Homecoming Luna

Chapter 11: How Do I Address You?

• •• •••Merlara's POV••• •• •

I down the remnant of my glass in one gulp, sliding the beer tumbler across the bar.

"One more, please and that's it. Or I'll be putty before my friend gets here." I flash a cheeky grin at the barman. Wouldn't want to drink so much I'd be forced to act drunk. Werewolf metabolism and all.

A barman with two eyebrow piercings and wears glasses, cute! He gives me a wide smile and an indulging head shake in return. His eyes flick behind me just as two guys come into view.

I uncaringly spare them a glance, then turn back unimpressed. One rests his side against the bar, inserting himself between me and the group of three girls seated two seats away. He's got unruly blonde hair, brown eyes and a good taste in clothes.

His eyes blatantly travel the length of me, making a long stop at my generous cleavage.

"What's a beautiful mama like you doing all by herself?" His eyes come to rest on my face, looking smug and sure.

I roll my eyes. f*****g humans! Even Round's one liners are better.

I sigh through gritted teeth.

I, for the first time, am out in the human world. There's no much fish-out-of-water feeling owing to the fact there are similar establishments back home at Carmine. But if I'm being honest, this isn't really my first time.

Still, masking my scent was paramount. But in my white strappy stiletto heels and little black dress, standing out is inevitable even though the idea is to go low-key. As low-key as my straightened fiery, bright hair flowing down my bared back could be.

I harden my voice. "Thanks, but I'm not by myself. Not for long." Now, get a move on. I throw him a disinterested look, angling my body away.

My reply only gets him to show more whites and lean even closer. Too close for comfort. I understand how I may look and sound; a girl, sadly being stood up. Not my intention.

"That's no friend if you ask me. Not if he has kept you waiting this long," he comments ruefully. "But it's all cool. By the way, I'm Curtis." He pats his chest, then gestures to his friend. "I and my friend here are on our way to storming a club downtown. With a girl like yo—"

"Move along," I say with no emotion. My bland tone is enough to dampen his smile. "I have no intention of spending any more time than I already have talking to you, so no. Now, beat it."

Goddess! He reeks badly of something foul I can't place. Nor do I even want to. And the energy from him is just awful.

His friend whistles and covers his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Just then, Curtis' megawatt smile evaporates into a glowering look. I don't need to get into his head to know he has a colourful lot to say.

Yeah, well my patience is waning out!

He takes a threatening step closer. "Look here, you—"

The barman cuts him off by plopping a test tube rack of shots before me, unknowingly saving Curtis because I've been about to yank him a good one since my sweet voice wasn't doing it.

Inflict pain, twist something. Mentally, ofcourse. I feel some sick satisfaction just thinking about it. Nothing his fickle head can't take though. He isn't worth the effort of getting blood on my dress. This dress is my f*****g favorite.

I look from the shots to see the barman giving Curtis a warning look.

"Uhhhh . . .I didn't order this."

"Yeah, they're from that guy over there." He nudges his chin behind me in the direction of the booths.

Half swiveling in my chair, I follow his eyes to see the guy in question, only to suck in a quick breath.

Holy Godd—!

Call it my eighth months-long training kicking in or my enhanced werewolf senses, but I notice lots of things right off the bat. Lose curls of light brown hair. Dark eyes. A good masculine form of strength and a demigod-like physique apparent even as he's seated. A face that's all angles in a way that makes him look formidable, yet irrefutably gorgeous. His carriage paired with his rock solid body clad in a midnight blue bespoke suit, makes him hot. Very.

Unabashedly, I let my eyes feast on him just as his on me. We stay that way for however long, perusing each other as something palpable morphs and stretches between our distance.

An imperceptible comment made by a girl from the nearby group penetrates, causing me to blink once slowly.

"Damn, I'd do him in a heartbeat." Then her friend whispers, "Wait, isn't that—OH MY GOD!!!"

In that same moment, Curtis' friend nudges him. Curtis, whose sullen face isn't liking the sudden turn of event, annoyingly looks to his friend.

"Dude, that's the CEO of Arca Risings!" The tidbit of info must be lost on Curtis because his friend repeats, "Dude, hell, are you even in LA?! Who doesn't know Arca Risings? Alright, okay. The, uh—" He snaps his fingers with urgency. "—the company Evelyn was gushing about the other day. Something about a sneaky overnight takeover."

At that, Curtis' eyes widen to match his friend's.

I immediately look back to the man. I must admit, he does look like a billion bucks in the most unannouncing way.

But that's not what makes me hold his eyes as I down one of his shots and pick the rest and my purse to gravitate towards him, leaving Curtis sputtering.

For once, I love that I look great tonight. That will totally make up for my thundering heart threatening to break out of my chest.

