Thin veiled curtains whooshed, swaying to the beat inside the club. The pavement right outside covered by plethora of bodies, in tight mufflers and trench coats; shielding their warmth from bone deep cold. Once inside, the modest protection clothes shed like snake skin to reveal ardently doned revealing silk dresses and tight tuxes. It was a week before Halloween, and instead of preparing for it, Right Vices, lone club in this area blared busy.
Inside, the cold didn't stand a chance. People merged into each other over the canvas of disco lights, no one could walk a safe distance without tripping over on the dance floor. The bar on the far left side stood relatively peaceful, plagued by mostly customers who couldn’t separate alcohol from their blood, now that it was 1 a.m. and they had piss-drunk themselves.
Vanessa, clad in barmaid attire stared at the black wall with a wolf bane painted in shimerring gold over it. The paint always smelled fresh to her. Her back to the unsolicited circus with bunch of drunks performing tricks, she reckoned herself a pounding headache if the disco ball glared one of its light on her eyes one more time. Her short height made it easy for her to go unnoticed. The bar was full with staff, it was Saturday night and she could cut her shift short, go home and take a nap. But the night had different plans for her. A slurry voice, “Miss. Hey Miss. I asked you for a drink earlier, you ran away.” Well, to be fair, all alcohol induced voices were slurry. She knew who it’d be before she even turned around. The man in question was older than her, but not too old. Maybe late 30s to her twenty three. This was the third time he had asked her to pour his drink. She could sense he was a wolf, a member of the pack she, or anyone aware of this species knew. But she especially because she was under their protection. She better oblige before he decisively creates a scene. Slightly adjusting the black thin bow on her neck, part of her black and white uniform, she mustered a tired smile and turned around.“What can I get you, sir?” Vanessa was polite by nature, but not gullible enough to think niceties always worked. They weren’t working now. Because the man didn’t smile back, she wasn’t alarmed because he forgot his manners. She worried her lower lip, as he was frowning and mumbling incoherently. From all the varieties inebriation provided in clowns, these were the worst. They appeared so helpless, one might take pity on them only to find out they were senile. This man looked entitled, spoilt, and right now, very irritable. Before she could ask someone else, maybe Ferda, to take over; he pushed his wine glass to her.Who drank scotch in a wine glass anyway? Maybe his senses weren’t attuned to finer taste. She imagined a snicker. He looked in no condition to answer her inquiries about his order so she simply picked up the glass and sniffed it from a distance. Her wolf senses, agility, aided in her jobs more times than she could count. Every alcohol had a different smell and texture to it. If one could co-align the two, a smell gave way to imaginary texture. So far, her confidence in her skills had served just fine. His glass had two ice cubes ready to melt despite the contradictory temperature outside. The heat from his hands must’ve done it then. Her senses caught a cocktail of cognac, tequila and a dash of lime. Definitely heavy stuff. She bent down to rummage for some crushed ice and prepared his drink in a matter of minutes. “There you go, sir. Enjoy.” He didn’t respond, not that she expected one. But he smirked. It was downright lewd, chagrin enough for her to leave soon as his attention diverted, which would happen quickly. And it did. Heaving a relieved sigh, she made a quick trip to the bathroom, leaving her belt right where she was standing. Belts were not allowed in bathrooms, that applied to customers and staff both. The reasons would be intriguing, she thought. Running a hand through the front of her black mini-length skirt, smoothing out wrinkles, she strolled back to carry on with her shift. In her own world, worn out by the day, she failed to notice commotion near the bar until she was standing on the nose of it. Its significance mounted when the bouncer, Tembroke, a big burly dude with arms that appeared stuffed full of animal meat swiped everyone aside until he was on the other side of the bar. His swiping and crowd cleaning gave Vanessa a clear picture of what had transpired. The man she had just served a drink to lay haggardly in a pool of his own vomit. Moments away from unconsciousness. If it were a human, they’d have to pay a visit to an ER. However, this man laid himself headfirst on three adjacent bar stools. He would be okay, she thought. She prayed for him to be alright. This was a clear case of poisoning, if not lethal, then illegal. Whoever did this would be punished severely. Their bar had a reputation to uphold. They didn’t do illegal drugs or drink. This man would become a living embodiment to libel this bar. Her hands shook slightly when she put her belt back on. Just five more minutes and freedom awaited her. Freedom for the night. She was scribbling the song lyrics on her waitress notepad. They, her workplace, won’t mind a few missing notepads now, would they? She needed a distraction from the unfortunate turn of events and how her old and weary kitten heels were killing her feet.“Vanessa Flynn. Please report to the back office.” An intercom placed right under their noses, so it’d be easier to call staff members in, buzzed out a single instruction to her. It was for the staff ears only. The few people working aside her cast a glance her way.The back office was, self-understood, at the very back. The front of the club might entertain clowns of all sorts. At the back, evenly designed corridors reprimanded business with every strike of shoe bottom on the black and white chessboard tiles. Had the hallway always been this long or time had slowed down, thought Vanessa? She had been only twice summoned to the back office since she started a year ago. Never in the middle of her shift. Her lungs reached for air, if she was called like this, it must be not good. Her fatigue traveled the other way when she was headed for the office. Adrenaline thickened the silence in her ears and sweat built underneath her collar. She twisted her hands to keep the pace even. The lights above illuminated two men sitting on either side of the door. Both wolves. Her wolf hissed in return. F
