Page 76 of The Bittersweet Bond

Bellamy and Chris quickly made themselves comfortable in the VIP section, claiming a raised booth with a view of the dance floor. Bas sank into the leather couch beside them, his gaze sweeping across the room. Maybe this was exactly what he needed—a drink, good music, and no ghosts from the past looming over him.

"Hey, you guys want drinks?" Bellamy asked casually, grinning as he nodded toward a group of girls laughing at a nearby table.

Bas followed his gaze and before he knew it, Bellamy was already charmingly waving them over. A girl with sleek copper hair and a bright smile broke away from the group, bringing two friends with her. Well, that was quick...

"Tequila shots!" Chris shouted to the waiter, gesturing toward the girls.

Bas leaned back, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips as the copper-haired girl, who introduced herself as Cara, sat down beside him. There was something about her that immediately caught his attention—shy, almost too shy for this club. Yet the pounding bass and flashing lights didn’t seem to faze her.

Bas raised his glass and toasted her, easing into casual conversation. His lips curved into a slight smile, and he realized, to his own surprise, that he was actually relaxing. Maybe it was her gentle demeanor, or the way her laugh was contagious, but for a moment, he felt... at ease.

"Honestly, no," he said, his voice unusually calm as they chatted. "We just wanted to try something different."

Even he was surprised at how effortlessly he managed to smooth out the rough edges of his typically guarded self, if only for a little while. He glanced down at the empty glass in his hand.

I should slow down.

As Cara handed him another shot, he shook his head and reached for a glass of water instead. His gaze wandered back to the crowd—an automatic reflex rather than a conscious choice. His body stiffened the moment his eyes found her.

Evin was in the middle of the dance floor, her body shimmering under the kaleidoscope of lights. She was laughing, her head thrown back, and behind her was a guy Bas didn’t recognize.

What the hell?The man was tall, lean, and dressed in a fitted black T-shirt that hugged his muscular arms. Tattoos coiled up his forearms and disappeared beneath his sleeves like secrets waiting to be uncovered. Bas watched as Evin turned to face him, moving in sync, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. His stomach twisted.

A slow, burning heat coiled in his chest, tightening with every second he watched her. Not moving for him. Moving for that guy.

How long had she even known him? Minutes?

His jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding as his grip on the glass in his hand turned his knuckles white.

What do you think you’re doing?

His breath grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with the effort to suppress the surge of emotion threatening to boil over.

He raised the glass to his lips and drained it in one gulp, the cold water barely quelling the storm inside. It was a good thing it wasn’t alcohol, or he might’ve done something reckless. The music pounded around him, but it was nothing more than a faint hum in the background.

All he could see was her—her hands running over her hips, the guy’s hand inching dangerously low toward her ass, as if he had a right to touch her like that.

Bas forced his gaze away from the dance floor and stalked toward the bar, needing something—anything—to distract him from the sight burned into his brain. He leaned against the counter, ordering another drink, determined to put space between himself and the twisted spectacle on the dancefloor.

But just as he set his elbows on the bar, a familiar figure appeared beside him. It was Evin, her breath still heavy from dancing, her skin glowing, her eyes glimmering with something distant, as if she were lost in another world. She waved to the bartender, trying to catch his attention, but he was too preoccupied with other orders to notice her.

She was impossible to ignore. Skin glowing under the lights, eyes sharp with something he couldn’t quite place, like she was still half in the music. The kind of beautiful that made looking away feel like losing. And he hated that—it was too easy, too familiar, that pull toward her, like a bruise he kept pressing just to feel something.

Bas clenched his jaw, refusing to look at her. Refusing to let her know she was still in his gravity.

But then she let out a frustrated sigh, glancing around, and something in him snapped—a reflex he couldn’t suppress, no matter how much he wanted to.

Without a word, he grabbed his water and placed it in front of her, his eyes fixed on a spot beyond her shoulder. “Here,” he muttered, his tone clipped, almost cold. “Drink this.”

Evin glanced at him, surprised, the cool touch of the water grounding her for a brief moment. She looked like she was about to say something—a thank you or maybe a sharp retort—but instead, she simply took the glass, sipped, and kept her gaze lowered.

Bas watched her from the corner of his eye, and with every second he observed her, his anger dulled. In its place came a bittersweet ache that tightened in his chest.

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Evin

Evin held the glass for a moment, a flicker of surprise twisting in her stomach when she saw Bas. Of all places, it had to be this club—the one where she’d come to escape, to put distance between them.

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