The same man who once lived right next door to us. But surely that couldn’t be possible.

The more I tried to look him over, the more I realized how different he now appeared.

Older. Matured and aged like a fine wine that’s been waiting to be opened.

As a child, I was often left alone by my father. The useless and unattentive high school girls that he tried to rope into babysitting me always ditched me to head to some party, leaving me to become further withdrawn and socially hesitant.

But where Killian was concerned, he treated me differently.

He owned the house next door and was only ever home during the summers. The Killian Knox from my memories was just as handsome and severely off-limits. Although I could easily note that his shoulders were nowhere near as broad as the man’s who towered over me now.

The same Killian I had secretly admired for all those years was gentle, yet untamed. He’d been the only one to truly notice the quiet, neglected girl who lived across the alleyway. Killian actually took the time out of his day to speak with me about some of the books I was reading and even gave me a few of his personal recommendations.

His kindness and rare flickers of interest toward me never failed to lift me out of my desolate moods.

However, the man who had just saved me from a mean fall did not seem to fit the same image in my memories. No.

This Killian felt colder. Impatient. His brows furrowed in a deep scowl.

My Killian would never look at me with that icy stare.

A sudden rush of clarity raced down the back of my spine. The real Killian had vanished from society years ago without so much as a word of goodbye.  

Staring up at him, my voice came out shaky. “W-Who are you?”

Instead of giving me a real response, the man merely looked irritated.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he commented roughly. His voice was much deeper than I remembered Killian’s ever being.

There’s no way that this was Killian Knox. Whoever this was...He simply resembles him. Nothing more.

But the notion that he looked like Killian was enough to spark an interest in me. Well, that, and the copious amount of alcohol that was swirling through my system. His icy yet gentlemanly act of saving me caused a rush of heat to course through me.

His earlier dismal brought back the stinging pain of Brad’s betrayal. My mind was then filled with the suggestive words from my friend, Ava.

“Why not try a mature man?”

It all pushed me to try and move closer to him. All those shots I’d previously taken had emboldened me to act. I took another daring step closer and slightly stumbled. This man, once again, curled my waist with a strong arm and held me close against the firm planes of his chest.

I was enchanted by the woodsy, natural scent of him. Unknowingly, my arms snaked past his shoulders and looped around his neck. My gaze dropped to his perfect, full lips, and I leaned in.

My heart crashed against my rib cage as he turned his face away, forcing me to meet only his cheek. An annoyed, drunken whimper tore from my throat, making me all the more frustrated and determined.

I leaned forward and took my opportunity to not only kiss his cheek but begin a long, sensual trail down his chin and neck. Feeling him tense beneath my touch felt like successfully passing all of my exams.

As my lips passed over his collarbone, I faintly heard his breath catch in his lungs. I couldn’t help but smile in sheer triumph. His hold on me tightened to a near-punishing grip. But it wasn’t enough to make me stop.

My hands grew more daring. While one of them cupped his strong jaw, the other played at the neckline of his shirt. The man tried to evade my growing advances, but I latched onto him like my life depended on it.

“Stop,” he hissed quietly, enough for only me to hear.

Undeterred, I slipped my hand within his half-open collar and practically melted at the solid muscle beneath. The backs of my fingers lazily dragged down the rigid form of his torso. But before I could truly appreciate the exhilarating sensation, he snapped his hand around my wrist and tore me away.

“I said enough,” he snarled, roughly.

His eyes were blazing with furious anger and something else I couldn’t quite identify. Yet, my determination refused to be stumped. With my other free hand, I attempted to continue my previous task, wanting to capture that same luscious sensation from before.

The man was quick to capture that hand, too. He took both my wrists in his large hand and held my arms over my head.

Oh my...

I could feel my cheeks flush from the growing need that sparked in my lower abdomen. Given my lack of experience, I never once considered the idea of being restrained. It was rather invigorating.

Somehow, this position sent my mind reeling into a playful mess. He looked as though he was fighting to keep his eyes on my face and not let them trail down the rest of my body. I took my chance to lean forward and press myself against him.

Another angered noise rumbled from deep within his chest. I seriously thought that I’d made some kind of headway with this man. However, the next thing I knew, my entire body was shocked into frigid stillness by the unwelcoming feeling of ice water having been dumped over my head.

A startled gasp slipped past my lips. The man gripped my chin; his voice came out dangerously low. “Take a good look at me. Tell me. Who do you think I am?”

Due to my earlier ministrations, his collar had loosened, causing his dress shirt to fall open—completely exposing his well-defined pectorals. My eyes were instantly drawn to a familiar tattoo that covered the entire left side of him.

My breathing staggered as the awful feeling of sobriety washed over me. The whites of my eyes grew wide in frightening disbelief. All traces of my previous doubt had dissolved into pure dust.

The stranger in front of me was, in fact, no stranger at all.

Oh my God! What in the world have I just done to my father’s friend, Killian?!