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Rainbow colored lights illuminate the doorman’s face as he studies the trio’s IDs. “Cordonia, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” Hana squeaks out as a bouncer stamps her wrist with the club’s logo, a delicate cherry blossom.
“Isn’t the prince that’s in town right now from there?”
Drake grunts non-committally as he snatches back their IDs. “We good?”
“By all means.” The doorman ushers them inside with a smirk. “Enjoy your time with us this evening.”
Hana’s eyes go wide as they finally get inside and take in the atmosphere of the club. A spacious dance floor dominates most of the space, where a sea of club patrons grind and writhe against each other to the rhythm of a sultry beat. Scantily clad performers dance on raised platforms scattered throughout the club to the admiration of many clubgoers. Couples, and more than a few trios, kiss and grope each other in the semi-privacy of darkened booths that line the walls of the club at random intervals. Attractive bartenders smile and flirt as they tend to the customers that eagerly crowd around the bar.
“This. Is. Awesome,” Maxwell breathes, basking in the hedonistic nature of his surroundings.
“Focus, Beaumont,” Drake snaps, lightly smacking him on the back of the head. “We’re here to find Callum, or someone who knows him.”
Hana tugs on Drake sleeve and motions for him to bend down so he can hear her over the music. “Over by the bar, standing off to the left next to the man in suit. He looks different but…”
“It’s him.” Drake’s chest tightens. “It’s Callum.”
In his mind Callum had remained unchanged, the same bright, free-spirited, pain in the ass who had taken his life by storm all those months ago. But this man, while undeniably Callum, was not the man Drake remembered.
Gone was the long hair with its pink streaks and the colorful jewelry and scruffy facial hair. His black hair has been shorn off into a side-swept undercut with nary a pink strand in sight. His gauges and septum ring are a tasteful, understated silver, and he’s clean shaven, showing off high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He’s wearing a plain grey henley and faded jeans that show off his weight loss of the past year; he looks leaner, more muscular and defined. The full lips that Drake had spent endless nights fantasizing about no longer tip up into a perpetual, easy-going grin, and Callum’s deep green eyes don’t sparkle with mischief anymore. This Callum is a stranger to him, but Drake still feels the same attraction, the same pull to him he always has.
“Daaamn.” Maxwell lets out a low whistle. “Take a look at our boy. So have we figured out what we’re going to say to him?”
Hana glances at Drake out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe Drake should go talk to him alone for now. All three of us at once might be a little overwhelming.”
Maxwell opens his mouth to protest but immediately snaps it closed at the pointed look Hana gives him.
“Are you sure?” Drake asks her. “Maybe you should go, you guys we’re closer than - ”
Hana lays a reassuring hand on his arm. “It will be fine, Drake. No matter what he looks like now, he’s still Callum.”
“You’re right.” Drake takes a steadying breath and nods once.
Hana gives him a gentle push. “Go on. I’ll keep Maxwell out of trouble while you go get our boy.”
Drake hesitates for a moment longer before charging into the crowd.
“Do you think that’s the best idea?” Maxwell asks, dancing closer to Hana.
“Maybe not,” she admits. “But I think it’s what Drake needs.”
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“Shit,” Drake mutters, struggling to break through the throng of bodies separating him from Callum. A girl breaks free from the crowd around the bar and stumbles into him, spilling her drink down his arm. Drake curses and looks away for a moment; long enough for Callum to slip away and disappear from sight.
A large hand slides over Drake’s hip and he’s roughly yanked back into a warm, muscular body. The hand runs over the curve of his hip and down the firm muscle of his thigh, while a second caresses his throat, calloused fingertips gently wandering over his rapidly throbbing pulse point. The heady scents of leather and amber invade Drake’s senses. Warm breath ghosts over his suddenly sensitive skin as the person holding him brings their mouth close to his ear.
“You’re an awful long way from home… Brat.”