CHAPTER 1

Logan’s POV

Bodies moved in unison to the beat blaring from the speakers above, grinding against the girl I was dancing with. Her hair kept getting in my mouth as she swayed from side to side. Great. I had so much sweat on me, most of which wasn’t mine. Just great.

At least I’d numbed my mind with alcohol. I could barely make out the images before me, the thronging bodies a little more than a blur. My head felt as if a construction crew was in it, jackhammering my consciousness away. I felt like I was on autopilot with my body moving on its own accord, almost like I was going through the motions of something I’d done a million times before.

I had been there before. I knew exactly how all this would end; with at least one of the girls I’d just so happened to meet at the bar in my bed, have some mediocre sex, and wake up with a diabolical hangover. Why did I do this to myself? Nothing about this was appealing to me but what was the alternative? Be mated, get married, and live a long, uneventful life with ‘the one’. Bullshit.

I don’t want that. I don’t want to be tied down and have to factor in someone else’s feelings and emotions before doing anything.

If this is the price I have to pay, so be it.

“Let’s find somewhere more private, baby,” she yelled into my ear as she took my hand to lead me somewhere presumably more private.

I smirked. Yeah, I’d been here before. With some chick who thinks she could capture my heart with some freaky sex.

It always went the same way. I arrive at the club with my group and they’re on us. The boldest one walks up to me and asks to buy me a drink and after some generic flirting asks me to dance. We dance for a while and then she leads me somewhere private where we get hot and heavy and then I take her home.

So far she’d stuck to the script as we walked to a lounge area. We made out and then I took her home.

Sometimes I feel like I’m an NPC in a video game, forever condemned to stick to a script.

I can’t complain though. Regardless of its mundanity, it was a pretty good life.

The incessant knocking I kept hearing jarred me awake. I sat up too quickly, a big mistake as it felt like I was going to simultaneously throw up and pass out. The knocks kept coming as I tried to orientate myself.

I had a pretty good idea who it was. Only one person would be this insistent this early. Speaking of, I looked at the digital clock on my nightstand and it was either incorrect or the time was 11 am. Damn, that was bad, even for me.

The pounding on the door continued, each one felt like a rock being thrown at my tender head. I looked at the girl beside me who was somehow still asleep despite the intrusive noise. I shook her awake and she finally opened her eyes.

She smiled at me for some reason. “Hey. Last night was–”. The knocking came again before she could finish. The petrified look on her face almost made me laugh.

“Come on, get dressed,” I said as I got up to throw on something.

I was halfway down the stairs when I had an idea. I called to the girl in my room to hurry up. She came scurrying out and walked with me down the stairs. I opened the door just as my mother was preparing another barrage of pounding which almost knocked her off balance.

“Luna!” If I weren’t so hungover, I’d have doubled over with laughter at the look of sheer horror on this girl's face at the sight of my mother.

I looked at my mother; calling her expression unimpressed would be an understatement. Mission accomplished, I smiled inwardly.

“Sandra. Say hello to your mother.” My mother said to the girl, whose name was Sandra, apparently.

“Yes Luna,” Sandra said, her face beet red as she scampered away.

My mother pushed me aside and walked into my kitchen.

“Come on in,” I said sneeringly as I followed her and sat on the opposite side of the aisle. I knew what was coming next. She would launch into this tirade about what I was thinking and why I couldn’t just settle down and my responsibilities as the next-in-line alpha and why I couldn’t just live a normal, responsible life. I’d apologize and tell her I’d change but she’d know I was just saying that to get her off my back and she’d tell me how she always prayed for me. Remember that thing about a script?

“Sandra is a nice girl, why don’t you bring her to dinner one day?” she said.

“I mean I met her at the club so I don’t think she’s the type to take home to you.”

“What’s wrong with being in the club? She did meet you in the club too didn’t she?”

What the hell? Had I finally broken my mother that she’d suggest I settle down with a club girl?

“Are you serious?”

“If that’s what it’ll take to get you to do the right thing.”

She did seem serious. I almost felt insulted that she’d accept whoever I chose like didn’t she want the best for me?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You know my stance on this. There are too many lonely souls out here for me to be tied down to one. If you really think about it, I’m doing a good deed.”

“What’s her name?” my mom asked me.

“Who?”

“The girl who just left.”

“Sophie!” I said, proud of myself for remembering her name from just a couple of minutes ago.

“Sandra. Her name is Sandra.” she had this disappointed look on her face as she corrected me. I felt like I’d done something worse than forgetting someone's name.

I braced myself for the tirade. I usually started from the moment she walked in but not today. Today she delayed it a little which was surprising but as they say, delay isn’t denial.

Staring at the ground, I waited for her to start to chastise me but she didn’t. I felt her eyes boring into my head as we sat in silence.

She walked over to my side of the aisle and I braced for a smack upside my head. Honestly, I would prefer that to her just staring disapprovingly at me. That didn’t happen, rather she walked behind me and opened the fridge, getting out some eggs and bacon.

“Clean yourself and get dressed,” she said as she rustled through the cabinet with pots and pan, making sure to clang them together to punctuate her order.

My head hurt from all the noise. I was going to protest but this had never happened before. She would usually yell, preaching to me about the error of my ways. That I could handle, that I was prepared for but not this. This was uncharted territory.

I hustled up the stairs to take a shower and get dressed.