Chapter 2

Cool wind whipped my hair as I strode toward The Howling Moon, needing noise, bodies, anything to drown her voice.

Inside, bass thumped against my ribs, cigarette smoke curling with the sharp bite of whiskey. I shoved to the bar, ordered three tequilas in a row, and slammed them back, the burn spreading heat straight between my thighs.

That's when I felt him watching. Across the dim room, green eyes pinned me like prey, his broad frame leaning against the wall, dark stubble sharpening a jaw that promised trouble.

My wolf stirred, inhaling his scent even from here. He pushed off the wall and stalked toward me, every step tightening something low in my belly.

"Rough night?" His voice rolled over me, low and rough, as he slid onto the stool beside mine. Heat radiated from his body; his thigh brushed mine and stayed there.

"You could say that." I turned to face him fully, letting my gaze drag down his chest, the way his black shirt stretched over muscle. My fingers itched to touch.

He signaled the bartender for another round, then leaned in, lips near my ear. "You look like you need to forget everything for a few hours."

My breath hitched; his warm breath grazed my neck, sending sparks down my spine. I met his eyes, the green darkening with hunger that mirrored my own.

"Forget?" I traced a fingertip along his forearm, feeling the corded strength beneath skin. "I want to feel everything tonight."

A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth. He closed his hand over mine, thumb stroking my knuckles, then he pulled me off the stool without another word.

We slipped out the back door into the narrow alley, the air cooler, thick with rain threat. He backed me against the rough brick, his hands framing my face as his mouth claimed mine.

The kiss was fire with raw need. I moaned into him, tasting whiskey and something wild, my hands fisting his shirt to drag him closer.

He growled low, pressing his hard body flush against mine, letting me feel every thick inch straining behind his jeans. My core throbbed, wetness soaking my panties as I rolled my hips against him.

"Fuck," he rasped, breaking the kiss to drag his lips down my throat, sucking hard enough to mark. One hand slid under my shirt, rough palm gliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it ached.

I arched, my nails scraping down his back. He pinched lightly, rolling the peak between fingers, and I felt the pull straight to my clit.

His other hand gripped my thigh, hiking my skirt higher, his fingers traced the edge of lace. "So wet already," he murmured against my skin, slipping beneath fabric to stroke my slick folds.

I bucked into his touch, my head falls back against brick. He circled my clit slowly, teasing, then pushed two thick fingers inside, curling them deep.

Pleasure stabbed sharp and sweet, I bit his shoulder to muffle my cry. He pumped steadily, thumb working my clit, building that tight, coiling heat until my legs shook.

"Not yet," he commanded, withdrawing his hand. I whimpered at the loss, but he spun me, pressing my front to the wall, his chest hot against my back.

Jeans rasped down; I heard the tear of foil, then felt the blunt head of his cock nudge my entrance. He gripped my hips, sliding in slow, stretching me inch by burning inch.

I pushed back, taking him deeper, the fullness making me dizzy. He pulled out almost completely, then thrust hard, burying himself to the hilt.

We both groaned. He set a punishing rhythm, each stroke hitting that perfect spot, his hand snaking around to rub tight circles over my clit.

Sweat slicked our skin; the alley echoed with wet sounds and my breathless moans. Tension coiled tighter, higher, until I shattered, clenching around him in pulsing waves.

He followed with a guttural curse, driving deep one last time, body shuddering against mine. We stayed locked together, panting, hearts hammering in sync.

Finally he pulled out, disposing of the condom, then turned me gently, brushing hair from my flushed face. Those green eyes searched mine, something unreadable flickering there.

I smiled weakly, still buzzing. "That was... exactly what I needed."

He kissed me. then helped me fix my skirt. We didn't bother exchanging names, strangers were safer.

I walked home on shaky legs, the night air cooling my heated skin. My phone stayed silent; Mom had given up calling.

I slipped through the front door quietly, the house dark except for the kitchen light. A deep voice from the shadows made me freeze.

"Long night, Sandra?"

My heart stopped. That voice—rough, familiar now in a way that turned my stomach.

I flipped the switch. There, leaning against the counter in the same black shirt, arms crossed, stood the stranger.

Only now I saw the family resemblance clear as day: same jaw, same green eyes as my father's side. He watched me with a mix of satisfaction and regr

et.

"Hello, niece," he said softly. "We should probably talk.”