Page 3 of Witchwolf

Now, I knew this trap. The minute you denied being a boy, it proved that you were, in fact, too damned young. So I just lifted a brow at him. “What does it look like I’m doing here?”

His grin sharpened and he leaned forward, taking a deep breath, almost like... almost like he was sniffing me. “You look... like you’re on the prowl. Hunting for something in particular?”

I pulled myself up onto the stool next to his, smiling at him and hoping I looked smooth and sexy, rather than awkward as fuck. “Yeah. And I think maybe I’ve found it.”

He leaned in, pressing two fingers to the bottom of my chin and tilting my face up toward his. I could almost feel his warm breath, we were so close.

Behind me, someone sighed and muttered something that sounded like “should have known.”

The man’s electric gaze drifted to a spot behind me, and for just a second, the lights from the dance floor were reflected in them, making it look like his eyes flashed bright red. “Yes,” he said. “You should have.” Then he turned back to me with that same predatory smile that made my stomach flip with both lust and terror. “Do you want a drink, or do you want to come home with me?”

I gave an unintentional little whine in the back of my throat and leaned closer. Was this what it felt like to be Donnie? To have all the men want you? I could so get used to this. Still, I was going to try not to act as desperate as I definitely was. “What, I’m not worth both?”

He made a sound almost like a growl and flicked his hand at the bartender, who appeared instantly next to us, as though by magic. “What can I get you, sir?”

He didn’t take his eyes off me even for a second. He lifted a brow. “Whatever my new friend...”

“Dakota.”

“Whatever Dakota wants.”

I tried to look at the bartender, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t tear my eyes off this man, and I didn’t even know his name. I did, however, realize that I didn’t know a damned thing about drinks. I’d always just had the same thing Donnie or his friends were ordering, and a cosmopolitan was not going to impress this man. My brain ran back through the drink menu they’d listed online, with the quirky little wolfish names. I didn’t remember what was in any of them, but I at least remembered the names.

“How about a dark and knotty?” I asked. It felt like a play on words with naughty, though I wasn’t entirely sure how it related to wolves, but it sounded at least a little sexy, and not like something a kid would order.

Behind me, there was a loud wolf whistle, and the fucking gorgeous man in front of me seemed pleased with the suggestion. Once more, his eyes flashed red in the lights reflected from the dance floor. “I think we can oblige that. A drink, a dance, and then?—”

“Then your place,” I said, trying to inject the words with confidence I didn’t quite feel. “Though I should probably ask your name first.”

Another smile flashed his gleaming teeth. “Jax.”

The bartender set a glass in front of me that looked rather like a mug of dark beer, and while I’d never been a huge fan of any beer, I took a drink and found myself pleasantly surprised. Was that ginger? Not bad at all.

“Well then, Jax,” I said, turning to him with my drink. “It sounds like we have a plan.”

2

Jax

Wasn’t every day a mage walked into Howl.

They were welcome. Hell, Howl accepted any supernatural being who wanted to consort with werewolves. It just so happened that mages rarely counted in that number.

After all, they controlled magic. They didn’t lower themselves to socialize with anyone controlledbyit.

But there Dakota was, a little miracle in skinny jeans. He’d turned every head in the place, but that night, he was mine. Being alpha had its perks, and if I couldn’t leverage the responsibility to get first taste of this treat’s tight ass, what was the fucking point?

A drink in, and Dakota slipped off the stool. He reached out, his fingers tangling with my own, and I wasn’t too proud to say I followed him like a pet.

The others made space for us, the music a low thrum that had Dakota’s hips swaying. When I pressed into him, the curves of his ass grazed my thigh. He spun, and I caught him.

For a second, everything was still, the bass turning to background noise that thudded through my chest, and I just held his eyes.

Then, I bent to kiss him. The sound he let out was the cry of relief a man in the desert might give at his first drink of water in days. His hand fisted in my shirt, and he pushed up on the balls of his feet.

We danced like that, hip to hip, kissing as often as we weren’t. Each time his body moved against mine, I lost a little more of my senses to the pleasure the night promised—his lithe body, the round of his bare shoulder where I could drag my lips and taste his sweat?—

Why were we here? I needed him alone, naked, sobbing for my cock.

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