Page 2 of Witchwolf

So as soon as I was certain Donnie and his friends were gone for the night and hadn’t forgotten anything, I turned out the lights to make it look like I was asleep, locked my room before closing the door—it was one of those ones you could open on the outside with a screwdriver or a butterknife, but it should be enough to convince Donnie I was still there—and headed for the street.

The place was only a few miles away, but I’d ordered an Uber anyway, just to leave a trail in case anything happened to me. The guy wasn’t too interested in me, but he squinted at the front of the club as he pulled up. “This place new? I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me to take them here before.”

“Maybe,” I answered with a shrug, sliding out of the car even as I hit the button to tip him generously. Again, to lay a trail, just in case something happened to me. He’d remember me for sure if I disappeared and anyone asked about the weird kid he’d taken to the club he’d never seen before.

Maybe that was why Donnie had never taken me there. My stomach plummeted at the thought that maybe I’d walk in and there they’d be, checking out the new place, completely ruining my whole plan. Donnie would be annoyed I’d lied to him, and I still wouldn’t get laid because perfect Donnie would continue to get the attention of all the hot men in the damn place.

Only one way to find out. I straightened, drawing myself up to my full height and marching toward the door.

There wasn’t a line to get in, but there was a velvet rope, as though they had nights when there was a line. The bouncer at the door gave me a dubious look, but he only glanced at my ID when I held it up, and motioned me toward the door. It was weird; he watched me way closer as I walked toward the huge black door than he’d looked at my ID. Like he expected me to suddenly change my mind, or maybe for someone from inside to come shove me back and tell me I didn’t belong.

Hell, I wondered if maybe... maybe I didn’t? Maybe I wasn’t the kind of clientele they wanted. Maybe weird Japanese virgins wearing eyeliner weren’t their thing.

But no one shoved me out. There was no one in the entryway at all, and I just... stepped inside. It was a little odd, like there was a big fan over the door, because there was the feeling of pressure as I walked through and my ears popped as I crossed the threshold. I looked back at the bouncer. His eyebrows were high on his forehead, mouth pursed in something that looked like surprise. He gave a shrug, said “have a good night,” and turned back to his job watching for people coming in.

Weird.

Inside, the club was... well, it was almost exactly like every other club I’d ever been in, except for one thing. I walked in the door, and a guy nearby turned and looked at me. Then he stopped and looked at me again. Slowly. Lasciviously.

My whole body tingled at the feeling of it. The sheer fucking power of having someone actually be attracted to me.

Yeah, going out without Donnie had been a good idea.

The guy standing next to him elbowed him in the ribs and leaned in to whisper something in his ear, then dragged him away. He paused long enough to smile at me and mouth out “sorry,” before they disappeared into the crowd. Too bad. They’d both been pretty cute. I’d have taken either.

Come to think of it, as I looked out at the crowd of bodies writhing on the dance floor, the guys milling around, the ones sitting at the bar... hell, even the bartender was hot. It was like I’d accidentally stumbled onto a movie set. The dancers were doing improbably athletic things—those that weren’t practically fucking each other there on the dance floor. Everyone was immaculate, wearing club clothes that would have made Donnie jealous of the designer labels.

I felt a little... small and underdressed.

I was a foot shorter than most of them, which I was used to on some level—at not quite five and a half feet tall, I was never going to be that giant underwear model guy, but I’d always been okay with that. Sometimes it was useful to be short. I never banged my head on things. I could pull off “twink,” and that was all I needed, right? Not that I really knew what a twink was, other than people called me that sometimes when I was out with Donnie.

The people around me were wearing things I recognized from Donnie and his friends as expensive and designer, while my clothes were from the big blue superstore, but no one seemed to be sneering at my fashion choices.

In fact, every time I turned to look in a new direction, there was a guy checking me out.

Me.

Dakota Morris, shy little virginal college graduate.

My heart thumped in time with the music, and I wondered if maybe I was dreaming. This couldn’t be real. Maybe I’d accidentally stumbled into a mobster club and they knew I didn’t belong, so they were staring in shock that I was ignorant enough to come inside at all.

I slid up to the bar, breathing hard and fast even though I hadn’t set foot on the dance floor yet, and that was where my heart almost stopped.

What had I just been thinking about underwear models?

This guy...

Guy wasn’t even the right word. Adonis, maybe. He was exquisite. Not like a model I was seeing in real life, but like the ad itself. His hair was messy in that way where you knew every strand was exactly where he wanted it, and he had just enough scruff to look sexy but not unkempt. The suit he wore had to be worth more than every single thing I owned, the jacket falling open elegantly as he turned on his stool to face me, looking like that moment in an ad when the actor turned to give you that look. The superior one that said, “If you don’t buy this product, you’ll never be as cool as me.”

I had news for him, I’d never be that cool no matter what I bought.

His jawline was so sharp it could cut glass, his cheekbones high and chiseled and just... just looking at him made me want to fall into his lap. When he stopped his turn and looked me over, I was afraid my underwear were going to melt. His deep brown gaze was intense as he took me apart with his eyes, that look almost a physical thing as it slid down to my toes, then back up, lingering here and there as he went. When he got back up to my eyes, he smiled, showing two perfect gleaming white rows of teeth.

It was odd, but somehow they were less toothpaste ad and more... more my heart started thumping harder, because it felt like we were in the presence of a predator, and he was going to fucking lean over and bite me.

I didn’t even think I would object.

“What brings a nice boy like you to a place like Howl?” he asked, and his voice was just as smooth and perfect as the rest of him.

---