Page 5 of Ruthless Wolf

Although none of that matters to my family. Just like it doesn’t matter that I’m an adult and definitely over the drinking age. And Jake may be my favorite brother and the one closest in age, but he’s still family.

I jut my chin. “I’m stopping in for a drink.”

He leans against his pool cue. “And what are you gonna do when Dad shows up to do the same?”

My gaze frantically darts around the gloomy bar. “Dad would never!” I gasp, hating the instant desire to hightail it straight back to my room.

Jake grins, then leans back over the pool table. “He doesn’t come here on Fridays. And if anyone asks, I didn’t on this particular one, either.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, I relax. I’m actually going to get a chance to catch up with a few of the friends I’ve barely seen since they were mated. My eyes roam around the bar, this time actually registering the patrons rather than frantically looking for my father’s disappointed scowl.

This time when I freeze, I forget to move. Breathe. And wonder absentmindedly whether it even matters.

A man is sitting at the bar, alone and gazing into his drink. His profile reveals thick waves of dark blonde hair falling over his forehead, messy and tousled. A strong nose. Chiseled lips. Muscles in all the right places.

He’s deliciously hot, but that’s not the only thing that has me captivated. There’s something about him…

Maybe it’s because he’s not a part of my pack. Or because his shoulders are hunched ever so slightly, as if he doesn’t want them to be, but his body isn’t listening. Or because loneliness clings to him in the same way the shadows do.

I’m moving before I’ve even realized it. I know I shouldn’t approach another man outside of the shifter community, but dammit, I can’t help myself. The need to be closer to him is overwhelming.

He looks up as if he knew I was there, and I draw in a sharp breath as my gaze connects with green eyes the color of spring. Of new beginnings. Of freedom.

Yet it’s a glance that has a strange tingling in my gut. No lower… Enough to make me tighten my thighs, trying to hold on to the sensation.

I smile just before he averts his gaze, and the moment our eyes disconnect, I’m left floundering.

I pause, standing there in the middle of the bar as the seconds claw their way forward. Did I just imagine all that? Hot on the heels of the thought is the knowledge that one look doesn’t mean anything. I feel a little stupid. Most definitely naïve.

My family’s endless warnings float through my mind.

You’re too trusting, Addy. Life ain’t no fairytale, you know.

It never occurs to you that people may have a hidden agenda.

Your soft heart will get hurt, and we’ll be the ones picking up the pieces.

Each one a reason I shouldn’t be here, pretending I’m like anyone else.

My weight shifts, ready to turn back around and leave Moonlit, only to find I don’t move. To find that I don’t want to leave.

To discover that I have a choice.

I lift my chin. Tonight, I’m not that Addy. I’m whoever I want to be, dammit.

And that woman wants to learn that guy’s name. Heck, she wants to dance with him. She wants to explore the heat pooling deep in her groin. That Addy has the courage to make it happen.

Breathing in confidence that I don’t possess, I walk up to this mysterious, sad, sexy man and whisper the first line that comes into my head. “What’s a guy like you doin’ in a bar like this?”

I cringe the moment the words escape my lips, grateful he isn’t looking at me. Even if my voice and body language scream ‘confident woman’, I sure as heck don’t feel it. Inhaling, I compose myself as he lifts his head to meet my gaze. Our eyes connect again, and there’s that feeling once more.

The ground disappearing beneath me, and I don’t freaking care.

“Adeline, don’t go wastin’ your time on this man,” my favorite cousin and the owner of this bar, interrupts. “He’s here celebratin’ his anniversary.”

My heart drops as the wheels begin to turn. Dammit, Addy! Now I must really look like a fool. Only I refuse to show my embarrassment. I avert my gaze, then pause. There’s something about his body language, the absence of a ring, and the fact I can’t detect the scent of a woman on his skin. In fact, all I catch is the scent of a cat and that old lady perfume my grandmother wears.

When I meet his gaze once more, those lonely eyes are a clear indicator that he can’t possibly be in a relationship. At least not a happy one.

---