Goddess help me! This is definitely not my turf. I have zero experience. Zilch.

But with a head shake, I perish the thoughts.

Extra clack to my kitten heels, I close the distance and slide into the cushion of the opposite seat.

His eyes, which have been holding mine all along, never leave as I get comfortable and sit the rack on the table between us. I notice the pale whisky he's nursing as its richness wafts towards me. Chasing it is this unmistakable scent of all man and earth, and musk that I've come to love.

"So," I lean towards him and toss back yet another shot. "How do I address you while here? As Alpha? Or Daen?"

At that, Alpha Daen's lips twitch before stretching into a smirk. The cubes in his glass clink as he raises his drink to his quirked lips. I watch as his gold piece wristwatch slides over his wrist bone to the cuff of his shirt and the smattering of hair on his tattooed hand exposed by the action.

"What does it matter?" His unhurried, raspy voice settles over me causing butterflies to awaken in my belly. "It's not like you refer to me as Alpha in the privacy of your head. If I remember correctly, Alpha is not the name you moaned when you had me taking you from behind."

Oh Moon Goddess!! I flush the vehement colour of my hair. Remembering all too well how I'd made the spur of the moment bad decision of sending him s****l mental images of us together. Almost three months ago and I'm still not forgiven.

I reach for another shot and quickly throw it back, delaying looking down to meet his eyes. I relish the acrid taste of the clear alcohol that burns down my throat. Anyone looking would—with my beet red skin—think I'm having an adverse skin reaction.

He grins widely and lets out a sexy chuckle as he swirls his drink. His dimples make a welcome appearance on his cheeks. Deep and totally transforming. For the first time ever, I see an actual smile on his chiseled face and I can't help but stare fascinatingly.

"Don't feel obligated to drink them all. I merely bought them as a rare act of kindness."

I still have no idea what to make of that. I was promised supervision but he is the last person I expected to see.

I look back towards the bar which is now empty of Curtis and his friend. "Thanks for that."

"The kindness wasn't for you." My eyes cut back to his. I note his light husky tone. "Wouldn't want the unwarranted nuisance your gorging out their hearts will bring."

"Right." I shake my head with a small smile. "Way to make a girl feel special."

I can't for the life of me believe I'm sitting here making small talks with Alpha Daen of all people. I refrain from pinching myself.

"You need someone for that?" He questions with an angled head, leaning back into his seat.

Confused, I wrinkle my brows.

With intent, his amused eyes rove me, as much as they can with the barrier between us. I feel the caress of his eyes like feathers on my skin. "You need someone to make you feel special?"

I blink. Then I blink again.

That question is multidimensional. There are so many ways I can dissect, mutilate and interpret those words.

Or is this the part where he guides me through my 'duty report'? That Upper Pack party feels like ages ago. I've thrown myself into my training ever since. I actually considered heeding him, giving him a good detail of how glorious he and his fine ass looked in about anything he wears. But if I so much as write half the things in my head, it'd fast become porn.

As I look at him, I am tempted to tilt my head, jut out my already spilling cleavage and get my girl game on. But I just look at him for a long heated moment.

Then I make the conscious decision to bite.

I pick up another shot, this time sipping on it as I hold his eyes beyond the rim of the long, slim glass. The blonde part of my hair falls into my face as I do. I let my eyes wander over him to notice all the things I've noticed before. And more.

Fuck, how can one man embody all that? It's downright criminal.

My eyes stubbornly settle on his lips. "Are you offering?" I say to his parted luscious lips.

His lips emit a tiny exhale causing me to chance a look up to his lust-darkened eyes which are far from amused now. I also notice the rise and fall of his broad chest.

"Sweet Mint," he warns. The pet name makes heat pool in my lower abdomen. "If you keep looking at me like that, there'll be no getting home with that excuse of a dress intact."

My mouth dries up and I swallow hard.

Beneath the unfazed look I'm hugely not rocking, I'm shocked and tingly at his words. Shocked because I was quite ready to feel sheepish at whatever reply he'll give my stupid attempt at a lead-on, yet I don't heed his warning. Fact is, as someone who loves a good challenge, the warning is entirely lost on me. It instead sounds like a fervent promise to me. Thinking I can make him want me so much he'd rip my dress off excites me a lot. A whole lot.

Can he smell my arousal? The thought that he most likely could makes me even wetter.

There's a lot of nonverbal exchange being made between our unwavering gazes. He's staring at me like I'm deliciously edible and he's famished. And I'm squirming in my seat as I clench and unclench my dripping s*x.

Seconds stretch taut, then pass.

His thick voice is laden with want as he dauntingly says, "Careful what you're asking for."

