I drove until I found an open bar, the neon lights making me squint as I sat in the dark interior of the SUV. It said Micul Tuica on the front window, after Romania’s national drink. All the couples were back in the enclave, probably having a very good night after the lovelace perfume came out.
Maybe that’s why I’m so itchy. Everyone around me was now mated and getting s*x regularly. Yet here I was, over three hundred years old and one shade above a monk. When was the last time I’d been with a woman and not my own hand?
I scraped said hand over my face, wiping away the indecision. I shot off a quick text to Kane to let him know where I’d ended up, tossed the cell phone into the center console, and climbed out.
Getting drunk was a fool’s errand for a wolf, but I could at least nurse a wh
