"Um, sorry mate," he muttered and scuttled back up the steps into the club, giving the other man a very wide berth as he did so. The whole time, my apparent hero didn't take his eyes off him and goosebumps rose instinctively on my arms as I felt that same darkness emanating from him as I had back at the bar. I wasn't sure he was the type to ride in on a white steed and defeat the dragon. If anything, he seemed more likely to be the fire-breathing beast than the knight in shining armour.

He turned back to face me and the beast was gone immediately. He smiled and I felt his warm breath on my face and I realised that I was standing just a little too close to him. Edging away, I hoped he didn't notice and rubbed my hands up my arms trying to ward off the chill that rippled over me.

For a moment neither of us spoke and whereas he seemed unfazed by it, I felt as awkward and as uncomfortable as I always did in these situations. When I finally found my voice, it was croaky and weak and I found myself having to nervously clear my throat.

"Th-thank you," I said. "There's always one, right?"

"In places like this, there's always bound to be more than one," he replied, still not taking his eyes off me. "These nightclubs are little more than meat markets for the inebriated and desperate."

I flushed. Is that what he thought I was? Drunk and desperate?

"Well, I'm married. I hate places like this. I'm only here to keep a friend company," I said, frowning.

"I'm aware of that. You brandished that ring like a weapon," he said. "But to be honest, men like that care little for wedding bands or declarations of innocence. In a place like this you are either a wolf or a lamb. Hunt or be hunted."

"What does that make you then? A wolf I suppose?" I said, narrowing my eyes, starting to feel a little irritated by his tone.

He laughed then. "Me? No, I'm no wolf. Wolves are loathsome pack creatures. And terribly unhygienic."

I felt my shoulders relax slightly, the tension slowly dissipating from my muscles. "Yeah, I've got to admit, I've smelt better."

With a slightly larger gap between us now that I had stepped back, I was able to assess him in more detail, the glare of the club sign and street lights revealing what the inside of the club had not.

He was tall, reaching almost six foot and he wore skinnyish jeans, hung low on his waist and tucked into black scuffed biker boots. His eyes, which looked an even more vibrant green out here, were framed by long dark lashes; the kind I always thought wasted on men. As well as the heavy swirls of tattoos covering his arms, I noticed smaller, hand-drawn symbols on his fingers and a couple on his neck. Beneath the hair and the tattoos, he was definitely handsome, with smooth pale flawless skin and I was struggling to work out how old he might be, his beard confusing me and making me wonder if he was younger than he appeared. And his age wasn't the only mystery. In fact, the more I studied him, the more I wondered what he was doing here.

"Where are you from?" I said, without thinking. He raised an eyebrow quizzically and I must have burned even brighter than the club sign. "Sorry, it's just you seem to have a slight accent and I couldn't quite place it."

"Quite the little detective, aren't you?" he smirked, running a hand through his hair and sweeping it back off of his face. "Actually, originally I'm from Boston."

"Boston, as in the United States Boston?" I said, surprised.

"Yes, Boston as in the United States Boston," he replied and I wondered if he were making fun of me.

"It's quite faint. Have you lived over here long then?"

His eyes flashed. "You could say that yes."

I waited for him to continue but he said nothing more and I wrapped my arms tighter around my upper body, feeling more self conscious than ever.

"Right, um....well, I should really get back inside and go find my friend," I said at last, desperate to break the silence and began to walk back up the steps.

Before I could get very far, I felt his hand touch my arm, not hard and insistent like the other guy, but soft and gentle. I flinched anyway, not oblivious to the tingling sensation it left on my skin.

"Is that it?" he asked, his eyes running over my face.

I looked back at him, wide eyed and panicking slightly over what it was that he expected. Had I said thank you? I thought I had but maybe in my flustered state I had forgotten to offer my gratitude. I could feel my cheeks burning.

"I, er...." I began, hearing my stammer and hating myself for being so pathetic.

"Were you not going to tell me your name? When saving a damsel from the wolves, it's only customary that I should learn her name before she disappears into the night," he smiled.

"Oh, right," I breathed. "Sure, sorry, it's Megan."

"Megan," he repeated as if he wanted to try out how it sounded to say it. "Well, it's been....intriguing."

Me? Intriguing? Now I was sure he was making fun of me. I bit my lip in growing frustration.

"Well, thank you again," I said stiffly and walked quickly up the steps hearing the sound of my heels on stone and praying that I would not trip and complete this ritual of humiliation. I felt sure he was watching me as I walked away and felt strangely compelled to turn around and catch him in the act, only when I did, he had his back to me and his eyes were fixed on the street.

The club security pulled the door open, releasing the repetitive boom-boom of the music that sounded pretty much like every other song the DJ had played that night. Hesitant and unable yet to cross the threshold, I stared at the back of the man's head in confusion.

"Hey!" I called out and then he did turn around, locking his emerald eyes with mine in a way that brought the flush to my cheeks again. "When a damsel is saved from the wolves by a mysterious stranger, it's customary to know his name too, you know?"

A smile danced around the corners of his lips and he hooked his thumbs into his jean pockets.

"It's Harper," he said. "Harper Cain."