The air was warm from too many people in too small a space, carrying mixed scents of perfume and cologne and alcohol and sweat, and Sophia moved through it all with complete confidence while Demien stayed close beside her, his hand resting lightly on her waist because losing her in this crowd seemed like a real possibility.
Heads turned as they passed.
Not everyone—most people were too absorbed in their own nights to notice—but enough that Demien felt the attention tracking them, and a few people stared openly once recognition clicked, though the club's unspoken etiquette seemed to discourage direct approaches in a way the street outside hadn't.
