Into the fire.

 

He remembers it like it was yesterday rather than the twenty-odd years it had actually been since that fateful day.  

Ethan had been alone. Sitting in the shadows of a rather less-than-upstanding little London establishment, nursing his latest set of bruises and guarding closely the last few quid he had left to his name. The last thing he had expected was the exquisite enigma that had walked through the door. 

The boy had entered and the horde of London’s debris that haunted the grubby little pub had parted unquestioningly before him. Not one of the low-lifes had so much as questioned the fact that the fresh-faced young man who was making his way so cockily amongst them had the right to do so. One glance at the cold, hard flint of boy’s eyes, at the lean, muscular body that moved with lethal grace and the thrill of dread that coursed along their spines as the newcomer approached and even the vilest of the room’s occupants made haste to remove themselves from his path. 

Danger and the power preceded this man and Ethan had found himself drawn against his better judgment from the security of his darkened little nook. Drawn irrevocably like the moth to the proverbial flame.