A Club and Bad Decisions

The club hits me like a wall of sound and light the second we step inside.

Bass rattles through the floor hard enough to vibrate up my legs while colored lights flash across white walls in streaks of blue, purple, and pink. Bodies move everywhere—pressed together, laughing, shouting over the music, hands sliding across bare skin like nobody here has ever heard the phrase personal space.

Okay.

This is... a lot.

Tara, naturally, looks completely at home. She strides ahead of us in heels like she owns the building, hips swaying confidently while Lizzie hurries after her clutching her purse like emotional support equipment.

I suddenly feel very aware of my dress. Of my legs. Of the amount of skin currently exposed to strangers.

Then I actually look around properly.

Tara wasn't exaggerating.

Half the women here are basically wearing glitter and confidence.

"Bar first!" Tara yells over the music.

We push through the crowd together, hot air sticking to my skin beneath layers of perfume, sweat, alcohol, and expensive cologne. My senses already feel strange somehow—not dizzy, not drunk. Just... sharper around the edges than normal.

June shifts uneasily inside me.

Something's wrong.

"It's just loud," I mutter internally, though I don't completely believe it.

The bar stretches almost the length of one wall, glowing beneath soft white lights. Bottles line mirrored shelves like stained glass while six bartenders move with terrifying efficiency and the kind of charm that probably triples their tips.

"Vodka cranberry for her," Tara tells one of them immediately, pointing at me. "Same for Lizzie. Surprise me."

The bartender grins. "Dangerous sentence."

"It usually is," Tara replies.

We grab stools the second two women leave theirs. Tara immediately starts scanning the room like she's conducting military reconnaissance instead of clubbing.

"Oh wow," she breathes dramatically. "This place is stacked."

Lizzie laughs. "You say that about every club."

"And I'm usually correct."

I take a sip of my drink.

Cold. Sweet.

And weirdly strong.

Instead of dulling my senses, it sharpens them. Heat spreads slowly through my chest while my pulse kicks slightly faster.

My eyes narrow immediately.

This does not feel like normal alcohol.

June stiffens.

Because it isn't.

I slowly turn toward Tara.

"What did you put in this?"

She refuses to look directly at me, which is basically a confession.

"What?" she asks way too quickly.

"Tara."

She sighs dramatically and leans closer over the bar.

"Okay, don't freak out."

"I'm already freaking out."

"I gave you a wolfsbane pill," she says quickly. "Tiny dose."

My jaw drops.

"You did what?"

"Relax," she says, waving one hand dismissively. "It just slows your metabolism enough that you can actually feel alcohol. Otherwise you're impossible to get tipsy with."

Lizzie stares at her. "You drugged her?"

Tara grimaces. "That wording feels aggressive."

"It SHOULD feel aggressive!"

June growls softly in the back of my head.

I don't like this.

"I swear it's safe," Tara insists. "I've used it like a hundred times."

"That somehow makes me trust you less."

She grins unapologetically. "You needed one night without hyper-control issues."

I exhale slowly.

Annoyingly, my body actually feels... good.

Loose. Warm. Relaxed in a way I'm not used to. Not out of control—just less guarded.

"Fine," I mutter. "But if I die, I'm haunting you."

"Worth it," Tara says cheerfully.

Then her entire expression changes.

"Oh my Goddess."

Lizzie immediately follows her gaze upward. "What?"

"VIP balcony," Tara whispers. "Look."

I glance up toward the second level.

A group of guys stands along the railing laughing together. One of them—broad shoulders, muscular build, obvious athlete posture—immediately captures Tara's complete attention.

"That's Hunter," she says reverently. "Former Jackson High quarterback. I've had a crush on his ass for years."

I blink. "Literally his ass?"

"Yes," she says without shame. "Have you seen it?"

Lizzie clasps her hands dramatically. "Please tell me he has hot friends."

Tara's grin turns openly predatory. "Oh, he absolutely does."

My attention drifts away from Hunter almost immediately though.

Because the man standing beside him isn't laughing.

He's taller than the others. Broader too. Still in a way that makes everyone around him seem restless by comparison. His hands rest casually against the railing while he watches the crowd below with lazy confidence.

Then his eyes lock onto mine.

Directly.

Not casually.

Not accidentally.

Just staring at me like he's already decided I'm worth figuring out.

I feel irritation flare instantly beneath my skin.

"Oh, fuck off," I mutter.

I stare right back at him, roll my eyes deliberately, and mouth the words slowly.

Fuck. You.

For one second he just blinks.

Then he laughs.

Actually laughs.

Not some smug smirk either—his shoulders shake while he bends forward slightly against the railing, clearly entertained. One of his friends looks confused before following his gaze down toward me.

Then he starts laughing too.

My jaw tightens.

"Fucking asshole."

As if summoned by bad timing itself, a blonde woman suddenly appears beside him. Tall heels. Too much makeup. Glossy lips. Her dress looks spray-painted onto her body, and her boobs look painful enough to require engineering support.

She leans against him immediately, laughing at something he hasn't even said while sliding one hand slowly along his arm.

Of course.

He glances down at her briefly, distracted for half a second while she presses herself closer and flips her hair dramatically.

A sharp spike of irritation stabs unexpectedly through my chest.

"Wow," I mutter. "What a fucking man-whore."

June sounds deeply unimpressed.

You don't care.

"I don't," I answer immediately.

You noticed.

I tear my eyes away from the balcony before she can continue.

Fuck him.

Fuck his stupid stare.

Fuck VIP assholes and plastic blondes.

Tara abruptly stands up from her stool. "Okay. I'm going up there."

Lizzie's eyes widen. "Right now?"

"Yes. Before somebody else gets there first."

She grabs Lizzie's wrist immediately. "You're coming with me."

Lizzie looks toward me. "What about Cat?"

I shake my head. "I'm good."

Tara gives me a look that very clearly says liar before shrugging.

"Suit yourself."

They disappear into the crowd toward the stairs leading upstairs.

I stay at the bar nursing my drink, irritation buzzing annoyingly beneath my skin, until Tara suddenly reappears a few minutes later looking breathless and smug.

"Okay," she says. "Important update."

"If this conversation involves his dick size, I'm leaving."

She snorts. "Please. We are not there yet."

Then she leans closer.

"I asked Hunter about his friend."

My pulse jumps before I can stop it.

Annoying.

"And?"

"He's human," Tara says confidently. "No wolf. No vampire. Just a very hot human."

I freeze slightly.

"Human?"

"Yep."

June stirs immediately.

That's what they said.

Human means no mating bond.

No hierarchy.

No instinct trying to cage me.

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.

"That's literally the only reason I'm still here," I mutter.

Tara grins triumphantly. "See? I do care about your emotional issues."

I finish the rest of my drink in one swallow and slide off the stool before I can think too hard about why my pulse is still elevated.

"I'm dancing."

And the second I step back toward the floor, the music pulls at me like gravity.