6. Lily
Lily
The heavy bass thumps like a second heartbeat as Mari and I push our way into the packed club. Neon lights slice through the darkness, painting the crowd in electric pink and cobalt. The air is thick with sweat, alcohol, and possibility—and for the first time in forever, I find myself grinning.
“Drinks first,” Mari shouts over the music, tugging my wrist. We weave to the bar where neon fragments dance across liquor bottles like broken stars. The bartender slides us something bright and sweet-smelling, garnished with what might be lime or candied ginger.
Mari clinks her glass against mine. “To your first real night out in… how long?”
I laugh, the sound startlingly light in my throat. “Longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Well, here’s to new beginnings.” The cocktail hits my tongue with a sweet tang, warmth blooming in my chest. The suppressants hum through my system, making me blessedly invisible to Alpha attention. For once, I can just be.
We claim space on the dance floor, and I let my head fall back as the music vibrates through me. My body remembers this—the freedom, the pure joy of movement. It’s like finding a piece of myself I thought was lost.
“You used to party?” Mari spins me as lights strobe overhead.
“Back before everything got complicated,” I shout back, memories of college surfacing. “God, I missed this.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Knew there was a wild child in there! Hold on—getting more drinks.”
I watch her vanish into the crowd, soaking in the moment. Then movement by the bar catches my eye, and my stomach drops. Raphael.
He’s holding court at the bar, a small crowd of women practically draped over him. They’re gorgeous, all curves and confident smiles, but he looks… bored. Those blue eyes scan the crowd like he’s searching for something else entirely. When his gaze locks with mine, that irritating smirk appears.
“Don’t tell me,” Mari mutters, returning with fresh drinks.
“Of all people,” I groan, but I can’t look away. Even as another woman trails fingers down his arm, he seems completely uninterested. Instead, he pushes off the bar and glides through the crowd, his posture radiating confidence.
The neon strobes highlight his every step, and I can’t deny there’s something magnetic about the way he moves. Too bad he’s such a prick.
He stops before us, cedar and musk rising above the haze of spilled margaritas. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Omega.” His nostrils flare as he leans closer, confusion flickering across his face. But then his features smooth out, that damned smirk sliding back into place.
“Surprise,” I deadpan, turning away. But he spins in perfect sync with the music, ending up right in front of me.
Mari folds her arms. “We’re busy if you hadn’t noticed.”
Raphael laughs, the sound vibrating in my chest over the pounding bass. His eyes stay fixed on me, completely ignoring the admiring glances thrown his way. “So I see. Enjoying yourself, Lily?”
His tone sets me on edge.
“I’m having a great night, actually. Why do you care?”
His gaze drops to my cleavage, lingering. “Just making conversation. Didn’t realize I needed a reason to say hi.”
Mari steps closer, protective. “Well, you do, because we were in the middle of something.”
That infuriating smirk plays at his lips again. “Oh? Talking about the hottest guy in the club?” He makes a show of looking around. “I can see why you’d skip me if you prefer lesser competition, but—”
Mari snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself, Raph.”
I drain my drink, defiance burning through me. “Maybe you should find someone else to annoy. Looks like you’ve got plenty of options.”
Something flashes in those blue eyes—dark and hungry. “They’re not what I’m interested in.” His voice drops lower. “Don’t dance too hard, Lily. Wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out.”
He strides away, leaving me shaken. My cheeks burn, and it’s not from the alcohol. The women at the bar immediately swarm him again, but I catch how his attention keeps drifting back to me, that predatory focus making my skin tingle.
“Seriously, what is his problem?” I say, trying to ignore how his scent lingers even through the club’s chaos.
Mari shakes her head, watching him brush off another advance. “I figured him for a jerk the moment I stepped foot in the Haven. He’s always like this, acting above it all.”
I scowl, fighting to reclaim my earlier lightness. “Typical. Thinks he can have anything he wants, probably never heard the word ‘no’ in his life.”
“Yeah…” Mari’s voice softens. “Although Leo and Alaric keep defending him. Say some heavy stuff happened, messed him up pretty bad.” She sways with the music, considering. “Not that it excuses him being an ass…”
“We all have scars,” I say, as the lights melt into shades of violet and blue.
Mari squeezes my hand. “Exactly. Don’t let him ruin your night.” Her smile turns wicked. “Besides, looks like you’ve got him more rattled than those girls ever could.”
And so we dive back into the pulsing bass and swirling lights. My body moves freely, but my mind keeps drifting to those intense blue eyes. Suppressants or not, Raphael is getting into my head.
No. I exhale sharply, pushing the thought away and grounding myself in the music. Not tonight.
I dance until sweat traces my spine and neon lights burn behind my eyes. Maybe I’m not fully free from my past yet, but right now, I feel alive. And that’s more than I thought possible this morning.
***
The crowd surges around me, lights strobing in endless colors.
My head spins from cocktails and possibility. Mari’s stepped away for a call, leaving me alone with the pounding music. I let it swallow me whole, hips swaying, hands raised, heart thrumming in time with the bass.
The suppressants work their magic—no Alpha attention, no wary glances. Just me, the music, and blessed anonymity.
I sink deeper into the dance, letting alcohol and freedom carry me away. My pulse races with a wild joy I’d forgotten I could feel. I’m alive. I’m free.
The beat builds to a crescendo, and I arch back, laughing as bodies twist and writhe around me. The neon haze bleeds into everything, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of color and movement. I feel like I’m rediscovering a part of myself that’s been locked away for too long.
