He took the drink. “Thanks.”
Peeking over the rim of her glass, she narrowed her eyes at him. Everything about this man was menacing, yet her instincts screamed that he was no threat. In fact, around him, she somehow felt safer.
He took a sip of his drink, his steely eyes looking straight ahead. He obviously wasn’t much of a talker.
I should just leave him alone.
Yeah, that’s it. Finish her drink and be on her way.
“Well, it’s been—oh!” A force from behind pushed her forward, straight into him. “Watch out!” She expected him to dodge or get out of the way, but to her surprise, he caught her arms and pulled her close to him, her nose centimeters away from his broad chest.
Rum, spices, and a hint of tanned leather.
Olivia had never smelled anything so deliciously sexy, and it was a good thing he was holding onto her, otherwise, she would have melted into a pool of jelly at his feet. Her inner wolf, too, rolled around in delight, showing its belly.
“You okay?”
“I … uh …” Lifting her head, she once again found herself transfixed by his mossy green eyes. “I am … thank you.” Lord help her, she wanted to stay in this exact spot forever; however, since that wasn’t a realistic scenario, she disentangled herselffrom him and stood up straight. “So, uh, it’s getting crowded in here. Do you wanna go somewhere less busy?”
“No chance of that here,” he said with a quick glance around.
She flashed him her most brilliant smile. “Oh, I might know a place where we can finish our drinks in peace.” Without thinking, she slipped her hand into his. The contact of their bare skin sent a thrill up her arm. Her wolf heartily approved and sniffed the air, hoping for another whiff of his scent. “Come on.”
He didn’t resist at all as she pulled him along toward the rear of the club. Luckily, no one noticed as they slipped down a dark hallway which led to a discreet-looking set of elevators. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be here; this was a section off limits to guests. She only knew about it because early in her career when she was in-between modeling jobs, she had picked up a few shifts as a VIP bottle server here. No one had ever said they weren’t supposed to go up to the private roof deck, so she and the other servers would often hang out there during breaks or when they were bored.
The doors opened as soon as she pressed the button—always a good sign because that meant no one else was up there. She entered first and he followed silently behind her as she pressed the button markedR.
“Where are we?” he asked once the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
“Come and see.” She flashed him another flirty smile as she stepped out backward and gestured around them. “What do you think of the view?”
The seemingly permanent scowl on his face disappeared, replaced by surprise. “Is this …”
“Yup, it is.”
The roof deck itself wasn’t very high up, but from here they could see the bright lights of Times Square. Even at this hour, the crossroads of Broadway and Seventh Avenue were teemingwith crowds below, moving around like ants. Billboards flashed in a dizzying blur as a cacophony of horns and music tore through the streets, drifting up to them.
“I know it sounds weird, but I love that place,” she said with a laugh.
He frowned. “Why would it be weird?”
“You know why. Native New Yorkers are supposed to hate it there, with the tourists and stuff, but I’ve always found it so exciting.” She also recalled the first time she had her pictures up in one of the billboards early in her career. Her entire family had come out to celebrate with champagne. “So cringey, right?”
He only huffed and stared out toward the glittering lights.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t grow up here, did you? Are you a transfer?”
Lycans were territorial, with Alphas presiding over a specific area that no members of other clans could enter without permission. New York was one of the largest, with over three hundred Lycans in the city and while Olivia didn’t know all of them, she surely would have noticed him if he had showed up to any of the clan gatherings in the past.
“No.” Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he lifted it up, flashing her the wolf head tattoo inked on the side of his ribs.
“You’re a Lone Wolf.”
“Yup.”
Lone Wolves were the exception to that permission rule. They were wolves without a clan for whatever reason. They were allowed to roam wherever, as long as they sported a wolf tattoo somewhere on their body to identify themselves. Olivia’s father and siblings had been Lone Wolves once, before they had pledged to the New York clan. “So, where are you from? Originally, I mean?”
He took a sip of his drink. “All over. Moved around a lot.”
