The thrum of the human nightclub was a physical assault, a cacophony of blaring music and the cloying stench of sweat and cheap perfume. Monica, my best friend, swayed beside me, her eyes glazed with a mixture of tequila and mischief. "Don't look now," she slurred, nudging my arm, "but that guy's been staring at you all night."

I giggled, the alcohol loosening my tongue. "And how would you know that if you weren't eyeballing him the entire night?"

Before she could retort, an intoxicating scent cut through the repulsive odors of the club – fresh, clean, like the salty air kissing my face on a beach. My wolf stirred, a low hum beginning in my chest. I turned, my vision a little hazy, and found myself staring into the most divine-looking man I had ever seen. His deep brown eyes, like pools of honey, held me captive, and a wave of heat washed over me. He cooed, "Eyes up here, sweet cheeks."

Ignoring the corny nickname, my gaze dropped to his toned body, then back to his face. "Can I get the lovely lady a drink?" he asked, his voice a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers down my spine. I nodded, suddenly incapable of speech. Another drink was placed in my hand, and soon, his lips were on mine, soft and plump, tasting of scotch and mint. In that moment, with his arms wrapped tightly around me, I knew I was in for a world of trouble. And for once, I didn't care.