Page 16 of Overdose
All shadows and silence, carved like he was chiseled out of midnight—broody, unreadable, probably a little unhinged.
But his hands?
Careful. Almost… reverent.
Like I’m something delicate. Breakable.
Which is hilarious, considering I’ve been broken for months.
When I finally cool down, my skin less lava and more lukewarm regret, I lean back against the grimy wall, still panting like I just ran a goddamn marathon in heels.
“Thanks,” I mutter, more breath than voice.
Noir grabs the plastic cup from the sink and fills it again, then holds it out to me.
“Drink.”
I eye the cup, then the faucet. “Ew. Out of the tap? I’d rather die.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re popping mystery pills from Dagger like they’re Tic Tacs, butthisis where you draw the line?”
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.
“Shut up and drink the fucking water, princess.”
I blink. Then I grin. Because,yeah. Okay. That?
Was kinda hot.
I take the cup.
It’s lukewarm, slightly metallic, and tastes like every bad decision I’ve ever made but I down it anyway, because apparently I have limits now.
While I’m drinking, his voice cuts through the silence again, low and rough.
“What’s your name?”
I lower the cup slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Blair.”
He doesn’t react. Just stores it somewhere behind those dead-serious eyes like he might need it later.
“You good now?”
I pause, checking in with the spinning in my skull, the sweat cooling on my chest, the heat in my thighs that has nothing to do with the rave.
“Define good.”
He doesn’t smile, but there’s a flicker in his expression. Almost amused. Almost.
“C’mon, Blair.”
He unlocks the door and holds it open.
And just like that, I’m being led back into the neon chaos by a complete fucking stranger, who feels less like a stranger and more like a warning label I want to lick clean.
We return to the floor together, his grip steady, heat still thrumming under my skin. He doesn’t let go until we reach his booth.
I try to peel off, slip into the crowd and let the music swallow me whole, but Noir doesn’t let go.