“Jerks! Turds. You filthy turds! I should’ve roofied your drinks!” her scream tore to the laments of frigid quietness. She threw her nameplate tag at Makhail’s feet, tearing her shirt a little in the process. The rip in her shirt from the safety pin had punctured the skin below her collar bone. A small red dot oozed on the skin, forcing Mikhail’s attention there. Vanessa then did the most unlikely thing, she hissed. And she could see Mikhail’s eyes widen to the sound her vocal cords could produce so well.Her anger mingled with hurt when she caught his eyes on the sliver of skin she showed. She knew he wasn’t checking her out. Ryder gave preferential treatment to girls who could at least reach his lips
The letters' content were not surprising, not in the least. So she wasted no time, sought out her best looking formal attires, laid them all on her bed. She had three. She didn’t have the luxury to neither afford good ones nor to spend time on picking the right one. Her hands pressed over the chiffon fabric, seagreen and decent for how it had aged in her closet. She decided to walk all the way to his, the Alpha’s place. If she had consumed anything other than coffee in the morning, it would’ve been lying in her toilet pot. She had puked twice, bile instead of food. Walking might perhaps bring color back to her skin. But she’d have to suffer with her questions all alone through out the journey. She had only walked a few
What does one call an after effect of paralysis? When blood courses through like a ritual only to find there's nowhere to go? She felt about the same. Vanessa Flynn was screwed tight, a step inside the office, someone had bolted her there with a nail. She was facing him. HIM. Oh she knew his name alright. How could she not? Her wolf had been on edge last given their proximity. Now, it howled. It wasn't recognition of any sort. Just that, in twenty three years of her life, nobody had held her rapt attention the way this gorgeous man did.His hair reflected sunlight, a complexion of hazy brown and twinges of black. His crumpled suit was the vestige of a long day. Or night. He hadn't changed. What pissed her off then and there was the vulgar air of confidence he exuded. Never mind the appropriate dress up. She thought he was a walking epitaph to disclaim the 'vain' in vanity. For he didn't care ho
By the time Vanessa returned home, it was lunch time. Her stomach growled, protesting at another cup of lavender tea, but she had very little money right now and no energy to re-stock her food supplies. Her wolf, especially, did not prefer that. Animal could go hunt for herself, but she worried about how the human carried herself. The worry was judicious. If wolves in human form lacked strength to shift into wolves, what good were they? Vanessa was young, had managed to keep the muscles she had built as a teenager chopping, crafting woods. Soon, they’ll deplete with lack of oxygen if she didn’t change what and how she ate. Vanessa realized her wolf was in no mood to spar over their living conditions with her. Poor thing was as resigned as she was exhausted. She managed to enjoy the cup of tea before her phone rang, shrill in the quite house. She knew who it’d be. “Hello Mum.” “Hello, Ness. How are you baby?” She had missed her mother. Their relationship had been rocky before, when
A small package wrapped in a brown paper bag sat on her porch. Puzzled, she picked it up and tested its weight. Light, compact. A cubic. Her fingers found the note on the other side. She went inside to read it.'These are the freshly made set of keys of the villa. And my number, should you need it.Mikhail.'Written in block letters, with less space than needed between the letters, so it looked like a congested print. She drew the drapes close. Still wondering why she got the keys to Noah's villa, she felt uneasy. More so, coiling and uncoiling the paper with Mikhail's number on it. He was expressing familiarity she hadn't expected. Unlike Noah, that is. He didn't scare her. But he did make her nervous. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but Mikhail Ryder was inadvertently making up for something. Perhaps for firing her, but that seemed too pale a reason. She’d ask him what his deal was. For now, she could feel her bed beckoning her. Her only friend, Abigail, demonstrated her con
Slick in her beige clothes the next morning, Vanessa contemplates covering the distance from her house to the villa on four feet but chickens out. Not in the habit of running around as a wolf in front of others, she settles to walk. Even when it takes approximately an hour.Today morning, she’d have no time to admire the place all over again. It was a double-edged sword anyway, to want to pet all the animals living inside, including the owner. She was still in trepidation over her role here. She understood management but knew nothing of the bureaucracy within the halls to know where her boundaries lay. Was she to manage the mundane in and outs of his day or did he want her here the whole time? Still making her way upstairs, keys jingling in her left hand, she heard his voice, cursing on the phone. Already? It was seven in the morning, and it was Saturday. Alphas didn’t take the weekends off, of course. But how in contrast to his father he appeared, Rourke Abel, the presiding Alpha of
Indignant, her anger swam forth. Where was she? In a boarding school? What was he threatening her with, imposing all these rules?“Last time I checked. I was here because I am not a pack member. I don’t care what they say because I don’t associate with them. There is no reason for your distrust. But if you still feel that way, you can fire me. Better yet, I will leave.”He was enjoying all right. Way too much, even though Mikhail was scolding him in his brain.‘Stop pushing her Noah. It really isn’t fair.’‘We need to know if we can trust her. Let me do what I am good at.’Mikhail rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand, a nervous gesture only Noah caught on. But Noah knew he was making sense. If he were to find out why different smaller clans were at each other’s throat for past six months, he needed to know his information gathering was not known to anyone. He trusted his pack members, his close confidantes, especially Mikhail. But pack members knew very little of pack politics