A Club and Bad Decisions

The club hits me like a wall of sound and light.

Bass thunders through the floor, vibrating up my legs and settling somewhere deep in my chest. White walls explode with color as the lights shift—blue, purple, flashes of pink—turning everything sharp and unreal. Bodies move everywhere, pressed close, laughing, shouting, touching.

Okay.

This is... a lot.

Tara, of course, looks like she belongs here. She strides ahead of us in her heels like she owns the place, hips swaying with confidence, chin lifted. Lizzie follows close behind, eyes wide but excited, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

I feel exposed in my dress, aware of every inch of bare skin, but when I look around, I realize Tara wasn't wrong—half the women here are wearing far less.

"Bar first!" Tara yells over the music.

We fight our way through the crowd, the air hot and thick with perfume, sweat, and alcohol. My head feels... strange. Not dizzy. Not drunk. Just slightly off, like my senses are tuned a little too sharp.

June shifts uneasily in the back of my mind.

Something's wrong.

It's just the noise, I answer, though I'm not convinced.

The bar is massive, bright and glossy, lined with bottles that look like jewels. Six male bartenders work it like pros, all smiles and flirtatious charm.

"Vodka cranberry for her," Tara says immediately, pointing at me. "Same for Lizzie. And surprise me."

The bartender grins. "Coming right up."

We grab stools as two women leave, and Tara instantly starts scanning the room like she's hunting.

"Oh fuck," she breathes. "This place is stacked."

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

"And I'm usually right."

I take a sip of my drink. It's cold and sweet—but instead of dulling my senses, it sharpens them. My skin feels warm, my pulse quickening.

This doesn't feel like alcohol.

The thought lands suddenly, unwelcome.

June stiffens.

That's because it's not just alcohol.

I narrow my eyes at Tara. "Did you put something in this?"

She doesn't look at me.

"What?" she says too quickly.

"Tara."

She sighs dramatically and leans closer. "Okay, don't freak out."

"I'm already fucking freaked out."

"I gave you a wolfsbane pill," she says. "A tiny one."

My jaw drops. "You did what?"

"Relax," she says, waving a hand. "It just slows your metabolism so you can actually feel the drinks. You're impossible to get tipsy otherwise."

Lizzie blinks. "You drugged her?"

"It sounds worse when you say it," Tara mutters.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You're insane."

"And you're a control freak," she shoots back. "This is a club. You're allowed to loosen the fuck up."

June growls softly.

I don't like this.

"I swear it's safe," Tara adds. "I've taken it a hundred times."

"That doesn't make it better."

She grins. "It kind of does."

I exhale slowly. My body feels... good. Loose. Warm. Not out of control—just unguarded in a way I'm not used to.

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

"Worth it," Tara says cheerfully.

Her attention snaps upward. "Oh my Goddess."

Lizzie follows her gaze. "What?"

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

I glance up.

A group of guys stands along the railing, laughing. One of them—broad, muscular, unmistakably confident—immediately claims Tara's full attention.

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

"Literally his ass?" I ask.

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

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

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

My attention drifts away from Hunter almost immediately.

Because the man standing beside him isn't laughing.

He's taller. Broader. Still in a way that makes everyone else look restless. His hands rest casually on the railing, posture relaxed.

And he's staring straight at me.

Not casually. Not accidentally. Just standing there like he's got all the fucking time in the world, blue eyes locked on me like I'm something he's already decided to figure out.

Annoyance flares hot in my chest.

"Oh, fuck off," I mutter.

I look straight at him, roll my eyes deliberately, and mouth the words.

Fuck. You.

For a heartbeat, he just blinks.

Then he laughs.

Not a polite smile. Not a smirk. He actually bends forward against the railing, shoulders shaking as he laughs. One of his friends glances at him, confused, then follows his gaze—and laughs too.

My jaw tightens.

"Fucking asshole."

As if summoned by the universe, a blonde woman appears at his side. Tall heels, too much makeup, glossy lips. Her dress barely qualifies as clothing, and her boobs look painfully fake—pushed up and displayed like an offering.

She leans in close, laughing at something he hasn't even said yet, fingers sliding over his arm. Then she shifts, pressing herself closer, angling her chest practically into his face.

I snort quietly.

Of course.

He glances down at her, distracted for a moment, his attention pulled away from the dance floor. She flips her hair, clearly pleased with herself.

A sharp, irrational spike of irritation hits me.

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

June's voice is dry.

You don't care.

I don't, I answer immediately.

You noticed, she replies.

I tear my eyes away from the balcony, suddenly done with the entire situation.

Fuck him.

Fuck his stare.

Fuck VIP assholes and plastic blondes.

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

Lizzie's eyes widen. "Now?"

"Yes. Before someone else does."

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

"What about Cat?" Lizzie asks.

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

Tara gives me a look that says liar, then shrugs. "Suit yourself."

They disappear toward the stairs leading to VIP.

I nurse my drink, irritation buzzing under my skin—until Tara suddenly reappears, breathless and grinning.

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

"If this is about his dick size, I'm not interested."

She snorts. "Please. Not there yet."

She leans in. "I asked Hunter about his friend."

My pulse jumps despite myself.

"And?"

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

I freeze. "Human?"

"Yep."

June stirs immediately.

That's what they said.

Human means no mating bond.

No hierarchy.

No instinct trying to cage me.

"That's the only reason I'm not leaving," I mutter.

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

I down the rest of my drink and slide off the stool.

"I'm dancing."

The dance floor pulls me in like gravity.