Into the thick of it

“What? No! We just got here!” Sophie protested.

Before Anna could respond, the crowd parted. The man from the stairs was moving toward them, his gait smooth and predatory. The air around him seemed to chill, the rowdy frat brothers instinctively stepping out of his way.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was a low, gravelly hum that vibrated in Anna’s marrow. “The party is just getting started. And I don’t believe I’ve seen your face on campus before... Anna, was it?”

He knew her name. He’d overheard the "Chaser" at the door. But it was the way he said it, like he was tasting it,that made the hair on her arms stand up.

The man stopped three feet away, an intentional distance that forced Anna to breathe him in. He smelled like ozone and expensive cedar, a scent that shouldn't have been so intoxicating to someone who hated his kind.

His name was Killian Blackwood, though Anna only knew him by the shadow he cast over the campus. Up close, his eyes weren't just dark; they were predatory, swirling with a gold fleck that signaled a high-ranking Alpha. He looked at her, and for a heartbeat, his brow furrowed.

He felt it. The shift in the air pressure, the way the static electricity in the room seemed to crawl toward her skin. Her scent was a riddle he couldn't solve—underneath the cheap "human" vanilla perfume and the damp cotton of her Santa hat, there was something else. Something ancient and sharp. It reminded him of a thunderstorm rolling over a graveyard.

“You’re shivering,” Killian noted, his voice dropping an octave. He reached out, his hand hovering near her arm, not touching but close enough for her to feel the furnace-blast of his body heat.

Anna stepped back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “It’s the draft,” she lied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline.

Killian’s nostrils flared. He was hunting the scent of her fear, but he found something else—a spark of defiance that tasted like copper and lightning. He wanted her. Not the way the "Chasers" wanted a warm body, but the way a collector wanted a masterpiece he didn't understand.

“This house is too small for a girl like you,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto hers, searching for that flash of blue she’d worked so hard to hide. “And too loud for your friend. We’re hosting a more... exclusive gathering on the 21st. The Solstice Gala at Blackwood Manor. You should bring Sophie. She seems like the type to appreciate a real party.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide, her hand clutching Anna’s arm so hard it left marks. The Solstice Gala was legend. It was the golden ticket.

“We’ll think about it,” Anna snapped, trying to pull Sophie away.

Killian saw the wall she was building, and he knew if he pushed harder, she’d bolt. He needed to let the trap set itself. Suddenly, he turned his head as a group of three giggling girls in velvet dresses practically threw themselves at his back, begging for details about the "mansion party."

“One at a time, ladies,” Killian said, his voice instantly transitioning into a bored, aristocratic drawl. He turned his back to Anna, seemingly consumed by the flock of admirers.

It was a tactical retreat. He was faking distraction, giving her the illusion of a clean escape while he tracked the vibration of her footsteps leaving the room.

“Go. Now,” Anna hissed into Sophie’s ear.

They moved like ghosts. While the room was distracted by the Alpha’s sudden attention to the "velvet girls," Anna steered Sophie through the side kitchen and out the servant’s entrance.

They didn't stop running until the heavy thumping of the bass was replaced by the silence of the Pisgah forest. Anna leaned against a tree, her glamour flickering for a second;her eyes flashing a brilliant, dangerous blue in the moonlight before she forced the chocolate brown back into place.

“Anna, oh my god!” Sophie gasped, clutching her chest. “He invited us! He actually invited us! Did you see the way he looked at you? It was like... like you were the only person in the room.”

No, Anna thought, her hand trembling as she touched the spot where his heat had nearly burned her. He looked at me like he was trying to figure out which part of me to eat first.

She looked toward the mountain peak where the Blackwood Manor sat, hidden by the trees. The 21st was the Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. The night her inheritance hit.

And, she realized with a sinking dread, the night of the full moon.