Special Drinks

“To be quite honest, I can’t tell you the last time I ever went on a date,” Noah says. “I just thought, after you asked for steak, that it would be a good idea to get you out of the cabin for a night and give you an opportunity to ask me any questions you might have.” The slight rejection stings but I shove those feelings away. They are not going to do me any good so it’s better to pretend they don’t exist at all and definitely don’t act on them. My mind is racing at a mile a minute now with questions I need to ask, answers I need to know. “Is that why you’re being nice to me now, because I’m a super special turned wolf?” I ask. “You have absolutely no reason to trust me. No reason to believe anything that comes out of my mouth.” I ramble on, my attitude peaking through slightly, “So tell me Alpha Noah, why did you agree to have me “audition” for your pack?” I look at every inch of his face, my eyes roaming over every feature. I watch his jaw clench but his stoic expression remains. His eyes the colour of twilight, holding me hostage as he takes his last sip of wine slowly without breaking the eye contact.

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m still skeptical of your origin and your story has a lot of gaps and is missing key information.” He states in an annoying matter of fact tone. “But, without sounding rude, I know desperation when I see it, and I know honesty when I see it as well.” His hand is moving up and down as his fingers tracing the stem of his wine glass absentmindedly, “I’m still trying to place this feeling of knowing you from somewhere. It feels as if it gets stronger every day but I can’t quite grasp the memory.” He explains, “It’s actually pretty frustrating. I usually have an ability to perfectly recall everything,” I can hear the curiosity in his voice now.

I finally break the eye contact, closing my eyes to push back the memories of

the “story” he’s speaking about. “I’m not lying,” I whisper so low only a wolf could hear. I look up at him after a moment and realize his expression has softened, as if he feels sorry for me. After what felt like the longest 3 seconds of my life I say, “I feel it too. As soon as I saw you in your office this overwhelming energy flew through me, like I knew you from somewhere.” Now I want to know from where, because that feeling has only gotten stronger since I’ve been here. It’s like just being around him that energy prickles through my body, a breathless crackle in my chest forms and I feel the hum all the way to my fingertips. “I just wish I could place it but I’ve always assumed I just served you at the bar I worked at,” I reveal. He scoffs, “Us wolves have our own establishments away from humans to drink at with specially made alcohol,” the way his tone changed on the word “specially” piqued my interest. “Specially?,” I ask raising my eyebrow. His slow-burning smile conveyed mischief and the ghost of something unspoken. He pointed to the wine bottle, “Our bodies run hot, burning through alcohol quicker than humans, making it harder to feel the effects,” he explains, “but you feel it don’t you.” I started to take notice of my body, I did feel a buzz but I’m no where near drunk, I definitely didn’t have enough wine for that, but how much would I need of this special alcohol to actually get drunk?