Bound by the Night

By Anastasia Rabiyah

Valentine’s Day brings Faith into a nightclub—the last place she wants to be. When she catches the eye of the handsome bartender who offers her a drink, her caution slips away. She can’t take her eyes off him or say no when he asks her to a private dance. When his kisses turn dangerous, she asks to go home, but being bound by a creature of the night is not an easy snare to escape, and escape might be the last thing she wants to do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Sword Publications
• Release date: Feb 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781612920313

Anastasia Rabiyah

Anastasia writes erotic romance, paranormal erotic romance, and dark fantasy. She often crosses genres in order to follow her muses into the darkness where they seek out destiny in all its forms. She believes in fairies, demons, angels, magic, passion, chocolate, supportive friends, e-books, and writing critique groups. Her deepest desire is to pursue her creative dreams and realize them. Every spare moment she devotes to writing for her haunting muses.

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Bound by the Night

Anastasia Rabiyah

Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

BOUND BY THE NIGHT

Copyright © 2012 ANASTASIA RABIYAH

ISBN 978-1-61292-031-3

Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah

Dedication

For D. Johnson who stepped too far past the boundaries and became lost forever. Love conquers all, but sometimes the darkness has swallowed too much light to let love shine in and souls be saved.

Prologue

The Night's Embrace

He came to me with open arms, his windy voice a whisper lustily dancing on my deaf ears. Though I turned him away several times with cutting remarks, Night's arms remained open.

I think he felt my pain, that his darkness was something we shared.

For though I danced about gaily in the nude, glitter falling from my words,

he saw the emptiness in my heart and longed for innocent eyes to behold his ebony beauty

an equal to remark upon the stars therein, and the brightness of the moon,

which is, after all, his soul.

Chapter One: Bar

Nothing ventured, nothing gained — but if everything is ventured, and still nothing gained, give up and venture elsewhere.

-Peter Wastholm

February 14, Cat Scratch Bar

He stared right at her, his brown eyes deep and perplexing. Just looking at the bartender filled Faith with urges she didn’t want to face. She imagined him crushed against her, his hot mouth testing her lips, savoring her cheek, her neck. But Faith’s last relationship had failed, doomed by her inability to let go, to be, to have fun. Her ex had told her as much, and rather than argue, she had agreed. It was true. Life was a series of dangerous chances that she much preferred to avoid by staying within her tight boundaries. Home, work, home again, nothing else, nothing more, no stepping past the lines into the unknown. She lived by the motto, nothing ventured, nothing lost. The bartender represented a dangerous chance, just how dangerous, she didn’t know—yet.

Her best friend, Matilda, jabbed Faith in the ribs. He’s hot.

Huh?

Don’t give me that ‘huh’. You’re looking, too. I see you gawking at him. Matilda shook her head, a knowing grin on her oval-shaped face. That guy’s to die for.

A chill ran down her spine. To die for. Great expression. Not what I would say. Faith looked the other way and watched the throng of people dancing to the beat on the packed floor. Strobes flashed. Bodies gyrated. I can’t believe you tricked me into coming here.

You need to get out more. You’re twenty-three, not ninety-three. I’m surprised you don’t have six cats and a crochet basket by your rocking chair.

Faith was used to comments like that. She half-smiled and stole another glance at the bartender. He really was good-looking, but she didn’t want to get involved with another guy who would hate her for her inhibitions.

He smiled.

She swallowed, nervous.

Robby’s here! Matilda shouted. I’m gonna go dance. You should too. It’s Valentine’s Day. Don’t be alone tonight.

Faith shook her head. I don’t dance.

"Then go order a drink, at least. There’s a someone there watching you right now."

A drink? she peeped, ignoring her friend’s hints. At the bar?

Yeah. Get something with alcohol in it. Loosen up, Faith. She flashed a conspiratorial grin. That’s why I tricked you into coming here.

Matilda shimmied away to the dance floor. She bumped and grinded her way to the object of her office obsession, Robert Colt from level three, a high up accountant who knew how to shake it with the best of them.

Faith sighed. She watched everyone moving to the beat, some in perfect time like a music video, and others, much worse off. Valentine’s Day and she didn’t have a date, and didn’t think she wanted one either. Resigned to either gaping at the dancers or hiding by the bar, she opted for the latter.

The heels she wore hurt, and had not been her choice. They belonged to Matilda, and she was lucky they weren’t a set of stilettos. Even the cocktail dress she had on wasn’t hers. The shiny black beads drew attention. The skirt rode high above her knees, and the bodice cut between her cleavage to show off her breasts. The dress was not the kind of thing she’d want to be seen in at a public place.

She reached the bar with its wolf of a man behind it and settled in at the last seat, far away from anyone who might want to talk to her or ask her to dance. The bartender moved down the