Then I see him.
Raphael. Of course he’s still here. He moves through the crowd with radiating confidence. His blue eyes are locked on me like I’m the only person in the room, despite the suppressants. His scent reaches me even through the club, making my instincts go wild.
“Still enjoying yourself?” His voice brushes my ear, making my skin tingle.
I try to bristle, but the music wraps around us like a cocoon, making everything else fade away. “Sure am,” I manage, fighting the urge to lean into his warmth.
He catches my rhythm instantly, his body sliding against mine like we’ve danced together a thousand times. Each roll of his hips matches mine perfectly, and electricity crackles under my skin.
I lean in close, the music drowning everything else. “You’re awfully persistent for a guy who tries so hard to look like he doesn’t care.”
He lingers close enough that I feel the heat rolling off him. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”
Something electric sparks between us, and the more I try to maintain control, the more I find myself caught in his pull.
I try to step back to maintain control, but Raphael follows smoothly, making it look like part of our dance.
Heat flares under my skin as the last cocktail hums through my veins, making everything feel dreamlike.
His hand brushes my waist, and I know I should pull away. Instead, I tilt my head up and our lips crash together. The music thunders around us, but all I can focus on is the wild rush in my chest and the taste of liquor on his tongue.
Everything escalates too fast for a public dance floor.
His hands skim my curves, fingertips pressing into my lower back until we’re flush against each other.
When his palm slides up to cup my breast through my thin top, my nipple hardens instantly.
A gasp escapes into his mouth, pleasure jolting through me like a live wire.
We’re both breathing hard, lost in sensation. The crowd pushes and sways around us, but in this moment, there’s only his touch, his scent, and this reckless, burning need.
We can’t keep this up here, but neither of us wants to stop. His fingers lace with mine, and suddenly we’re stumbling through the packed room toward a dimly lit corridor by the bathrooms.
There’s a tiny alcove by the restroom's entrance, barely hidden but enough to give us the illusion of privacy. We stumble into it, still kissing, hands growing bolder with each touch. My body burns everywhere his fingers trace, desire spiking in ways I’d forgotten were possible.
“I—” I start, but Raphael’s mouth claims mine again, swallowing whatever weak protest I might have made.
We both know we can’t strip down here, we’d be thrown out or worse.
But the urgency demands release. His thigh presses between mine as he pins me against the wall, and I groan softly as we find a desperate rhythm together.
I feel him straining against his jeans, the friction both maddening and perfect.
My hands snake under his jacket, pulling him closer until our hearts hammer in sync.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls against my ear, his voice rough with need.
“Shut up,” I whisper, burying my face in his shoulder to muffle my gasps. We rock together in tight, frantic circles. The fabric of my leggings, his jeans—everything rubs just right. My mind goes blank except for sensation: his hands gripping my hips, his cock pressing hard through my panties.
Release hits like a tidal wave. A strangled moan escapes me as pleasure crashes through my body. I feel him tense, his fingers digging into my skin as he follows.
We cling to each other, trembling through the aftershocks of this filthy moment, skin damp, hearts pounding.
He nips at my neck playfully, and a breathless, almost hysterical laugh escapes me, even as reality starts creeping back in.
“We should, um…” I trail off, acutely aware of the sticky mess in my underwear.
“Paper towels,” he rasps, voice still husky, nodding toward the restrooms.
***
I hurry into a stall—thank god one’s free—and grab handfuls of paper towels. There’s no graceful way to clean up after getting off in a club corridor, but I do my best, stuffing makeshift padding into my underwear to soak up the evidence of what just happened.
The smudged mirror shows me what I’ve become: shirt rucked up, hair wild, eyes bright with the aftershocks of pleasure.
I’m such a slut. The thought comes with equal parts shame and thrill.
When I emerge, Raphael is waiting near the restroom entrance, wiping sweat from his brow. He hands me more paper towels with that insufferable smirk. I take them, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says quietly, his voice still hoarse. “Our little secret, yeah?”
My stomach twists. I can’t deny how good it felt, but shame and exhilaration war in my chest. “Right. Just… forget it happened,” I say, sounding more flippant than I feel.
His fingers brush my cheek with surprising gentleness. “I’ll remember it fondly.”
Before I can untangle what that means, Mari appears like a storm, face flushed and panicked. She spots us, and her expression shifts from relief to confusion to alarm in the space of a heartbeat.
“Lily!” Mari blurts, breathless with her phone clutched tight. “Where have you been? I’ve searched everywhere!”
My heart seizes, the afterglow evaporating instantly. “W-what’s wrong?”
She barely glances at Raphael. “We have to go. The Haven called—they couldn’t reach you.”
Ice floods my veins. Of course, I left my phone in my room like an idiot. “What’s going on?”
“They wouldn’t say exactly but it’s urgent.” Her voice trembles slightly. “Just hurry.”
I nod mechanically, fighting the rush of conflicting emotions. Raphael watches me with that familiar smirk, but concern flickers in those blue eyes.
“Later,” he murmurs as Mari pulls me toward the exit. “You owe me another dance.”
The pulsing neon and writhing crowd fade behind us as Mari drags me out. My body still hums with satisfaction, but dread creeps in, turning every shadow into a threat. The night air hits my face, sobering me faster than I’d like.
The suppressants that made me feel so invincible earlier now seem like a flimsy shield. My legs are still shaky from what happened with Raphael, my underwear uncomfortable with makeshift paper towels, and shame starts burning hot in my chest.