CHAPTER TWO

Flora’s POV

"Another round, please," I muttered, tapping my glass against the bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding another shot of whiskey toward me. I downed it in one gulp, the fiery burn spreading through my chest like a fleeting distraction from the storm brewing inside me.

I needed this. The liquid courage. The numbness. Anything to drown the nervous knot in my stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d be this strong with your drinks,” teased the man sitting beside me.

I glanced at him, trying to muster a demure smile while keeping my emotions in check. “You’d be surprised,” I replied, tilting my glass slightly toward him before turning my focus back to the room.

At first, I had kept to myself, lingering in the shadowed corner of the bar, pretending not to notice the occasional glances sent my way. I wasn’t used to attention, let alone seeking it out. For years, I’d been invisible—the girl no one remembered, the outsider in the pack. But tonight, I had to stand out.

Someone had noticed me, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t the one I was waiting for.

The man placed a hand on my thigh, his touch making my stomach churn. I suppressed the urge to recoil and instead offered a playful smirk. “You’ve got strong hands,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray my unease.

His grin widened. “And you’ve got strong drinks. I like that.”

I reached for another shot, letting the burn steady my nerves. The crowd around me was alive—more than usual. The thrum of the music, the sway of bodies moving in sync, and the thick scent of sweat and alcohol filled the air. A nearby sign caught my eye: "Werewolf Night."

Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

The thought made me snort. This would make things easier, though. A pure-blood was bound to be here somewhere. I just had to find him.

I let the hybrid man beside me buy me another drink, playing along for the moment. It was safer to blend in, to act like I was just another carefree woman looking for a good time. But every time my mind drifted to why I was really here, my mood soured. Memories of Donovan’s betrayal clawed at the edges of my thoughts.

I made sure that my cleavage pops out. Who’s the saint one now?!

“Bastard,” I muttered under my breath, gripping the glass tighter.

“Are you talking about me?” The man leaned closer, his cocky grin making my skin crawl.

“Maybe I am,” I replied, forcing confidence into my voice.

His grin widened, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Feisty. I like that.” He gestured to the bartender. “Two shots. Let’s make this interesting.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning intrigue. “Interesting how?”

He slid one of the shots toward me. “A drinking contest. If I win, you will spend the night with me.”

Relief washed over me. This, I could handle. My father had made sure of that. Growing up, he’d beaten me down, forced me to drink until I could barely stand. It was one of the few things I was good at.

“Deal,” I said, grabbing the shot.

His cocky expression faltered for a split second, but he quickly recovered. “Alright, sweetheart. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We clinked glasses and downed the first round. Then the second. And the third.

By the fifth shot, I was steady as ever, but he was swaying on his stool. After ten minutes, by the seventh, he slumped forward, his head hitting the bar with a loud thud.

Cheers erupted around us, and I felt my cheeks flush. I wasn’t used to this—people celebrating me. For years, I’d been the quiet one, the outsider. But tonight, I felt alive. The men who’d once overlooked me were now cheering me on, clapping me on the back.

For a moment, I allowed myself to smile. But the moment was fleeting. I wasn’t here for fun. I had a mission.

As the crowd settled, I felt it—a strange sensation, like someone’s eyes were boring into me. My smile faded, and I scanned the room.

That’s when I saw him.

He stood near the edge of the room, leaning casually against the wall. But there was nothing casual about his presence.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features that looked like they’d been carved from marble. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and in that moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade away.

He wasn’t like the others. His aura was commanding and powerful.

A pure-blood werewolf.

I took a deep breath and stepped off my stool, weaving through the crowd. Each step felt heavier than the last, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel his eyes tracking my every move, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down my spine.

But just as I neared him, someone grabbed my wrist.

“Where are you going, gorgeous?”

I turned to see another man, his grin wide and predatory. Before I could pull away, he yanked me onto the dance floor.

The music pulsed around us, and his hands were suddenly on my waist, pulling me closer than I liked. My instincts screamed at me to push him away, but I forced myself to stay calm. If I caused a scene, I might lose sight of the pure-blood.

So I let him lead me in a stiff, awkward dance. My eyes darted around, searching for the man who had captivated me.

And there he was.

He was moving now, cutting through the crowd with a purposeful stride. His eyes never left mine, and the weight of his gaze made my breath hitch.

The man dancing with me leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Relax, sweetheart. You’re too tense.”

But I couldn’t relax. Not when the pure-blood was closing in.

“Mind if I cut in?”

The deep, smooth voice sent a chill down my spine. I turned to find him standing there, towering over both me and my unwanted dance partner.