Clara’s vision blurs as she bumps and gyrates on the dance floor with Atticus. They’d amassed quite an amount of attention, those brave enough would introduce themselves or join the pair to dance. There’d even been some interest in the daughter of Suntra. To the Nesta folk, she was foreign, unique and the male wolves wanted a slice of her. Atticus was the son of the alpha, not the alpha himself, some of the males saw this as a challenge. However, despite their advances and Atticus’ aggressions. Clara paid no attention, her eyes fixated on Atticus only. Every now and then her mind would wander, thinking of Rohan. She’d made up a game, every time she thought of him, she’d take a shot. And now she was rather drunk, especially with it being her first time drinking properly.
The liquids she d
