Page 23 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“Couldn’t bring Adria?” She growled, letting go of Vera’s arm when they reached the line for the bathroom. “Or anyone else not trying to score for the first time in way too long?”

“Gross.” Vera stuck out her tongue in a pretend gag. “Don’t want to think about that. Plus, he’s a stranger. I don’t trust him.”

“First of all,” Moira said, moving up as the line did, “you don’t trust anybody. Second of all, there are a lot of strangers here. It’s a big town.”

Vera yawned, completely unconcerned about ruining Moira’s night. “I just think it’s risky tonight, when we’ve just had someone attack the tree. Could’ve been him, for all you know.”

“You’re impossible.” Moira groaned. “Go pee.”

They got their spot in the bathroom, and Moira waited for Vera, who took the opportunity to fix her hair in the mirror. She dabbed some powder over her cheeks and forehead, shiny from dancing, and reapplied her lipstick while women spilled in and out, laughing and clutching each other.

“Will you hurry up?” Moira leaned against the sink to let a woman pass, glaring at Vera’s feet under the gap in the stall.

Finally, Vera opened the door and stumbled out, yawning. She scrubbed her hands vigorously in the sink. Even drunk, her years of working as a veterinarian had ingrained perfect hygiene into her.

“Did you fall asleep in there?” Moira asked, though she knew the answer. It was way past her sister’s usual early bedtime. And hers, too. They should both be home tucked in bed, not dancing with strangers at nearly midnight, crafting hangovers they’d be cursing in a few hours.

“Maybe,” Vera said, sulky. “Just for a second.”

“I think it’s time to get you home,” Moira said.

“Hey, I’m the big sister here, and I’m not done dancing.” Vera slipped free of Moira’s grasp and threw herself onto the dance floor. At least she hadn’t gotten another drink first.

She searched the crowd for Evans, but she couldn’t blame him if he decided to take off. No one wants to date someone with a clingy, overbearing sister. There were so many people dancing, wedged into the space, that it was difficult to discern where one body ended and the next one started.

Her eyes snagged on a man. Not Evans. Jonah. He shouldn’t have looked as good as he did in his plain black t-shirt and dark jeans, his curly hair wild around his face. But once found, she couldn't take her gaze off of him. It must have been the wine coursing through her, making her blood run hot and thick through her veins, and the heat of the room driving the flush to her cheeks.

The clothes she’d picked out were suddenly too tight, too revealing. Every eye in the room was on her; she could feel it. But not his. He was searching the room for someone. Was it her? A vision of him finding some way to humiliate her there in front of her friends, on a night when she’d felt beautiful and desirable, swam to the front of her mind.

“I have to go,” she mumbled, then realized Vera was no longer beside her.

There was no time to find her. If she dallied to pull Vera from the dancing, she’d be spotted by Jonah, and her vision would come true. She’d never be able to live it down, and there was nowhere left to flee.

“There you are.” Evans touched her elbow, leaning his head in close to speak near her ear. “I was looking for you.”

It was unfortunate for Evans to be in the same place as Jonah at the same time. There was no help but to compare the two, and where Evans was attractive, Jonah was gorgeous. The kind of man that belonged shirtless in an underwear ad. Stop it, she growled to herself, tearing her eyes away from Jonah just as his lit on her.

“Sorry, but I’ve got to go,” Moira said, breathless. She had to leave, now, before Jonah came over. “It was nice to meet you, though.”

She should have given her his number, should have told him to call her, should have faced Jonah like the adult she was and not the child she’d been, but she didn’t. She ran out of the club, pushing past the dancers and the drinks, straight past Jonah, and out the door.

It was freezing, and she’d left her coat somewhere inside. Immediately, the sweat on her skin began to cool, and goosebumps covered her bare arms and chest. She glanced back at the club’s door. The heavy thump of bass pounded through the walls.

“Wait, Moira.” Jonah followed her out, shrugging into his coat.

Emboldened by the wine, she spun on him. “Why are you here? I was having a good time until you showed up, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonah winced.

He looked her over, and she waited for the cruel comment, the snide joke about the way the dress fit around her hips or how the color made her look like a vampire. She braced for it when he opened his mouth.

“You must be freezing. Please take this.” He slipped out of his coat and held it out to her.

Moira glared at him and at the coat. “I don’t need your coat.”

She spun on her heel and started walking down the street. He jogged to catch up, keeping pace beside her.

“Are you really going to walk all the way home? Can I call you a cab?” He didn’t put his coat back on, holding it loosely between them as if she might change her mind and grab it at any moment.

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