He breaks the trance by looking beyond my shoulder then back to me. "Your guy's here."

I blink to regain use of my clouded brain.

I don't need to look to know who he means. And by the distance his eyes had looked, my target isn't seated far.

I'm on a mock mission I've been anticipating for weeks now. I've been assigned under a Black Unit; Black-U 31—the second largest Black Unit—and with it came lots of responsibilities. With that has also come a step-up in my extra trainings hence the mockup missions but this would be the very first on humans.

This mission is nothing serious, just information extraction. Aim is to obtain as much as I can in so little time.

I root around in my purse and get out my compact mirror. I peer at my reflection and my smokey eye make-up, makes my grey eyes sparkle. I make a quick work of smacking my lips and doing little pouts as I fix my makeup, only to feel sheepish when I look beyond the mirror to catch Daen's amused look.

"Wish me luck." With more gusto than I have, I give him a brazen wink then take my sexy time getting up.

Tiny pinpricks of heat, itchy and fast-spreading, break out over my neck and back as Daen's eyes watch my sashay turn into me timidly shuffling my way to my mark. All intentional. Ultra aware he hears me get into character, perfectly feed my target my practiced damsel-in-distress lines and get invited to join him.

This guy is a talker and a toucher and very much likes what he sees. Enough that he starts to tell me, and in vivid words. Sultry giggles, I let him talk his talk for a bit but to get what I've come for and fast, getting as close to him is best. Simply because I need a position that will let me get info while hiding my unfocused eyes from his view.

And so I straddle him.

I am in the process of getting the last bits of what I need when an interruption shatters my concentration, causing the memories to dart out of reach like fine sands blown away by a gusty wind.

"Alright, Sweet Mint. Up, up. Get up." Daen commands in a spine-chilling tone.

Together, the guy I'm straddling and I look up into the swirling, life-threatening eyes of Daen. His stance is dangerous, I actually feel my fight or flight response kicking in. He was literally breathing fire down at us.

My brows knit in confusion.

What is he doing?!! I'm—was so close!!!

But the stormy look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. I try to mind-link him only to be met with an impenetrable wall.

"What the hell man. Gigi, do you know this man?"

I look from scowling Daen back to the man underneath me.

Right. Yeah, ofcourse, I'm Gigi.

"Uh, yeah. He's, uh . . .my boss." I offer weakly.

Thanks to Daen's Alpha influence, I see myself getting up before I even realize it. I can only fight it for a few seconds because my wolf's alpha but I'd rather not. Not with his glowering face and it freaking costs energy.

I disentangle myself from the arms encircling my waist and the other cupping my ass to pick up my phone and purse. But the guy wouldn't have it.

He stands up, mouth open, about to rip Daen a new one. But before he could, Daen's eyes—which grew darker when I freed myself of the arm cupping my ass—cut to him like red laser beams.

"Hey, shhhhhh." He makes the sound with his pink lips parted in a slight pout and his tapered fingers inches from his face. Then his already deep voice does that thing again, where it drops a dangerous octave, frosting the immediate air. "Shh, shh. Sh. Sit your motherfuckin' ass down like the good little champ you are and sip on your drink."

Let me tell you, this guy is anything but little. Buff and tall. But by something I'm doubting has anything to do with Daen's werewolf influence, the man grudgingly sits back down, nostrils still flaring. Without the words spoken, I suspect Daen's shriveling look would've been as effective.

The air is taut with tension. Thankfully, the bar is near empty sparing us only a couple onlookers.

"Good boy." Then Daen's eyes s***h to me. He jerks his head towards the exit, face scrubbed clean of any emotion. "Now, Sweet Mint."

My wobbly feet carry me to precede him towards the bar entrance where I spy an Escalade awaiting us. I feel his body heat as he follows closely behind.

A nanosecond later as we approach the door, I gasp at the sudden zap that ratchets through me when I feel his large hands at the dip of my bare back. His surreptitious intake of breath confirms it wasn't one sided.

The same thing happens on second contact. More pronounced this time and hella confusing. Brain muddling. And the next second, I'm tripping over my own feet to land oh-so-gracefully into his capable arms.

I don't know what's worse. My clumsy self, or the heightened jolting sensation skittering up my back and all over, that gets magnified and multiplied as his arms and heady scent surround me. Or that beneath his calm exterior, I see lots of naked emotions fleet through his eyes. Most of which I'm surprised I'm able to discern.

I grip his biceps to regain balance so I can stand on my own two feet and that's when it happens.

My wolf goes crazy, thrashing to the surface, very evident in my protruding claws digging into his suit sleeves and the gold of my eyes which flashes into his deep purple ones which turn even deeper as he inhales sharply.

What the actual f**k?!!!