“No, that’s not him. Do you need glasses?”
I turned in the direction she was indicating and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Werewolves like those sorts of hunks.” Tiziano nodded at the blond boy they thought was my mate. “They should be careful. I’ve already converted five of them.”
I snorted out my amusement as Makena laughed so hard she spilled her drink on the ground, but nobody cared.
I was zigzagging through the crowd, flipping back and forth to avoid the throng of bodies dancing and gyrating, heading to the toilet.
I was almost there when a hand found my shoulder.
A shadow loomed over me.
A voice crept through the bass.
“You look amazing tonight.”
CHAPTER 23
YVAINE
Iwhirled around, one hand on my throat, and squinted at the unknown werewolf with murky blue eyes, like laundry water someone had forgotten to change.
I couldn’t recall ever seeing him before. The stench of whatever he’d drank—orate, as there were hints of garlic on his breath—made me grimace. I avoided inhaling so as not to contaminate my poor lungs.
His salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his forehead in sweaty locks, and he fixed me with a smug look on his intoxicated face.
“Wanna dance? I know the boogie-woogie,” he asked my chest. I mean, really—zero eye contact. The man had the manners of a drunken Labrador.
“No, thanks,” I deadpanned, turning away.
Garlic Man wasn’t done.
“Oh, come on now, baby pumpkin.”Baby pumpkin?If the garlic hadn’t already coaxed my gastric juices up into my mouth, that nickname would’ve finished the job. “I can buy you one of those fruity pink drinks you little pumpkins like!”
“I’m more of a whiskey pumpki— I mean, girl. Lone drinker. And I don’t appreciate being compared to root vegetables.Though, thanks for the reminder—beta-carotene and niacin are good for eye and skin health.” I could almost see the smoke drifting out of his ears as his brain tried to follow the conversation. Which was why I’d said it. “And I’d recommend a splash of Listerine before you approach someone next time.”
Something in his expression shifted, fast. His face drained like someone had unplugged it, his eyes flicking to something behind me.
Or someone.
Before I could pivot, glance over my shoulder, even sniff the air, the world went dark.
I should’ve known that the two warm, callused pieces of hard flesh over my eyes were hands—huge ones. Like, pancake-griddle huge—but I was too distracted. Or surprised. My hippocampus melted into a puddle of goo in my head.
Because there were sparks.All over my face, everywhere those beefy hands touched. My breath hitched when a little voice suggestedwhomight be the griddle owner.
“Mate, mate, mate,”my wolf chanted, hopping around in circles.
My lips parted, a tiny gasp betraying me. My own hand shot up, latching onto what I assumed was one of his wrists. The heat emanating from him was enough to keep me warm for a whole winter.
As I turned around, my jaw dropped, too obvious to go unnoticed. My heartbeat promptly decided it was the right time to commit suicide and stop beating when steel-gray eyes collided with mine.
No, not steel.
A thousand shades of silver.
He was just…
