Chapter 3 Winnie
Winnie
The bass thumps through my entire body, and all I can think is—what am I doing?
At a nightclub in Traverse City, of all places?
This is not my scene. I’d come for my sister’s bachelorette party.
I’d seen my parents, and endured two days of bar-hopping, silly games, and penis-shaped everything.
But now Flora’s in the middle of the dance floor with her friends, and I’m completely over it.
I don’t love loud places or crowded bodies.
It was fun enough for the first couple of days, but my batteries are drained now, and all I want is to go home to my little bedroom nest, make some cookies, crochet a beanie animal, and watch a movie.
Thank goodness I drove myself here. I can leave whenever I want.
We’re supposed to be staying one more night at the hotel but I’ve been considering going home.
I already tried to leave once, but my sister’s maid of honor, Kristen, insisted I was being selfish for wanting to leave early.
How midnight counts as early is beyond me.
As I push my way through the crowd, a hand wraps around my forearm and tugs—hard. I wince as my body jerks around.
An alpha with short brown hair, small beady eyes, and a nose that could double as a blowhorn leers down at me.
“Hey there. Who said a beautiful thing like you was allowed to leave?” He smiles as if he’s just delivered an award-winning pickup line instead of something incredibly sleazy.
Thing. Really?
“I did,” I say, yanking my arm—but his hand is a vise, locking me in place.
He pulls me closer. His scent is beer and nachos.
I cringe, trying to put distance between us.
But he’s got me firmly pulled to him. I try to yell, “Let me go!” but I can barely hear my own voice over the music.
I don’t think anyone but him can hear me.
Then it hits me. A scent unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—citrus with a faint metallic undercurrent.
“The lady said to let her go,” a menacing voice says from behind me.
I turn to see another alpha. He's leather and tattoos and barely contained dominance. Brown hair sweeps just above his green eyes. He's at least a head taller than me. His eyes lock on mine, and in the strobing light of the dance floor. I’ve never felt my omega so close to the surface. The room feels hot and spins slightly. My body goes limp, and I realize the first alpha’s hand on my arm is the only thing keeping me upright.
The leather-clad alpha’s gaze snaps to that hand, and the low growl he emits has the dancers around us stepping back, wide-eyed.
Nacho Alpha finally drops my arm, and I stumble, dizzy from the new alpha’s scent. He catches me easily, muscled arms wrapping around me, pressing me against his broad, hard chest.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, though his scent is overwhelming. My omega claws and scrambles inside me, trying to get closer, trying to take control. My sense of self slips away moment by moment.
“Fine, have the bitch. She’s not that fucking pretty anyway,” Nacho Alpha mutters behind me.
I see the exact moment the alpha holding me loses his fight with his own instincts. The color drains from his irises. His pupils are blown wide. His face morphs into something feral. His scent thickens, melting my insides.
My omega surges. A heat spike?
Close.
The leather-clad alpha lunges, punching Nacho Alpha square in the jaw. Several dancers scream. Security’s probably already on its way. I tug on his leather jacket.
He snaps toward me, feral and beautiful in the strobing light, but I don’t back down. “You gotta go, or you’re gonna get the police called on you!” I shout, pulling him along behind me.
He follows—still running on instinct, still riding the pulse of his alpha.
We turn a corner and slip into a narrow, dark hallway.
The bass fades to a distant heartbeat, replaced by his breathing.
It’s rough and hungry, skittering across my skin.
Shadows sculpt his face, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his throat.
His growl starts deep and rolls through the air like thunder, vibrating in my chest.
My own omega sound slips free before I can stop the needy, broken whine that betrays everything.
He moves in. One step and then another. My back hits the wall. His heat surrounds me, scent flooding the narrow space until all I can taste is him. He’s citrus and danger and metal that sparks against my tongue.
I should push him away. Instead, my fingers catch his jacket, tugging him closer. It feels like electricity is humming across my skin and every touch from him is a spark.
He hesitates for a breath and then closes the distance.
His mouth claims mine. The kiss isn’t careful or practiced.
It’s raw, desperate, and scorching. His hands slide down my sides, rough palms anchor me, sliding under my thighs and lifting me off the floor.
My legs tighten around his hips, and every nerve in my body lights up.
My hands come up to wrap around his neck, needing him closer.
The world narrows to scent, heat, and heartbeat. His chest heaves against my breasts. The scrape of leather under my palms. A helpless sound leaves my throat and his control falters.
Then everything blurs—time, noise, air itself.
I’m scent and need. Nothing else matters. There’s a sharp, electric sense that something irreversible is about to happen.
When my eyes focus again, the alpha is staring at me in horror. He’s gone pale. His pupils are back to normal size. My feet are back on the floor. But there’s something on his mouth—like punch or juice. I turn my head slightly and wince at the sharp sting at the base of my neck on the left side.
I touch it lightly. It’s warm and slippery. When I pull my fingers back, they come away red.
Blood.
That’s when I feel it—deep in the core of my being. A new strand of awareness. Following it inward, I realize it connects directly to the alpha in front of me.
A bond.
A bond radiating self-horror, regret, and worry—for me. There’s a bite mark on his neck as well. Did I… did I bite him? The metallic taste in my mouth tells me I did. It’s a fully completed, two-way bond. Meaning he can feel all of my emotions.
I feel like I’m free-falling from the top of a very high building. I want to scream, cry, bury my face in him to hide. He jerks forward as if to wrap me in his arms, but I flinch back. I’m not sure where his reactions begin and mine end.
In a split-second decision, I turn and bolt, trying not to break my ankle in these ridiculous heels my sister made me wear.
My sister.
I look around for her and spot her in the far corner, laughing and having a great time with the other bridesmaids.
Her friends. This is such an important night for her.
The blood coursing through my veins feels hot and too fast. I don’t want to face the group.
I don’t want to explain. I just want to go home.
I want to be home in my little nest in my little cottage and see no one.
I think I hear a faint call to Wait behind me, but I don’t pay it any attention. I run.
When I burst through the doors of the club, people are milling around—some guys next to bikes wearing helmets with the initials BP on them. I push through their group of three and run until I find a line of cabs. I hop into the back of one.
“To the Howl Hotel,” I manage between shaky sobs.
As the cab pulls away, I see the alpha who bit me skids to a halt on the club steps. His eyes meet mine as the car speeds off. Through the bond, I feel a horrible mixture of anger, confusion, and hurt—and I still don’t know which feelings are his and which are mine.
I don’t care.
Sobs break from my chest and I can't stop the torrent of tears falling down my face.