Page 35 of Cuffed By the Wolf

We’re both wearing cute, tiny mini dresses. Jenny’s dark tresses are pulled up into a high ponytail. My honey golden brown braids are styled in a low bun.

“Yes, I love it. Let’s get drinks, then to the dance floor,” I say as I swing my hips to the beat.

Jenny and I down our first cocktails. Picking up our second cocktails, we sway our hips to the beat.

Neither of us drove. We took Lyfts car service. I didn’t want to worry about trying to stay sober. Last night left me in a weird headspace. The pull deep in my soul to be with my mate is hard to ignore. Yet here I am. I hated to take a shower this morning, washing his intoxicating scent down the drain. I did what any sensible mate would do. I rolled up my dress that’s smothered in his scent and placed it under my pillow.

Gavin called twice this morning. His message said, “Thanks for bringing me home last night. We need to talk.”

I sent him a text.

Me: Sheriff, you have nothing to worry about. I don’t remember a thing you said.

Sheriff: I don’t regret one thing I said to you. I’m reminding you that you’re to stay at my cabin until we catch the suspect.

Shit, does he remember everything he said last night?

Me: I’ll be okay. See you in the office on Monday.

As I sip my cocktail, it feels like someone is watching me.

“Hey, beautiful, can I get you another drink?”

“No thanks,” I reply.

“How about a dance?” He asks.

“Sure.” I sip my drink, enjoying the buzz as I dance with a blond-haired guy. I still feel like there’s another set of eyes on me. Probably some other guy. I’m so happy no one knows if I’m a beta or omega.

The song ends.

“Thanks for the dance.” I smile.

He grabs my arm, stopping my steps. “Can I have your phone number?”

“No, I’m not a local. Have a good night.”

“My name is Tom.”

I smirk. “Good night, Tom.”

Jenny loops her arm through mine. “He’s a little obsessed, huh?”

“Some guys think every woman is supposed to have sex with them.”

“More drinks,” she says.

“Yes,” I sing.

We sit at the bar. Jenny tells me about her ex.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through that. He didn’t deserve you.”

Her ex cheated on her, too. I can sympathize. Instead of returning to the dance floor, we dance near the bar. Around one in the morning, we agree to leave early. I step outside and scroll through the Lyft app.

“Sasha,” a familiar voice calls out.

Behind us, a few people step out of the club.