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Caught off guard by my unexpected arrival at a biker bar, I am somewhat overdressed. My bespoke suit and impeccably crisp shirt serve as symbols of my affluence and social standing. The polished sheen of my shoes mirrors the subdued lighting within the bar. Despite the forceful gazes of the rugged, leather-clad bikers directed my way, I stride in with confidence, unafraid.
Approaching the counter, I order a drink before settling at a secluded table in the corner. I barely take a sip of the amber liquid when the bar door swings open, and a captivating presence fills the room even before I lay eyes on her. The air crackles with an electric energy as she gracefully navigates the space, mirroring my own confident demeanor. Taking a seat at the bar, she orders a drink, and our eyes meet in the mirror that hangs behind the liquor shelves. If my blackened vampiric heart were still capable of emotion, it would momentarily falter at the sight. There is nothing wrong with my cock, though, because it is harder than steel, pulsing with a violent need to possess her.
When the grizzled biker steps up to her, leering at her with lustful intent, I am out of my seat, ready to rip out his lungs for even daring to breathe in her direction. But it turns out that she is more than capable of handling herself. And I find myself amused when she starts a brawl. The men in the bar and the very room we are in are no match for her, and it looks like a tornado has ripped through it, with broken bottles and shattered furniture scattered everywhere. Of course, I leave my corner and fight alongside her, but she is so ensconced in the battle that she doesn’t even notice me until it is over, and we are the only ones left standing amidst the chaos.
Despite my best efforts to strike up a conversation and entice her back to my lair, she doesn’t seem impressed with me at all. She is exquisite, and I am enthralled: a blonde-haired goddess with green eyes that shine more brightly than rare emeralds; a treasure that holds secrets untold and sparkles with an inner fire that is impossible to resist.
The fact that she is a werewolf, one of the flea-ridden mongrels with their matted hair and stinking hides that I loathe, doesn’t seem to matter to me. Her scent is intoxicating—a heady mix of fresh rain on the forest floor, the sweet tang of spring blossoms, and the succulent taste of wild berries. It is as if nature itself has created her to tantalize and torment me. She doesn’t have the usual musk of a wolf, and that makes me curious. Maybe she is a half-blood, a mongrel born of two worlds. Or perhaps there is some other explanation for her unique scent.
After putting me in my place, she leaves me standing alone. It’s unacceptable. I watch her retreat from the ransacked establishment, the straight line of her spine, and her strong thighs encased in black leather pants. She isn’t just beautiful; she is fierce and strong, and I want her with a hunger that claws at my insides. I want to sink my teeth into her flesh and drink in her sweet, scarlet blood until I am sated. I want to possess her, body, and soul, until she shatters beneath me, begging for more. And when it is over, I want to do it all again.
I want her more than I have ever wanted anything in all my years on Earth. If she thinks she can walk away from me, Xavier Thorne, she is in for a rude awakening. I won’t let her slip away from me, and I follow her into the night, scaling the rooftops with ease. My movements are swift and silent, my senses awakened by the exhilaration of the chase. She has no idea I am following her, a shadow in the darkness. She leads me to an alley—a dead end that reeks of vomit. I perch on the edge of a rooftop, watching as she stops and turns back to where she came from.
“I know you are up there, you fang-toothed freak.”
Well, it turns out that she does indeed know that I am following her. I chuckle to myself; she really does have the most imaginative insults I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. If we want to split hairs, she is a fang-toothed freak too, but I decide to keep that thought to myself because it is my time to shine. I plan to use my vampiric abilities to impress her and convince her that spending the night with my cock buried deep inside her pussy is an excellent idea. With a flourish, I leap from the rooftop, landing with a grace that would make even the most skilled acrobat jealous. I tower over her, my presence looming like a shadow.
“You are perceptive, little wolf; I’ll give you that.”
Her eyes flash, her inner wolf snarling and snapping with defiance. “Don’t think for a second that I’m intimidated by you.”
“No, you’re not, are you?” I stalk around her in a tight circle; she juts out her chin, her eyes rigidly fixed in front of her. “I admire that about you,” I say, stopping in front of her. “But you should be careful not to underestimate me, either.”
“Whatever, Twilight reject. I don’t know why you are following me, but I suggest you stop before you regret it. I’m not someone you want to mess with.” With her piece said, she starts walking back out onto the street, once again trying to leave me behind.
I wish she would stop doing that, and I scatter into dust and materialize beside her. “I simply want to get to know you.” I fall into step with her, my hands tucked into the pockets of my trousers. She huffs in annoyance and side-eyes me, but I simply grin in response. “Tell me your name,” I press on because I need to know the name of the woman who has captured my attention so fully.
She rolls her eyes and keeps walking. “It’s Lyra.”
“I like it,” I murmur, my gaze fixated on Lyra, refusing to waver. “I’m Xavier Thorne, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t wondering,” she replies sharply, her tone laced with hostility. But despite her words, I don’t miss the flicker of curiosity in her eyes—the spark of interest that I know I can fan into a flame. “Why were you slumming it in a biker bar? Don’t you bloodsuckers usually prefer the upper side of town?”
“I was craving something different,” I reply.
“Yes, well, don’t think you’ve found it here because I’m not interested.”
“I haven’t even made you an offer yet,” I smirk.
“But you’re going to. Why else would you be here?” She challenges me. “I’m sure you have better things to do, like beguiling women and eating people.”
I bark out a laugh; she certainly possesses a boldness to speak her mind. “I’ve never needed to beguile a woman to get what I want; they willingly spread their legs for me. And I don’t actually feast on people; I merely drink their blood.”
She grimaces. “That’s bad enough.”
We walk in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the click of our shoes on the pavement. The city around us is a cacophony of color, but it’s muted, as if we are walking through a dream. The darkness envelops us, but I can see everything with perfect clarity.
“What pack are you from?” I finally ask, eager to learn everything about her.
“The Starling Pack,” she replies.
“Ah yes, Rowan’s pack.” I nod in recognition. It surprises me that she is a part of his pack, given that she isn’t a full-blooded werewolf. Rowan Starling is notoriously selective about who he allows in his pack, and werewolves don’t take kindly to those who aren’t pure.
“You know my dad?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.
Her father?
Interesting.
