He leaned forward and placed his lips at my ear. "I've watched you here every night," he whispered in my ear. He pulled back slightly and I remained silent, drowning in his gaze. His scent enveloped me, warm and crisp even over the stale scent of the bar.

His long, elegant fingers rose up to caress my cheek, leaving a streak of fire in their path. I turned my cheek into his palm, trying to capture more of his warmth. My chest rose and fell steadily with the increased tempo of my breathing. John stepped closer, crowding my frame with his larger body.

"You watch me? Why would you?" I whispered softly. I wondered how I'd missed seeing him here. I wouldn't have forgotten a face like his.

"You're so beautiful. You're here every night, looking so sad and lost… I'm going to save you."

I instantly bristled at his implication. Of course, I knew better than anyone else how badly damaged I was, but that didn't mean that I needed this beautiful man to point it out to me.

"What makes you think I need to be saved?" I asked stiffly. I pushed against his chest abruptly, needing space between us so I could think clearly. He stepped back and dropped his hand. It wasn't far enough, but I sensed that he wasn't willing to move any farther away. His eyes bored into mine, pinning me with a stare that was entirely too knife like. I knew he could see the sickness in my soul, the tendrils of darkness that spread through every part of me. Unable to stand looking at him any more, I turned quickly to walk away, but he caught my wrist and roughly pressed it against the wall behind me, once again caging me with his body.

"Maybe because I see you here every night, staring into a glass after glass of whiskey like a zombie," he growled angrily. "Because I see how your hand shakes like a leaf before you get your fix. Because your eyes look so lost right now, like you know there's no saving you." His voice cracked; that sharp, sea like blue gaze conveying the pain he felt at that realization. He shut his eyes and shook his head slightly before looking at me again. I remained motionless, my eyes stinging with the burn of un-shed tears. I would not cry in front of this self-righteous stranger, no matter how much his soul called to mine. Drawing upon my anger, I tried desperately to rebuild the wall he'd so easily cracked.

"What, so you're stalking me?" I spat. "You might think I need saving, but I think you need professional help. Stalking isn't exactly acceptable to mainstream society either."

His brows drew together, eyes flaring with anger, jaws flexing. A vein in his forehead stood out slightly as he took a deep breath, those eyes boring into me. I could feel his chest expand against mine – we were that tightly pressed together.

"You think I'm not ashamed of the way I've watched you? You think I didn't feel like a creep, sitting in the shadows and waiting for just one glimpse of you? I came to you tonight because I can't stand watching you kill yourself any longer," he said, his voice low and rough. "I feel very… protective of you. And I'm so god damn tired of trying to stay away."

I sucked in a breath to reply, but his lips crushed mine before I could form any words. It wasn't a gentle kiss; the intensity of the emotion coursing through both of us too great for that. I knew I was making a giant mistake by not pulling away, but the electricity I could feel at the touch of his lips to mine was too powerful for me to fight. I couldn't think of anything else but the slide of his lips against mine, the taste of his tongue as it filled my mouth. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, pulling strongly and nipping with his teeth before diving back in to deepen the kiss once more. One hand still held my wrist pressed against the wall, the other curved around to the small of my back, pressing my hips against his.

I trailed my free hand up over his hard chest, grazing the hot flesh of his neck and jaw before sliding my fingers up into his hair. Making a fist in the bronze strands, I let my nails graze his scalp, tugging his hair roughly. He growled against my lips, never pausing in his assault on my mouth. I licked his lower lip, revelling in the soft texture and exciting taste. Urged on by some primal instinct I didn't know I had, I bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery tang only adding to his flavour of spice and sin. He pulled away suddenly, the desire in his gaze triggering a rush of moisture lower, between my thighs.

Blood beaded on his lip where I'd bitten it and I watched, almost hypnotized, as the tip of his tongue slowly licked it away. We were both breathing heavily.

"Come with me," he said again. This time it wasn't a request. I found myself being pulled down the corridor by the wrist he still held captive. We weren't heading back toward the main room of the bar, but to a bank of elevators at the opposite end of the hallway.

I was afraid to speak, afraid the sound of my own voice would break me out of the sexual haze he'd woven around me. As much as I knew this was a bad idea, I wanted this. He pulled me into the elevator and had me pressed back against the wall as soon as the doors closed.

His eyes searched mine, and when he finally spoke, it was low and rough. "I'm going to show you why you're worth saving." He ducked his head down and placed his hot mouth at the sensitive juncture between my neck and shoulder, his teeth closing firmly on the sensitive skin, before soothing it with his tongue. I knew he was marking me and I didn't care; I wanted to be marked by him, I wanted his marks all over my body, I wanted to be reminded that even though I was worthless to everyone else, I meant something to this man.

Framing his face with my hands, I relished in the feel of the rough stubble against my palms. I took his lips in a burning kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, not waiting for an invitation. He returned my kiss eagerly, taking over, hungrily licking and sucking. I closed my eyes, concentrating only on the feel of our lips moving together.