At ten, I change into loud party clothes and put on some makeup to get into the character. A little bold on the eyeliner, subtle on the rest. I’m going for ‘I like to party without caringI’m too old to be here’ look.
I look at the mirror in the small bathroom attached to my office. Not to brag, but I sell it well. The tight black jeans hugging my ass and thighs, the white crop top that comes up to my belly, dark eyes, and pink shiny lips. I’ll fit right in the expensive, exclusive club. Sam got me on the list through his Sam-y ways.
One of these days, I’m gonna sit down and learn how he manages all the things he does. Probably not this month or year. But soon.
Oliver calls when I’m in the car. I almost let it go to voicemail, but from experience, I know he’ll keep calling until I answer. I miss the days when we were text-only friends, with him doing all the texting and me never replying. Come to think of it, that could be why he keeps blowing up my phone until I answer. Politeness never works with me. I’ve trained him well.
I pick up right before it’s about to disconnect.
“Oh, you picked up,” Oliver says, squeaky and surprised.
“That's how phones work, Ol.”
“Not yours, though. Apparently. At least, that’s what I like to think, or you keep ignoring me. And that just can’t be true, can it?” he asks.
Well, touché. “So you’re calling to tell me I should pick up your calls more often? Noted. Good—”
“Don’t you dare hang up,” he warns.
Well, I wasn’t gonna. Probably.
“Want to come over for dinner next Saturday? And before you say no, I’m making lasagna,” he adds.
The ‘no’ was right on the tip of my tongue. But the thing is, Oliver is a superb cook, and I miss having elaborate home-cooked meals. My food mostly consists of high-protein, high-fibre, quickly prepared options that I probably wouldn’t be able to tell apart from cardboard if I had my eyes closed. “I wasn’t going to say no,” I mutter.
“Mm-hmm, be here at eight. Matt and I both have an off, so food should be done by then,” he says.
“If both of you have an off, shouldn’t you two be spending time with each other?” I tease, but also sneakily check if there's trouble in paradise? On paper, I won’t be of much help against a giant werewolf like Matt. But if I so much as sense a hint of trouble, I’ll keep my kit handy just in case.
“We live together. We can stand to have company for a few hours,” he says primly.
I internally sigh with relief. “Eight works for me. See you next Saturday." I disconnect this time because I’m closing in on a parking spot a few blocks away from the club. I’ll have to walk the rest of the way, but that’s better than having my car spotted around a club my next victim is known to frequent.
Harsh club lights flash across the room when I enter. The music is pounding so loud, it rattles my chest. It’s the worst possible place for a thirty-four-year-old at eleven at night. Actually, being anywhere but my sweet, quiet home at this hour should be declared a crime.
I plant myself firmly near the bar, a slight distance away from the dance floor but still in the heart of the crowd. I order a rum and Coke and lean back, trying my best to focus on the patrons.
Even in this overstimulating place, it's very easy to identify a werewolf if you know what you're looking for. Visible muscles and sharp bone structure are just the tip of the iceberg. If you look closely at their behavior, you’ll notice the small things. They carry themselves with the stillness only a predator armed by nature can possess.
So, when I spot Drew chatting up someone on the other side of the bar, I instantly clock him.
Drew Blue’s time on earth is limited, and the time he does have, I'm going to be watching him like a shadow. Making sure he can’t harm anyone like he did the poor kid who was just trying to be better.
I sip my drink slowly, staring at my next victim. Sometimes, I really wish I could make it hurt. I’ve never been stabbed by claws before, but that has to be a painful way to go.
I know if I cross that barrier, there’ll be no turning back, though. Either the guilt will kill me, or I’ll enjoy it too much. I’m honestly afraid to find out which one it will be.
Chapter Ten
Surprise Texts and Strategic Turns
Elliot
I make my way through the dark alley behind the club. A steady thrum of music filtering from inside provides some life to the gloomy path. They really need to do something about the lighting situation here. Or maybe it’s intentional? A shadowy nook to hide the shady activities.
In between the smokers and a horny couple who really need to take it down a notch, I spot the man I’m cutting down on my sleep time for. Drew is wearing a black shirt, a jacket, and jeans. Sufficiently conspicuous getup for the place.
He’s casually leaning back against the wall, smoking. Not a care in the world, no remorse, no regrets.
